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wordsofelie · 5 months ago

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Chapter 3

🌅Don’t you dare runaway (A Phoenix and Ashes Sequel)

Miya Osamu x f!reader

Summary: Miya Osamu thinks some things will never change—Atsumu will always be annoying; his Ma’s food will always be the best and you will always be his favourite sunrise.

Content Warnings: Timeskip Setting, Manga Spoilers, ex!Suna, Swearing, Mention of Sex (the word is pronounced once)

Words count: 3.3k

chapter 1 - chapter 2 - chapter 4 - chapter 5 - chapter 6 - chapter 7 - chapter 8

It’s 4 a.m. when the alarm rings and the shrill melody is a relief to Osamu’s ears.

The man hasn’t been able to sleep a wink all night. First, he found the futon way too hot to his liking and in an attempt to cool down he tried to slide onto the tatami mat, but it turned out to be way too cold this time (if only he had someone pressed against him, maybe that could help find the perfect balance). Then, he remembered the words he told his brother—sure ‘Tsumu acted like a spoiled brat but ending the year angry at him left a weird bittersweet taste in his mouth (he wished he had someone he could express this feeling to, someone who would listen and reassure him.) And finally, finally, he couldn’t calm the rapid beats of his heart each time he remembered that only a small corridor was separating you from him (and if only that someone he needed was you, he thought dismissively somewhere between dusk and dawn).

So, when the alarm rings, even though it means waking up, driving another hour and a half and opening the restaurant, he is relieved.

Osamu can’t decipher whether you had a good sleep or not when he joins you in the kitchen a few minutes later.

You have a cup in your hands and you’re glancing at the window. He turns his face to where you’re looking. The snow has melted. The world outside is silent, untouched by the morning light.

“Hi.” You tell him calmly; he didn’t realise you had noticed his presence.

He smiles in response as you put your cup of tea away, “should we go?”

“After ya.”

His words make you laugh a little, you cover your mouth with your hand and answer, “It’s way too early but you’re already such a gentleman.”

“Always with ya.”

Osamu doesn’t know if it’s because he’s not fully awake (or asleep) but his voice comes out so seriously that you widen your eyes slightly and a faint red hue creeps across your cheeks, and to the tips of your ears. Your eye contact stops after a few seconds, but it’s more than enough to fill Osamu’s lungs with an air he had never quite breathed before. If it had lasted longer, the man is convinced he would have melted, like the snow, in an unfair way.

You both thank Grandma Yumie for her hospitality. She doesn’t hide her will to welcome you again any time of the year, at any hour of the day.

“Take care of each other.” She ends up saying. A quick glance at Osamu makes it's obvious that she specially addressed those words to him.

It’s so cold inside the car, Osamu doesn’t wait for your arms to shiver to give you his hoodie. A grin slips through your lips when you put it on and notice how big it is for you. Your eyes seem a little bit glassy not because you cried but because of the lack of sleep. You probably found the bed too cold or too hot just like him, Osamu concludes.

“Ya can sleep if ya want. I’ll try not to drive too fast.”

“Nah, I've got to keep you company. What a bad co-pilot I would make if I fell asleep.” You sound a little proud when you say that, he finds you cute.

“Co-pilot? Ya distract me most of the time.”

You straighten suddenly and frown, “What? How dare you-”

“Say bye to Oba-san.” He starts the engine and waves at the old lady who stayed by the door to watch you leave.

You click your tongue, “Shut up.”

The ride is, without surprise, quiet. It’s not the quiet of yesterday due to Osamu’s bad mood—it’s a comfortable quiet. The kind that seems to be in harmony with the nature outside who’s slowly awakening

Osamu drives mostly on instinct. He tries to think about the day coming ahead to keep his focus: first he needs to wash the rice, then he will cut the cucumbers, prepare the sauce… He enumerates the list in his head. It’s gonna be a long day, he realises.

He sighs loudly, the sound filling the otherwise silent car.

You’ve been so calm that Osamu starts to think you might’ve fallen asleep. He risks a glance at you, your head resting lightly against the window. The sight both distracts and grounds him.

Something inside his chest is warm.

Unknowingly, a new rhythm has settled in his heart. When did it start? Maybe it has always been like that with you (peaceful, obvious). It’s so pleasant, Osamu wouldn’t mind feeling it for the rest of his life.

“Osamu, stop.” You suddenly exclaim and in a split second the man, lost in thoughts, is brought down to earth.

He does stop on the roadside, and you get out of the car.

He’s confused, almost worried, at first, so he follows you but soon all his fears disappear.

“Look. The sun is rising. I’ve never seen the sky like that before.” Your amazement is that of a child, your voice is high, and you run to the edge of the cliff to get even closer to the panorama. Osamu sees your chest rise and fall as you take in the air, “It’s beautiful.”

Osamu blinks.

No, you’re beautiful, is the only thought running through his head. But honestly, when are you not? Although, he just notices it now.

A ray of sunlight falls perfectly on your face, and he wants to kiss you.

Fuck.

He really wants to kiss you. Irresistibly. Outrageously. Unconditionally so.

The background seems like a mere white noise to his ears. You’re telling him how pretty the view is again, but he doesn’t care. All seven wonders could stand in front of him but that would not satisfy his eyes compared to that sight of you, bathed in the sun.

Look away, look away, he tries to convince himself. Look at where she’s pointing. But it’s too late now. He’s mesmerised by the moves of your hair, captivated by the features of your face, he suddenly feels like he’s losing all sense of will but still, it feels good. It’s freeing him.

Because everything makes sense now.

The discomfort he feels when you call him “friend”, the desire to live in a house with you, the feeling of protection he constantly shows towards you, the new rhythm that his heart is beating to.

It’s because he is in love with you.

He wants to stop time and never go back to Osaka. He wants to stay there, watching you smile. Gosh, the sunrise looks so good on you, it’s probably becoming his favourite colour.

You catch him looking and smile, “by the way.” You start and he has to pinch his arm to refocus, “Happy New Year.”

On January 1st, at 5 a.m., Miya Osamu realises that the love of his life has been standing before him for a decade.

Atsumu has been waiting in front of Onigiri Miya for an hour.

The cold bites at his skin and seeps into his bones like a river entering a cave and flooding it. After avoiding death from fratricide, he is now convinced he will succumb to hypothermia.

He sits against the wall, hands deep in his pockets, seeking warmth. He curses himself for not bringing gloves (it’s always Osamu who remembers that kind of stuff). Maybe his fingers are going to freeze and break and fall—his career will be over soon, farewell National Team, goodbye Olympics.

When his brother’s car finally pulls up, he jumps.

“I’ve never been so happy to see ya.” He exclaims, eyes on the verge of tears. “How was yer ride? Ya must be tired. Can I do somethin’ to help?”

His eyes dart toward Osamu, and you can see the guilt written all over his face as he talks. But his twin only glowers at him before walking straight past him and opening the restaurant.

The older brother clears his throat and glances at you, clearly unsure of what to do.

You put your hand on his arm and suggest gently that he should get the rice bags from the car while you start cleaning the counter and getting the tables ready.

Atsumu hesitates for a moment before nodding, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah... alright.”

Inside the restaurant, Osamu watches you take off your shoes and pick up the broom. “Ya should go home and sleep,” he says quietly before taking a glimpse at the other man still outside, “both of ya.”

You shake your head and smile. “Don’t be stupid, Osamu. Atsumu and I are happy to help. We’ll sleep later. Right?”

Atsumu finally lumbers inside with the first bag of rice slung over his shoulder as if it weighed nothing, his brother remains unusually calm. There’s no yelling or anger—just silence. And for Atsumu, the silence is worse.

“What?- Oh yeah, of course, we’ll help. Ya don’t have to worry, go to yer kitchen and make us some good onigiri. Like always. ‘Cause yer a great chef, ya know. The best I should say. The best of the best.” Each sentence comes out more awkward than the previous and it takes everything in you not to laugh at how he stumbles over his words.

But Osamu only sighs in response before grabbing the rice bag from Atsumu.

Something about his attitude makes the blond twin uneasy. As he passes by you, he leans down and whispers into your ear, “D’ya think he’s still angry at me?”

“Maybe a little bit.” You say back, trying to keep your voice low. “But don’t worry, I’m sure it will be over soon if you help him today.”

Osamu glances over with furrowed brows, his eyes narrowing slightly as he catches you both whispering. “Yer helpin’ or not?” His voice is devoid of his usual teasing tone.

“Yeah, yeah, comin’.”

Atsumu hurriedly runs back outside to finish the job.

You don’t see each other for the next few days. At first, Osamu thinks it’s for the better. He has been awfully busy since the beginning of the year—which has been a greater success than he had planned. He likes his job because of how different each day is. If a day is calm, the next can be swarming, if sometimes he takes the time to discuss with the workers who come for their lunchtime, another time he will enjoy the silence of the off-peak hour. He tries to innovate in what he makes depending on the seasonal products or fresh fish of the market. It’s never repetitive, always new.

He can say he is content with his job.

So, when the second week of January starts, he thinks he deserves to rest (and he probably needs to).

But he immediately regrets it when he finds himself unable to fall asleep. He closes the restaurant earlier than usual and goes to the konbini to buy that eggs and mayo sandwich he has been craving for months (Osamu prefers homecooked food but a little treat now and then is always welcomed). He gets home, lies down on his couch and turns on the TV. He learns about how Tibetan Sand Foxes like to prey on pikas (why do they look like Suna by the way? Suna, his former teammate, your ex, your first love, the guy who broke your heart, the only boy you ever dated, ever loved, ever had sex with-). His heart misses a beat. He immediately skips to the next channel. There’s a documentary about street food in Hong Kong, but only a few minutes in, he turns the TV off. This reminds him too much of work and tonight is supposed to be about anything but work. His life is dedicated to food now, and he won’t change anything about it, but at the same time, his brain needs a break from the one thing he knows best.

So, he grunts and lies down flat on his back, hands behind his neck.

He looks at the ceiling and tries to clear his mind. He thinks that resting like this will help his head wind down, but the more he tries to relax, the more his thoughts turn chaotic.

What are you doing right now? He wonders. You are in Aomori with Atsumu and the rest of the team. Perhaps you’re making a video with Bokuto or eating apple pie with Hinata (stop thinking about food ya moron). Is Sakusa near you? Are you talking to him? Looking at him? How does that make you feel? Maybe thinking about food is a better idea because Osamu suddenly feels his muscles tightening and a dull ache settles from his lower abdomen to his chest.

He hasn’t seen you often this week when work took you away, and that was fine—he was busy too. But these past few days, the empty space where your presence used to be felt bigger. It was like a silence he wasn’t used to, one that lingered too long after the noise of the day had died down.

Without realising it, his eyes close. His body, heavy with the fatigue he refuses to acknowledge, finally gives in.

When he wakes up, he is sitting on a chair, it’s stiff and uncomfortable. He blinks a few times to get used to the light.

“We’re going to the cafeteria, you’re coming?”

He doesn’t recognise Suna’s monotonous voice at first, but still, the middle blocker is here, standing in front of him. His hair is long, and he is wearing their high school uniform.

Osamu opens his mouth, once, twice, before looking around him. He is in his second-year classroom. He looks at his hands, there’s dry and bruised, from volleyball ?

“What yer doin’ here?” he says to no one at all.

Suna is gone.

When he turns around, you are with your ex-boyfriend.

“I love you.” He hears Suna say, “Be my girlfriend.”

Osamu wants to get up, but his body doesn’t move.

He knows something is irrational about the whole situation. First, he graduated from high school years ago, and then Suna would never confess in front of everyone.

However, there’s an urge inside of him to stop you from giving an answer. He wants to tell you to say no for you deserve better than Suna. Don’t choose him, choose me, he wants to tell you.

But he is glued to the chair.

“Fuck.” He groans before hitting his forehead on the table.

“Where’s Sakusa-san?” You finally reply.

Your voice is so soft, Osamu thinks you sound like peace in the middle of chaos.

He lifts his face and sees you. You’re taller and your cheeks are thinner, you don’t look like the teenager you once were. Suna has disappeared and you’re in Osaka’s gym.

The boy doesn’t look around this time to understand what he is doing here. Nothing makes sense anyway.

He knows he has to join you before Sakusa does.

“Wait.” He exclaims and starts running towards you. But you don’t hear him.

He shouts your name, perhaps his throat will ripe from screaming too loud. That doesn’t matter because he needs you to listen to him, “Sakusa doesn’t know ya can’t sleep if ya don’t have a cup of tea, black tea, not white, not green, but black. He doesn’t know ya prefer boiled eggs instead of poached and that yer tongue itches if ya eat the skin of peaches.” He has stopped running now and is almost out of breath, “Ya used to love spring, but ya don’t anymore, ‘cause ya have allergies and ya think summer is better because it’s the season of fireworks and festivals and… and-”

He wants to keep going but he is suddenly overwhelmed by all the things he knows about you (everything); and all the things he wants to learn about you (anything).

He sinks on his knees.

“I don’t know where we are and am so tired, but I love ya, I love ya, I love ya.”

There’s a sensation of greatness once the words have come out of his lips. It’s infinite and endless.

His eyes are directed to the polished floor. He sees tears falling on his hands and wetting his fingers.

You don’t answer and when he looks up, the scenery has changed again. He is on top of a mountain, sat on the grass. When he decides to stand up, he wonders where you are. Have you heard him? Or has he lost his chance to tell you how he feels?

A warm hand rests on his shoulder, “Osamu-kun.” It’s the feeble but gentle voice of his grandma, “For yer words to be heard, ya need to face the truth.”

“I should have realised I loved her sooner, in high school, I should have dated her, not Suna, not him, me.” There’s panic not only in his tone but in his heart. His hands start shaking.

“This is not about ya, this is about her.”

He doesn't listen to the old lady, “How am I supposed to forget her now? What should I do? Our friendship will be ruined because of me. Grandma’ I-I’m screwed.”

“Give her yer heart, fully.”

“But what if-”

“Son,” her voice is firmer now, “don’t you dare run away.”

The sun is rising when Osamu looks to his right. How is he supposed to spend a lifetime showing you how he feels when it took him a fraction of a second to fall in love with you ?

Loving you is crushingly beautiful but painfully right.

A loud noise resonates in his ears. Does it sound like keys? Or a door opening? Or footsteps?—

The moment that follows he cracks his eyes open.

“Don’t tell me ya were sleepin’?” Atsumu bursts into the living room. “We came back a day earlier. I'm hungry.”

“We?” Osamu asks. His eyelids are heavy with the weight of sleep and when he tries to sit, he feels his head spin.

“I brought apple pie.”

You appear in his field of vision and lean towards him. His heart beats differently now.

You smile with all your teeth, it’s brighter than the sunrise, and he finally realises that a few minutes ago he was dreaming (about you).

“Do you want to have a bite?” You ask him.

This isn’t supposed to happen, he thinks, his heart isn’t supposed to ache like that, he isn’t supposed to hate the stupid distance between you (a meter? Maybe less? Even a centimetre would be too much anyway). It’s ridiculous but he finds himself wanting to break it. But Osamu is not stupid, he can question everything, and analyse his feelings in every sense, he can’t hide it. Dream or not, whether you’re here or away for days, he’s madly in love with you. He will not need a third realisation to admit it, it’s clear that he wants you now.

“You look exhausted.”

There’s worry on your face as you frown. You’re about to put your hand on his forehead to take his temperature but his instinct orders him to avoid your touch, so he gets on his feet and goes to the kitchen.

“I really want to try that apple pie, I’ll put the oven on to warm it up.” He probably sounds fake but that’s the only escape he can think of. He doesn’t want to turn to you because your arms are probably crossed and lips turned into a pout (you always do that when you’re upset but Osamu finds it cute).

Once he’s far enough from you, his face starts to burn, he puts his hands on his cheeks as if it would make the flush go away.

He feels like a teenager crushing on his classmate.

But he can't run away anymore.

author notes: not a lot of action but a lot of feeling, what do you guys think?

taglist: @wolffmaiden, @teyvatsunsets, @obibiwan, @sugacor3, @sunahsvt

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samusamu-miya · 2 months ago

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⌞! You have a notification !⌝

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

ye got a late night? me too. Come chat

Check out the

-> rules

-> tags

-> nonnies

-> mod

Get to know me

- ♡ -

The name's Osamu, I'm a 23 year old student studyin' ta own my dream restaurant, i love cookin' n feedin' people.

Lemme learn yer favourite recipies so i can treat ya, or even just come fer a chat to distract me from studyin'

#! samu speaking #intro post #introduction #haikyuu #osamu miya #osamu haikyuu #osamu hq #hq #! w/ mod

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saintlevrant · 2 years ago

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I know what you guys are waiting for, but enjoy some Dad!Osamu dad bod doodles in the meantime.

[Archived]

#he got them Hawaiian rolls on em fr #q.art #shitty art #my art attempts #artists on tumblr #hq art #haikyuu fanart #q 🦎#leaux needs help #haikyuu!!#miya osamu #osamu hq

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makkir0ll · 8 months ago

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between you and your husband, you were the one more…vocal about your love for him. leaving him sweet notes with doodles of the two of you in his lunch, ending all heartfelt messages with x’s, planting a big kiss on his cheek that he pretended to cringe at but in reality he looked forward to it everytime he left the house.

people would always come up to you, telling you that he doesn’t reciprocate his love with words and such and asking you how you dealt with it. truth be told it took a while for you to get used to but soon enough you began to see the signs.

it was the way that every time he got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom he would tuck your feet back into bed. the way he spent a solid twenty minutes cleaning your phone screen, and with furrowed brows as he placed your new screen protector on, making sure there were no bubbles. it was when you opened his wallet that you saw all the notes you wrote him saved in one pocket of his shitty leather wallet that was begging to be put to rest. it's the way when you come home after a long night out with your friends he takes his time undressing you, removing and placing your jewelry carefully on your bedside table and making sure to gently take off your makeup and of course do your skincare routine that he has memeorized. when he goes out and he spots a little something with your favorite character on it he buys it immediately, not bothering to look at the price tag because the way your eyes would light up when he brought home the little gift was worth more than a billion dollars to him.

it was when on your third month anniversary when the two of you were still dating, while the two of you sat down on the booth next to each other at a restaurant he held your hand and squeezed it three times. signifying the words, i love you. he knew he loved you from the start but was scared it was too soon to say it and this was his silent way of telling you so. and you picked up on it quickly when he started to do it more often.

and on your wedding day, as the two of you stand in front of all your loved ones and the officiator he says the most beautiful vows ever, telling you that "if death do us part then i hope to find you in every lifetime" and once he ended with that sentence, he squeezed your hand three times. i. love. you.

you always knew your husband loved you because his actions spoke a thousand words to you.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜

sigh. TSUKISHIMA FREAKING KEI!!!!!!!!, akaashi keiji (he writes notes back to you), KITA. SHINSUKE., iwaizumi hajime (30) athletic trainer, suna rintarou, USHIJIMA, kageyama tobio (squeezed your hand a lot when you started dating), MIYA OSAMU, sakusa kiyoomi, OH OH OH AONE!!,

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merlucide · 1 month ago

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BOKUTO.ೃ࿔* who desperately wants you to think he’s cool. He’ll do everything in his power to impress you—oh, your bag is too heavy? No problem! Bo’s got it! aaaand he can carry Akaashi’s bag too! See how strong he is? Isn’t he the coolest?! Wait—hold on, you really think so?

KUROO.ೃ࿔* who loves when you manhandle him. Tug him by his tie, and honey he’s at your mercy. Slide your hands along his neck with that sly smile of yours, and you’ll have him utterly undone. He just has to lean in with a lopsided smirk, hand cupping your jaw, being completely enchanted by you.

TSUKKI.ೃ࿔* who keeps you from wandering aimlessly like a lost puppy. You always ‘turn your brain off’, according to Kei. he’ll firmly place his hand on the top of your head and steer you in the right direction, rolling his eyes and teasing about how you’d be completely and utterly lost without him.

SUNARIN.ೃ࿔* who always, ALWAYS, has to have his hands on you. If you are with in reach he will rest his hands on your hips and tug you against him. If you’re walking around then your fingers will be interlocked. He also likes to put his hand in your back pocket in your jeans

IWAIZUMI.ೃ࿔* who gets genuinely gets flustered every time you compliment him. It could be anything small, like a simple ‘That’s a good color on you’ has him bashfully muttering a small ‘thanks,’ with his cheeks tinged pink. He hates how easily you turn him into a mess—especially when you giggle in realization and lean in to kiss him— Oh he just can’t take it!!

AKAASHI.ೃ࿔* who always walks you to and from your destination, no matter the time, place, or weather. Any time spent with you is spent well. He needs to make sure you get to your destination safely of course! He waits until he absolutely cannot see you anymore before he starts his journey back.

ATSUMU.ೃ࿔* who gives the BEST hugs. You always feel so safe and so loved when his arms are wrapped firmly around your waist. His head tucks into your neck as if he never wants to let go. And when he’s feeling all soft, he’ll cradle your cheek in his hand, his thumb brushing tenderly across your skin as he gazes at you like you hung the stars. Though, that’s just ‘Tsumu’s normal expression when you’re around.

KAGEYAMA.ೃ࿔* who’s always looking for you, even if you’re not there. It’s just a habit of his, probably because his mind is constantly plagued of your smiling face 24/7. The moment he spots you, he’s making a beeline, linking his pinky with yours whispering ‘What took you so long?’.

USHIWAKA.ೃ࿔* who’s the perfect gentleman. He pulls out your chair, walks on the side closest to the road, and never shows up empty-handed, always bringing you a bouquet of roses on every Sunday with a respectful kiss on the hand. Life with ‘Toshi is as easy as breathing.

OIKAWA.ೃ࿔* who can’t help but be ridiculously cheesy, really he can’t! Not when you’re his darling sugarplum and one and only till the end of forever! Reject his dramatic love proclamations? Oh, absolutely not! That’s just who he is, and you’ll have to endure it, sweetheart.

HINATA.ೃ࿔* who always offers piggyback rides when your feet hurt. Don’t underestimate his little body!—he can lift you with ease, carrying you down the street like it’s nothing. Sho’ would insist you get on his back regardless if your feet hurt or not—can you really blame him? Who wouldn’t want a cutie hanging onto them!

KENMA.ೃ࿔* who silently watches you in admiration when you put your makeup on. Sitting on the toilet lid, he holds your makeup bag and hands you your lip gloss before you even ask. He shyly looks away with his cheeks warm and lips pursed together when you ask ‘how do I look?’.

OSAMU.ೃ࿔* who can’t help the loopy grin on his face when you do a little twirl, showing off your new outfit. He could care less about shopping, truly, he hates it. But if it means seeing you all dolled up and happy, he doesn’t mind it one bit.

SAKUSA.ೃ࿔* who pulls you close to him when you are in public spaces. He takes your hands and squirts his Hello Kitty hand sanitizer (The one you got him) into your hands before rubbing his own. Scathingly glares at the man who accidentally bumped into you. He absolutely cannot let you have unwanted contact with strangers! no yucky germs allowed on his baby.

YAMAGUCHI.ೃ࿔* who always firmly holds your hand in crowds. Out in public he’ll hold your hand regardless, but when everyone is packed together his anxiety skyrockets. He’s always nervous of you two being separated in the crowd. He takes the lead to guide you both out of the mingled mess of people, and when it’s over, please give him a forehead kiss—he’s earned it.

TENDOU.ೃ࿔* who takes Shounen Saturdays very seriously. You don’t get to skip it! Not when it’s a sacred tradition of binge-watching both of your favorite shows with sugary snacks! You two are all bundled together on the couch and gasping and giggling at the TV. He refuses to let you watch the next episode without him, Will curse your whole bloodline if you do (affectionate).

HOSHIUMI.ೃ࿔* who might just be the worst person to play board games with. When he’s winning, he’s full of smug trash talk, loudly boasting about his ‘inevitable victory’, but the second he starts losing? ‘This game is rigged!’ ‘you cheated!,’ or ‘this is bullshit!’. It’s even worse better when there’s a bet involved—he’ll do anything to avoid letting you win. That’s how you get him to help you clean most the time hehe.

LEV.ೃ࿔* who clings to you, always. You are concerned for his neck and back for always resting around you in uncomfortable positions, but he never seems to complain. Standing up Lev has his arms around you and head smushed against yours, laying down his long legs wrap around your own and he burrows himself in your warmth. If Lev could have it his way, he would never stop touching you.

AONE.ೃ࿔* who’s a certified purse carrier. you don’t make him— of course not! He insists actually. He could care less about being seen with a hot pink decorated purse slung on his arm, it’s quite the sight. This also goes for shopping of course, Nobu’ just trails behind with arms full of whatever you managed to snag on 50% off.

uhu I wrote some for kyotani+suga+goshiki+etc but I didn’t like them sob sob

lemme know whatcha think! (And if I should do pt2 lolz)

made January 26th 2025

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bellotopo · 2 months ago

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MYY THREE FAVSS!!! YIPPPPEEEE

All credits to freaka_loonyz!!! 🙇‍♀️🙏🧎‍♀️(FOLLOW THEM ON TIKTOK AND TWITTER!!!)

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noosayog · 2 months ago

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[3:47 pm] ft miya osamu

wc: 700

When you slam open Atsumu’s bedroom door and plop yourself onto the carpet next to him, he barely looks up from his phone.

“Ever heard of knocking?”

You lay belly down on the floor and scream into the worn fuzz of the carpet.

“Gross. You know our bare, unwashed feet walk on this floor right?”

He offers you a pillow and you take it, squishing it between the floor and your face. Atsumu waits for your breath to run out.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Atsumuuuuu…” you bemoan. “I’m going through a crisis.”

He says nothing, continuing to scroll on his phone but you can tell you’ve garnered some of his interest.

“I have a secret. Like one that I can’t tell anyone.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s so shameful. I’ve been keeping it to myself for, like, ever.”

“Yeah, I bet I couldn’t guess what it is.” The sarcasm is completely lost on you.

“Yeah. You’d make fun of me. It’d be material for you to tease me for a lifetime,” you pause, take a deep breath. “I-

“-have a big fat crush on my brother?”

You gape. “What?”

He looks up from his phone. He blink at you, like you’re any simpleton. “You,” he says slowly, punctuating each word, ”have a big, fat, embarrassing, crutching, debilitating crush on my brother.”

“I didn’t even realize you knew so many big words-”

“What?”

The two of you freeze up.

“‘Samu!” Atsumu exclaims. “Thought you weren’t gonna be back until later tonight.”

“I wasn’t.”

He gives no other explanation. You stay still, hoping that if you don’t move or breathe, he won’t notice you. The silence stretches.

“Ohhh.. kay. Well, I better go. You kids-”

You jolt awake at that, in disbelief that Atsumu would flee alone after what he’s done.

“I’ll go with!” You turn and run, making monumental efforts to avoid a dark eyes trained on you.

You’re about to squeeze past when a hand slams against the doorframe, arm now blocking off your exit. Osamu stares hard at you while your gaze stays glued to the exit beyond, though it’s more like you’re staring at his bicep which is now stationed at your eye level.

“I’m just gonna go…” you hear Atsumu mumble, ducking under Osamu’s arm barrier, stealing your escape route.

“Jackass-” you mumble.

“Hey.”

The low voice comes from right above your head.

“Osamu,” you greet, still staring at his arm. “I gotta go. I have plans-”

A finger comes up to lift your jaw. It’s careful, but still forceful. When your eyes finally meet his, the one finger turns into two which grip your chin in place.

“Was what Atsumu said true?”

It takes a lot for you to hold back a stutter. “Sounds like you heard him loud and clear to me,” you say, ready to slap his hand away.

“I did.”

“Then why are you still asking-”

“If it’s true,” he leans down, talking slowly. It makes you start to hyperventilate. You need a paper bag or something. “I don’t wanna hear it from my stupid brother.”

His eyes are mesmerizing, captivating. Not even the many, many years of knowing him dulls the effect of his straightforward gaze on you. You think you hear someone concede, “it’s true.”

“What’s true?” he whispers. He’s so close you feel his words ghost your mouth.

Autopilot talks. “That I have a big fat crush on you.”

He eats up the next millimeter of space.

“Yeah?” he murmurs against your lips.

Suddenly, his neck is caged inside of your arms and you’re licking up his familiar minty breath and surely this all isn’t your doing because your brain is still catching up.

His smile widens against your lips and you can feel the smugness radiate off him.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have interrupted, then.”

That clears the fog. You shove his shoulders away and try to ignore the fact that he doesn’t go very far.

“Why?” you demand.

He kisses you again. “‘Cause my brother’s got a big mouth.”

You tilt your head in confusion. Osamu takes it as an invitation to slot his face better against yours.

His kiss almost makes you forget your train of thought, but that’s okay because he answers your question anyway.

“And he probably would’ve blabbed that I have a big fat crush on you too.”

#noos writes #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu fluff #hq x reader #hq imagines #hq x y/n #hq fluff #miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu x y/n #miya osamu x you #miya osamu fluff #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x reader #osamu x you #osamu x reader #osamu x y/n

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morosluvbug · 6 months ago

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osamu miya who falls in love with a picky eater

osamu miya who learns from a very young age that you’re not willing to touch most foods. he (not so) secretly watches at lunch everyday to see what parts of you lunch you end up neglecting.

osamu miya who never teases you about being picky, after all that’s what makes cooking for you more rewarding right? nailing the flavors that you love and hiding the ones that you have no taste for.

osamu miya who attempts (and succeeds) at wowing you through bringing you lunches that he knows you’ll enjoy.

osamu miya who spends the rest of lunch trying not to grin ear to ear while watching you happily eat the lunch he brought you.

osamu miya who knows it’s now his life’s mission to make sure you enjoy food as much as possible.

osamu miya who loves the way your face lights up when he finds a place with lots of options for foods you like. whether its due to dietary restrictions, allergies, or a distace for certain foods, he will make sure there’s many options for you everytime you eat out.

osamu miya who cooks for you as often as you like. if you're ever feeling unmotivated and unwilling to cook he will show up and help you.

osamu miya will reach out to your parents for childhood recipes and loved dishes you may not have told him about. he wants to have your comfort foods at the ready whenever you're craving them.

osamu miya who never fails to wow you with how well he remembers your favorite foods. craving a certain cuisine but don’t know what you want? trust me, he knows way before you do and politely suggests it.

osamu miya loves seeing your reactions to new foods you discover. he’s always so proud when you try something new, and is even happier when he watches your face light up from the flavors.

osamu miya will order for you if you need to sub out items on a dish but are to embarrassed! food is meant to be enjoyed! not picked apart to avoid certain aspects of it.

osamu miya who will do anything to make sure you’re happy, healthy, and not hungy!!

A/N: projecting so hard onto this fic i am so picky about foods!! trying to be better but i fear i am doomed for life :( osamu save me

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #hq fluff #miya osamu x reader #osamu miya #osamu miya x reader #osamu x reader #hq x reader #x reader

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bokutoko · 6 months ago

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osamu didn’t really have a favorite color.

it wasn’t until he saw you after school one chilly autumn day, your face lighting up with the question, “is that jacket new, ‘samu?”

he nodded—he didn’t think too much of it when he got it for his birthday, so he surely didn’t expect anyone else to notice. “a gift from ma.”

“i like it, it’s my favorite color,” you took in his full appearance, your eyes looking him up and down, “it suits ya.” a cackle escaped you at osamu’s flustered face, only growing louder with him grumbling, “shaddup.” osamu’s biggest tell was always his accent thickening, and you knew it.

as winter came, osamu found himself wearing that same jacket to and from school every day, ignoring atsumu’s relentless “whadda simp” comments, as a part of him hoped you’d one day be chilly enough to need his coat.

and when that day came, with his jacket hugging your figure as you nuzzled in his leftover body heat, osamu found it hard to breathe.

in that moment, he realized he’d found his new favorite color—yours.

a/n: sorry osamu if reader’s favorite color is pink😔 bro’s looking like pepto-bismol.

masterlist | navigation

please do not copy, alter, or repost my work. ©bokutoko 2024.

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caelivir · 6 months ago

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“are ya sure yer not dating (y/n)?” osamu suddenly asks his brother during a quiet lunch between the two of them.

atsumu chokes on the grains of rice in his mouth, coughing violently and punching his chest. when he finally settles down, he throws a glare at his brother. “what the hell, ‘samu?”

“that’s not an answer.” osamu continues to press.

“we’re not!” atsumu answers, picking up a piece of chicken katsu with his chopsticks. “i don’t like them like that. they don’t like me like that. we’re just friends.”

the bright red-pink of his ears speak otherwise. you see, osamu knows his twin better than he knows himself. he knows that whatever comes out of atsumu’s mouth is a load of crap. just friends? yeah fucking right.

osamu has never seen his brother look at anyone the way he looks at you, starlight and pure adoration swirling in his irises. he acts as if your every word were an earth-shaking prophecy sent by the heavens. his honey brown eyes stare, and he smiles so gently that it makes him sick.

friends aren’t touchy in the way you guys are. you hold each other’s hand like it’s nothing. with interlocked fingers, atsumu will trace his thumb down the back of your hand for no apparent reason. when you’re bored, you’ll take atsumu’s hand into your lap and play with it, bending his fingers, comparing hand sizes, and running a featherlight touch across the expanse of his palm to see if he’ll react.

osamu notices how you never miss the opportunity to find a seat on his brother’s lap. whether there are no seats of available or ten open ones, you will always choose atsumu. and it’s not like he’s complaining about it. in fact, osamu thinks that he waits for it because atsumu would never want to miss the chance to secure his arms around your waist and whisper into your ear amidst a loud conversation.

and you can’t forget the cuddles, and the hugs that linger longer than they should, and the way you’ll cup atsumu’s face, and the way you play with his piss blond hair.

you’re the one person atsumu lets wear his jersey to his game. he ensures you get the best seat to watch him play. osamu doesn’t miss the way his twin looks at you before every serve or the way you cheer the loudest when he scores an ace.

osamu doesn’t think that someone who “doesn’t like you” would be thinking about you every time they shop. “(y/n) likes this snack”. “(y/n) would love this shirt”. “oh hey, (y/n) showed me this”. “‘samu, should i buy this for (y/n)?”.

osamu has never seen two people so madly in love before. he doesn’t know how you guys haven’t realized it yet. and he can’t keep playing along because atsumu’s katsu looks really good right now.

“right…” osamu chooses to answer, dipping his chicken into the tonkatsu sauce. “i sure hope they’re gonna have fun on that date they have today.”

his brother’s chopsticks clatter onto the table before rolling onto the floor. the sight of atsumu’s open mouth filled with rice is unsightly, and osamu has to suppress his laugh.

“they didn’t tell you?” osamu raises an eyebrow.

“no?!” atsumu suddenly stands, slamming his palms into the table.

“yeah, i think they’re gonna leave soon.” osamu lies easily. there is no date. but of course, does ‘tsumu really need to know that?

the blond twin practically bolts away from the dining table and out of the house. when the door slams shut, osamu grins to himself, reaching for the unfinished plate in front of him.

“he can thank me later.”

atsumu brainrot never ends. something short and sweet bc school is kicking my ass.

#anime #manga #haikyuu #hq #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu fluff #atsumu miya #osamu miya #miya twins #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu x reader #atsumu fluff #° ᡣ𐭩 set i: fics

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bonniepop · 1 month ago

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another night where you fight, another night of silence. another night where miya osamu sleeps with his back to you.

the realization that there is not much more you can do to save your relationship clutches at your chest with an iron grip.

the gravity of it makes you whimper. pressing your lips together, you shakily push yourself up to sit blinking back tears while blindly stepping around for your slippers, willing yourself not to sob—not here, not where he can hear. your toes touch the fluff of them, and you hurry to slip them on. you need to get out of here.

as quiet as possible, you leave your boyfriend in your shared bedroom.

you stumble to the couch and kick off your shoes, blindly searching until your fingers catch the lampshade switch. you yank it to provide some light, rattling as it flings back into place.

you pull your knees to your chest and press your forehead against your kneecaps. a numb part of your brain thinks oh, so this is where this was, when you think of the misery that quieted itself, replaced with a numbness that overtook you during the fight you had with him earlier.

the numbness that made your limbs feel like ice when he clicked off the phone call without even hearing you out.

you wanted to tell him so much, but in the face of his blank gaze and dismissive demeanor, you shut off. you have more fight in you, you know that. but tonight you just couldn’t. couldn’t listen to him tell you that he needed more from you—more support, more time, more patience.

you’ve given him that, right? your brain runs with thoughts you can't keep up with. you gave him yourself. you have, for months, for years. you did what you could. you’ve withstood lonely anniversaries, forgotten birthdays, broken promises. you’ve done everything you could. you gave what you could. you gave everything you could.

i want you to come home, you wanted to tell him eatlier tonight. come home. you’re never home. i know you’re busy at work and you’re doing what you love but please, ‘samu. please.

love me, too.

your body wracks with a sob, the hurt fresh, as if the words that you never got to say wounded your insides instead. you wanted to tell him that, you wanted to beg for it, beg for his time, beg for his attention, beg for him to love you back. but time and time again he just turns and says he’s tired, he doesn't want to hear it, and the moment is gone, and now the fear of knowing that leaving things unsaid will destroy you, will destroy him. will destroy both of you.

you huddle closer into yourself and sob, a sharp sound in your ears making your head pound.

“babe?” you hear through the ringing in your ears, and suddenly warm hands are on your arms. “babe, what’s wrong?” his voice is calm against your turmoil. “are you having a panic attack?”

“’samu, i’m—” you shudder and he leaves for a moment, flitting to the kitchen to grab you some water.

“drink, please,” he tells you, gently unfurling you to sit. you comply with shaky limbs, taking the water he’d given you in your delicate grip. a few sips are enough to calm you down, but the fear is still there.

he gingerly takes the glass and sets it aside. he kneels in front of you, taking your hands and soothingly rubbing his thumbs against your skin. his fingers are hot, almost like a furnace, but when you realize that he's not, he's fine, your hands are freezing, you resist the urge to pull away as he warms your palm.

when he looks up to smile at you, you see the exhaustion on his face, and, instantly, you hate yourself for it. for this.

"i'm sorry," you blurt out, a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over.

his hand leaves yours and cups your cheek. "for what, baby?"

“i love you so much, osamu,” you tell him without thinking, voice thick and wet and miserable. you press the palm of the hand he let go of against his cheek, hiccuping when he closes his eyes to lean into your touch.

“i love you, too,” he says, ready to apologize for the fight, but it's not about that.

not anymore.

you pull away. the confusion and hurt on his face is making everything worse.

“i love you so much,” you tell him, desperately wishing that he could understand. “but i—” you sob, “but, osamu, i can’t anymore.”

osamu presses his lips together, saying nothing. you hear him sniffle, and his fingers come forward to brush at the tears on your cheeks and tuck a lock of hair behind your ear.

“i love you so much,” you confess. “i would do anything for you. and i have, i have for years. i’ve tried my best, but osamu, i’m so tired,” you sob. your voice feels like its giving out but the desperation makes the words claw themselves out of your mouth. “i’m so tired, i'm so tired and i'm so lonely, and—and—and i love you so much, but i have nothing left to give.”

you pull your hands away to hunch over and cry into your palms unable to face him. messily, you wipe at your face and push your hair back. you give him the most apologetic smile you can muster, but you're unable to see his face through your tears. “i’m so sorry i can’t give you more, osamu.”

you hear him sniffle and when you wipe your tears away with the backs of your hands, his eyes are glassy. then he closes his eyes.

the pain that washes over his face is absolutely unbearable. the furrow of his brow and the wrinkle of his chin, the lines by his scowl that you know is him trying his best to keep it together.

when he opens his eyes to look at you, his eyes are no longer glassy. your heart breaks for the pain he refuses to show. “what’s next?��

your smile is sad and wet with tears. “i think you know.” you brush his hair back and cradle his face with your hands. “let’s… let’s do this in the morning, okay?”

he nods, looking away. he licks his lips and shakes his head, and he turns to face you with a furrowed brow and a little more composure despite his watery gaze. but it doesn’t take long before his face crumples and he rushes to hide his face against your legs. his quiet sobs are pained and miserable, his chest shaking as he cries.

you press your face against his hair and cry with him.

—

the morning greets you kindly, the soft sunlight bathing your room in a sweet glow. it’s early, but you can’t keep sleeping. there’s a lot to pack.

your eyes feel hot and swollen, and bones feel heavy beneath your skin, weighing you down from getting up from the bed. still, you fight. you push yourself up to sit and notice that you’re alone. unsurprising, really; osamu has been leaving earlier and coming home later. onigiri miya needs care, needs nurturing, so it’ll blossom and grow. you need to stop begrudging him for it.

you finish your morning ablutions in the bathroom and head out to the kitchen, but when you open your bedroom door, the smell of food hits your nose like a smack to the face. your stomach twists when you see a familiar broad back—osamu didn’t leave—and your fingers turn cold.

the door slides shut behind you and he turns. “good mornin’,” he says quietly, shutting off the stove.

“good morning,” you say, walking to your kitchenette. when you see the spread on the table, you gape despite yourself. “osamu. what is—what.”

he flushes, sliding a delicious looking steak unto a plate and setting it alongside the other plates—nearly every single plate you own, you note—and your dining table is bursting with food. “cooked breakfast.”

“for how many people?” you ask, incredulous. “i tried t'remember everythin’ you liked,” he said with a sniff, and your heart crinkles at the edges, because that means something.

“thank you,” you whisper, and you quietly take a seat while sets aside the dishware he used.

when he finishes, he turns to look at you, leaning on the counter. it takes him a while. “when you leave,” he says, “i’m going to try again.”

you stare at him, confused. you say nothing and wait for him to continue.

“i don’t want you to leave,” he says, and he rubs his face in frustration. “but i know i’ve—i know i fucked up. i love you, and i never should’ve hurt you.” he inhales through his nose. “but i did, and i can’t change that.

“but i’m not giving up on you. not on us. you—” he clears his throat, and the dark circles beneath his eyes makes your heart feel tight. “i’ll… if i have to start all over again, i’ll do it,” he whispers, walking closer and taking your chin in his hand, tilting your face up to meet his eyes. “i’ll win you back.”

“osamu,” you whisper, and his face crumples again.

“i love you too much to let you go,” he says, voice breaking as he fights back tears. “and i know that makes me a jerk. but i’m… i love you, so much—so fucking much, and i hate myself for not making you feel that. for hurting you.”

he gets on his knees and tears are streaming down your face. “leave me if you have to,” he says brokenly.

“if you need space, i’ll understand. but please,” he begs. “please don’t give up on me.”

he does the unthinkable. he curls over and bows, back curved and forehead pressed against the backs of his hands, pressed against the floor.

the horror that overtakes you is beyond words.

you drop to the floor to pull him upright, not letting him do this. he won’t do this to himself, you won’t let him. not for anyone, not for you. you pull his face against yours and kiss him as hard as you can, crying as you do.

you won't let him do this.

later, you sit on the couch, arms around osamu’s middle as you lie on his chest. the idea that this could be the last time you held him like this made you want to burst into tears again.

“i’ll make it up to you,” he promises, pushing your hair out of your face, gently guiding your chin up. “please, just… give me another chance.”

you look up at him, and your eyes meet.

—

“hey!” atsumu greets warmly as soon as you enter the restaurant, spreading his arms wide to engulf you in a hug. “it’s so good t’see you!“

“hi, ‘tsumu,” you greet, returning the hug.

he motions for you to sit as he picks up the menu. “know what you want?”

you nod, not even bothering to pick up the menu. “how are you? how’s training?”

“’m good! training’s good. teammates are pretty good, too.”

"yeah? like who?"

atsumu makes a show of looking at the menu. "oh, i don't you know them."

you roll your eyes at his obvious ploy to get you to start talking. “fine. ask me.”

atsumu instantly leans in, conspiratorially covering his mouth with the menu and whispering, “how are you two? it’s been over a month now, right?”

“oi.” you twist your head to smile up at the newcomer. “stop bothering them, ‘tsumu.”

atsumu glares at his twin. “i’m the one who invited ‘em to lunch!”

osamu rolls his eyes and lays down a platter of onigiri in front of you. he snatches the menu and smacks his brother’s wandering hands with it before they get to close. “these are not for you.”

“but that’s a lot!" atsumu whines. "can’t i have any?”

“no,” osamu says resolutely, then turns to you and gives you the softest smile he can muster, pinning the menu by his side and arm.

"i haven't even ordered yet!" atsumu complains.

osamu ignores him. “let me know what you think.”

“okay,” you say with a smile.

“and let me know if you need to take out anything,” he continues, “i’ll wrap it up for you.” he leans forward and presses a kiss to your temple. “enjoy.”

“thank you, ‘samu,” you tell him before he turns to leave.

he smiles back at you and heads back behind the bar.

atsumu has evidently forgotten about ordering, because his eyes shuttle back and forth between you two before nodding considerably. “so i take it things are going well?”

“yeah,” you admit, picking up an onigiri. “going really well, actually.”

“you’ve been…” atsumu searches for the word, “is it still called ‘dating’? you broke up. but… entertaining each other…?”

“don’t hurt yourself,” you joke. “but yeah. let’s call it dating. and it’s going well, thanks for asking.” you take a bite of the onigiri.

“does he still have a chance?” atsumu asks, genuine curiosity on his face.

you chew thoughtfully as you look back at osamu, who’s smiling at a customer. you remember that bright morning, when he helped you pack, helped you move into your friend’s apartment. when he cooked all that food, and you found it neatly packed away in a thermal bag that had a handwritten note, reminding you to eat well.

you remember the next day, when he showed up at your friend’s door, holding flowers and inviting you out to get some ice cream. you remember his messages, his calls, his check ins on you, littered across the days, asking you how you are or if you’re eating or if you need any food.

you could call him if you needed any help, if you needed anything at all.

but reality sets in when you think of how one phone call could be a mistake, it stops you from searching his name each time you pick up the phone.

in your mind, you see his bent form, his begging, his tears. you remember his smiles and his hugs and his ‘see you later’s, his gradually growing list of unbroken promises. you remember the effort, the time he’s putting into you, putting aside for you. you remember how hard he tries for you.

it's like everything is new again.

his eyes catch yours and he gives you a small wave, and you wave back, your stomach fluttering.

it's not new, you think. it's better.

you swallow your food. it's delicious.

“yeah,” you say softly, “he does.”

#osamu x you #osamu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #x reader #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #haikyuu fic #haikyuu x reader fluff #📝 — my writing #osamu miya x reader #miya osamu fluff #osamu angst #x reader angst #hq angst #haikyuu angst

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onnie-giri · 8 months ago

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STRIKE EM DOWN OSAMU !!

(if yall are wondering where this is from it's this collab:)

#haikyuu!!#hq #haikyuu!! art #haikyuu fanart #miya atsumu #miya osamu #bokuto koutarou #akaashi keiji #kuroo tetsurou

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lale-txt · 9 months ago

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

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

word count: 1.3k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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