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nariism · 1 year ago

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a place to call home — k. shinsuke

one bed + childhood rivals/friends to lovers

synopsis. "be kind, shinsuke." that's what yumie always told her grandson. and he would live by those words—even if it meant sleeping on the floor every weekend.

wc. ~2k

— for @mastering-procrastinating & an anon bff! 🫶 | event masterlist ✉️

The day after Kita Shinsuke turns six years old, the vacant house across the street suddenly springs to life with occupants.

His life spirals from being humble and quiet to chaotic in 24 hours. Suddenly, he's responsible for taking care of the bratty kid next door even though they're his age. His bedtime gets thrown out the window because he needs to chase them down to get them to brush their teeth, and his dinner always has some suspiciously missing elements that he never finds.

You become the centerpiece of his entire existence—a floating memory in every crevice of his mind.

Kita hears your laughter in the songs of his childhood; feels your hands roughly pushing him and dragging him around by the wrist; smells the minty toothpaste he forcefully shoved into your mouth after finally catching up to you.

It seems as though you and him were born to be polar opposites. Where he climbs you stumble. Where he sits quietly at the dinner table, you have a never-ending stream of anecdotes to tell Granny (even though half of them are greatly exaggerated—he was literally there to witness it). Where he behaves like a normal child, you can't even sit still during storytime in class.

However, your differences do little to remove you from his life. Where he goes, you go.

It's a consequence of growing up thirty meters from your front door and having you over when your parents suddenly uproot to go on week-long business trips.

And he wouldn't care so much, really, if it weren't for the fact that Granny had equal amounts of love to go around. That, and he would have to sleep on the floor whenever you came around.

For someone so disciplined and grounded, Kita Shinsuke was an envious child. He hated having you in his home, because it meant that his beloved Granny had to split her attention between the two of you. Because she would always tuck you in before him. Because you were louder, more needy, more everything. Because he often woke up with back pains at the ripe age of six years old.

When Kita turns eight, he finally bubbles over.

You're on the swings behind one of your friends, standing on the back of the seat and clinging to the chains. You're being careless, and he would be remiss if you were to hurt yourself.

"Get down from there," he scolds, standing in front of the swing set to stop you from continuing.

"Make me!" You exclaim back, childishly sticking out your tongue and rocking the swing back and forth, gesturing to your friend to keep going.

"Stop."

He comes up behind you and tugs at your shirt, making you wobble.

"Quit it, Shin!"

"You'll hurt yourself!"

He convinces himself that he only cares so much because Granny would have to spend more time with you to patch you up if you fell, and not because he would hate to see your snotty, crying face.

No, it doesn't make his heart squeeze. Not even a little.

Eventually, you end up face first in the wood chips anyway, with Kita hovering over you looking guilty as ever. He hadn't meant to pull you off so roughly, nor had he meant for you to land on the ground like that.

Oh. Why does it hurt him so much?

That night, you don't sleep in his room.

You end up tucked into Granny's bed instead, down the hall. He misses your presence—he even ends up on the floor though the bed is empty for him to take.

He blinks up at the space where you should be and feels bitterness swelling in his throat.

"Shin." His Granny calls softly when she eventually comes into his room. She doesn't sound the least bit angry, but he still aches with nothing but guilt.

"M'sorry." He knows the apology should be for you, but you couldn’t even look him in the eye over dinner.

His Granny only sighs, kneeling down beside his futon with a tired huff. A reminder of her age. He only feels worse.

"Be kind, Shinsuke."

"I'm tryin'," he argues weakly.

She's silent for a pause before she carefully tucks the silver hair from his eyes.

"You'd be lonely too if I were gone all the time, eh?"

"..."

Kita pulls the covers closer to his chin. Yes, he was aware there was a reason you were always here. There was a reason your house was devoid of life despite being filled with furniture. There was a reason you wanted Granny to love you so much, cementing in the gaps where your parents were always absent.

Did you ever want him to love you like that, too?

The next night, he sits you down on the edge of the tub with no complaints. And he's surprised that you accept the toothbrush into your mouth so easily, no resistance and no qualms like you usually have.

He sees the tired defeat in your eyes, feels the awkward tension in the bathroom, and guides your hand to the end of the brush so you can do it yourself.

"I'm sorry," he tells you without elaborating. You never need him to. (When you reminisce about this day, you sometimes laugh to yourself. You always did love how straightforward he was.)

His words are followed by a tense hug, his hands holding your head against his tummy. The brush stops moving in your mouth as you hug him back.

It dawns on him then: he's just as much of a kid as you are—feeling something as petty as jealousy when all you needed was a hug.

One day, he swears, he'll make it up to you. And he'll be nicer, too. It's the least he can do if he's all the company you have until your parents return.

Be kind, Shinsuke. That's what Yumie always told her grandson. And he would live by those words—even if it meant sleeping on the floor every weekend.

The day after Kita Shinsuke turns twenty-two years old, your apartment floods.

Of course he's the first one there, helping you move what you could salvage from the apartment into suitcases and onto the back of his truck. Of course he's the one to offer a place to stay, because if not him, then who else? And of course he's the one who holds you when you're stressing about what to do and where to go, hand firmly on your back as he lets you snot on his shirt like you've done since you were six.

For a brief moment, it feels as though he's just a little kid again with you making a mess of the home he grew up in.

Well, mess is a stretch—you've infinitely matured since starting food wars with him over dinner, but the point stands when he ends up helping you with an assignment. It had been pushed to the backburner with everything going on, whilst you were moving essentially everything you owned into his house as if you paid rent there.

He should have known that some things never change.

"I can't believe you kicked me out onto the floor."

Kita shuffles in the comfort of his duvet, resting atop his mattress. He stares at you with honey brown eyes swimming in conflict from the bed.

You curl tighter into a ball on the futon. And he knows this ploy—knows that you're trying to guilt trip him into swapping places with you. You've always been manipulative when it came to him, and god-forbid he be anything but an angel to you. (Because his Granny told him to, not for any other reason at all.)

"M'not the one who made a bet they couldn't win."

Words straight and cutting as ever, like a blade through your heart. You pout childishly, rolling over so that your back is turned to him.

It was your idea to challenge him when he said you were on your phone too much while working. It was your idea to be a brat and defiantly say that you could finish your assignment by midnight. It was your idea to bet this all on the most beloved yet war-inducing place in the entire house: Kita's bed.

It's hardly his fault that you got distracted with YouTube.

"I hate you, Shin."

"No y’don't."

"I do."

"No. You don't."

"Okay fine, I don't, but can we please swap now? It's freezin’ down here."

He can practically hear the pout still engraved into your face right now. And it takes every ounce of fight in him not to give into you with the snap of a finger. To argue back and list a million reasons why he should be allowed in his own bed.

Yet here he is, slipping out of the sheets almost instantly and crouching down beside the futon. He shakes your shoulder.

"Fine. Get goin' before I change my mind."

Any resolve left in his body melts away when you shoot upright with a bright smile, victorious as ever.

Sometimes you made it hard for him to imagine why he cared about you at all. You were too sly for your own good. How could he ever deny such a smile? It's not fair.

You scurry into his bed instantly, making yourself comfortable where you have hundreds of times before. "You should make sure I'm comfy. I am a guest in your house, y’know?"

Yes, Kita knows this all too well. You're trying to provoke him, to see how far you can push him until he breaks. Stubborn and obedient, he reaches down to slowly pull the blanket over your body.

There's a pause from you as he drapes you in warmth, blinking up at him dumbly as if you weren’t expecting him to do so without complaint.

"I'm..." You seem to choke on your own words, silently contemplating whether or not you should push further. "My face is still cold."

His hands hold your face instantly, warming your cheeks skin-to-skin. You stare at him with wide eyes, looking so surprised that he wonders if what he's doing is a mistake. But then your hands gently cover his, and you tug him closer until his knee is sinking down on the mattress beside you.

"M'super cold."

"It's twenty-two degrees in here," he informs you flatly.

You make a face, nose slightly scrunched in thought and brows pinched. It's such a troubled expression that he can't help but scoot a little closer.

He's being kind, that's all. He's just making sure you're okay as a friend. No, not even a friend—an obligatory companion. The lifelong thorn in his side. The reason why his back still aches some days.

Be kind, Shinsuke.

When did being kind turn into this? Into moving involuntarily, into having a second nature response to you? Into a stubborn body only movable by one soul, one voice, one pair of hands?

"Keep me warm, Shin."

He gives in to your whims without reason, without logic or hesitation. You are the sole person able to break down any semblance of routine that's been methodically coded into his muscles.

He doesn't get you, perhaps he never would. He would never completely understand your wishes, or how your cheeks were so cold yet burning hot at the same time, or why he was submitting to you so easily.

The only thing he knows is that you are still somehow the centerpiece of his life, dancing in the middle of it all like a black hole sucking in everything else; the whirlpool swirling in the center of calm waters; the supernova of his galaxy.

"...'Kay."

Maybe he doesn't need a reason to care about you. Maybe your very existence is reason enough. And he’s okay with that for once in his life. He had never been the type to go with the flow, but your hands are dragging up his neck and pulling his body onto the mattress.

That night, you both fall asleep in the bed.

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wordsofelie · 2 months ago

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🔭mars

part of my observatory event, requested by @dearru <3

iwaizumi hajime x f!reader

summary: you have the biggest crush on your neighbour—turns out he goes to the same gym as you.

content warnings: time skip setting, fluff, iwaizumi hajime is too beautiful for this world

words count: 1.3k

“I swear I’ve never seen something so magnificent,” you say in a fierce whisper.

Your best friend groans on the other end of the call. “Are you talking about that guy again?”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“What is ridiculous?” she asks, already exasperated, hoping you’ll finally change the subject.

“His awesomeness. This morning, he was on his balcony, hanging out the sheets and still he looked so cool and-”

“Oh god, I’m hanging up now.”

She should be used to it by now. For weeks, your not-so-subtle (and maybe slightly overdramatic) crush on your new neighbour has been the only thing on your mind—and on your lips. But you’re not the one to blame. The man is a pleasure to your eyes—in an unfair kind of way.

You first noticed him when he moved in two months ago.

His arms were stacked with cardboard boxes, his short hair was tousled from the summer heat and a few strands were clinging to his forehead. You were heading to the lift when he walked past, barely glancing up as he unlocked the apartment right next to yours. His brows were knitted in a frown, but the moment he noticed you, a quiet smile tugged at his lips. And you swore you’d never seen such beauty before.

You mumbled something like “good morning”, although you don’t even know if it reached his ears since you hastily turned your gaze away and stepped into the lift.

Then, you started noticing him everywhere.

In the hallway, where he nodded politely but never said much. At the mailboxes, where he always grabbed his letters with an effortless coolness. On his balcony, where he stretched after runs, wearing nothing but a tank top and shorts that should probably be illegal.

His balcony isn’t directly aligned with yours—it’s angled just enough that, from your couch, you can see straight into his living room. So really, it’s not your fault if you watch him sometimes. And yes, on the rare nights when you let curiosity get the best of you, you find yourself peeking through your window, catching glimpses of him under the soft glow of his apartment light. Tapping on his laptop. Making coffee. Just being there.

Not that you’re spying. That would be creepy. You’re just—observing.

The gym is the one place where you can let go. Since work has been demanding, you figured exercising might help you find some balance. Physically, maybe—but mentally? Not a chance. Because ever since you laid eyes on him, your mind has been an absolute mess.

Which is how you find yourself, mid-run on the treadmill, calling your best friend for the fourth time this week just to talk about your hot neighbour.

“Wait! Please, don’t leave me alone in this crisis,” you whine into your earphones.

Your best friend sighs. “Crisis? You’re staring at a hot guy and refusing to do anything about it. That’s not a crisis, that’s just cowardness.”

The thought alone makes your heart racing faster in your rib cage. “I am not refusing. I just- I don’t know where to start.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe by asking his name?”

“No, no, no. I could never.”

“Come on, you’ve been eating, sleeping, and breathing this guy for weeks, and you don’t even know his name. I told you—coward.”

You step off the treadmill and catch your breath. Your voice hovers somewhere between a whisper and a complaint as you wipe your forehead with a towel. “Excuse me, but I am not—”

“Hey,” a deep voice interrupts.

Your heart stops.

Your best friend is still talking in your ear, but you don’t hear a word. Slowly, so slowly, you turn your head—

And he’s there.

Right in front of you.

All lean muscle, sun-kissed skin, and olive-green eyes that are even more stunning up close.

Since when does he come to your gym?

“I, uh-hi,” you stammer, yanking out an earbud.

He nods toward the treadmill. “Are you still using this?”

"Yes-I mean no. I-I…"

The corner of his lips turns upwards. “Yes or no?”

Everything in your head seems to come out scrambled, in the wrong order. "No! I mean-I'm done! It’s all yours!"

��Is it your neighbour?” Your best friend, still very much on the call, says. She doesn’t wait for your answer to add, "Ask his name."

"Shut up!" you blurt out and you feel heat scorching your face when you realise what you said out loud. You wave your hands in panic and rush to explain, “Oh my god, not you. Sorry”

Your neighbour looks somewhere between amused and mildly concerned. "Uh… right. Thanks." He still remains polite, almost too kind even though you just made a fool of yourself.

And just like that, he steps onto the treadmill, setting up his workout while you remain frozen in pure, undiluted mortification.

You spin on your heel and flee.

And for the next week, you avoid the gym like the plague and close your curtains.

It’s late Friday evening when the universe decides to ruin you again.

You step into the apartment complex’s lift, pressing the button for your floor. Just as the doors begin to close, a hand shoots out, stopping them.

You don’t even have time to react before he steps in.

The hot neighbour, whose name still remains a mystery.

He barely spares you a glance as he enters—until his eyes flick toward you, lingering just long enough for a smirk to tug at the corner of his mouth.

"You quit the gym?" he asks after a moment of silence.

You nearly choke. "What? No! I’ve just been… busy. With work. I work a lot… these days."

His smirk deepens. "Right. Then that’s even more reason to go back. It's good not only for physical health, but also for mental health.”

You clear your throat, grasping for composure. “You talk like a true professional.”

His eyes widen, you’re not sure why but he suddenly seems uncomfortable. He scratches the back of his neck and his eyes fall to the ground. “Sorry, that sounded like I’m mansplaining or something.”

“Not at all.” You smile a little. “But I guess I don’t have much of a choice now, do I?”

He immediately lifts his eyes and there's relief on his face, the frown that had formed a few seconds earlier, go away. You can see him tilting his head slightly, considering you.

"I’m going tomorrow morning. You coming?"

You swallow. "I-yeah. Sure."

"Cool," he says easily. Then, after a beat, "Wanna grab a coffee after?"

Your heart stumbles.

"Like… together?"

He huffs a quiet laugh. "Yeah. I mean, no pressure, you can totally say no."

You open your mouth, then close it again. A week ago, you were a coward who wished to never bump into him again. And now—now—he’s standing in a lift, casually inviting you for coffee like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

"I-yeah. That’d be nice."

The lift dings. He steps aside, letting you go first. It only takes a few steps to reach your door, but somehow, it feels incredibly long. You finally turn to wish him a good night, but his voice cuts through the quiet first.

“Oh, and I’m Iwaizumi, by the way. Nice to meet you.”

You take a second to breathe in his words, his name.

You say yours in return—and you swear you see his cheeks redden just a little.

"Then, see you tomorrow, neighbour." He exclaims, throwing you one last glance over his shoulder.

And just like that, he disappears into his apartment.

While you stand there, staring after him, pulse thudding in your ears.

You finally know the name of your hot neighbour.

And he just asked you on a date.

You call your best friend that night to tell her everything. “What should I wear? More like casual? Or classy?” You ask her at some point.

Though she’s away, you can sense the smile on her face. “Gosh, I really should get paid for this.”

a/n: writing for iwaizumi hajime 27 athletic trainer is the best therapy

special tag for @sahrii im glad i can share my iwa obsession with you <3

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caelivir · 3 months ago

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Um um.....Miya atsumu Long way 2 go -- Casie

And and trope- enemies to lovers??

Also I love your writing👾👾

now playing: long way 2 go by casie

atsumu? this song? enemies to lovers? i think you just sent me to heaven. i don't think you understand how hard i'm geeking right now. i keep whisper screaming "YOU'RE A GENIUS". and thank you!

content. rich boy!miya atsumu x fem!reader, atsumu’s lowkey a downbad loser, tension (at least i hope it is) | wc. 905

atsumu thinks he's hot shit. you know of plenty of guys his type. how could you not? your school is full of them. they think their good looks and endless pockets let them get away with anything. there’s so many of them, but out of all of them, the one you despise the most is atsumu.

you’ve never met someone with an ego so inflated that it rivaled the size of earth. there’s no one who makes you want to tear out your own nerves out more than him.

atsumu is well-aware that you loathe him. he hates you just as much, but instead of ignoring you like a normal person does, he discovers new ways to tick you off. he's like a bacteria who's always finding a way to invade your system.

and now you’re stuck with this damn vermin in a tight, janitorial closet, and it’s his fault.

“be honest. are you an imbecile? like were you dropped as a baby? how do you miss the sign that said, ‘lock broken. leave door open if inside.’?” you fume in the dark.

“do ya ever shut yer mouth?” you don’t need to see atsumu to visualize the harsh glare he has. you can hear his hands fumbling around, searching for any kind of light switch.

you scoff. “oh that’s loaded coming for you. thanks to you, we’re missing class right now!”

at that moment, you hear a click, and a warm light fills the room. you never realized how close atsumu actually was. his body is nearly pressed against yours, his arm hanging above from when he pulled the cord of the light bulb down.

atsumu’s eyes are just as wide as yours, and he backs up, even if it’s only a mere step before his back crashes into a shelf of cleaning supplies that clatter upon contact.

you wince. “do i repulse you that much?”

atsumu doesn’t give you the grace of responding, narrowing his eyes at you as straightens his back, rolling back his shoulders in the limited space he has. when he loosens the tie of his school uniform, you stare at the hand tugging it down, veins prominent on his skin.

the action was… hot… to say the least. your hand twitches like it wants to slap you for ever thinking that.

“you don’t.”

“what?”

atsumu looks annoyed at the fact that he has to repeat himself but he does anyway. “you don’t… repulse me.”

“not true. you actively try to make my life hell every single day. no sane person does that unless they absolutely despise someone.” you correct, chuckling without humor.

“i…” the sentence crumbles in his throat. you see a blush creep up on his neck. the rosy pink reaches the tips of his ears. he turns his head away as if he were ashamed.

you laugh. now this is a sight, miya atsumu actually being embarrassed. you want to push this, see how far you can go.

“what is it, miya?” you tease, taking a step closer to invade his space. “cat got your tongue?”

atsumu backs up even further into the shelves. you’re sure it’s digging into his back. he gulps at the sight of you.

“do i make you nervous?” you trail your finger on his tie. atsumu follows the motion until it leads his back up to your eyes.

he burns a brighter red. “like hell i do.”

it hits you then.

oh.

“you hate me.” you breathe out in a whisper. “and you like me.”

atsumu tenses like you just caught him in an act, like you just announced it to the entire freaking world. you wrap your hand around his loose tie. once. twice.

“you’re so pathetic.”

it’s the last thing you utter before you’re tugging him by his tie, pressing your lips to his. atsumu’s reaction is immediate, resting his hands on your hips, bunching up the skirt of your uniform.

he wants more. you can sense it by the way his hands are slipping down to your thighs, and because of it, you pull away. atsumu chases after your lips, but you slightly pull your head back. you see the annoyance in his eyes.

you pull him again by his tie again, this time bringing his ear by your mouth. “don’t get it twisted, miya. you still piss me off, but i’m a firm believer of thinking that things can change. you want me? work for it. earn it. ‘cause the way you are now you’re still a long way from having me.”

the door to the closet swings open suddenly, flooding the room with a light brighter than the one shining over your heads.

“damn kids,” the janitor grumbles. “what the hell are you doing in here? you’re here at best school in the country and don’t know how to read, even skipping class. unbelievable.”

you smile, unraveling your hand from atsumu’s tie. “sorry for the inconvenience, sir. my friend here will pay you for the trouble we caused. consider it a token of appreciation for keeping our prestigious school so clean and beautiful, if you know what i mean.”

the janitor is practically bubbling with joy the moment he comprehends the meaning behind your words. atsumu glares at you like you’re unbelievable. you only wink, waving goodbye and blowing a kiss as you saunter down the hall, the fire of atsumu’s lips still lingering on yours.

#♪ ݂۫ kory’s aux event ♪ ݂۫#haikyuu #hq #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #atsumu miya #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu x reader #atsumu fluff #⭑ — fics ⭑.ᐟ♡#♡ — hq #♡ — tsumu

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m4iya · 1 month ago

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⋆⭒˚.⋆𝜗𝜚 Order up! Brown sugar milk tea, 100% sugar, 100% ice with black pearls for @moochiwoochi!

Morning Coffee Sakusa Kiyoomi (fluff, crack, mutual pining, post high school)

Every morning for the past few weeks, at nearly the exact same time, the entry bell to the cafe you worked at would ding. In would walk a tall curly headed man, ordering the same thing each time. Once in a while, you'd offer him a baked treat, and he'd accept. Not many words would be exchanged between the two of you, but as time went on, you couldn't shake the curiosity that began to bubble up inside you.

As time passed, you'd begin to anticipate his arrival as one of the first people entering the store at the beginning of your shift. You'd began to apply just a little more lipgloss before leaving the house, touching up your makeup here and there even though you'd never paid it much mind before.

You'd never seen his entire face due to the covering he seemed to always be wearing. Though, as he left the store, drink in hand, you sometimes saw him pull it down a little to take a sip as he pushed the door open with his foot.

Tying your apron in the backroom of the kitchen, you decided that today would be the day that you finally speak to him. But how? And what would you say to someone you'd never had a conversation with before? A couple thoughts rushed through your head as you took one last glance in the mirror, the sound of the entry bell ringing in the background. You hurriedly rushed back to the front of the cafe, standing at the register where you saw him glancing over at the pastries in the display case.

You decided to start with a simple greeting - maybe something funny too?

"Going for something else today?" You smiled.

Surprise momentarily engulfed you as he shot you an unamused side-eye before turning his attention back to the case of sweets.

'So this is how it's going to be.' You thought to yourself before revising your expression, plastering another smile onto your face.

After he was done with his intense inspection of the pastries, he placed his order which was unusually large this time, consisting of a few drinks and sweets. Who on earth would be drinking 3 coffees and an iced chocolate this early? You didn't think he would eat 2 chocolate croissants and 3 strawberry danishes on his own either. As he swiped his card across the machine to pay, you took this as another opportunity to at least try to strike up a conversation.

"Meeting up with someone?" You asked, bagging his items.

"Kind of." He replied, slotting his card into his wallet and slipping it into his jacket pocket.

Holding the bag out to him, he grabbed it from the bottom, holding the handles once you let go. The bell rang once more as he left, and you resumed your work. You shifted around the store, cleaning up coffee cups and wiping down tables when you noticed something laying atop the counter in front of the register. Someone had left their phone there - though it didn't look like it belonged to any of the older ladies who were enjoying a breakfast at the front of the cafe. You still asked just in case, and they confirmed your thoughts.

Setting the phone aside, you wondered if it might be for the man who was at the counter not too long ago. Either way, you'll probably see him again tomorrow if he forgets to retrieve it today - there was plenty of time.

During your break, you took the phone to the 'lost items' box in the back room, sliding onto one of the chairs and enjoying your lunch. After only a few bites into your sandwich, a faint vibrating sound could be heard from the direction of the box you had placed the phone in. Following the noise, you discovered the screen of the phone was lit up; somebody was ringing.

Deciding to click the answer button, you placed the phone on speaker. Maybe you could tell whoever was it was that the owner had lost his phone.

"Didn't I tell you to change my contact name?"

"How come? Whats wrong with Oomi? See, I even put a mask emoji as well..”

You heard bursts of laughter in the background as whoever was on the other side sounded like they were fighting - albeit pretty calmly. Though it didn't seem to be a very long lasting squabble, as it was soon noticed that you’d answered.

"Hello?" You spoke up first. The line fell silent, save for a few subtle voices.

"Giving girls your phone, omi-omi?" Someone sneered in the background.

"Give me that."

"Hey!"

It seemed that he took the phone from the callers hand, opting to speak directly into it instead.

"You have my phone." He bluntly spoke.

"Yeah, you left it at the cafe earlier today."

A pang of silence ran through the speaker as he seemed to have realised who you were.

"Right.." His voice trailed off, softening ever so slightly. “What time does your shift end?"

"5’ o clock." You replied.

"I'll be there before then. Just keep it on the side if you can." His voice was somewhat hushed - maybe he didn’t want the others to hear? Even though he'd only said a few words to you, he seemed somewhat easier to talk to than he had this morning.

Throughout the rest of the day, you wondered if the boys in the background of the call were the ones he had bought the sweets and drinks for. A study session? Maybe they were hanging out together. You began to realise how little you knew about him considering you'd never shared a full conversation before. Thoughts swept your mind as you began to wonder how old he was, if he was in college and what he’d be studying - heck, you didn’t even know his name. And calling him what those guys had said on the other side of the phone didn’t exactly sound like something he’d be too happy about.

You found yourself glancing at the clock every few minutes, wondering how long until another 10 minutes would pass. You’ve never worked so fast before - nor had you been so eager to clock off. You had so many questions to ask him, wondering if he’d even answer any; you let them accumulate inside your already crowded headspace.

At exactly 5:00, you rushed into the employee room to freshen up a little, washing your face and applying some perfume. You made sure not to forget the reason why he was meeting you in the first place, sliding his phone into your pocket. Taking one last glance in the mirror before hoisting your handbag over your shoulder, you left the store, standing at the front where he mentioned he’d be waiting.

Stepping outside the store, you noticed a car stopped on the side of the road, its headlights still gleaming. The drivers seat window began to lower, a familiar pair of eyes meeting yours.

“Hey!” You waved walking towards the car. He stepped out, closing the door behind him.

“Here’s your phone.” He slipped it back into his pocket, thanking you.

This wasn’t exactly how you’d imagined it playing out. The plethora of questions you’d accumulated over time suddenly disappeared with him standing right in front of you.

Without a counter separating the two of you, things felt different. For one, you didn’t realise how tall he was, nor did you notice the slight frizz in his curls that seemed somewhat styled earlier in the day. The way the light of the afternoon sun lightly glossed over his skin - you simply couldn’t look away.

He cleared his throat. “Are you heading home now?”

“Yeah,” You replied, adjusting the strap of your handbag. “I just need to wait for the bus.”

He turned towards the door of his car, opening it. “Won’t it be late by the time you get home?”

“Kind of, but I’m used to it by now.” You shrugged.

“That doesn’t sound very safe if you ask me,” He said, slipping into the drivers seat and closing the door. “I’ll take you home.”

“No, don’t worry, I’ll be safe!” Embarrassed, you waved your hands in front of you in an attempt to clear the air.

Though he didn’t exactly look like the negotiable type, as he simply stared back at you with an expression that read ‘Just get in.’

Hesitantly, you walked to the other side of the car and stepped inside, placing your handbag on your lap and pulling the seatbelt over yourself. His car seemed like it had just been driven out of a dealership - it looked completely brand new. There was also a faint smell of sandalwood and vanilla - a very pleasant smell, and it was well ventiated. Below your feet was a duffel bag which was pushed as far into the leg space as it could go - as if he was expecting someone to sit in the passenger seat.

“Well? Are you going to tell me where to drop you off?”

“Oh, right! Let me just pull it up on the maps..” Embarrassed, you dipped your head to search on your phone, almost sure you heard a small laugh from the drivers seat.

As you directed him through the streets, you shared a simple conversation, finding out that he wasn’t currently a college student, but instead a professional volleyball player; and the people on the phone from earlier? Those happened to be some of his team-mates.

“I had no idea,” You chuckled. “I don’t really watch any sports. But I’d watch you play!”

“That’d be nice.” He replied, turning the wheel into the street before yours. “Oh, i’m just down there to the right,” You pointed out. “You can just drop me off here if you like.” He turned on the indicator to take the next street. “I’m already here, might as well get you home.”

Pulling into the street, he stopped in front of the apartment complex you signalled was yours.

"You really didn't have to do all this.." One hand held a grip on your bag, the other on the passenger door. You wondered if you'd ever get the opportunity to speak to him other than just a greeting in the mornings - more than the conversation the two of you shared on this short trip to your home.

"Didn’t you find my phone?" He replied, shifting the car into 'park' and turning to face you. "Someone could've stolen it."

"You'd be able to easily afford another one though."

"Yeah - well, thats," He sighed, a small smile tugging at the edge of his lips. "Thats not the point,"

"Does your shift end at the same time everyday?"

You nodded. "Yeah, why?"

He held his phone, tapping a few things before handing it to you. "I can take you home in that case. But I'd need to let you know when I'd be waiting outside, no?"

You paused, looking at the empty contact screen he handed you; was he expecting you to fill it in?

Taking the phone from his hand, you saved your name and typed in your number, handing it back to him.

"You've never called me by my name, you know?"

"I don't usually need to call a cafe worker by their name."

"Is that an excuse?" You teased. "Because from when I stepped foot into your car, you've never called my name - not even once."

"Um, not necessarily..?" His voice trailed off.

"It's on my name-tag. You know, the one thing hanging off my apron at work."

"I didn't see it, alright?" He sighed, exasperated. "But you don't seem to know mine either." He shot back.

"Come to think of it, I may have already known it from before." Your thoughts trailed back to the phone call from earlier.

"Really? What is it then?"

You had to control yourself from bursting out into laughter as a chuckle escaped you alongisde your words. "Is it.. Omi? Omi-omi?"

"He’s so going to regret that."

from my 100 followers event ✩ other works

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lees-chaotic-brain · 2 months ago

Note

Can you do i wanna be your by arctic monkeys with Kenma kozume and fluff? Thank you!!

summary: nekoma's setter seems to have a soft spot for his manager.

wc: 1670

cw: pure fluffy goodness, kissing, gn reader, reader is nekoma's manager, maybe ooc kenma (it's my first time writing him, sorry)

note: i'm so sorry this took so long to write! thank you for your patience, and i hope you enjoy it! i feel like it's not my best work, but i had to power through the writers block, sorry.

listen to this while reading!

Event Guide | Event Masterlist | Haikyuu Masterlist | Blog Navigation

“Kenma!”

When you call his name he looks up, searching for you. As you bound over to him he sets his game off to the side and shifts over to make room next to him on the bench. Flopping down in the space he made for you, you smile at him, and his face heats.

“Hey. What’s up?” He flushes a little more when his voice cracks a bit, silently hoping you didn’t notice (you didn’t).

“So I was talking with Coach Nekomata about the seating chart on the bus and…” He tries to focus on what you’re saying. He really does. But the way your eyes sparkle and the movement of your hair in the breeze are extremely distracting. “...so I was wondering if you’d want to be mine?”

“Sure,” He mutters absentmindedly, used to agreeing with whatever you say before your last question registers and his face feels like it’s on fire. “I-I mean no? No, I meant yes but I guess what I meant was…for what?”

You sigh in teasing exasperation, and he wants to crawl into a hole and die. This is why he can’t do social interactions. His only saving grace was that Kuroo wasn’t here, because if he was he would have never let him live down stuttering like a love-struck fool. Even if that was exactly what he was.

“Okay pay attention this time. Basically the school decided that from now on there will be assigned seating on all buses, and Coach asked me to take care of it for him since I know all about everyone’s weird superstitions.”

You pause and give him a strange look that he can’t quite decipher. Were you nervous? Embarrassed? Annoyed? He really hopes it isn’t annoyance.

“But after drawing it up I realized I was going to have to share a seat with someone since there’s more people on the team this year. And I was wondering…” You fidget with the papers you're holding, shuffling them around. “I was wondering if you’d want to be my seat partner? If not I can ask Kuroo-”

“No!” The syllable escapes his lip with more force than he intends, and you look at him quizzically. “No, what?”

Kenma clears his throat and tries again. “There’s no need for you to ask Kuroo. You can share with me. It’s not that big of a deal.” He tacks on the last sentence hoping it will make him look less desperate after his earlier outburst.

“Great!” You beam at him and spring to your feet. “I'll go finalize this with Coach. Thanks Ken! You’re the best!”

You take off, leaving him sitting on the bench, hiding his red cheeks in his hood. That entire conversation was a disaster, but at least the outcome was good.

You call the shots, babe I just wanna be yours

“You sure about this? I know how you are about your personal space and the seat next to me is empty.” Kuroo has one corded forearm propped on the back of Kenma’s seat as he leans over to speak to him. “I don’t want you to be all out of sorts when we get there. I need my setter.”

“Yeah.” Kenma doesn’t even look up, fingers dancing over controls as his avatar leaps around the screen. “It won’t bother me. So go bother someone else.”

And it doesn’t bother Kenma. Every time the bus takes a turn, causing you to lean against him a little he relishes the feel of your leg and shoulder pressed against his instead of jerking away. When you ask if you can lean against him and close your eyes for a bit, he agrees readily.

Contrary to Kuroo’s concerns, Kenma’s sets aren’t impacted by your interruption of his normal pre-match routine. If anything, he seems to play better than usual, with an extra pep in his step and more precise sets. Nekoma wins, and once again the team boards the bus and you settle into your spot beside him.

The bus is about halfway back to Nerima Ward, cruising along the expressway when suddenly it makes a strange clanking sound and turns off. Instantly the team falls into chaos, panicked and full of complaints as Coach Manabu eases the bus onto the shoulder.

Kuroo joins the coaches outside as they examine the bus. When they climb back onto the bus a few minutes later, they do so bearing bad news.

“So…the bus’s battery is dead.” Kuroo rubs the back of his neck, sighing. “The tow truck and replacement bus should be here in half an hour, but until then we’re just going to have to hang tight. Sorry guys.”

A chorus of groans rises from the guys, but they settle back into their spots fairly quickly, huddling into the warmth of their hoodies and jackets as the cold winter air slowly seeps into the bus. Next to Kenma, you’re shaking, silently bemoaning your decision to forgo a coat this morning. Ugh. You should have just grabbed one as you were heading out.

“Um…hey.” Kenma’s quiet voice interrupts your self-pity. “If…If you’re really cold we can share mine. I mean, only if you want to. You’re not wearing a jacket so…”

He trails off awkwardly, not looking at you as he speaks. Maybe it’s just your imagination, or the cold air, or even a mixture of both, but the tips of his ears look red. Butterflies stir in your gut, before you crush them, sure that you’re reading too much into it.

“Sure.” You scootch over slowly, unsure of how close would be too close. “I really appreciate it. Thanks.”

Kenma slides his left arm out of his jacket, and lifts the flap with his arm, inviting you to squeeze in and wrap half the jacket around your shoulders. It’s going to be tight, but since he’s offering you weren’t going to turn him down.

Mustering your courage, you squish yourself into his side, and wrap his jacket around your shoulders. Instantly the cold recedes, and you start to warm up a bit. A sigh of relief escapes your lips and you sink a little further into him, closing your eyes. This feels nice. Hopefully Kenma doesn’t mind you taking a short nap.

When you wake up, it’s to the sound of Kenma and Kuroo arguing quietly over your head.

“I don’t shut up-”

“Omg you totally do I can’t wait to tell the others-”

“Don’t you fucking dare- Oh. You’re up.” Kenma stops talking when he feels you stir and sees your eyes blink open. “Sorry. Did Kuroo’s annoying voice wake you up?”

“No it’s alright.” You sit up and look out the window. “Is the other bus here yet? How long did I sleep?”

“No, not yet. You were only asleep for like twenty minutes.” Kuroo’s smirking face invaded your field of vision from the left. “But you looked pretty cozy all snuggled up like that. I bet Kenma agrees.”

“What is that even supposed to mean?” Kenma hissed at Kuroo from your other side. “Just leave us alone.”

“Hey! Why are you getting mad? I was just saying that the two of you looked nice and cozy all cuddled up like you were-”

An empty plastic water bottle arcs through the air and hits Kuroo in the face. For a moment, he doesn’t react. Then the theatrics begin.

“Kenma.” He gasps, frantically patting his face. “My good looks! How could you endanger them like that what is wrong with you I was only joking-”

“GO AWAY!!”

Let me be the portable heater That you'll get cold without

“So. Kenma. Do you have anything you’d like to share with the group?” The team is changing in the locker room after a grueling practice, and Kenma is not in the mood to go along with Kuroo’s shenanigans. “Yes. I do. Your plays were crap today. Get it together.”

“Oh come on, you know that’s not what I’m talking about.” Kuroo raises his eyebrows suggestively. “No one wants to hear you complain. Now spill. What’s going on between you and our dear manager?”

“Nothing.” With that, Kenma slams his locker shut and hurries out, irritation lining his movements. Kuroo shakes his head as Kenma storms by, before turning back to his locker with a chuckle.

“Poor guy. He’s down bad for her.”

Secrets I have held in my heart Are harder to hide than I thought

“Hey. Can we talk?”

You’re standing there awkwardly, playing with your fingers. Instantly Kenma is on high alert. Is something going on? Did he do something wrong? Do you just hate him?!

“Of course.” He does his best to sound unconcerned. “Is something going on?"

“Not exactly. I just, well, I wanted to make sure I wasn’t misinterpreting things.” It feels strange seeing you so uncertain, and he doesn’t like it. “What do you think you’re misinterpreting?”

“This. Us.” Your frustration is palpable as you gesture at the empty space between you. “What am I to you? My friends say that I’m not being crazy, but sometimes I just feel delusional like my feelings for you and making me see things that don’t exist and I-”

You’re cut off by his mouth pressing softly against yours. The kiss is fleeting, over as quickly as it began, but it left both of you blushing and flustered.

“You’re, um.” Kenma coughed, his cheeks pink. “You’re not crazy. Or delusional. Or seeing things that aren’t there. And uh, sorry for not asking first I just-”

This time you interrupt him with a kiss, this one lasting longer than the last. It’s sweet and slow, exploratory as you take the time to get to know each other in this new way, basking in the sensation of your lips against his, and his against yours.

“Hey Kenma.” Your smile is so bright and beautiful it nearly blinds him. “You wanna be mine?”

There’s nothing he’s ever wanted more.

Maybe I just wanna be yours I wanna be yours, I wanna be yours

thanks so much for reading! as always, likes and reblogs are so appreciated. lmk if you want to me to add/remove you from any of my masterlists!

general taglist: @ponderingmoonlight @evemooniepeach @hotvinimon @arlerts-angel

haikyuu taglist: n/a

kenma taglist: n/a

#whew it's been a while since i've written #lee's brain writes #lee's song fic event #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x reader fluff #haikyuu x reader fanfiction #kenma x reader fluff #kenma x reader fanfiction #kenma kozume #haikyuu #nekoma x reader

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stellar-haikyuu · 3 months ago

Text

guardian deity ☆ nishinoya yuu x reader

You’re not exactly a sporty person. Why? Sports doesn’t seem to like you very much.

Regular exercise, running, swimming, cheerleading, and aerobics—those things were fine. But when balls were involved? You did not stand a chance.

It all started with dodgeball. The whole point was to avoid the balls, and for someone who sucked at ball sports, the fear should have made it easier. Unfortunately, you’re incredibly clumsy. You trip on a stray ball, falling to the floor. Within seconds, you’re pelted with more dodgeballs and called out of the game.

Basketball was terrifying, having to run into people and have them chase you. It was embarassing enough to be passed the ball, only to run in the opposite direction. That was the one time you were glad to be horrible at shooting. After that, you never tried to go for the ball. Your teacher was kind enough to never call you out on it—he quickly learns it’s not worth another clinic trip.

As if the close contact and chasing in basketball wasn’t enough, you’re thrown into soccer. With two left feet, this is the worst-case scenario. Now you’re definitely more aware of what direction you should be running in, but you cannot believe how easy it is for the opposite team to steal the ball. And the one time you’re running towards the right goal, you kick the ball way out into the field.

You beg for a break once high school rolls around, but it seems your prayers weren’t answered.

Handball…soccer but using hands, you think. With your lack of coordination, you often volunteer to be the goalie; at least you could block something with any part of your body. Alas, you’ve taken a couple of handballs to the face.

And get this, you weren’t even in school for this one: somehow, you managed to damage bowling alley property on an afternoon hangout with friends. That also involved slipping on the bowling lane, countless balls in the gutter, and almost dropping a ball on your foot.

At this point, almost everyone knew about your laughable luck with ball sports—or lack thereof. You just sigh, hoping to see the day you are no longer obligated to do these activities.

“Would you mind giving this to Takeda-sensei at the gym? He’s coaching the volleyball team at the moment.”

You take the paper envelope from your teacher and nod. “I’ll get it to him.”

“Thank you, dear. See you tomorrow!”

As you leave the faculty room, you’re immediately filled with unease.

You’d rather not enter the gym while a team is actively practicing, but you don’t really have a choice.

At least you’re not playing the sport, you think.

You step out into the open area, quickly locating the school gym. The squeaking of sneakers are audible from a distance, followed by some rather harsh hits. It’s enough to send a chill up your spine.

Slowly, you walk, trying to prolong the distance between you and the gym door. Eventually, it’s within arms reach, and you take a deep breath before opening it.

And goodness.

Aren’t you just lucky?

“Look out!”

At first, you don’t register the warning, but the sight of a volleyball hurtling toward you is enough to snap you back into reality.

You raise your arms to protect yourself, hoping that for once in your life, your reaction time can save you.

But the ball never hits you.

Smack!

The sound of ball meeting flesh echoes through the gym, and it takes you a second to realize you’ve just been saved.

A whistle blows, and the game stops. In the corner of your eye, you see the volleyball rolling away on the floor.

When you put your arms down, you see someone in front of you—a boy with his knees bent and arms outstretched. He must have taken the hit.

“Are you okay?”

“M-Me?” You stammer. “I should be the one asking if you’re okay!”

“Pfft, of course I am!” He gives you a reassuring grin. “Receiving volleyballs is my thing.”

You blink, unsure what to say to that.

“Hinata, you dumbass!” A yell takes you by surprise. “Look where you’re spiking, you nearly hit someone!”

“Huh? I still have to close my eyes, remember?”

“Oi, oi, calm down you two!”

You’re momentarily taken aback by this display of team dynamics. You hope it’s not serious, considering that you’ve sometimes been on the end of a hotheaded teammate.

Thankfully, nothing escalates. In fact, Hinata—if you assumed correctly—bounds over to where you’re standing. “Noya-san! That was so cool! You moved so fast like zoom!”

Another team member with a buzzcut follows suit, clapping your savior on the back. “That’s our guardian deity.” Then, he acknowledges you with a rather unsubtle waggle of his eyebrows. “This guy has killer reflexes.”

“I see…” You respond, a little speechless.

The orange-haired boy somehow materializes at your side, jumping up and down. “Right? Right? Senpai is the best!”

You glance at this Noya-san. He seems to blush at the praise.

Though he tries to act cool about it, you can tell it means a lot to him.

“Hey, uh thanks,” you state, finally finding the words. “For saving me.”

“No problem! It’s what I do!”

His glee is so infectious, you can’t help but feel energized.

“Hello there, I’m Sawamura Daichi.” You realize that another boy is approaching all of you. “I’m the team captain. I sincerely apologize for this, we’ll be more careful next time.”

“Ah, it’s alright, I promise,” you shake your head. “I’m used to this stuff.”

“Used to it?”

“I’m really unlucky with ball sports.” You clarify. “If you’ve heard the rumors, then that would be me.”

“Ah, I see.” Some sort of recognition appears on his face, though he doesn’t comment any further. “Anyway, is there something you need from us?”

You suddenly remember the envelope you’re holding in your hands.

“Ah. I was looking for Takeda-sensei. I had to give him this?”

“Oh, he’s over there.” He looks towards the other end of the gym, where two adults watch your group with curiosity. “Sensei, they have something for you!”

“Go on ahead,” Sawamura smiles. “I’ll give the team a break to avoid any accidents.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” you bow to him before approaching the literature teacher.

As you hand over the letter and engage in some small talk with him, you can feel Noya staring at you from the distance. You try not to think much of it until your interaction with Takeda-sensei ends.

After making your way to the gym entrance, you give their team captain a thumbs up to resume practice.

He calls everyone’s attention, but Noya remains by the door, almost as if he wants to tell you something.

To your surprise, you decide to beat him to it.

“Is there anything I can do to repay you?”

His eyes widen. “Repay me? What? No, that’s…uh-”

Buzzcut passes by and dramatically whispers, “Garigari-kun popsicles. Soda flavor.”

“Ryuu!” Noya hisses, drawing a laugh out of you.

“Is that your favorite? I wouldn’t mind treating you to one.”

Noya seems to hesitate at your offer. “Only if you insist, but you really don’t-”

“I insist,” you cut him off. “You’re my one stroke of luck after years of being involved in ball sports. I feel like I should be honoring you.”

He opens his mouth to respond, but no words come out.

“Anyway, I’ll be at Sakanoshita until the evening to study. Meet me there, yeah?”

“I…okay.”

“Alright,” you turn to exit the gym. “See you after school, guardian deity.”

Before leaving, you pretend not to notice how his face flushes once more.

masterlist

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sirhamburrger · 3 months ago

Text

welcome to… kai’s cat café! - 150 followers event

come one, come all to the newest café in town! d'you know what's better than the coffee and pastries they serve? the cats!! and even better than that - the wonderful owner kai who's more than happy to serve you today! || cat divider by @mewryn

the counter is currently closed.

➼ check here to see your order's progress!

number one: put in your drink order! (tropes)

➼ espresso: enemies/rivals to lovers ➼ affogato: meet-cute ➼ macchiato: meet-ugly ➼ english breakfast: exes to lovers ➼ earl grey: friends to lovers ➼ (jasmine) green tea: domestic fluff (with your little kiddos!!) ➼ peppermint tea: sickfic

and why not pick out a book from the café's mini library to go with that, if you’d like? (for a high school third-year/university setting, where applicable)

number two: your desired sugar level! (genre of fic)

➼ 100%: fluff ➼ 75%: crack ➼ 50%: hurt/comfort ➼ 0%: pure, raw angst (you sure? it’s not too late to turn back…)

number three: pick out your food item! (format)

➼ croissant: drabble/oneshot (400-800 words) ➼ cookies: headcanons (max five characters) ➼ muffin: smaushot (max three characters)

number four: secret menu items (more specific requests, or additional specifications)

craving any items that might not be on the menu? try me - i'm sure i can get that for you! any allergies? thanks, i'll take note! (i'm willing to write suggestive content, but no nsfw reqs please)

finally, who’s the lucky ducky you’re dining with today? let us know! you seem like a cute couple…

➼ specify if fem!reader or gn!reader ➼ pick a character from hq, bllk, jjk or mashle, and remember: ➼ up to five characters for headcanons (from same fandom) ➼ up to three characters for smau (from same fandom)

but before you put a name down, please see…

the wall of shame: banned customers (sorry i just don’t like some of them :(((( )

➼ eita otoya (had a messy breakup over a cheating incident. while kai took their order.) ➼ toji fushiguro (did the ol’ ‘dine and dash’) ➼ mei mei (i think we all know why…) ➼ ryoh grantz (used flash photography on the kitties) ➼ and any other side characters established by fandom to have little to no basis for characterisation

made your choice? order up at the counter, and another reminder to check here to see your order's progress! do be patient, and i hope you enjoy!

a message from the café owner:

the past five months on tumblr have been amazing, and i've really managed to challenge myself to create more. i cannot thank every single one of you enough for 150 followers! thank you to my lovely irls, my beloved mutuals, and my dear readers! you are what keeps me going <3 ~ xoxo kai

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jadeoru · 6 months ago

Text

psst! hey! wanna see something scary?

ya know that new movie coming out soon? i heard it was based off of a true story! apparently they never solved the case… how about we try?

taglist: (open) join here!

i heard the cause of death was murder! the cops never found the culprit, but apparently the suspects were:

sakusa, akaashi, iwaizumi, hinata, atsumu, osamu, bokuto, kiyoko, kuroo, suna, gojo, geto, shoko, choso & vash the stampede!

sorry if ur fave isnt here, i probably just dont like them/dont know how to write for them!

have you discovered who the killer is? awesome! lets move on to the weapon they used!

★ . knife (smut)

★ . rubber duck (fluff)

★ . poison (angst)

★ . gun (hurt/comfort)

now that that’s out of the way, i wonder why they did it? lets figure out their motive.

★ . anger (enemies to lovers)

★ . jealousy (love triangle)

★ . love (yandere)

★ . accident (friends to lovers)

★ . framed (fake dating)

★ . insanity (forced proximity)

phew.. i think we covered everything. case closed! (unless there’s something you forgot to add?) thank you for the help!

please note: limited time only! will stop accepting requests at november 1st, 01/11.

you can request on anon, however, you are not allowed to request smut on anon. and please specify whether you want fem!reader, or gender neutral. i will not write male!reader, sorry! up to 2 requests per person!

make sure asks have at least one of each category in them! have fun requesting! 🔪

completed: 0/11

01: after hours - kiyoko shimizu.

02: close call - shoko ieri

03: like or like like? - gojo satoru

04: out for blood - sakusa kiyoomi & iwaizumi hajime

05: are they gonna fuck or fight? - akaashi keiji

06: dripping rose - suguru geto

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tsumuus · 7 months ago

Note

For prompt 2 for your event, could you do that one Leah and Rob sound. "You don't hate me?" "I could never hate you." with Oikawa? tyyyyyyyyyyy

₊✩‧₊˚ toru oikawa + prompt 2 ˚₊✩‧₊

₊✩‧₊˚ ‘so you don’t hate me’ ‘i could never hate you’ ˚₊✩‧₊

You had always thought you knew Toru Oikawa like the back of your hand. From the days when you first met in middle school, his charisma and infectious energy had drawn you in, and over the years, you had become inseparable. You shared laughter, tears, and countless late-night conversations. So when the sudden shift came—when he started pushing you away, his demeanor growing colder and more distant—it threw you into a whirlwind of confusion.

At first, you thought it was something you had done. Had you unknowingly said something to upset him? Or perhaps your busy schedule had pushed him to the background? The questions buzzed incessantly in your mind, but you couldn't find any answers. Each time you tried to reach out, he seemed to withdraw even further, leaving you feeling lost and adrift.

It was during one of those quiet evenings, when the moonlight streamed through your window, that you finally confronted him. You had just returned from a particularly painful day at school, your heart heavy with the weight of his cold shoulder, and the sight of him at the park, sitting alone on a bench, felt like a last straw.

"Toru," you said, your voice trembling slightly, "what's going on? Why have you been pushing me away? Did I do something wrong?"

He looked up at you, his eyes softening as if he was seeing you for the first time in weeks. He sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair in frustration. The usual charm and confidence that he wore like a second skin seemed to be stripped away, revealing a vulnerability you rarely saw.

"I've been an idiot," he admitted, his voice low and rough. "I didn’t want to hurt you, but I didn’t know how to handle everything I was feeling. It’s like every time I’m with you, I want to spill everything out—everything I’ve been keeping inside—but it scares me. It’s so unnatural for me."

You listened, heart aching, as he continued. “You make me feel things I’ve never felt before, and I don’t know how to explain it. I thought if I distanced myself, it would be easier for both of us.”

You stared at him, processing his words. The silence that followed was thick with unspoken emotions, and the moonlight cast a gentle glow on his troubled face. Slowly, you approached him and took a seat beside him on the bench, your presence offering a silent comfort.

"So you don't hate me?" you asked softly, the fear of losing him gripping your heart.

He turned to look at you, his expression a mixture of relief and regret. "Hate you? I could never hate you," he said, his voice breaking slightly. "The way I’ve been acting, it’s because I care so much. It’s because you mean everything to me."

The tension between you seemed to melt away with his confession. You reached out, taking his hand in yours, feeling the warmth and the sincerity in his touch. His eyes searched yours, and for the first time in weeks, you saw the familiar spark of affection in them.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn’t mean to make you feel like you were the problem. I’ve just been struggling with my own feelings, and I didn’t know how to handle it."

You squeezed his hand gently, offering him a reassuring smile. "It’s okay, Toru. I just needed to know where we stood."

He nodded, his relief palpable. "Thank you for understanding. I promise I’ll work on this. I want to be better for you, and I don’t want to let my own fears ruin what we have."

The night continued with a renewed sense of closeness, the distance that had grown between you now replaced by the understanding and the warmth of a bond that had weathered the storm. As you sat there together, the moon casting its gentle light over you both, you knew that despite the struggles, you were still there for each other. And for the first time in a while, everything felt right again.

a/n RAHHHHHHH i don’t like this but here you go🙏😓

₊✩‧₊˚ 555 follower event ! ˚₊✩‧₊

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afyrian · 7 months ago

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always open for you sakusa kiyoomi x gn!reader (fluff) m.list | wc: 1.2k | prompts: brother's best friend + next door neighbor

"oh shit, no no no no no," you whisper to yourself, running up the soiled stairs of your old apartment building.

the torn paper sign still stays taped against the metallic elevator doors. they've been there for as long as you've lived there, and you'd be damned before your landlord would ever spend the money on something so 'frivolous'. forcing you to push your way up the steps, sweat beads already piling on your forehead.

precipitation rests on the back of your neck, the back of your shirt already feeling the affects of six flights of stairs. taking in a deep breath, you make your way up the last flight, hands weary of leaning against the stairwell handles. "shit, i'm going to kill him," you whisper once more, praying for the day you free yourself from the lease.

pushing open the door to the main hallway, you clamber down the carpeted flooring. some doors stay decorated, fall leave wreaths decorating some of the older couples' doors. a few even have welcome floor mats, begging for a place of their own, their welcome mat beautifully placed on a restored wooden porch.

walking up to your door, you grab at your pocket, feeling for your key. biting your lip, you look up at the cracked clock at the end of the hallway, fifteen minutes until four. finally, your fingers pull the key from the little pocket hidden within your jeans. however, it fumbles from your fingers, falling to the ground.

rolling your eyes, you lean down quickly in an attempt to pick it back up. and in a rube goldberg type of scenario, your forehead knocks into the door handle. reaching your hand up to the throbbing spot, you straight your back, moving your foot instinctively. the rubber sole of the shoe knocks into the key, sending it under the door.

"no no no, this can not be happening today," you shake your head, pressing your head forward to lean against the slightly scratched up door.

closing your eyes, you can feel the five stages of grief washing through you. denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. however, acceptance lingers just far enough in the distance that you can only feel the aura of it. "i can't miss this meeting," you whisper to yourself, mind wandering with thoughts of nearby libraries and shitty reception on your phone.

before you can lift your head, a nearby door creaks open. the hinges begging for even an ounce of oil. "everything okay?" a voice asks, quietly, yet loud enough that it rings loudly in your ears.

turning around, you see your one and only neighbor, sakusa kiyoomi. he knows you, you know him. his reputation proceeds him as your brother's closest friend. "hi sakusa, i'm locked out. so okay, for the most part, but i have a meeting i have to attend in a few minutes," your gaze glances towards the clock for another second... twelve minutes.

you can remember the first time you met. atsumu invited you to one of their charity events, and he walked in with a suit that could rival anyone. he barely spoke to you, but after you moved in from across from you, the two of you begun to see each other every morning.

and every morning, you wonder how he can bother to stay in this apartment building. especially when you know how much atsumu makes a season. "that's a bummer... you could borrow my computer if you'd like, until you can get a key. gives me an opportunity to have atsumu owe me something," he shrugs, arms crossing in front of his chest.

"that would save my life, plus i would love for atsumu to owe you something as well," you laugh, hands clinging to your bag's strap.

sakusa looks back at his door and then to you, "but i do have errands to run, could i give you a key and maybe you could return it next time i see you?"

his eyebrow quirks upward, a smile growing on his lips. there's a unique feeling you garner from seeing his smile. the way it makes your stomach churn undeniably sets you into a minor panic. "yes, i can absolutely do that. thank you again sakusa. it's an important meeting regarding promotions and missing this would kill me," you clasp your hands together, bowing slightly in appreciation.

sakusa turns around to unlock the door, not seeing your form of expression. "well, we can't have that happening, now can we?" sakusa shakes his head, opening the door to show a beautifully decorated apartment.

it differs from the general look and atmosphere of the apartment complex. volleyball paraphernalia sits on a few shelves in the corner, some of the walls painted a pleasant pale yellow color. his kitchen has had some repairs, no cracks in the wood like yours. no drawers stuck closed due to the last renter's indiscretions.

even a light scent drifts through the air, blocking the musty smell of the hallway's carpet. "your apartment is beautiful," the words come out quietly, a wave of shock rocking you.

"thank you, trying to make it feel like home until i can get a home," he shrugs, walking down the hallway into one of the farther rooms.

down the hallway hangs some photos that he hung up, all framed in a carved, wooden design. some are of the black jackals' team, one even of sakusa in the middle of spiking the ball. as you venture further, you see one of him and who you presume to be his grandmother. she's cleaning something with him, a candid photo of sorts.

smiling to yourself, you hurry to catch him in the small office room he holds. it's just as good looking as the living room and kitchen, his computer boosting up with a tired hum. "i can't thank you enough for this," you shake your head, turning on your phone to check the time once more, five minutes, "really, this is life saving."

"it's alright, this room has been collecting dust anyway, what with all of the tournaments and practices happening lately," sakusa shrugs, fingers gripping at a ballpoint pen as he scribbles something onto a blue post-it note.

turning to look at you, he presses the sticky residue against the desk, "this is my number, call or text if you need the password or anything. or feel free to save it if you ever get locked out of your apartment again."

for a moment, it feels like butterflies flutter within your throat. strangling any sense of normalcy within you, forcing you to feel awkward in his presence. "alright, i definitely will. at least then i won't be stuck with annoying the landlord during his 'personal time'," you roll your eyes, noting every time he's ignored your calls.

"right... yeah, use it whenever, my apartment is always free, even if i'm not," sakusa nods, pushing open the office door more, making his way back to the front of the apartment.

standing breathlessly, you tap your finger against the post-it note. staring down at it, you notice the quickly drawn smiley face hidden in a zero. "fuck," you whisper to yourself, noting your heart beating quickly and the heat rushing to your face.

a/n: hating myself for not formatting this all on the actually ask 😔 but i hope you like it dodger <33 gen. taglist (open): @eggyrocks @causenessus @applepi25 @softpia @bakery-anon

#art credit to @/carrotsprout_ on twt #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fic #hq #haikyuu fanfic #hq x reader #hq fanfic #☆ fics #☆ writing event #sakusa x reader #sakusa kyoomi x reader #hq sakusa #haikyuu sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x you #msby sakusa

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purpleqilinwrites · 5 months ago

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quietly.

a/n: for the pixel café network's spooktober event. if you'd like to read more, the event masterlist is here!

fandom: haikyuu!!

character: ushijima wakatoshi

genre: angst

info: zombie apocalypse au; takes place around the time-skip; established relationship (ushijima is your boyfriend / fiancé)

warnings: might not be canon-compliant; mentions of gore; mentions of injury (one of them self-inflicted); major character death

synopsis: the world ended not with a bang, but quietly, in a room with blue wallpaper.

word count: 3.5k

Ushijima Wakatoshi

It was quiet outside. Too quiet.

The thought of something – or a group of someones – catching you by surprise prevented you from falling asleep, and you got up from the makeshift bed you threw together to stand guard by the smudged window again. Ushijima stirred from your abrupt movement, moving his arm to tug you back to him but only snagging a handful of air.

"They're not active when it's dark," he said, his voice still laden with sleep. You felt bad for waking him. He was the one who's been doing most of the hard labour keeping the two of you alive, and you thought that safeguarding him while he rested was the one thing you could do for him in return. You weren't much good at any of the survival things, despite being quite savvy at the games you played that simulated this exact situation you found yourself in. "Let's just sleep."

Cutting through the rotting flesh of a zombie was stupidly easy a few months prior, when all you had to do was press several buttons in quick succession. Ushijima had wondered what you found so fascinating about playing a character trying to survive a zombie apocalypse. You didn't know either. Maybe there was something about being a hero that you liked. The main character almost always won at the end, after all.

"Be back in a minute," you said, crossing your arms to ward off the late autumn chill. Ushijima left it at that, turning his head to the side where you should've been sleeping and closing his eyes.

You remained on your feet by the window for maybe half an hour after you heard him start snoring again. The only movement you detected outside was the trees bending at the waist to the strong hand of the night winds.

When the food you'd amassed was close to running out, Ushijima decided that it was time to move on from this defunct power station. With several jelly drinks and two granola bars safely stored in the fanny pack under your jacket, you followed him out of the ruined front gates once the afternoon began to wane into the evening.

It was all open terrain once you were out of the compound.

You were soothed knowing that if there was a zombie or two approaching, it would be easy to spot them since there was nowhere for them to hide. On the other hand, there was no avoiding another bloody confrontation once the zombie had been spotted.

The weight of the borrowed wrench in your hand did little to assuage your worry. It was cold against the heat of your skin. Colder than the evening breeze that whipped at your face once the stars began to wink at the pair of you from above.

You stopped Ushijima for a moment to admire them, and just for the slow count up to ten, everything was alright again.

It felt like you'd been walking for days on end when a town a little ways ahead came into view.

You exhaled your relief, your breath condensing into a misshapen mist that was quickly eaten by the breeze. "Let's hurry," Ushijima said, adjusting the straps of his backpack and then gesturing for you to keep up with him.

The house that was the first to greet you looked the way you felt, with the door missing, all its windows smashed in, and an entire chunk of the front wall lying scattered about the overgrown lawn in hunks of debris. As you approached, there was a pointed odour of decay rushing out from deeper within the house through the missing section of the wall.

You continued down the path that led to several more houses in the town instead of stopping at the first one, and all the houses in the row were alike in sight and smell. There was a much larger house at the north end of the town from where you started. Despite its less than hospitable condition, you said, "It'll have to do for now," and Ushijima acquiesced with that little wrinkle in his brow that told you he didn't want to stop there in the meantime if he could help it.

Less than two meters from what would've been the front gardens of the large house was a mostly intact concrete wall that reached only to your waist. There were several rust-coloured blotches splattered around the corners. It was arduous work putting the thought of what those dark stains could be to rest, but you managed. Across the one face of the wall was a metal plaque inscribed with a mostly faded name.

This town used to be a retirement village.

You shivered, even if you didn't feel particularly cold. Ushijima retraced his last ten or so steps and came to stand beside you when he realised you hadn't moved for a while, and his palm was warm against your bicep.

"Let's not stay here long," he said. "Just for the night."

The aluminised plastic rustled when you rubbed the packet of onsen salts between your hands. It didn't impart any warmth to you, but you still palmed at it anyway.

Ushijima looked up from taking stock of what was left of your food reserves because of the noise. "There's no running water here," he said. "You can't take a bath." A mirthless sound left your lips at his innocent reminder of your situation. It's been a few months already since the last time you took a bath. You wondered how long you'd be stewing in the medicated water if you knew beforehand that it would be your last soak for a while.

Even the ability to rinse your sweat-smeared face with clean water instead of drinking it was a luxury so far out of reach.

"I know." You spoke after a moment of silence, reading the words on the packet as if it were the first time you were seeing it. "I was hoping looking at this would make me feel better. Remind me of the days before all this."

You felt him scoot right up to you, his arms wrapping around your midsection as he leaned in to take a closer look at what you were holding. "We went there for our anniversary last year. And to celebrate my contract with the Adlers being renewed," he said, poking at the telltale logo on the upper left corner of the packet. You didn't miss how he let his touch linger on the packet of onsen salts in your hands. "I liked it too. The onsen."

For a man as stoic as Ushijima, though you knew it wasn't on purpose that he presented himself that way, that small gesture absolutely ripped your heart down the middle.

The next place you took refuge in was at a fishing port.

All the buildings along the port were repurposed shipping containers, the outer layer of paint dulled all over and peeling in some places, exposing irregular patches of rust. Ushijima stopped in front of the least damaged container and tried to open the door. When he determined that it was locked, he forcibly opened the door with his hammer and stepped in.

After a moment, he emerged from his initial scan of the shipping container's interior and beckoned for you to join him inside. "Come. It's safe for you."

Whoever owned this shipping container was a godsend.

The weariness you've been shouldering all these past few months seemed to seep out of your bones and evaporated as you hungrily took in the sight of the rows and rows of emergency food supplies and bottled water. You felt something wet trail down your chin. Swiping at your mouth with the back of your free hand, you realised then that you had been drooling. Even the wet sensation of your own spit on your face felt unfamiliar.

Ushijima was hauling the display cabinet at the other end of the container to fortify the now busted door when you came back to yourself. You began pulling where he was pushing, and the two of you made quick work of turning the display cabinet into a barricade.

Dinner was a comparatively extravagant affair now that you had options other than to have a bite of something for now or to save it for later.

You crunched on not just one but two cups of instant noodles, enjoying a forkful of canned tuna between bites of noodles. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Ushijima simply watching you eat, his own dinner of canned beans in tomato sauce with a sleeve of wheat crackers sitting yet untouched in front of him.

"You want some?" You reached over with an especially hefty forkful of tuna, which he easily accepted. As he chewed, he placed a cracker loaded with beans over the mouth of one of your empty noodle cups.

"I like this," he said, and you had an inkling he wasn't referring to the food in front of him. "It's been a while since I saw you smile. It's nice."

His sentimental declaration completely disarmed you. Even with the cracker he shared with you shovelled partly into your mouth, your eyes filled up with tears that quickly began running down your face as if by the bucket. Your tears surprised him, and with your vision partially obscured by them, you saw how he almost dropped the cracker he was eating. It made you laugh, despite yourself. Despite the cracker chunks sticking uncomfortably to the roof of your mouth. Despite the reality of things outside this shipping container.

There was something boneless about how you felt – a good kind of boneless feeling, if there was such a thing – when he put his food down to hold you until you were done crying around a mouthful of beans and a broken-off corner of a cracker.

This situation with the zombies has been a reality for exactly a year and eight months since the first time you got bitten.

It was in what used to be a covered shopping street. You remembered coming here with your friends from elementary school, your wallet heavy with coins so that you could spend hours and hours playing in the arcade. For a moment, you wondered about them as you walked behind Ushijima along the ruined corner of the shopping street where that arcade should've been.

This was a place brimming with good memories from your past. It filled your mouth with an acrid, bitter taste that in your present, this place would signal the beginning of the end.

You mourned the loss of two fingers from your left hand, your little finger and your ring finger that you had to cleave off if you wanted to avoid transforming into a zombie. For months and months after the fact, you suffered from irregular bouts of a phantom pain that was real enough to seize you from your sleep, and you were always left kicking and screaming until it passed.

Sometimes, when your mind cleared and you became aware that the wound had already healed into an uneven mass of a scar, you found yourself grieving also that if this zombie situation were ever resolved, you'd never wear a wedding ring where it was supposed to be worn.

After a particularly nasty run-in with a group of other survivors, the two of you collectively agreed to remain on your own. You wanted to ask "Until when?" but the words evaded you when you noticed that the clench in Ushijima's jaw had become a permanent fixture of his face. His natural expression was never angry, before all this.

The remains of Shiratorizawa Academy loomed over the residential and semi-commercial buildings that surrounded it, casting a shadow even in the late hour.

At first, you thought he wanted to stay there for the time being, and so you followed at the usual two paces behind him. Ushijima stopped without warning in his approach, and you rammed into his back. The sight of your shared alma mater cast a spell on him, and he paid no mind to you as you stumbled and latched onto his elbow to right yourself.

The last time he'd held you, the angles of his bones didn't jut out this much.

"I wanted us to get married here," he said, turning around to face you. You had expected him to say something about volleyball instead. Something about the way his palm tingled pleasantly after he spiked the ball. Something about Satori-kun and the other Shiratorizawa boys he used to play here with. After all, he loved the sport before he loved you. You never once thought to equate these two loves of his. Even so—

There was that pinprick of warmth at the back of your eyes that warned of the tears to come, but that was the end of it. Maybe you were too dehydrated to retain the ability to cry. You blinked, as if to prevent a tide of nonexistent tears from falling.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but a low growl from within the abandoned Shiratorizawa compound made him close it.

There was a part of you that was too tired to run. You've already spent more than two years – or more? Had it been three years already? Five? More? – running and hiding and starving. When was the last time you were happy that you were still alive?

Ushijima appeared to be able to hear the words on the tip of your tongue that you haven't yet said, and he made the decision for you. As a swarm of zombies materialised from the twisted shadows of Shiratorizawa, he grabbed your forearm and yanked you after him.

The two of you narrowly missed the most nimble zombie in the horde. The one who relentlessly chased after you on all fours with a good portion of his face and most of his right arm missing.

It was in another school when you got bitten again.

This time, there were no memories attached to the place. Neither of you went to school here. It was too far north of Sendai where the two of you met. You took it as a small consolation, no matter that it was insignificant, that nothing in your past was sullied by this thing that happened in your present.

You poured an entire travel-sized vodka bottle onto the wound once you managed to duck into an underground shelter a good distance away from the school. Dipping your hand into your fanny pack left you disappointed; you had nothing else to clean the site of your injury with.

The wound festered unnaturally, darkening into the sickly purple-grey of a bruised plum beginning to mould. Even the flies that gathered around the corpses of people who died a natural death avoided the parasitic rot making its home in your body.

It occurred to you that you might need to self-mutilate once again, for the sake of survival. You brandished the one clean knife in your possession before you processed the thought, aligning the cutting edge with the curve of your lowermost rib on the right side. The exposed portion of bone, off-white from the poor nutrition of the recent years and mostly smooth when the bite was still fresh, had succumbed to the thing that was going to kill you.

If you didn't do this now—

Ushijima caught you with the pocket knife within its sheath, but still tightly enmeshed in the meeting of your two hands. There was a pleading look in his eyes that made your heart twist painfully in your chest. You couldn't bear to maintain eye contact for longer than a second, turning your cheek to him instead.

"Toshi, please," you said, and pushing those two words past your lips drained you. "I don't want to turn into a zombie. Let me do this, please. Please–"

If you didn't do this now, you'd have to ask him—

The last clinic the two of you stumbled upon was devoid of anything useful. All that met you within the shattered glass walls were the lifeless bodies of what looked to have been at least two groups of survivors fighting over the last of some medical supplies. You checked a can of disinfectant spray lying by the severed leg of the least decomposed corpse, and the way it rattled when you picked it up told you it had been empty for a while.

"We've already been through so much. We'll get through this too," he said, prying the knife from your trembling hands. You were prepared for the physical pain of what needed to be done, but there was nothing you could do to steel yourself against the cruel knowledge that you had to leave Ushijima behind soon.

"I can't– Do this anymore," you said. "It hurts. Everything– Everything hurts."

His eyes were watchful while you lay shivering and sweaty and grey on the stained mattress. You were bundled up in an assortment of clothes Ushijima had collected from the other apartments in this building. It was the heat of summer, clammy and thick, but it felt like winter to you.

You gathered the strength to wave your hand at him to properly get his attention, but your efforts fell short, your forearm rising only to flop back where it came from. The closest you came to swearing was a broken, wispy groan.

He was looking at you, but not seeing you. It was the same way you were looking at him, and all you could focus on was the repetitive floral motif on the pretty blue wallpaper behind him.

"–Toshi," you managed. It took maybe five or six seconds for him to register that you had spoken. Once it did, he rose from his seated position on the floor close to the mattress to kneel beside where you lay.

You mustered all the strength you had left in your quickly rotting body to nod to him. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't summon the words to your lips and push them out so he could hear you. So that he knew that this was it. That it was time for you to go, and he had to let you go. All you managed was a singular decisive nod.

It felt like a moment that should've been tearful. This was goodbye, after all.

These few – or maybe more than a few – years you survived because of him. You never knew how much it cost him because he never let you apologise for being one more thing for him to take care of. Ushijima only accepted your feelings when you said, "Thank you" and "I love you" and "I appreciate you".

You gave a strained nod that sapped what remained alive in you, and he nodded back with his mouth flattened into a solemn line.

He leaned forward to press his lips to yours one last time. In the blurred vision of your one good eye, it looked like he was about to cry as his face drew nearer to yours. Since you couldn't bring your arms around him, you settled for two dull taps of your index finger onto the plush surface of the mattress and hoped he understood. Did he even see it?

You wanted to ask him not to cry while you could still be aware of it, but you've already asked too much of him.

He stood up, leaving your narrow field of vision for a moment. When he came back into view, the pocket knife you'd been using as your weapon of choice was in his dominant hand, the deep green of the weathered handle standing out against the colour of his skin.

Ushijima leaned over you, shivering and sweaty and grey.

His right hand passed over your face, and he mapped out the line of your jaw, the curve of your lips, the slant of your nose, the shape of your eyes. The calloused pads of his fingers were gentle as he shut your eyes for you.

"I don't want this," he admitted, nestling his cheek against your forehead. His voice was close to your ear, and you could hear the fissures in it worsening as he spoke. "Not when I was ready to die before you."

The cool of your grey flesh greedily soaked up the warmth of his body when he lifted your upper body to cradle you to his chest, safe in his arms as you've always been. You wanted to snuggle into the crook of his neck one more time before it was time for you to go, but there was no more energy left in you. Your life had run out, and it was time—

"I love you," was the last thing you heard but not the last thing you felt.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu!! scenarios #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #fic #angst #kaija writes #kaija writes: haikyuu!!#event: spooktober #cw: gore #cw: major character death #i just watched pearl #and it inspired this a little bit

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naofairy · 10 months ago

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Some kagehina thoughts/headcanons

- Hinata gets a boyfriend in Brazil, his private instagram account is filled with pictures of him.

- The guy is openly gay, almost an icon in Sao Paulo’s queer scene. He introduces Hinata to the culture, guides him through the experience.

- One time Hinata posts a story on his ig, the pic is taken in some club if the dim light and neons are any sign. His boyfriend’s chest takes up the majority of the frame, it’s almost bare, only black straps of a leather harness on it. He’s ripped, surely works out a lot, Kageyama notices. He can’t help but stare at Hinata’s hand resting on the guy’s peck, Shouyou’s tan just a tad lighter. Something ugly stirs in Tobio’s stomach. The guy’s hand is caught reaching for Hinata’s - it’s definitely bigger, his fingers longer. Kageyama wonders how his own hand compares but it’s been so long that even Hinata’s hand isn’t a reliable reference anymore.

- Kageyama catches them together one time when he videocalls Hinata. It’s the only time that he actually hears their conversations. The guy seems very open, surely an extrovert. He laughs and smiles a lot at Shouyou, his expressivess feels like a hundred needles pushed into Tobio’s skin. They seem like a good couple, Hinata looks happy.

- They break up once Hinata goes back to Japan. Apparently the guy can’t do long distance, he’s not like any of Hinata’s friends. He needs physicality, touch, shared intimacy. He says he knows how shitty it sounds, but he has to take care of his own needs and doesn’t want to resent Hinata for not fullfiling them. He wants to remember them happy. Some part of Shouyou wishes he was more mad with his ex.

#kinda feeling like it would make a nice fic #this came to me while I was waiting for a pride event to start #kagehina #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #kghn #kagehina headcanons #hinata shouyou #kageyama tobio #my headcanons

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wordsofelie · 2 months ago

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🔭mercury

part of my observatory event, requested by @liquidcatt <3

sugawara koushi x f!reader

summary: you always seem to run into sugawara koushi—your frustratingly charming, unfairly cute neighbour—at the worst times. (but maybe that’s for the best).

content warnings: time skip setting, manga spoilers, a bit of swearing, a lot of fluff

words count: 1.2k

You think the universe is against you.

One moment, you’re carrying a heavy box filled with newly delivered supplies for your office, the next, you’re tipping backwards and losing your balance. There’s a flurry of movement, a surprised gasp—not yours—and then you’re landing on something much softer than the cold, hard ground.

Or, rather, someone.

“Wow,” a voice hisses beneath you. “I wasn’t expecting to be crushed to death today, but I guess there are worse ways to die.”

Your brain short-circuits. Because under you—chest heaving, silver hair slightly tousled, brown eyes gleaming despite having just been nearly flattened—is none other than Sugawara Koushi.

Your neighbour.

The same one you keep running into at the most inconvenient times (when you’re out of toilet paper at the konbini, when you’re all sick with a red nose and dark circles under your eyes at the pharmacy, or when you’re dressed in your least cute pyjamas to pick up your takeout food in the lift). The same one who always greets you with a smile so bright it makes your mind dizzy. The same one who is currently lying beneath you on the ground, blinking up at you like he finds this entire thing oddly hilarious.

You scramble off him, mortified. “Oh my god-I’m so sorry-”

He sits up, rearranging his shirt, still grinning. “Nah, don’t worry about it. I always wanted to know what it felt like to be tackled by someone other than a ten-year-old.”

Right. The kids. Sugawara is a primary school teacher, which explains his infinite patience. And, apparently, his ability to bounce back from near-death experiences with nothing but a smile and a joke.

You shake your hands in panic. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m great,” he says, stretching his arms behind his head and getting up. “Although, I think this makes us even.”

“Even?”

He nods and grins even more. “For the time I nearly ran you over with my bike.”

You groan. “I told you that was my fault.”

“I still think about it at night,” he says. “The look of pure horror on your face…”

You roll your eyes, but your heart does something stupidly pleasant in your chest. He’s easy to talk to. Too easy.

“Well-um,” you play with your fingers. “I’ll go now.”

You turn to your door, your skin still warm from him. He’s about to leave as you start patting your pocket, then looking in your bag, and in your pocket again seeking your keys-

Your keys.

Your keys, which had been in your hand a few hours ago. Your fucking keys, which are now nowhere to be found.

“Oh no.” You look around the ground, then groan. “Oh no, no, no.”

Sugawara turns, facing you again, and tilts his head. “That’s a lot of ‘oh no’s. Should I be worried?”

“I left my keys inside the office,” you whine.

“That’s rough, buddy.”

“Is that how you talk to your students?”

He chuckles. “Sorry, sorry force of habit. Do you want me to go with you?”

You sigh. “No, it’s fine. My boss probably left by now. I’ll figure something out.”

He gives you a long and considering look before sighing. You know it’s not out of annoyance, but more out of sympathy.

His smile shifts slightly—no more teasing grin, but a soft, almost delicate smile. “You can stay at my place, at least until you – figure something out.”

You feel the heat rising in your neck. Somehow, it makes your heart beat faster in your chest.

This is ridiculous. This is absurd.

But if you’re being completely rational, what else can you do? Wait outside (it’s mid-January)? Go to your boss’s place (you have no idea where he lives)?

“Sure,” your voice wavers a little and you clear your throat. “Thank you very much.”

He helps you lift the cardboard that was still on the ground and leads you to his place. Two doors away.

It’s warm inside—which doesn't surprise you. The house isn't as tidy and organised as you'd imagined. There are still unwashed dishes in the kitchen, piles of drawings on the table and coloured pens on the floor.

“Welcome.”

You say nothing back and just look around. He hands you a cup of steaming tea, you hadn't even heard him turn on the kettle.

“Sorry for the mess. I didn’t plan on inviting anyone over tonight.”

“And I didn’t plan on falling on you.”

“And I swear I didn’t plan on almost running you over with my bike last time," he says, sipping his tea. "Unless you find that romantic, in which case I can do it aga-”

“Finish that sentence, and I’m the one who’s gonna run over you.”

Sugawara laughs, bright and clear. “Seems like we always bump into each other in dangerous situations. Maybe the universe is trying to tell us something.”

“Oh yeah? And what is it saying?”

He grins. “That you should let me take you on a date.”

There’s electricity running through your whole body.

Sugawara Koushi—your frustratingly charming, unfairly cute neighbour—is asking you out.

“Wait. What? How does that have anything to do with us bumping into each other in dangerous situations?”

He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, maybe that was just an excuse. I just wanted to take you on a date. I must sound so lame, right now.”

You stare at him. He looks nervous, you probably do too.

And then, before you can second-guess yourself, and run away and panic, you chuckle, “Yeah. Okay. I’ll go on a date with you. But only for safety measures.”

The man exhales sharply, as if he's been holding his breath for too long.

And then he smiles.

At this moment, you’re convinced Sugawara’s smile is more radiant than a thousand suns. He closes his eyes and you instantly miss their chocolate shade. Deep down, you think you’ll miss them even if he blinks.

“Great! How’s Saturday?”

“Saturday works.”

“Perfect. It’s a date.”

You’re about to say more but your phone rings in your pocket, you check it.

“It’s my boss, he has my keys, he’s waiting at the station.”

He takes the cup from your hand, your fingers brush. “Be careful then. And text me when you’re back home, I’ll bring your box.”

You tuck a lock of hair behind your ear and thank him.

Once you’re outside you can’t stop smiling.

When you go to bed that night, you think the universe isn’t against you anymore.

Or maybe, just maybe, it had been working in your favour all along.

a/n: that was the first work for the event and i loooved writing for suga!! i should do it more often haha

i hope you enjoyed this story <3

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caelivir · 2 months ago

Note

for your event, can you add fwb!atsumu and sweet boy by malcolm todd to the aux please !!

thank uuuuuu

now playing: sweet boy by malcom todd

first tsumu req of the event hehe. this song was lowk hard to figure out i cannot lie ‘cause it’s lowk angsty but i took one of the verses and tried to weave something cute from it. i hope u enjoy 🤗.

content. miya atsumu x fem!reader, fwb (he’s lowk in love tho), hint of jealousy, insecurity, communication, little suggestive | wc. 880+

three whole days.

miya atsumu has had this gut feeling that something’s wrong for three days, and it has to do with you. you’re not missing or anything terrifying like that. you posted a selfie on your instagram story just a day ago.

you guys can go without contact for a few weeks at a time, but this silent is different. it nags at him like spidey-senses telling him something’s not the way it should be.

that’s why he’s here, outside your apartment, even though his flight landed just two hours ago. he forced his manager to take care of his luggage and got the first taxi he could find to take him straight to you.

when you swing open your door, you blink, staring at him perplexed before you nearly shut it in his face. atsumu is barely able to wedge his foot before it completely shuts.

“oh come on.” atsumu huffs as he overpowers the strength you’re putting into trying to shut the door. he allows himself into your home when you give up.

you scowl, an expression he loves seeing you make when it’s not directed at him. “what are you doing here?”

“what? can’t see my favorite girl, now?” atsumu winks, trying to play things off as if his nerves are knotting into a tight coil in his gut. it results from a scoff out of your mouth as you shut the door.

you roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “sure, miya.”

that makes him stop dead in his tracks. atsumu whips his head towards you. the surprise is etched across his face, expressed through his raised eyebrows and dropped jaw. “miya?”

sure, atsumu’s annoyed you before, and to that you’ve called him a jerk. a dickhead, but not once has he ever been called miya. he doesn’t give a shit if others call him that. however, it’s different when it comes to you. a lot of things are. being called miya by you is wrong, illegal. it goes against every law of nature. atsumu can be anything to you, anything but miya.

he must’ve fucked up. severely.

he stalks closer, which in turn forces you to take steps back. this shuffle continues until your back presses into the back of the door. his face is dangerously close to yours, and he can tell it makes you nervous. it’s not obvious, but he sees it. your eyes waver every so slightly.

“back up.”

“not until ya tell me what i did.”

“who says you did anything?” you narrow your eyes, challenging him. always so stubborn.

“‘cause yer callin’ me miya. ya never call me that.” atsumu shoots back. that shuts you straight down. your eyes wander, looking at anything but him. “tell me what’s wrong.”

you scrunch your nose, feeling guilty. “sorry, tsumu. it’s- it’s stupid.” you mutter.

atsumu hates how dejected you look. he hates the frown on your pretty features. he hooks his index finger under your chin, forcing you to bring your eye up to his face. “hey. nothin’ ya say to me is stupid.”

“it’ll fuck everything up.” you whisper, genuine fear coating your voice.

“tell me anyway.” he assures you, lightly stroking your chin with his thumb. the silence overtakes. he waits, waits until you’re ready.

“i saw the pictures.” you admit quietly. “and the article.”

the ones from paris, atsumu realizes. so that’s what this is about. he gets it now.

“i just-” you pause, pursing your lips, weighing your next words. “i know we’re not together. we’re not anything really. i know. but i- seeing those pictures, reading that article… i hated it.

“but again, what right do i have? i mean you’ve got everything ahead of you, y’know? we don’t even see each other often. you’re all over the world. you’re bound to get all this attention, especially from girls that look like her. you deserve that. so i- i was just thinking that maybe-”

“no.” atsumu shuts that idea down before you can even get it out. he knows. he knows what you’re trying to do, and he won’t have it. he won’t even dare to entertain it.

“just listen to me.”

“not gonna.” he reaffirms with a hint of tease.

“(y/n), i don’t care about ‘em. i don’t care which model tries to throw herself at my feet. i like what we have. i’m not throwin’ that away for anyone. it’s you. it’ll only be you, ‘kay?”

however, you still don’t look convinced. he sees it in the way your frown dips slightly deeper. atsumu doesn’t like when people doubt him, but doubt is fuel. it tells him that there’s more he can do. that means there’s more he can do for you.

atsumu brings his face closer to yours, pressing a featherlight kiss to your cheek, another one to the tip of your nose, one on your jaw, before crawling up to peck the corner of your lips. he drops his hand from your face, navigating them to your waist where he slips them under your baggy shirt to feel the heat of your skin.

atsumu presses his forehead to yours, his lips hovering over yours. “i can prove it to ya. let me prove it to ya. let me show how much ya mean to me.”

#♪ ݂۫ kory’s aux event ♪ ݂۫#haikyuu #hq #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #atsumu miya #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu x reader #atsumu fluff #⭑ — fics ⭑.ᐟ♡#♡ — hq #♡ — tsumu

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