pasthqarchive

[pasthqarchive]

Our love burns like a Charizard, the rare kind - Hinata Shouyou x Reader

for @true-deru for the Milestone Event Week 4

There are Sake stains on your white dress, a blister forming on your heel and your mascara is smudged, but you couldn’t be happier.

You’re giggling as you slip into the car waiting, waving at your friends and family who are ushering you out, away from the mess that needs cleaning up.

“I love you,” you call out to them as Shouyou slides into the backseat next to you, pouting. “Not more than me, right?” He asks, already pulling you in.

“No one more than you,” you promise, kissing him on the tip of the nose.

He’s looking especially dashing tonight, his hair glowing against the black suit. Yes, there are a few stains on his shirt and he’s got a bruise forming on the underside of his chin from when he slipped and fell on his face on the dancefloor, but he’s grinning from one ear to the other, not unlike when he’s won a particularly hard match.

His stomach grumbles.

“Are you hungry?” You ask, smiling when he nods sheepishly.

“The food was great,” he rushes to comment. “I just- well, you know me.”

“That I do. Oh, there’s a great Ramen Place near the Hotel we’re staying at. We could get some.”

-

No one bats an eye at the two of you, slurping up Ramen Noodles at 2 in the morning and dressed to the nines. 

One lady gives you a thumbs up before pointing at your dress and you giggle at the absurdity of it all.

“You know,” Shouyou points out, propping his head up with one hand as he admires you. “When you get to call a place now to book a table, you can always book it under our name. Because you’re a Hinata too, now.”

You giggle, still a little punchdrunk from it all. 

“Yes, Shou, that’s what being married is like.”

You sway down the street half an hour later to get to your room, smiling and waving at the night shift at the reception.

You got ready in your room earlier, but although the towels are crumpled and there’s no longer any chocolate waiting on the pillows for you, the room still feels like the beginning of a vacation.

“I can’t wait to undress and get into bed,” you tell Shouyou, fighting against the lace holding up your dress. “Help me, please?”

“You need to take your make-up off too,” he prompts as he fiddles with the lacing. You groan at his comment but giggle, not quite able to get rid of that feeling in you, that tingling in the back of your mind.

“You know what we should do?” You ask just as the dress slips from your shoulders and sinks to the floor in that dramatic fashion you’ve only ever seen in movies.

“What?” Shouyou asks, eyes wide.

“We should get a pack of pokemon cards to celebrate.”

“Pokemon cards?” He blinks once, twice and then lights up like a firework.

“There’s a store right on the corner. I saw it when we walked here. Let’s get-” He pulls on your hand before realizing that you’re only wearing your pretty underwear. “Eh, do you want to get your dress back on?”

“Give me a second.”

You rush around the room, pull on the flannel pajama paints that have been waiting for you all day, one of Shouyou’s hoodies he forgot to put away and slip into a pair of sneaker you brought for tomorrow. “Ready.”

-

The first card is a Snorlax. “That’s a sign we should get to bed,” Shouyou points out, chewing on a Curry bun he got at the store.

A Pikachu. “Oh, because our love electrifies us.” You giggle at his comment and tuck it away. 

A Schillok. “We should probably take a quick shower before we get to bed,” you add and Shouyou nods. “Together.”

“Wha-”

“To make sure we don’t fall asleep while we wait for the other to finish?”

“Oh, yeah, that makes sense.”

You go through the rest of the cards, Shouyou commenting on all of them until you get to the last one and you gasp.

“What?” He peeks over your shoulder. “Oooh, pretty.”

“That’s a super special rare card. Shadowless holographic Charizard.”

“It stands for the fire of our love,” Shouyou grins, pulling you in. “Because we’re super special and our love is rare.”

You giggle. “It’s not rare. I want everyone to be as happy as we are.”

“True. But still. I’ve got a point, don’t I?”

“You’ve got a point.”

-

Shouyou’s alarm goes of at six in the morning, every day, without fail.

You’re halfway through an exciting dream - you’re riding Charizard into a fight against an evil Snorlax - when it starts beeping.

“Sorry,” you hear him groan before the beeping stops.

“Do we have to get up?” You manage to get out, the words slurred together.

“Nah,” he pulls you close. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”

You snuggle up to him, press your nose against his neck. 

You’re almost asleep again when you hear him giggle.

“What?” You ask.

“Just happy,” he answers, his lips brushing your temple. “Love you.”

-

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[pasthqarchive]

someone’s got a crush! | a.miya

pairing: ts!miya atsumu x gn!reader ft. osamu & suna | sfw | cw: cursing, not proofread, written in one sitting, slight manga spoilers but nr | genre: fluff | wc: 553 | masterlist

synopsis -> in which you going on a date leads to a shocking discovery for atsumu (with some help from friends)

ATSUMU MIYA figured out he was in love with you on a rainy night in the dead cold of the winter.

It was the after-hours of Onigiri Miya, and all the customers had cleared out– save for Suna and Osamu, who were having their monthly hangout. The only noise heard over the low hum of the refrigerator and the rain outside is the two’s quiet laughs and the clinking of the plate of food they’re sharing.

Suddenly, their chat is rudely interrupted as an irritated Atsumu barges in, uninvited, swinging the door open in his wake. His hair is weighed down from the rain and his shoes are caked in mud. His face looks murderous when paired with the dim lighting of the restaurant, but the pair of friends seem unphased by this.

“Yer gonna get my floors all dirty, jackass!” Osamu scolds, chucking the towel slung over his shoulder across the room, “Dry off, yer not a dog,”

Ignoring Osamu’s displeasure, Atsumu lets the towel hit his person and fall to the floor. His expression is a mix of annoyance and depression as he drags himself over to where his brother and former teammate are sitting. “I just don’t get their taste in men,” he starts, slumping down in a nearby seat and snatching a piece of onigiri from Osamu’s plate and stuffing it into his mouth, “The guy’s a fuckin’ jackoff!”

At the sight of his distress, Suna and Osamu look at each other in knowing amusement. You, one of Atsumu’s best friends, are on a date right now, and from the look on his face– he is not happy about it.

“Is this about your friend bein’ on a date tonight?” Osamu inquires, already knowing the answer.

Staring at him incredulously, Atsumu deadpans “What else would it be about?” Still chewing his food, the setter shakes his head in disgust, “Y’know the guy’s takin’ ‘em to see a movie?! A movie date! How fuckin’ stupid is that?”

“You sound a bit upset over this,” Suna snickers, patting him on the back rather roughly, resulting in him choking on onigiri, “Is it ‘cause it would be better if they were on a date with you?” Atsumu continues to cough, but the two aren’t sure if it’s from the food stuck in his throat or out of embarrassment. Osamu stifles a laugh.

“Shud up!” he coughs, face reddening and lips pinching into a firm line, “That’s not–“ But then he stops, a realization coming over him.

Horrified by the weight of the discovery, he mutters, voice uncharacteristically small, “Aw shit. It totally would.”

“He finally realizes!” Suna exclaims, looking at Osamu, who folds his arms together and nods his head, laughing, “Took you long enough.”

“Wha…” Atsumu stammers. A vein pops out of his forehead as he stares at the pair in disbelief. Why did this seem like old news to everyone but him?

“It’s ‘bout damn time ya figured it out,” Osamu replies, hitting his twin across the head, “Everyone knows ya got a crush on them.”

The blonde looks to Suna for confirmation, to which he shrugs, grinning deviously in confirmation of his twin’s declaration. He huffs in exasperation and rises from his seat so suddenly that water droplets fall from his hair and litter the table. “Fuck all of ya!” He yells, getting up and storming out of the building without saying another word. The door closes behind him with an exaggerated slam, muddy footprints being the only evidence that he was ever there.

Atsumu doesn’t say where he’s going, but Osamu and Suna are pretty sure it’s to go and crash a date.

—a/n: currently procrastinating all my quizzes and assignments but that’s okay bc atsumu is so fucking fun to write for!!

[pasthqarchive]

add up my love - s.hinata

-

synopsis: after pining after you for what feels like a lifetime, hinata shoyo finally gets to experience the bliss that is waking up next to you.

pairing: ts!hinata shoyo x gn!reader | sfw | cw: kinda suggestive (waking up next to each other), slight manga spoilers | genre: fluff | wc: 946

-

Shoyo can’t believe his luck. Rolling over in bed, he’s greeted by the sweet— and slightly humorous— image of your sleeping figure. You look so peaceful like this, with your hair strewn across his threadbare pillowcase. The figure of the pillow you’re currently resting on is misshapen and wrinkled from the lack of care it’s received during his time abroad.

Last night, he had been embarrassed when you walked in and saw the disarray of his place. When he had imagined taking the person he’s been in love with since high school home, it hadn’t been to a bare and dusty room, but everything happened so fast last night, and he didn’t exactly have time to clean the place up for you. You hadn’t seemed to mind, though.

That was one of the things he liked most about you. How understanding and patient you always were.

Reminiscing on the past evening has his chest swelling with affection and excitement. He’s not sure he can contain his happiness for much longer.

“Are you up yet?” He whispers, trying his best to keep his voice level. In spite of his efforts, his voice penetrates the quiet hum that surrounds his room in a rather abrupt manner.

“Hm?” You murmur sleepily, which makes the spiker’s heartbeat speed up. The sound thrums in his ears, causing his face to heat up.

“I, um-“ He starts, nervous, “ Just asked if you’re up.”

You shift slightly, signaling that you’re still fighting sleepiness. Peeking out of one eye, you shoot Shoyo a soft smile before stretching your limbs slightly. The subtle action quickens his heartbeat, and a wide, unconscious smile spreads across his face. He can’t believe that he gets to experience you like this. A warm tenderness spreads through his body as he admires you further. You’re cute when you’re sleeping, and you’re even cuter when you’ve just woken up.

He may die from happiness.

“What’re you smiling at?” You hum, moving to rest your head on his chest. Shoyo’s sure you can hear the loud boom of his heart, but he’s decided he doesn’t care. All his cards are on the table now; he might as well play them. Blushing, he pulls you closer to him, doing his best to contain how elated he is at this moment.

You nuzzle your face into his chest, and he decides he’s definitely going to die.

Clearing his throat, he smiles down at you, his grin growing impossibly wider. He decides to take a chance when he picks up a piece of your hair and begins to play with it. The feeling of the lock between his fingers has him reveling in the intimacy of the moment. He thinks back to his time in Brazil when he opened up to Heitor about you. His beach volleyball partner had found it amusing— how hopelessly head over heels Shoyo was for you. He’ll have to text him as soon as he gets the chance.

“I asked what you’re smiling about.” You interrupt, poking his cheek playfully, eyes bright with mirth.

Shoyo considers his answer, trying to remember the tips Heitor had given him about how to speak to someone you’re interested in. Mind wandering, his eyes shift to the side of the room. He examines the shabby curtains and takes note of the morning light slipping through them. Maybe he’ll tell you he’s happy you’re here, or he’ll compliment you on how pretty you are. Did you like things like that? He hopes you do.

Before he can decide on an answer, his stomach grumbles loudly.

He freezes, slightly mortified, as the noise echoes through the room. He’s pretty sure Heitor never mentioned that loud stomach noises were a way to make himself more attractive to people.

“Hungry?” You laugh.

Breathing a sigh of relief at your amusement, he chuckles sheepishly, “I guess so.”

You sit up in bed, removing yourself from his grasp, and it’s all Shoyo can do to stop himself from pulling you back in again. Now that he’s experienced your warmth, he never wants to let go.

“You have food here? I can make us something,” You suggest, pushing a loose strand of hair back, bringing more attention to your face. Your position perfectly aligns with the sliver of sun that his curtains have allowed in. The ray of light shines down on you like you’re something out of a dream, which Shoyo figures isn’t half untrue.

Sitting up on his elbows, he shivers from the feeling of the covers slipping off and the cold air hitting his chest. While jarring, it’s a welcome feeling. It reminds him that he’s here and that he’s alive.

“I don’t think there’s much here,” He admits, rubbing the back of his neck, “I think I have, like, some chicken and protein shakes?” Cringing at the statement, he decides he’ll need to stop by the grocery store later today. He needs to be more prepared, especially if you’re going to be coming over more often.

Again, you laugh, looking down at him in adoration.

“I promise I usually have more. Back in Brazil, I-“ He tries to explain but is cut off by the feeling of your lips pressing against his. His breath catches, and electricity shoots through him. The scent of your shampoo is hypnotic. Eagerly, he tries to deepen the kiss, but you pull back before he can.

Staring at you in awe, he pouts at the sudden loss of feeling. You giggle and lay down on him again, “Let’s just stay here then. I like doing this.”

His heart swells once more, and he glances downward at you, smiling, “I like doing this too.”

[pasthqarchive]

As your boyfriend flipped through the endless catalog of possible movies to watch, his phone buzzed with a new message.

You were asking him to please bring you the towel you had forgotten in your bedroom. Before he put his hand on the bathroom door handle though, he decided to be a menace.

“Delivery!“, he called out, and was sure he could actually hear you roll your eyes.

“Thanks, can you just throw it in?“

“Why?“

“Babe.“, you sighed.

“What do you need the towel for anyway? You can come out, I‘ve seen you naked before, ya know.“

“Yeah, I‘m aware.“

“Then I don‘t see the problem.“

“Satori…“

He giggled at your exasperation.

“I would make a mess on the floor and I’m getting cold and am still very wet.“

“Your solution is right here, just waiting for you. Just come and get it.“, he teased.

When you didn‘t say anything, he hugged the towel to his chest and leaned with his back against the door.

Then he lamented, “Goddesses are meant to be worshiped, shnookums. How am I supposed to do my duty as a humble worshiper if my goddess remains behind closed doors?“

“Please, babe, I‘ll do anything, just give me the towel.“

“I will if you answer these riddles three.“

The door opened and he tumbled backward, caught himself, then turned with his signature grin.

Your boyfriend all but licked his lips as his eyes wandered slowly over your body, practically salivating at all the squishy places he‘d love to grab.

“You look ravishing.“, he said with a wink before the towel was snatched from his hands and he was pushed back out of the room.

[pasthqarchive]

"i hope you know i find you very attractive," atsumu slurs from the bar, head lolling as he spoke.

you sigh and pluck the shot glass from his hand and set it down on the bar. "yes, you've mentioned this several times." you look behind him and scowl. "seriously? you know he has a game tomorrow."

osamu shrugged. either he didn't drink as much as atsumu or he had an extremely high tolerance for hard drinks. "i didn't do nothin'. he was the one who kept playing drinking games."

"then why'd you play with him?!"

"i didn't. he just kept drinkin' by himself."

you sigh and turn back to the blond. "you're lucky you drank so much so fast. it's only eleven. you've got time to sleep this off."

"you're taking me home?" atsumu gasps, leaning so far forward you have to catch him and push him upright. "oh my god! what will the media say when they see us?!"

your face crumples in incredulity bordering on disgust. "uhh, that we're engaged? wait, how much did you drink?"

"we're engaged?!" atsumu says, placing his palms to his cheeks. he pulls away one hand gasps at the ring sitting on his finger before turning to you and holding your face in his hands. "we're engaged. our combined hotness level is through the roof."

"o-kay," you say, having quite enough of this. you push his hands away and tug at his wrist. "get up. we're leaving and getting you sober."

"i'm not drunk!" he says stubbornly, even though he nearly tripped just trying to stand up. once he's upright, though, he looks you up and down and grins so wide you're concerned he might tear his face apart.

"what?"

he giggles. "my fiancée is so hot."

that makes your lips twitch. "whatever. let's go home."

he gasps again. "we live together?!"

[pasthqarchive]

Comfortable

Uncomfortable domestic moments when you realize just how comfortable you are together, and how much he really cares about you

I just really love domesticity, okay? Even when it isn't pretty.

Featuring: Kuroo Tetsurou, Ushijima Wakatoshi, Miya Atsumu x reader

(a few potential triggers here, sorry!) TW: vomit / vomiting in Kuroo's ; blood/period in Ushijima's, then you'll have Atsumu's which is really just light and kind of goofy oops

KUROO TETSUROU

"Ugh," You moan as you reach to flush the toilet. You get to your feet and turn to find Tetsurou still hovering behind you. You grimace thinking about how he'd held your hair back just moments ago, as you released the entire contents of your stomach into the toilet bowl.

He hands you a cup of water. "How are you feeling?" He asks as you rinse out your mouth - it's a silly question, all things considered, but you don't exactly have a snarky answer at hand.

"I'm sorry," You blurt instead, not quite sure how he can be looking at you with that almost tender expression on his face after witnessing that.

"Why are you apologizing?" He asks softly, reaching to unstick a sweaty strand of hair from your face.

"Because, it's so gross. You didn't have to come in here," You insist. "I'm an adult, and - you really shouldn't have to see that." You purposefully avoid glancing in the mirror. You don't even want to know what you must look like right now.

"But I don't want you to feel gross alone," He says as if it's simple. You open your mouth, searching for some kind of retort, but nothing comes. "I know you can take care of yourself, but you shouldn't have to," He continues. "Not when I'm right here."

It's so surprisingly sweet that you feel your face start to crumple. "Tetsu," You squeak out.

"Shh," He shushes you, "Just tell me what I can do. Do you need anything?"

"I just want to go back to bed," You admit, reaching out to grab the edge of the sink as you feel yourself begin to waver.

"Okay then," He says, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before he scoops you up in his arms, slowly carrying you back to the bedroom and setting you gently on top of your pillows. "Try to get some rest," He murmurs, pulling the blankets up over you. "I love you," He adds, brushing the hair away from your face.

"I love you too," You murmur back, leaning into his touch and the comfort of the knowledge that he'll always be right here.

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI

Your alarm feels even earlier than usual, and after confirming that it is indeed time to get up, you turn it off with a groan. You're feeling particularly at odds with the world already today, and part of you just wants to pull the covers over your head and go back to sleep. Instead, you slither out of bed, standing next to it as you check the e-mail notification that had popped up overnight.

"Oh," At the sound of his voice, you turn to look at Wakatoshi. He's sitting on the edge of the bed, and he's looking at you with a slight frown on his face. "My love..." He gestures down at your side of the bed, and to your horror, you see a streak of red on the otherwise pristine sheets.

Suddenly, the way you're feeling is making a lot more sense. "Oh no," You drop your face in your hands, muffling your words. "That's absolutely disgusting. I'm so sorry." You don't even want to look at him, but at the sound of rustling sheets, you finally drop your hands. Your boyfriend is methodically stripping the bed.

"Why don't you get in the shower? I'll start washing these." He says matter-of-factly. There must be something in your expression, because you see his face soften. "It's alright. It's natural," He assures you.

"But-" You can't put into words how mortified you are. Natural or not, he shouldn't have to see it, much less clean it up. "At least let me do that," You insist finally, reaching for the pile of bedding.

"No," He twists away so that it's out of your reach, "I've got it. Just get in the shower, okay?"

"You shouldn't have to, though," You say more softly.

"I don't have to," He agrees. "I want to help you. Can I do that?"

You bite your lower lip, trying not to let your hormonally-charged emotions win this battle. "Okay," You say finally.

"Okay," He echoes you, dropping the sheets into the laundry basket before crossing the room back to you, gently taking your face in his hands and pressing a kiss to your lips. "I'll make you some tea to have with breakfast," He adds after he pulls away. "Will that help?"

"Yes," You whisper, the I-love-you hidden in his words practically echoing in your head. You can't resist pulling him back in for one more kiss, hoping he feels the I-love-you-too that you press into it.

MIYA ATSUMU

"Atsumu!" You knock on the bathroom door, "Are you soon done?" It's moments like these when you really regret that this apartment has only one bathroom.

"Just got in!" He shouts back above the sound of the running shower. You bite back a sigh. He's famous for his long, hot showers.

"I really have to go!" You call back. "Can't you make it quick?" You're on the verge of pacing back down the hallway, just to help you hold it in.

"The door isn't locked! Can't ya just come in and go?" You freeze. It might be silly, but it's an unspoken milestone that you haven't crossed yet - peeing in front of each other.

"But!" You groan.

"But what? Ya've seen me naked before," You can practically hear his smirk.

"Tsumu," You whine, but in a matter of moments, you open the door anyway. It's gotten to the point where you don't have much choice. With only a moment's hesitation, you put up the toilet lid.

"How was yer day?" Atsumu begins conversationally.

"We're not doing this," You say quickly. "I'm going, and then I'm leaving the bathroom."

You hear him sigh. "Want me to get out and pee too, so we're even?" He asks, completely serious.

"No!" You say quickly. "I'm leaving now." Before he can say anything else, you're closing the door behind you.

About 10 minutes later, Atsumu finds you in the kitchen, towel wrapped around his waist as drips of water slip from his hair. "Guess we're a real couple now," He grins, leaning in and pressing a damp kiss to your lips.

"We weren't before?" You ask, quirking an eyebrow.

"'Parently not. Didn't know it was such a big deal," He says with a smug grin. "How will I ever look at you the same again?"

"Hey!" You swat his bare shoulder indignantly. "It was your idea." You remind him.

"Guess so," He hums. "Know what? I think I still love ya just as much." His smile is softer somehow, despite the teasing glint in his eyes.

"Oh?" You ask, struggling to maintain your haughty expression.

"Yeah," He nods. "Looks like you're stuck with me." He leans in for a longer kiss, almost making you forget about the small puddle that's begun to form on the floor.

[pasthqarchive]

“everything okay?”

oikawa’s head tilts to the side. his brows furrow when he sees the look on your face.

“yes, did i do something to make you think that i wasn’t?”

your eyes land on the frames decorating his face, slightly slipping down his nose. in need of an adjustment you’re sure, considering the inconsistency of use. it’s not that he doesn’t like to wear them, and it’s absolutely not that he doesn’t look good in them. in fact, you love his glasses. it’s just…rare.

“out of contacts?”

his mouth opens for a moment, then shuts. sheepishly, he nods.

“i ordered some, but they were out. so they’re getting here a couple days late. i miscounted how many days i had and,” he adjusts the frame with his finger. “here we are. why, not a fan?”

you playfully smack his bum when you walk past him to get to the sink and he smirks. he knows that’s not true, he knows you’re trying to look out for him. but he can’t resist.

“oh save it,” you hand him his water bottle from where it was drying on the rack. he smiles and kisses you on the forehead, heart warm when you lean into his touch.

“but i get to call you four-eyes until they come in.”

he rolls his eyes. “that’s not very sexy, call me something else.”

“i’m going to call you late if you don’t leave soon, i don’t need you to miss another team meeting.”

he kisses you on the lips before walking away with his hands up in surrender.

“okay, okay. you better have a better name by the time i’m home.”

[pasthqarchive]

religion's in your lips

third year to timeskip!hinata x fem!reader, a tad suggestive

It’s Shoyo’s fault.

You don’t join Shoyo’s outings often; most of them are volleyball-related anyway, and you didn’t want to get in the way. But right now, it’s just the third years, and Shoyo had begged so sweetly with round eyes that you would be cruel to even think about denying him.

Kageyama sits on your other side, stiff and polite, jostled here and there by Shoyo pressing up against you. Tsukishima, Yamaguchi, and Yachi sit on the other side of the table. Conversation is light and comfortable. They don’t exclude you even when talking about practice matches and lineups—Yamaguchi asks you about your own club ever so often, too.

Yamaguchi claps his hand, forcing everyone’s attention on him. Except Shoyo, who’s busy tracing stars on your hand. “Do you guys want to watch a movie this weekend? I heard they’re releasing a sequel of the one we watched back in first year.”

Yachi emits a wordless sound of excitement, easily agreeing. Kageyama and Tsukishima begrudgingly agree at the same time, then sneer at each other. Then they all turn to you and Shoyo.

Shoyo grins. “Sorry, I got plans already.”

“You get a girlfriend, and suddenly you forget about us,” Yamaguchi mourns. Shoyo laughs while you get flustered and assure them that you’re not keeping your boyfriend hostage. Kageyama says that they know Hinata is the one doing it.

“You’re going to watch our match next week, though, right?” Shoyo asks you in a low whisper, as the other three dutifully settle in their own world.

“You don’t even need to ask, Shoyo,” you tell him. “Of course.”

Shoyo’s eyes brighten impossibly, face split into a grin. He looks like he wants to push you down onto the floor to kiss you in front of his friends, but he doesn’t. You knew he wouldn’t.

It’s Shoyo’s fault.

Really. Seriously this time. Specifically, Hinata Shoyo from third year. He’s changed from first year, gained more confidence, but he’s still shy and soft-spoken with you, which you expected from someone as sweet as him. It set your expectations for him and what your relationship would look like in the years and years that you’ll spend with him: bearing that first love kind of shyness.

It takes about two years to prove you wrong.

When Shoyo came back from Brazil, the first thing he did was kiss you breathless in front of everyone in the airport.

His strong arms around your waist, pulling you up—which you had to think ‘thank God’ for because your knees have definitely buckled. You don’t think too much about it, because he’s been gone for two years—two!!—and you’ve missed each other too much.

But when Hinata’s mouth descends to your jaw, you have to push him by the chest and exclaim (albeit weakly), “Shoyo—there are still people behind us!”

Shoyo blinks and pulls off, his eyes fogged over with heat that makes you have to look away, having to remind yourself that you’re in public and you do not want to beg for him to continue. Thankfully, his friends yelling his name seems to have snapped him out of it.

But his palm never left your side, splayed over your hip like a mark.

It gets worse at his homecoming party thrown by his teammates back at Karasuno. You’re familiar with them, and they’re familiar with you, so of course, it wasn’t a problem when Shoyo was pulled away to greet everyone. You made friendly conversation with Sugawara-san, caught up with Nishinoya, and joked around all night with Yamaguchi and Tsukishima.

“You called each other every night?” Yamaguchi’s brows have shot up all the way to his hairline.

You smile. “I mean—isn’t it normal for people in a relationship?”

Tsukishima shrugs. “Hinata loves you as much as he loves volleyball, I’m not surprised.”

Yamaguchi considers it. “Hmm, I guess.”

“Hinata’s waiting for you,” Kageyama mutters from behind you, appearing out of nowhere. His brows are stitched together, and his mouth is pulled in his ever-permanent Kageyama pout. “His staring is pissing me off. Can you go get him?”

“He’s not a dog, Tobio,” you chide lightly but grin all the same when you turn to your side and see Hinata Shoyo’s eyes drilling holes into your head.

He’s not mouthing anything. Shoyo stays seated on the loveseat, looking entirely isolated from the crowd around him. His eyes say it all: come here.

Helpless to his whims, you obey.

“Shoyo,” you murmur as soon as you reach him.

He pulls you to his lap. “Baby.”

You freeze. He’s never called you that before—his expression isn’t shy at all, too, just expectant. Heat crawls down your body as he tugs your back to his chest, resting his chin on your shoulder. Shoyo’s own warmth is a burning sensation. You feel lightheaded.

“Ah—well, um.” You pinch your arm. “Are you feeling okay? Did you drink?”

“There’s no alcohol here.”

“I’m pretty sure I saw Sugawara-san holding a bottle.”

“Ah, well. Sugawara-san.”

You understand. What you don’t understand is what happened in those two years to have Shoyo’s hand crawling on your thigh, a scorching mark on only that part of your skin. To have Shoyo’s breath on the nape of your neck without him flushing and flinching away. To have Shoyo have this air of confidence around him that’s usually in volleyball suddenly translate to you.

“Did you miss me this much?”

“You have no idea, don’t you?” The implications are clear: I could show you how much, if you want.

Still, this development is very sudden. You squirm on his lap, but Shoyo doesn’t relent. He keeps you there, a puddle in his hands. Nobody is watching—or maybe they’re just being respectful, but you feel flustered facing this side of Shoyo in public.

“Shoyo,” you warn. “Not here.”

It’s Heitor’s fault.

Ever since Hinata had met Heitor and Nice and witnessed how unapologetically intimate they were with each other, Hinata became envious. He wanted that, too. He wanted that with you.

“Well, why wouldn’t you?” Heitor asked when Hinata lamented to him.

Hinata made a pitiful noise, like a deflating balloon. “I don’t know. I think she just thinks I’m too cute to take that seriously.”

Heitor laughs. “Shoyo. Trust me. You’ll drive your girl crazy if you’re confident with it.”

It’s Heitor’s fault, and Hinata is eternally grateful for it, seeing your wide-eyed face beneath him like this. He loves it when he surprises people, but yours might be a different kind of thrill that he’s already addicted to.

[pasthqarchive]

atsumu uses name compatibility games one night as a joke but his frown grows each time it's any less than 80% (this happens many times) (he lets 69% pass because he's stupid /affectionate)

the next time he sees you he says some shit about how Soulmates and Fate aren't real and You've built this life together and He'd always choose you on Purpose and you're like ...thank you?...love you too??? unaware one of the games gave you a compatibility of 3% and he was so stunned he actually yelled bro FUCK YOU to the computer

[pasthqarchive]

𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐬 (𝐌𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐀𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲)

Miya Atsumu | Kuroo Tetsurou | Oikawa Tooru | Akaashi Keiji | Hanamaki Takahiro | Semi Eita | Suna Rintarou

Most people think they're the shit, but they're not, those who know them knows they're shit.

sickening fluff. crack. that's it. 3k

MIYA ATSUMU

One of the greatest setter in Japan? The so-called player of women. The smooth talker. The face of a man who's plastered in many billboards, magazines, outlets of a clothing company, countless commercials of products. One who has terrible jokes, people laugh at it because how unfunny it is.

Who likes to wear animated pieces or mascots for some reason. You never made fun of him for it once though, as adorable as it’s undeniably funny.

However, you didn't expect your usual visit at his brother's restaurant to turn out this way. When Osamu called for his twin after you sat down to a table and waited for your usual as he went to the said man, you definitely should have seen something like it happening. There goes Atsumu walking out of the kitchen wearing what he is at the moment. An onigiri mascot.

“Atsumu….darling,” you breathe, putting your half bitten food down. “My love, what are you doing?” You ask, gaze ever mirthful and fond for him.

Osamu's customers beginning to rouse from seeing the star player in such a spectacle in the little restaurant. “Well, it's about time this place got a symbol for its brand.” Atsumu says proudly the way he always does with something he's determined in.

“And it's your face…in that?” You mused with a smile you prevent to become too bright.

“Ya know my face always sells everything best.”

“It's his idea.” His dear brother shrugged, too amused.

“Of course.” You nod, squishing Atsumu's cheeks in your hand when he nears and leaned down to you, giving him a soft kiss with him grinning widely. All of it recorded from the phones of the customers. Osamu and his employees knows not to bother themselves with the promotion. Clearly the proud athlete is more than enough as he gets out of the place, attention immediately flocking to him as always but twice right now.

Safe to say that his name along with his brother's business blew up online. Him being himself and of course, the countless videos of you holding his face as you kissed him while the man looking so in love with his lazy and big smile, in his onigiri mascot.

KUROO TETSUROU

You thought of yourself a certified yapper, that was until your nerd for a lover. He really was built for business.

As annoying as he is, your eyes always revel him whenever he's too into what he's saying.

Sometimes he gets lost too much in what he's telling about.

Sometimes you lose yourself in just staring at him.

Most of the time he breaks from it and drown from your gaze. His words faltering, eyes shuffling for a moment. “You're doing it again.” Tetsu says, his hand going up to his nape, his soft brown skin blooming of red on his cheeks to his ears.

You blink, a smile curving up on your lips, a little laugh you let out as you wake up. “You do that, too. Purposely.” You remind, putting him in his place.

He glares at you for the most fleeting moment, barely looking away after with a little frown he couldn't keep.

Your lips curve more, leaning forward, “Have I told you how good you look in glasses?”

Tetsu sighs a little groan as he laid his palm on his mouth. Clearly melting. “You always do whenever I do.” He mutters.

Your smile only remains, your hand going up to his face before you gently graze your knuckles on his cheek. “Lovely.”

He groans loudly as he let his face fall on the table with his arms hiding him.

OIKAWA TOORU

The ruthless man in court and in bed. With his tendencies to be such a baby to you whenever he gets in a mood. You could really say it's most of the time too much now at this point, really.

That, and being in a long distant relationship with him—it's hell of a bumpy ride, loving and fun nonetheless.

And when your time allows you to be with him sometimes, he never hesitates to have you on the soonest flight to him. Even then in your flight, he's still whining to you, flooding your chat with his voice mails and messages that you could only read when you arrive in the country.

It's always new to you, the sight of your lover waiting for you there in the nearest where he could wait for you. His voice bright, the biggest smile before he engulfs you in a big hug. Latching onto you endlessly from there on.

When you get to watch him train, his shamelessness doesn't stop, his teammates, even their coach and entire handlers used to it. In between when he could, he runs to you by the sidelines where you're seated—always demanding your attention. He's so used to you using your handkerchiefs to wipe him off his sweat, refusing to do it with his own towel when you're with him, your loving hands tending to him; patting his head, caressing his hair, firm but soothing touches that eases his muscles. So loose in your presence.

Always left with no choice but to welcome his seek of your hold even more when he sits besides you, wrapping you in his arms against his heated and sweaty body, laughing a little as he buries his face on your neck, a hand of yours on his hair. “Just wanna stay in later,” he mumbles against you.

“As you wish.” You comply as you kissed his hair, and he rubs his face on your neck more as he trails up to your face and pressed a long kiss to your lips.

If there's one thing that's very fun and funny about a job of a promotional team, it's never one to let opportunities go to waste. And with Tooru in a relationship with you, it's free real estate. The bits of your love in public recorded by them in unfiltered hindsight. Their fans and even those who aren't couldn't resist seeing a man being simply in love with his lover.

There's highlights on Tooru's instagram dedicated to you and your relationship full of it he reposts from the team's account, from the fans, anywhere he could come across so long as your face is there besides the countless pictures he takes himself.

AKAASHI KEIJI

There's the sweet irony to certain clichés.

Your boyfriend and his habit to place himself in some spaces or corners when he could.

His laptop on his lap while he's sitting on the floor, leaning back on a drawer in his office, his notepad and cup of coffee beside him as he waits for you to answer his call.

When you accepted the video call, you were met with his lovely sight. “Hey, love,” he greets with a calm and little smile.

“Hi.” You drag a bit with a light brightness to your voice. Seeing the familiar background of a plain wall where he's leaned back, you laugh a little. “Kei, my love….where're you this time?”

Keiji echoes your laugh as well, “Just in my office. I have to stay a bit late, I want to finish going over these last few chapters already, so I'm just clearing my head for a bit.” He answers.

“I see,” you barely uttered, your small smile remains. “Would you still want to go out for dinner then?”

“Always.” Keiji said. The brightness of his laptop that shines on his face and especially from how dim the light in his office, shows the red painting faintly on his fairly white skin.

“Okay…then I should go already, I don't want to distract you too much.” You say. He'd say he always doesn't mind, and you know that as well, but he knows he'll just focus more on you than on his work and he'll barely get anything done despite how a focused person he is.

As he only uttered a small hum with a nod, you smile again. “I love you.”

“I love you more.” Keiji says softly. When the call ends, he slumps his weight more on the table, sighing as he puts his palm on his face, feeling how warm his skin is, his heart beating out of rhythm. He still could get so giddy beneath even after the time since you've been together.

With a loud groan and clench of his fingers on his face, he breathes and composes himself after. Pushing back his glasses and resumed working.

HANAMAKI TAKAHIRO

Makki thought he was decent in the kitchen, growing up with his mother and two of his sisters should say enough, but of course he was proven wrong when you two became together, although he always knew he still had a lot to learn in the literal sense of it—he didn't think it was that much.

Besides his barely successful attempts of trying out new dishes by himself, enough times of him tethering a danger that threatens both of your safety, mere mistakes in following complicated instructions. He realizes then he hasn't thought that much about there's a deeper meaning in the kitchen.

It was one day in the high of your starting relationship, when he found himself a stable job as well. On his first day, you woke up early to cook both of your breakfast and a bento for his lunch after you stayed the night in his home. He didn't ask for anything, much less expect, but he was grateful more than he had expressed. Even as he already knew you too well to be that caring for others, much more to your own people, your plain kindness he's seen and felt it himself—to see you unveil more of yourself is entirely different, let alone when it's directed at him. With your kiss, words of how happy and proud you are of him, how he'll do well, your packed lunch for him in his bag—he could have just fallen onto his knees and sobbed when he stepped out of his apartment. As he heads his way for work, he sends a few messages to his three friends in their group chat with a grin anyone could be blinded by in the streets.

An image of LeBron with his caption saying: Smiling through it all! Can't believe this my life

Good motherfucking morning TO ME!

I have the best girlfriend ever🙏🏻

It took him courage to ask you to move in with him and he was over the moon when you said yes. Going with the mundane of everyday in one roof, he couldn't ask for better. Aside all the good things, what he's been liking more is whenever you're in the kitchen together, him watching you as you flow with what you do so effortlessly, what's difficult for him you do with no problems while you teach him as well a bit, the patience and tenderness in it. How tiring it is to fulfil. He realized the essence then before he asked you to teach him fully. With your guide, he learns more. He falls in love with it. Sees how grand the small things could be.

No one could bring him down when he made fruitful dishes and even learned how to bake, how proud he is when he brought a box of savoury pastries to his work, telling he learned from his girlfriend and did it all himself to his gushing coworkers—how devastatingly happy he was when the four of them were complete again, in his home for dinner you and him prepared, no less. Where would he rather be?

SEMI EITA

When Semi parted from his job of being a civil servant and went on to pursue his passion for music fully, the first thing he did after was drag you with him to a tattoo parlor of his friend. A design he's worked hard on he drew himself weeks before he called his resignation.

As excited as he was, nervous he was much more even when he didn't show it. So when he sat there shirtless, his back to be the canvas of his first tattoo, you were there close with him, his hand holding yours as he lay there. His face has been red since then when his friend teased him a bit because he didn't want you to leave his side for a second, but he barely complained either from the jokes, merely thankful he's friends with the artist and he wouldn't mind his lover close to them as he does his work. And when it starts, he couldn't stop squeezing your hand repeatedly from the pain, soothing him back with your touch.

It became a ritual since then. Nonetheless he could bear the pain more, each new tattoo and piercing, he wouldn't want to do it when you're not there with his side and holding his hand.

SUNA RINTAROU

You could say you're chronically online just the enough amount; active in most social media, engaging in your niche interests, and up to date with global news. Then again there's your lover, who's most updated to most of a lot of things in a lot of platforms.

His favourite rather is tiktok despite that he denies it, and the one media you aren't familiar with. It started from him always sending you videos from there, the following message after saying just “us”, random funny videos, or anything that he knows that's your interests. To catching phrases, using it in his vocabulary since then. Whenever he uses one with you present or directly to you that you're not familiar with, you always have to ask and he'll just show it to you.

Though your most favourite one from that kind of occurrence that never fails to make you smile is when you sent him a set of your selfies and he replied with a particular message that had you gaping.

you: >five images delivered

rin: no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponential, logarithmic, while you gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, doggy, backwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle, the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bouncy house, in the pool, bent over, in the basement, against the window, the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, dick throbbing, fist clenching, ear ringing, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffling, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw dropping, hair pulling, teeth jitterbug, mind blogging, soul snatching, overstimulating, vile, sloppy, moan inducing, heart wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious, gushy, creamy, beastly, lip biting, gravity defying, nail biting, sweaty, feet kicking, mind blowing, body shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, black hole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, delectable, unbelievable, body numbing, bark worthy, can't walk, head nodding, soul evaporating, volcano erupting, sweat rolling, voice cracking, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, flabbergasting, lip locking, skin peeling, eyelash removing, eye widening, pussy popping, nail scratching, back cuts, spectacular, brain cell desolving, hair ripping, show stopping, magnificent, unique, extraordinary, splendid, phenomenal, mouth foaming, heavenly, awakening

you: oh wow……

you: is that from tiktok? although i think i’ve seen it before from some comments on ig😭

rin: i mean it all

you: well….yes, of course

Then it went to him actually doing a few videos and you having to be with him for it, never having the heart to say no. If anything, the pr of his team was more than pleased to just allow him, each of his videos reaching millions and thousands of comments. A simple outfit of the day you both match or just a little clip of you he takes, to even as much as learning a few little dances that's trending, despite how silly you feel, you do it with him. All of the said videos always have one ending, either he kisses your forehead, your cheeks or your lips with the murmur of his I love you.

Back home with the night fallen late, the two of you on your bed while you're still awake, you binging a show and him scrolling on his phone. After a while, he stood up and went to the drawer of your art materials, rummaging for something, and after a moment, he got what he was looking for. A thin sash of ribbon.

You paused your laptop, focusing on him as he goes back to sit beside you. He was already recording, the front camera to both of you but more focused on you and his side, "Tie it on me." Is what he only said as he gestured his left shoulder, specifically pointing to his bicep.

You did, confused, with an amused smile nonetheless. The dainty ribbon now tied around his thick bicep. He lightly smiles before he flexes his muscles, the ribbon pulling taut until it tore off, you laugh, gaze brightened more with glee. He's smug, before he kisses your cheeks and mutters, “I love you.”

Now the latest was him lip syncing to a song you've been hearing on repeat online. You were heading out for dinner, him already done and you looking at yourself in the mirror for the last time just as you finished doing your makeup, donning in your fitting dress and heels.

It was Megan Thee Stallion’s song, Mamushi. Rintarou’s mouth catching on the lyrics of Yuki Chiba with a bit of his own voice coming through as he flows with the beat smoothly before panning his phone to you after as the main lyrics go, showing off his woman as usual so proudly while you take your time in the mirror.

i saved the last for suna bc he's sohsjjdsjjdwihs. i don't know shit about tiktok 😓

my hand slipped with makki, idk how that happened

honestly really worried about this one, i hope you guys like this

@seijhoeist, i came in clutching for his birthday 😓🙏🏼😁 @purin-gambler @nnnyxie atsumu and suna for you hehe

image used, divider

[pasthqarchive]

guess who loves the season 3 op so much they redrew it in timeskip (this guy)

[pasthqarchive]

photographed memories   ―   s. rintaro

＃   tags   gender neutral rdr,   fluff,   pre-timeskip,   4+1 trope,   getting tg ＃   notes   another suna fic someone save me.   wc 2.9k

we don’t need the memories.

rintaro had always hated inarizaki’s motto.

he thinks he always will, even if he knows its intention: to encourage students to forget past hardships and strive towards a better future.

it only makes him dislike it more. 

memories were what made a human a person. they decided how one would think, act, and speak — how does that not make them important? it was ridiculous to believe that the essence of one’s being was considered insignificant.

adversity served as a reminder of how one can improve. pleasure allowed people to look back on their lives without regrets. rintaro thought neither should be wiped away, even in the name of improving.

when he expressed this opinion to his teammates, he was met with various forms of confusion. atsumu had even said that the reason why rintaro felt so strongly about a school motto of all things was that he was a sentimental person. 

and while rintaro hates to agree with miya atsumu of all people, it was a hard claim to deny — especially when his statement made him increasingly aware of the camera in his pocket.

(still, he took the setter into a headlock, encouraging osamu to harshly run his knuckles along his twin’s head while ignoring his incessant cries of pain.)

“suna,” you hummed. his eyes flickered over to your place from across the store. you were bent over a pile of cameras, and you were sifting through a few of them. “d’ya wanna get one?”

rintaro’s raised an eyebrow, looking at you curiously. “why would i buy a camera? my phone works perfectly fine for taking photos.” 

you shot straight up, spinning on your heel to face him. in your hand was a black digital camera. it was small, a little worn from being used over the years, but appeared to be in otherwise pristine condition. 

“that’s exactly why!” you exclaimed, pointing a finger at the camera. “yer phone’ll run outta storage sooner than later. you can dedicate this to photos to keep all yer memories safe!”

“i thought you didn’t care about memories?” he bristles.

“i don’t,” you bluntly reply, “but i know ya do.”

rintaro’s heart beats a little faster. he fights the tinge of pink threatening to cover his ears away by pure will alone. then, he stalks towards you to snatch the camera you’re holding, paying no mind to your shrill hey! ya could’a ask!

he inspects the camera for a few seconds, feeling its weight in his hands. while there are a few scratches along the camera, it turns on perfectly fine. rintaro looks through the screen while aiming it at random items in the thrift shop the two of you dragged him into. the quality is pretty good, too, he notes. it’s not the best — a little blurry at the edges, but he appreciates the vintage look the lens provides. 

the camera unfocuses when he aims it at you. when it refocuses, rintaro watches you flick through old vinyl records. they’re stacked on a dinky desk and are probably as old as the camera he’s holding, but the glimmer in your eyes tells him that you’ve just hit the jackpot. you’re not paying attention to him or the camera, allowing him to click the shutter button without anyone but him knowing. the sound of the shutters closing is rather loud and catches him off guard — he fears you heard it too.

when you don’t react, rintaro lets out a silent sigh of relief.

he buys the camera the same day.

late-night convenience store runs were a staple in you and rintaro’s friendship. the both of you had a bad habit of staying up way too late into the night, and when it turned out that you only lived a few blocks from each other, midnight adventures spent buying snacks did as well. 

your eyes raked down the assortment of snacks on the shelves. rintaro stood behind you, playing a random game on his phone with his food in hand. 

“hey, suna?” you say, turning to the brunette. his eyes meet yours, half-lidded and bored. 

“can you not pick something?” he questions, standing up to his full height. while you whine a bit in response, you quickly remember what you were thinking of. 

“yes, but that's not the point! i was thinkin’, wouldn't this be a cute place to have a photoshoot in?” you reply. your thumb juts toward the shelves full of snacks, a small grin adorning your face. 

rintaro’s face contorts into a mix of confusion and judgment, so intense that you cringe a little. even after knowing him for a while, you don't think you'll ever get used to it. 

“you just don't understand the vision!” you exclaim, “c’mon, do ya have yer camera?” 

he nods in reply, but you can still see faint hints of confusion. still, rintaro pulls the digital camera from his hoodie to show you. what he doesn't expect you to do, though, is pluck the device from his palm and practically shove him towards the aisle. he nearly trips into the shelf but stabilizes himself at the last moment. 

the smile on your face only widens at his look of surprise, cheeky and teasing in a way he recognizes only you're capable of. 

“pose!” you usher him, the camera covering a portion of your face. he doesn't listen, giving you the most deadpan and uninterested look he can muster. it comes easy to him, considering how it’s already nearing early morning.

you giggle at the photo, before pulling rintaro away and handing him his camera. the look of confusion returns, and you bristle at him. 

“ya gotta take a photo of me, stupid.” you tease. 

rintaro frowns. “i'm not gonna if you keep on treating me like this,” he chides. when you shriek, the corners of his mouth lift ever so slightly. he raises the camera. 

when he takes the shot, your hair is mostly covered by the hood on your head. your smile is childish, and he can see a peek of your tongue. your hands have come up beside you in matching peace signs. the yellow lights of the store only accentuate the old quality of the camera, and don’t do you justice, but a voice at the back of suna’s head tells him that you look beautiful either way.

he ignores it, opting to push past you to grab items off the shelf for you. your whines follow him to the cash register, where he tosses the items down — your favorites. he rolls his eyes when you cheer, throwing the food at you. 

rintaro has only owned the camera for a few weeks, but he's already made it a habit to always carry it on him. you were, unfortunately, right — he definitely liked using the dinky device more for taking photos than he did on his phone. 

he still used it, of course. he wouldn't want to waste precious space on the camera filming the miya twins’ fights. but there was a particular way the camera managed to capture life; freezing memories perfectly in time, allowing no detail to be missed, even with the old quality of the images. 

“d’ya think they’re gonna wake up soon?” atsumu whispers to his brother. osamu takes a moment to respond, observing you and his friend. 

“dunno. it's gettin’ late though,” the grey-haired twin notes. he stands carefully, making sure that he doesn't make any sudden loud noises. when the floorboards creak under his weight, he cringes.

“ooh!” atsumu excitedly exclaims. “i wanna take a picture of ‘em. can ya check if sunarin has his digi…thing?” 

osamu rolls his eyes but glances through their friend’s belongings anyway to check. he's able to make out the faint outline of the camera and makes quick work of taking it from suna’s pocket. 

“it's a digital camera, dumbass. n’ here. what're ya gonna use it fer?” he questions. 

a sinister smile grows on the blonde’s face as he takes the camera in hand. the light from the tv is enough to make out the sleeping figures of you and rintaro, your head peacefully resting on his shoulder. his rests on top of yours and your limbs are tangled together. the two of you close — in all forms of the word — and it would be easy to assume that you were trying to fuse into one. the movie playing in the background becomes white noise atsumu clicks the shutter button without hesitation.

the flash goes off. 

“oh shit!” the blonde almost yells, flinching at the bright light. osamu’s eyes widen, and he cusses at his brother. a beat of silence passes through the twins, their eyes trained on you and rintaro in fear.

they watch as rintaro’s eye twitches, and they share a mutual look of terror before his face returns to normal. osamu sighs, and atsumu carefully places the camera back into its rightful place. the blonde drags his twin to their room soon after.

when morning comes, rintaro makes quick and careful work of untangling himself from you. he watches as the sunlight hits your face perfectly, forming what might as well be a halo around your figure. he wouldn’t be surprised.

he rubs the sleep from his eyes while unlocking his phone. the first notification is a text — rintaro doesn’t see who it's from, mindlessly swiping to open it.

from atsumu: 

hope ya enjoyed ur sleep with ur girl. check ur camera thing

to atsumu: 

you're so dead

it’s the first photo he flicks to whenever he misses you, which is embarrassingly often for someone who lives only a few blocks away. he thinks it might be his favorite — not just of you, because he thinks any photo of you is his favorite at this point, but of him. once he’s able to inspect the photo, he notes the strange look of serenity he has. rintaro doesn’t think he can chalk it up to a peaceful sleep — not when there’s an almost love-sick look to him, even when unconscious. 

rintaro doesn’t dare to voice his thoughts out loud, but he thinks he looks the best with you. 

you had always loved the sky.

this was a fact rintaro had known for as long as he had known you. more often than not, when you had nothing else to do, you would tip your head upwards, eyes adoring the endless scene in front of you.

and once he’d known you for longer, when he’d gotten used to your sporadic invitations to go out at ungodly hours of the night, rintaro also learned of your love for the stars.

in a way, he thought it was different from how you saw the sky. 

if you admired the sky — thought it provided you with inspiration for something rintaro didn’t know of, looked at it as if it gave you an infinite amount of opportunities (because it did, according to you), then your relationship with the stars was much more intimate.

you gazed at the lights scattered across the night sky like you’d known them for years. maybe you did, rintaro thinks. he believes that you’d spend hours looking at the stars if you could — having a silent conversation with them as if they were an old friend. sometimes, you’d point out different constellations to him and explain their stories. he would listen, of course, but never truly understand. 

and while you conversed with orion and told jokes to lyra, rintaro busied himself with you. 

he slipped the black digital camera from its place in his pocket — it was practically the device’s home, with how often it was found there. turning it on as quietly as possible, rintaro brought the screen closer to his face so he could capture you in your entirety. like the photo he took the day he bought the camera, you paid no attention to him, too immersed in your silent conversation with the stars above. he allows himself to admire you through the lens for a moment before clicking the shutter button.

the sound snaps you from your daze.

“hey!” you shriek, “did ya jus’ take a photo of me?”

rintaro snickers. “what else do you think i did?”

“i probably looked so bad,” you whine, “ya need’a delete it, please!” a pout forms on your lips, making the brunette feel just a little bad. 

the next thing rintaro says slips from his mouth before he’s able to catch it. 

“i’m not gonna,” he hums, “but if it helps, you look pretty in it.”

you freeze once you hear his words, and rintaro wants to slap himself. maybe he’d even ask atsumu to do it for him — only the gods know how badly the blonde wants to. his fingers drum nervously against his thigh, and he shifts his focus onto the stars above him. he thinks they’re laughing at him.

“i think yer pretty, too, suna.” you mumble, falling back onto the soft grass. 

rintaro looks at you in surprise. you’re no longer gazing at him, too enraptured with whatever the constellations may be telling you now. he doesn’t know if he should be grateful or not. he stays silent, butterflies swarming in his stomach.

if you were to ask rintaro what his favorite photo of all time was, he wouldn’t have an immediate answer.

he has dozens — maybe even hundreds — of photos that he likes. there are some of his friends, like the horrendous photo of osamu drooling in his sleep or of kita scolding atsumu. he knows he has a few of his sister throughout her life, from her first days of school to stupid .5 photos taken from the top of her head. there are some of him sprinkled throughout his camera roll, too. rintaro remembers the selfie he took after he let his sister mess with his hair — colorful hairbands and different clips adorned the strands, though his face was less than cheerful. he knows he has a photo of himself after he’d accidentally taken atsumu’s serve to the face. a large welt was present on his cheek, red seeping through the wound. 

he has photos of you, too. of course, he has less-than-great ones, like when you fell asleep on the bus ride home, or any of the moments he captured you off-guard. there’s the photo he took of you looking at the stars and the one he took of you posing in front of the snack shelf at your local convenience store. 

rintaro is a self-assured person — confident in both himself and his abilities. so, even if it’d take him a minute or two, he knows what he’d say if someone asked him what his favorite photo was.

the picture isn’t the clearest. it’s blurry, and you can hardly make out the faces of the people who are in it, even though the flash is on. for the most part, you can only see that there are two people in it, their faces smushed close together. 

you took it the day he confessed to you — it was an awkward confession, and he tripped over his words a few times, but it was everything and more to you. 

promptly after his un-planned confession, there was an ominous pause between your bodies. it made rintaro’s stomach drop, eyes skidding around to focus on everything and anything but you. what he didn’t see during that time, though, was the fond smile that stretched along your face — an obvious expression of your feelings and the answer to his admission.

rintaro missed the way your arms shot out to find solace around his shoulders to pull him down, too. the kiss was clumsy, your teeth clashing with his. you giggled throughout it, and rintaro felt his lips turn upwards to smile into the kiss.

he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. 

the photograph came after many other kisses were shared. you were both unsure how to take the perfect picture, as you weren’t able to see yourselves through the lens — resulting in the poor execution of the shot. 

“i’m starting to think you just wanted a reason to kiss me more,” he mumbles against your lips. you laugh, but don’t answer — holding the black camera out instead, your arm shaking as you attempt to find the right angle. rintaro only glances at the lens of his camera, putting the entirety of his focus back onto you.

he lets out an amused sigh, pressing forward to meet you. 

the shutter closes and the flash goes off, but neither of you flinch. the camera drops from your hand onto rintaro’s bed, coming to cup his face instead. you push further, deepening the kiss. rintaro doesn’t complain, his arms looping around your figure to pull you closer to him.

“this photo is so shitty,” he teases, finally looking at the picture. his lips are red and swollen, and yours are in a similar state. your bottom lip juts out in a dramatic pout, and you look over his shoulder at the photo. he’s right, but you’d rather be deprived of water than admit defeat. you lightly slap your boyfriend’s chest, laughing at the high-pitched whine he lets out. 

even if it's a shitty photo, it’s still rintaro’s favorite. he knows the photo doesn’t do either of you well — you can hardly even tell its you and him in it, much less what you’re doing. still, it’s a moment rintaro will never forget; a memory that he’ll always keep close to him.

when atsumu had said that rintaro hates their school’s motto because he’s a sentimental person, rintaro figured there was some truth to it. he sees it in the way that he wouldn’t let anything get in the way between him and the memories you’ve shared. 

[pasthqarchive]

18+, post brazil arc hinata, heavy makeout scene, implied sex

The first warning sign is the sound of your television ringing out. You can hear it, even outside the door. It plays out a muffled commentary, followed by excited cheers and screams, but to you, this is beginning to sound like a soundtrack of a horror movie. Your fingers pause on the key, heart racing.

You make sure to save your electricity bill every time you go out—it’s become a habit. There is just no way you forgot to do it today. As depressing as it is to admit, your life had been such a monotonous repeat of last week that even a slight change of habit like that would’ve been the most excitement you would feel for the past three years.

This is no longer exciting. This is just horrifying.

Usually, you’d enter and greet no one in particular, kick off your shoes in an impressively lazy manner, then pluck them back up and store them properly, place your groceries on the counter, lie down on the couch, then pass the fuck out. It’s been a routine. But today, you slide your phone out of your pocket, text Yachi, if i don’t reply in an hour, call sugawara-san and the police, and turn the key with a click!

You’re instantly greeted by the sight of an unfamiliar pair of shoes, deposited neatly beside where you would usually place yours. They’re too big for your feet. Next comes the turned up TV, maxed to a hundred—to the point where you can feel the buzz on your feet.

You see him right away, sprawled on your flimsy couch. It’s hard to miss him even when you try anyway, with the shock of orange hair illuminated by the blue of your TV.

But you must be hallucinating. Hinata is in Brazil. He should not be here. He should not have his arm over the head of your couch, he should not be drinking out of the glass you use every day—he should… he should not…

You flick the lights on and your mouth dries.

Hinata’s head whips around, eyes wide in surprise, before it melts into a pleased grin.

“Y/N! You’re back!” he exclaims. If you had a pet, it would surely react like that.

See, the problem is this: You and Hinata Shouyou are best friends. Friendly enough for you to call him Shouyou, for you to miss him so much when he left that it left an ache in your chest for too long, for him to update you about his troubles in Rio De Janeiro, for him to come over unannounced (apparently), and friendly for you to try and bury your feelings away to not ruin what you had.

Hinata shifts his torso to face you fully. “Y/N?”

Then his expression falls, and it takes a shudder from your shoulders to realize that you’re crying.

Hinata drops the remote and hurries over to you, large hands cupping your cheeks. He’s so, so warm, and real, and he’s asking you ‘what’s wrong? Are you okay?’ And no, you’re not okay. You thought that those two years without him would’ve helped you get rid of your feelings, but your heart is lurching to your throat and tears continue to leak from your eyes.

“I don’t…” You sniffle. “It’s not stopping.”

He murmurs your name so lovingly that you just cry harder.

You’re stupid to think that you can even get rid of it. Hinata wipes a stray tear with his thumb, leaving a scorching trail. You hiccup pathetically, dropping your groceries to hug him fully. His warmth envelops you as he lifts you by the waist to hug you back. You feel your feet lift off the ground.

“S-Shouyou,” you wail, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. “You didn’t— You didn’t tell me—”

You then hit him on the chest, but it doesn’t work in your favor when you realize how sturdy it is and you must’ve been like a pawing kitten clinging onto him. You suddenly become aware of this, and push off, but he keeps you pressed against him.

“I wanted to surprise you,” Hinata says softly, but the gleam in his eye and his amused smile betrays him.

You frown. “This isn’t funny.”

Hinata smiles wider. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“How did you even get in?”

Hinata shrugs. “You gave Yamaguchi your spare key. He helped me out.”

“You didn’t tell me you were back! I would’ve picked you up!”

Hinata laughs. “I wanted to surprise you. That’d be counterproductive.”

Against your morals, you jab a finger on his chest again. Just to test it. It is still as firm as about five seconds ago. “Did you do this to Yamaguchi or Hitoka, too? Huh? You idiot!”

“No, of course not. Just you,” he says it like it should be obvious.

What’s so obvious about your best friend holding you by the waist as you two stand in the doorway of your apartment, and your heart is racing because he’s gotten unfairly hotter? Nothing about this is obvious. Nothing about this is normal.

“I didn’t expect you to cry, though,” he says after a while.

You pull on his ear until he starts whining for you to stop.

You sit on your dingy couch as the TV plays out a sports channel that Hinata must’ve tuned in into while you haven’t arrived yet. It shouldn’t make you fond, but it does. He’s lowered the volume to 5%, and neither of you are paying attention. 

“Sorry,” Hinata mumbles in defeat.

That shouldn’t make you forgive him in an instant, but it does.

“I could’ve at least prepared something for you,” you say, embarrassed by the state of your apartment. You really meant that so you could at least make your place look more presentable had you known Hinata Shouyou would be coming over. What if you had a stray underwear lying around somewhere?

Hinata turns to you with a kicked puppy expression, bottom lip jutted out. “You went from crying to angry in a flash, it scared me.”

“I’m not angry, Shouyou. Just—you know. A warning next time. I’m embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed? Over what?”

“It’s rude, Sho. You should be embarrassed!” You knuckle his head, momentarily forgetting how soft his hair is. It’s been years since you’ve touched it. You linger on it for a while, and he lets you.

Hinata just laughs in delight, his hands finding home on your hips. “You don’t have to prepare anything or clean up for me. I’d be coming over all the time now, anyway.”

“You’re a pro athlete now. Know your priorities!”

“You are my priority.”

You shove your accent pillow on his face. He yells in retaliation, but it’s mostly to hide your flustered, wide-eyed expression. Hinata is stronger, though. He pulls your hand off and grins at you, like you nearly straddling his lap is normal.

You realize you’ve been staring at him for too long. Shit. Seriously? Way to waste those two years trying to move on.

Hinata’s hand slides down to the small of your back when you move away, stopping you. His expression is more serious now, facing your gaze head-on. This is a terrifying position you’re in.

“I missed you,” Hinata says.

You pause. Wherever this was going, you were expecting it to just be a heated one night stand. You expected for it to end up with him on your bed, for him to never bring it up, and for you to regret hurting yourself years later. But Hinata says:

“I missed you so much,” he says, brows pinched to convey his earnestness. “My buddy, Heitor—he got married. I was invited. I clapped for them, but I just kept thinking about you.”

Oh.

“Well—I… I missed you, too, of course,” you stammer out, your pitch getting higher and higher as his other hand moves to the back of your thigh.

“You know, two years without you made me realize a lot of things,” Hinata tells you, never breaking eye contact.  “A lot. You don’t know how many times I wanted to just risk everything and call you, but I wanted to do it here.”

“R-Really now?”

“You can tell me to stop, okay?” he says, and oh god, you know where this is going. “And we can forget I did this.”

You should tell him to stop. This is Hinata Shouyou, your best friend (and crush) since Karasuno High. Hinata Shouyou, who you watched grow up and get to where he is now—now being on your couch as you’re actually straddling him.

Instead, what comes out is: “Please.”

Hinata kisses you fiercely, not dissimilar to how he comes off in court—grand and dramatic and everything all at once. You tug on his wild hair, pulling on a few strands, and he makes a really pretty noise that makes something burn in your stomach. He gets revenge when his large hand trails to your ass and pushes you to sit on his lap. You may or may not have made an embarrassing noise in return.

Hinata chuckles. “That was hot.”

You scowl, locking his hips with your thighs, and he’s quick to shut up. It’s difficult for you, considering how thick he’s gotten, but the dazed fog in his eyes makes it all worth it.

You dive in for another heated kiss. His hand slides up your shorts, lingers on your inner thigh, where your skin meets his. It makes you gasp at the heat he’s emanating, rolling off of him physically. He pushes his tongue in your mouth, and your eyes might have just rolled back.

When you have to pull back for air, Hinata is gnawing on his bottom lip so hard that it swells up the way your lips are feeling.

“Fuck,” he says, with feeling, frowning.

You shiver when his hands continue to explore around your thighs. The cold breeze of the evening air then the sweltering heat of Hinata’s palms has you making pitiful, pitiful noises that makes Hinata groan into your neck, like you’re hurting him.

“Shouyou,” you breathe weakly.

Hinata’s sharp gaze cuts to yours, then he’s on top and you’re underneath him in a flash, caged by his arms. Your breath is knocked out of your lungs, and you could excuse it to his speed, but it’s really from just how easily he’s molding you to his liking.

“Sho—”

He rests a finger on top of your lips. It would’ve been difficult if it was just the TV flooding the room with light, but in this, you can see how red his ears have gotten.

“Stop… saying my name like that,” he says weakly.

You belatedly realize that this is him embarrassed, and laugh at his little problem. He looks at you and resembles a wounded animal.

“Shouyou,” you say, then pointedly roll your hips and grin when he stutters on a groan.

“Y/N!” he whines, as if trying to chide you, but he’s also moving his hips. It might be absentmindedly, seeing how he looks so far gone in bliss.

“Shouyou,” you repeat. “I want to take it further. So stop stalling take off your damn shirt already.”

At the green light, he hurriedly pulls his shirt off, fumbling for a second when it catches on his ear. He murmurs in embarrassment, but you’re not paying attention. 

You trace his tan lines, lining his arms and would only be really visible if he was topless, like how he is now. His abs expand and contract with each heavy breath as he sucks on the skin under your jaw, hands moving everywhere, frantic, needy. He whimpers weakly every time you move against his hard-on, and the sound fuels you even more to tear him apart.

Two years trying to push him away. Hilarious. If all it took was one unexpected night for Hinata Shouyou to lose his mind over your hips, you would’ve risked it all instead of wallowing alone.

He pants, muscles flexing, and you breathe out a whine, trembling. You let him slide your shorts down, let him pull off your shirt, let him kiss you on your shoulder, your waist, then the inside of your thigh. You let him do more because he keeps looking at you like he wants nothing more than to be here, pupils blown wide and hands desperate, as if even a second without touching you would kill him.

You tug on his hair in warning when his nose brushes against the source of your heat. Hinata pulls back, looking dazed and upset you’re pushing him off. But you haven’t had the chance to tell him earlier, so you’ll tell him now. 

“Shouyou,” you say.

Hinata reluctantly tears his eyes away from the mark in between your legs to look you in the eye. “Yeah?” 

“Welcome home.”

Later that morning, you have about three missed calls from Sugawara, and over fifty from Yachi. In apology, Hinata sends them a picture of him on your bed, grinning smugly, like he’s just won a particularly hard match. He sends it off with a caption that read: I’m home.

[pasthqarchive]

“Oh, you are nasty,” Iwaizumi almost seethes, his eyes following the condensation on the plastic bottle while it drips down the side, “grape flavored water?!”

His words catch you off guard, lowering the bottle with a confused look on your face before your eyebrows furrow together more, “Yes, Hajime, grape flavored water,” you respond with an eye roll, “is there a problem with me hydrating myself after our run?”

“You know there’s perfectly good, normal water in the fridge too, right?” he scoffs, he’s still in disbelief. And it’s not because you’re drinking flavored water, more so because of the flavor of water you chose.

Oh. Now you get it.

“I’m aware of that yes,” you hum, a shit eating grin beginning to form on your face, “but I’m also aware that there’s a whole pack of flavored waters that will be left untouched if I do not drink them, because you can’t help a good deal at the grocery store.”

“I would drink them if they were any other flavor!” he protested quickly with a slight pout of his own.

“Oh, you are such a liar,” you rebuttal quickly, “name one flavor you enjoy, because I can name about six right now that you don’t.” 

“I like…” he thinks for a moment, sucking on his teeth while he roams his brain for an answer, “...I, uh…blue raspberry."

You two have had this argument over and over again. Ever since you were teenagers, Iwaizumi has had a certain distaste for actual fruit flavored things. You’d think an athlete would actually prefer the artificial flavors that at least taste like healthy food, but no.

“Not a water flavor,” you hum cockily, crossing your arms over your chest, “and blue raspberry is nastier than grape by a mile.”

“You are a sick, twisted individual,” he scoffs, waving his finger at you in playful disappointment, “I am ashamed of myself for letting you get into my pants, let alone my heart for the rest of our lives.”

“Oh hush,” you hum amusedly, wrapping your arms loosely around his neck to pull his body flush against yours, “you said for better or for worse.”

“Mm, I also said in sickness and in health,” he responds with his own hum, his arms wrapping around your waist on instinct, “and you are definitely sick in the head for liking flavored water.”

His nose brushes against your own softly for a moment before he connects your lips with his in a tender kiss. A soft groan leaves his throat, unable to stop himself from running his hands along your sides as he deepens the kiss. Before he pulls away with an absolutely disgusted look on his face.

“What…?” you ask innocently through bated breath, with a soft giggle and smile.

“...You taste like grape.”

[pasthqarchive]

WATERMELON !

You’re not quite sure how you got here, but you aren’t complaining at all. The atmosphere is just so light and silly and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Loud laughter leaves your lips, “babe, I’m telling you! that thing is way too big!” Atsumu had somehow convinced you to get this big ass watermelon, because he saw some guy break a watermelon with his thighs. Of course your boyfriend wanted to try it too.

“Are ya doubting’ me?! My thighs are huge, I’ll break this thing in a coupla’ seconds. Now start recordin’!” He’s sat on the porch outside, because you told him there’s no way in hell you’ll be cleaning watermelon out of the carpet.

The watermelon is snug between his thighs and he waits for you to give him the go ahead to crush it. Yes your boyfriend is a professional athlete, but you still think a watermelon is a bit of a crazy stretch.

“Is the camera on?” He asks impatiently, you can’t recall a time your boyfriend had been patient for more than five minutes.

“Oh my gosh be patient!” He sighs over dramatically as per usual while waiting for you to get the camera in focus.

“Okay here we go. I swear if you pull something I’m not covering for you. I bet Sakusa will get a laugh from this.”

“Omi has a stick so deep in his ass i don’t think anythin’ could make ‘em laugh.” He remarks with a smirk.

“Got that on camera.”

“What? He already knows!” Atsumu shakes his head focusing at his task.

You watch from behind the phone as he strains to crush the watermelon for few seconds. You’re rendered speechless when the watermelon actually starts to crack slowly.

Watermelon juice slowly starts to seep down his thighs and into the red shorts he’s currently wearing.

“Oh shit watermelon juice is gettin’ in my underwear!” He complains like it wasn’t his idea to do this.

“Nobody told you to crack open a watermelon with your fucking thighs, babe.” He glares at you when you start to snicker.

His attention is taken away from your teasing when the watermelon cracks open all the way and the juices, seeds, and watermelon gush all out into his thighs and mess up his shorts.

“Holy shit I’m gonna be sticky later.” He mumbles, finally seeing the stupidity of this challenge.

“That’s what you get for being an airhead.”

“Hey! I’m yer airhead n technically this is yer fault too. Ya didn’t stop me from buyin’ it.”

“Maybe I didn’t stop you, because I wanted to see how strong your thighs are.”

“Ya know how strong they are. Ya practically use me as yer personal chair every chance ya get.” You turn off the camera, slipping the phone into your pocket.

“Alright my whiny little baby, let’s get you cleaned up.”

“I’m a fuckin’ professional athlete, ain’t nothing about me is little or baby like.”

“Atsumu. I literally have a video of you clinging to me for your life while cuddling.” He scoffs but his ears turn red which means he remembers.

i miss himmmmmm

©𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐊𝐄𝐘𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈 All works are written by me! Please do not copy, translate, or upload onto other sites thanks!

[pasthqarchive]

18+, post brazil arc hinata, heavy makeout scene, implied sex

The first warning sign is the sound of your television ringing out. You can hear it, even outside the door. It plays out a muffled commentary, followed by excited cheers and screams, but to you, this is beginning to sound like a soundtrack of a horror movie. Your fingers pause on the key, heart racing.

You make sure to save your electricity bill every time you go out—it’s become a habit. There is just no way you forgot to do it today. As depressing as it is to admit, your life had been such a monotonous repeat of last week that even a slight change of habit like that would’ve been the most excitement you would feel for the past three years.

This is no longer exciting. This is just horrifying.

Usually, you’d enter and greet no one in particular, kick off your shoes in an impressively lazy manner, then pluck them back up and store them properly, place your groceries on the counter, lie down on the couch, then pass the fuck out. It’s been a routine. But today, you slide your phone out of your pocket, text Yachi, if i don’t reply in an hour, call sugawara-san and the police, and turn the key with a click!

You’re instantly greeted by the sight of an unfamiliar pair of shoes, deposited neatly beside where you would usually place yours. They’re too big for your feet. Next comes the turned up TV, maxed to a hundred—to the point where you can feel the buzz on your feet.

You see him right away, sprawled on your flimsy couch. It’s hard to miss him even when you try anyway, with the shock of orange hair illuminated by the blue of your TV.

But you must be hallucinating. Hinata is in Brazil. He should not be here. He should not have his arm over the head of your couch, he should not be drinking out of the glass you use every day—he should… he should not…

You flick the lights on and your mouth dries.

Hinata’s head whips around, eyes wide in surprise, before it melts into a pleased grin.

“Y/N! You’re back!” he exclaims. If you had a pet, it would surely react like that.

See, the problem is this: You and Hinata Shouyou are best friends. Friendly enough for you to call him Shouyou, for you to miss him so much when he left that it left an ache in your chest for too long, for him to update you about his troubles in Rio De Janeiro, for him to come over unannounced (apparently), and friendly for you to try and bury your feelings away to not ruin what you had.

Hinata shifts his torso to face you fully. “Y/N?”

Then his expression falls, and it takes a shudder from your shoulders to realize that you’re crying.

Hinata drops the remote and hurries over to you, large hands cupping your cheeks. He’s so, so warm, and real, and he’s asking you ‘what’s wrong? Are you okay?’ And no, you’re not okay. You thought that those two years without him would’ve helped you get rid of your feelings, but your heart is lurching to your throat and tears continue to leak from your eyes.

“I don’t…” You sniffle. “It’s not stopping.”

He murmurs your name so lovingly that you just cry harder.

You’re stupid to think that you can even get rid of it. Hinata wipes a stray tear with his thumb, leaving a scorching trail. You hiccup pathetically, dropping your groceries to hug him fully. His warmth envelops you as he lifts you by the waist to hug you back. You feel your feet lift off the ground.

“S-Shouyou,” you wail, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. “You didn’t— You didn’t tell me—”

You then hit him on the chest, but it doesn’t work in your favor when you realize how sturdy it is and you must’ve been like a pawing kitten clinging onto him. You suddenly become aware of this, and push off, but he keeps you pressed against him.

“I wanted to surprise you,” Hinata says softly, but the gleam in his eye and his amused smile betrays him.

You frown. “This isn’t funny.”

Hinata smiles wider. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“How did you even get in?”

Hinata shrugs. “You gave Yamaguchi your spare key. He helped me out.”

“You didn’t tell me you were back! I would’ve picked you up!”

Hinata laughs. “I wanted to surprise you. That’d be counterproductive.”

Against your morals, you jab a finger on his chest again. Just to test it. It is still as firm as about five seconds ago. “Did you do this to Yamaguchi or Hitoka, too? Huh? You idiot!”

“No, of course not. Just you,” he says it like it should be obvious.

What’s so obvious about your best friend holding you by the waist as you two stand in the doorway of your apartment, and your heart is racing because he’s gotten unfairly hotter? Nothing about this is obvious. Nothing about this is normal.

“I didn’t expect you to cry, though,” he says after a while.

You pull on his ear until he starts whining for you to stop.

You sit on your dingy couch as the TV plays out a sports channel that Hinata must’ve tuned in into while you haven’t arrived yet. It shouldn’t make you fond, but it does. He’s lowered the volume to 5%, and neither of you are paying attention. 

“Sorry,” Hinata mumbles in defeat.

That shouldn’t make you forgive him in an instant, but it does.

“I could’ve at least prepared something for you,” you say, embarrassed by the state of your apartment. You really meant that so you could at least make your place look more presentable had you known Hinata Shouyou would be coming over. What if you had a stray underwear lying around somewhere?

Hinata turns to you with a kicked puppy expression, bottom lip jutted out. “You went from crying to angry in a flash, it scared me.”

“I’m not angry, Shouyou. Just—you know. A warning next time. I’m embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed? Over what?”

“It’s rude, Sho. You should be embarrassed!” You knuckle his head, momentarily forgetting how soft his hair is. It’s been years since you’ve touched it. You linger on it for a while, and he lets you.

Hinata just laughs in delight, his hands finding home on your hips. “You don’t have to prepare anything or clean up for me. I’d be coming over all the time now, anyway.”

“You’re a pro athlete now. Know your priorities!”

“You are my priority.”

You shove your accent pillow on his face. He yells in retaliation, but it’s mostly to hide your flustered, wide-eyed expression. Hinata is stronger, though. He pulls your hand off and grins at you, like you nearly straddling his lap is normal.

You realize you’ve been staring at him for too long. Shit. Seriously? Way to waste those two years trying to move on.

Hinata’s hand slides down to the small of your back when you move away, stopping you. His expression is more serious now, facing your gaze head-on. This is a terrifying position you’re in.

“I missed you,” Hinata says.

You pause. Wherever this was going, you were expecting it to just be a heated one night stand. You expected for it to end up with him on your bed, for him to never bring it up, and for you to regret hurting yourself years later. But Hinata says:

“I missed you so much,” he says, brows pinched to convey his earnestness. “My buddy, Heitor—he got married. I was invited. I clapped for them, but I just kept thinking about you.”

Oh.

“Well—I… I missed you, too, of course,” you stammer out, your pitch getting higher and higher as his other hand moves to the back of your thigh.

“You know, two years without you made me realize a lot of things,” Hinata tells you, never breaking eye contact.  “A lot. You don’t know how many times I wanted to just risk everything and call you, but I wanted to do it here.”

“R-Really now?”

“You can tell me to stop, okay?” he says, and oh god, you know where this is going. “And we can forget I did this.”

You should tell him to stop. This is Hinata Shouyou, your best friend (and crush) since Karasuno High. Hinata Shouyou, who you watched grow up and get to where he is now—now being on your couch as you’re actually straddling him.

Instead, what comes out is: “Please.”

Hinata kisses you fiercely, not dissimilar to how he comes off in court—grand and dramatic and everything all at once. You tug on his wild hair, pulling on a few strands, and he makes a really pretty noise that makes something burn in your stomach. He gets revenge when his large hand trails to your ass and pushes you to sit on his lap. You may or may not have made an embarrassing noise in return.

Hinata chuckles. “That was hot.”

You scowl, locking his hips with your thighs, and he’s quick to shut up. It’s difficult for you, considering how thick he’s gotten, but the dazed fog in his eyes makes it all worth it.

You dive in for another heated kiss. His hand slides up your shorts, lingers on your inner thigh, where your skin meets his. It makes you gasp at the heat he’s emanating, rolling off of him physically. He pushes his tongue in your mouth, and your eyes might have just rolled back.

When you have to pull back for air, Hinata is gnawing on his bottom lip so hard that it swells up the way your lips are feeling.

“Fuck,” he says, with feeling, frowning.

You shiver when his hands continue to explore around your thighs. The cold breeze of the evening air then the sweltering heat of Hinata’s palms has you making pitiful, pitiful noises that makes Hinata groan into your neck, like you’re hurting him.

“Shouyou,” you breathe weakly.

Hinata’s sharp gaze cuts to yours, then he’s on top and you’re underneath him in a flash, caged by his arms. Your breath is knocked out of your lungs, and you could excuse it to his speed, but it’s really from just how easily he’s molding you to his liking.

“Sho—”

He rests a finger on top of your lips. It would’ve been difficult if it was just the TV flooding the room with light, but in this, you can see how red his ears have gotten.

“Stop… saying my name like that,” he says weakly.

You belatedly realize that this is him embarrassed, and laugh at his little problem. He looks at you and resembles a wounded animal.

“Shouyou,” you say, then pointedly roll your hips and grin when he stutters on a groan.

“Y/N!” he whines, as if trying to chide you, but he’s also moving his hips. It might be absentmindedly, seeing how he looks so far gone in bliss.

“Shouyou,” you repeat. “I want to take it further. So stop stalling take off your damn shirt already.”

At the green light, he hurriedly pulls his shirt off, fumbling for a second when it catches on his ear. He murmurs in embarrassment, but you’re not paying attention. 

You trace his tan lines, lining his arms and would only be really visible if he was topless, like how he is now. His abs expand and contract with each heavy breath as he sucks on the skin under your jaw, hands moving everywhere, frantic, needy. He whimpers weakly every time you move against his hard-on, and the sound fuels you even more to tear him apart.

Two years trying to push him away. Hilarious. If all it took was one unexpected night for Hinata Shouyou to lose his mind over your hips, you would’ve risked it all instead of wallowing alone.

He pants, muscles flexing, and you breathe out a whine, trembling. You let him slide your shorts down, let him pull off your shirt, let him kiss you on your shoulder, your waist, then the inside of your thigh. You let him do more because he keeps looking at you like he wants nothing more than to be here, pupils blown wide and hands desperate, as if even a second without touching you would kill him.

You tug on his hair in warning when his nose brushes against the source of your heat. Hinata pulls back, looking dazed and upset you’re pushing him off. But you haven’t had the chance to tell him earlier, so you’ll tell him now. 

“Shouyou,” you say.

Hinata reluctantly tears his eyes away from the mark in between your legs to look you in the eye. “Yeah?” 

“Welcome home.”

Later that morning, you have about three missed calls from Sugawara, and over fifty from Yachi. In apology, Hinata sends them a picture of him on your bed, grinning smugly, like he’s just won a particularly hard match. He sends it off with a caption that read: I’m home.

[pasthqarchive]

❥ 𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐂𝐔𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 ↳ 𝐰/ 𝐀𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐮, 𝐎𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐮, 𝐊𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐨, 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐦𝐚, 𝐎𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚, 𝐈𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐳𝐮𝐦𝐢 & 𝐒𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐬𝐚

a/n: reader is gn! i started drafting those during one of the first sticky hot summer nights of the year, then forgot about it until this came over me once again like a fever, and now here we are. i love writing drabbles because they force you to really think about the chars, how you perceive them and how to nail their unique personalities in 200 words or less. anyway, this is my first time writing for HQ after the brainworms got me down bad and i had lots of fun! hope you'll enjoy them too ♡

word count: 1.3k

𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐔 whines when you have the audacity to kick him back towards his end of the couch, catching your ankle and pulling you towards him in return, stubbornly ignoring your protests. Too hot to cuddle, my ass, he pouts, genuinely offended that you’d even consider that; when the only time Atsumu ever feels a sense of calm is when part of you touches him. Your hand playing with the shaved hair in the back of his neck, your leg hooked over his hipbone as you sprawl out in bed together, hell, even your icy cold feet shoved underneath his butt during winter. Something was missing when he couldn’t have your proximity. Yer so needy, Tsumu. So what if he was? He pulls you into his lap, face nuzzled into the crook of your neck, hands tightening around your waist. His breath fanning over your skin, hot and cool against it. Atsumu takes, he demands, but with you he is pleading, silent for once. Just a little longer–dreaming, breathing you in, kissing till he feels you smiling against his lips.

𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐔 wears his hair shorter now, back at its natural dark color, too. You helped him buzz it off during one of those sticky summer nights. Both of you in nothing but your underwear, Osamu sitting on the edge of the bathtub in your cramped bathroom. One hand of yours holding a razor and the other clamped over your mouth because you horribly messed up a setting and now he had a funny little edge in his hair, throwing you both in a laughing fit. It was your first summer together and Osamu couldn’t help but hope that there would be many more like this to come, with your bodies orbiting each other, unable to keep your hands off despite the heat and the sweat, the air heavy and electric and yet so light whenever he hears you laugh. Nothing beats the feeling of lifting you up on the kitchen counter and your eyes lingering on his hands, shaping a midnight snack for the both of you, getting drunk on stolen glances and kisses. There’s many metaphors for food and love and right now, Osamu can taste them all on the tip of your tongue.

𝐊𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐎 hasn’t even kicked his shoes off at the entrance yet and is already loosening his tie, before slender fingers work down button for button on his shirt. He hears you laugh about his demeanor from the other end of the hallway. How lucky, he thinks to himself. To have someone waiting for him at home, making even long work days during the most miserable summer heat bearable. His shirt has barely hit the floor and he’s already on you, caging you in with his arms and covering every inch of your skin he can reach in kisses, despite your giggling and feigned huffing over how sticky he is, sending him to shower first (as if you wouldn’t come right after him). Kuroo purrs when your hands tangle in his hair. In the end you always pull him back towards your lips again, swallowing every little quip and taunt like candy, sweet and syrupy in your mouth. It reminds him how he fell in love with you many summers ago, his heart ablaze ever since.

𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐌𝐀 is glued to the fan at this point. He even switched gaming from his desktop set-up to a handheld console, reluctantly admitting that his old house would heat up even more with his computer running at full blast. His expression really says it all when you approach him, silently pleading for cuddles. Kenma just can’t understand how anyone would seek someone else’s body heat when the sun outside was already doing a pretty good job in trying to end him. Still, he isn’t immune to your charms, never was (one time he mumbled something about your stats being way too high and how everything changed once he received a love buff of yours). When you hold out a popsicle as a means of bribery and blink at him with those damn soft eyes of yours, Kenma pauses his game and holds out his arms. He hums into the kiss you give him before sitting down in his lap, your lips tasting like ice cream and summer love. He rests his chin on your shoulder, face nuzzled against your neck, before he continues his game, letting you feed him the sweet cold treat. Summer might have become a little more bearable with you in his life–though he was already looking forward to many winters under the kotatsu with you. 

𝐎𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐖𝐀 is squishing your cheeks together, his thumb brushing over the corner of your mouth. Collecting evidence, but also wanting to feel your tongue poke out slightly against it, cheeky as ever. Just how could you eat the last ice cream in the freezer without him? He lets out an exaggerated huff, feigned indignation, both of you knowing he can never keep this up for too long–not when it comes to you. Oikawa leans down to kiss you, your face still in a tight grip, tasting the remains of the ice cream on your lips, as if you weren’t sweet enough already. Maybe he can be bribed for another kiss when you offer a midnight walk to the 7/11 down the street, promising to pay for a cool sweet treat to make it up to him. He had already forgotten what he was mad about the moment you leaned into the kiss, but he’ll never say no to a chance to hold your hand, even if it’s sticky with leftover ice cream and the summer heat. To Oikawa, love is stored in the mundane things, even if his love for you is anything but that.

𝐈𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐙𝐔𝐌𝐈 is standing in the kitchen past midnight, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers while he roams the freezer for anything to help him cool down; even a pack of frozen peas would do. He feels a pang of guilt for having peeled away from you, your form pressed so tightly against him in his sleep, it almost gave him a heat stroke–for more reason than one. Everything is sticky and airless and Iwaizumi is sure that if he would have glanced at you even a minute longer, his heart might have just given out on him. All this love he holds for you, burning him up from the inside, like a fever. He lets out a long exhale when he presses an ice bag against the back of his neck, but it’s not that what causes a shiver down his spine; it’s two arms sneaking around his waist from behind, your sleepy voice mumbling out his name, your body melting into his again. The first kiss pressed on the side of your neck is an apology, the second one a promise. The third–to devour you.

𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐒𝐀 grumbles something about you being too sticky and sweaty, making a weak attempt to shove you back to your side of the bed, only to pull you back by your hips when you actually do leave some room between you. He can’t help it, you fit so perfectly in the curve of his body, your back pressed against his chest, one of his knees nudged between your legs, all tangled up. It’s the perfect position to plant kisses on the back of your neck, too. Kiyoomi loathes those hot summer nights in the concrete city. He’d rather be somewhere else with you, somewhere to breathe more easily through this heat. Maybe you should move to the countryside, yes. A small house with lots of green surrounding it. Less people and noise, just you and him. Yeah, he would like that. He kisses the back of your neck once more and takes a slow, deep inhale of your sweet scent, before sleep finally crawls upon him again. For now he’ll endure this heat, anything, as long as he can hold you in his arms like this–and have a cold shower with you in the morning, maybe.