#sakusa kiyoomi hurt/comfort

[kikiyoomis]

"what do even you like about me?"

sakusa is taken aback from your sudden question. the two of you were laying on bed, individually scrolling through your respective phones just before bed. there was nothing during the day that would've suggested your change in mood.

sakusa shuts his phone off and places it on the nightstand beside him before pulling you into his embrace.

"like? baby i'm so in love with you that there's nothing that i only 'like' about you," sakusa says while he buries his face into your neck.

"yea but... i'm not even that... special. i'm not super pretty or talented or smart or-" you say before the words are caught in your throat and tears starts to form.

"i feel like i just got lucky. like... why would you settle for someone like me?" you whisper.

you've had these thoughts for a while. before they only came up when you were going through a rough time with your self-confidence but recently, with sakusa's booming popularity as a highly anticipated rookie in the v league, what was left of your confidence completely shattered.

you were happy for him of course. you've been rooting for him ever since he started getting offers to play various division 1 teams. but now that your boyfriend was placed into the spotlight, you could also see all of the people who could easily take your spot as his lover. after all he had talented volleyball players, models, actors, idols and so many high status celebrities talking about him. surely he would find someone better than you who, in comparison to him, has amounted to virtually nothing.

"who said that?" sakusa asked concerned written all over his face. he sits up and pulls you into his embrace but you turn away from him.

"nobody..." you trail off, not wanting to admit that the person who put these ideas into your head was in fact yourself.

"please tell me what's going on. it can't be nobody putting those useless thoughts into your head," sakusa says soothingly as he twirls your hair around his finger gently.

"its just that... "you start but you cut yourself off. "it's nothing."

"it's not nothing. not if it has you this sad," sakusa says and you feel compelled to cry your heart out to him. to tell him about all of your worries and doubts. but what if it burdens him? he already has enough on his plate. the more you thought about it however, the less you could keep it in.

"i can't figure out why you would love someone like me. aren't i just bringing you down? sooner or later you'll find someone you love more and you won't even spare me a glance when leave. and every time i think about you leaving me i get so scared but i can't even be mad about it because if i were you i would leave me too," you finally say, tears falling down your cheeks as you finally verbalized the thoughts you held for years.

"i would never leave you. never in any lifetime of mine that i would leave you," sakusa says, trying to soothe you but your crying doesn't stop.

"i should've just stayed quiet and enjoyed my time as your s/o while it lasts. i shouldn't be this upset over the fact that you'll leave me because it's fated to happen."

sakusa pulls you into a tight embrace and as much as you want to push away, you give into his hug. he's whispering something but you can't make out what he's saying over your uneven breaths.

"y/n, i love everything about you. and i mean it. nobody, for the entirety of our relationship and before, ever came close." he brings his hands to you face and wipes your tears away with his thumb.

"but-"

"no buts."

after a few moments of silence, sakusa speaks up again.

"you know... the day you asked me out... i was going to confess to you the next day. i was so surprised, i had everything prepared and you come out of nowhere telling me that you liked me," sakusa says.

"but i was so happy you know? happier than winning the collegiate mvp. i mean for years i just had to silently deal with my feelings and who would've known that the person of my dreams is here in my arms. god, i don't even know where to start. i just... my feelings for you goes beyond love. i can't even form into words how hard my heart beats for you."

sakusa always had a way with words whenever the subject came to you. which is why you could never beat him in an argument no matter how ridiculous.

he leans in to you and places a soft kiss on your tear stained cheek. then he places another, following the trail before reaching your lips. he presses the kiss there a little longer than the gentle pecks he left on your cheeks.

you tilt your head slightly, letting your lips lock with his. you stay like that until one of you broke for air. you're greeted with sakusa's smiling face. a smile where it reaches his eyes and he's looking at you with such fondness you felt your heart skip a beat like it was the first time you had laid eyes on him.

"don't worry, i'll love you enough for the both of us. nobody will come between us, not even the stupid voices in your head." and just give me a couple weeks my love. a couple more weeks i'll prove to you how i love you by putting a ring on your finger.

[haezen]

how he apologizes [series]

sakusa kiyoomi 

genre: hurt/comfort, angst to fluff

word count: 3.5k

a/n: i’m currently sick  so i might just be writing a bunch cuz all of a sudden, my sickness has gotten rid of my writers block??? how does that happen ?? lol anyways,,,im not sure how i feel about this one, but i just wanted to post something. i hope u guys enjoy ^_^

reblogs and comments are much appreciated <3333

(p.s. the ending is silly so don’t take this one too seriously)

HOW SUNA AND MAKKI APOLOGIZE

masterlist

SAKUSA

He didn’t know what to say.

Kiyoomi knew that he fucked up when he saw you fighting back tears with the scrunch of your nose. His heart sank at the sight, knowing exactly what that nose scrunch means, but something in him wouldn’t let him utter an apology. Something in him strung him up, restricted his every inkling of making a move, and refused to let his tongue move to provide an excuse for his behavior. He felt like he was frozen, stuck in a loop, watching helplessly as you tried your hardest to not break down in front of him.

Why did he lash at you when you wrapped your arms around him, knowing he had a bad day? You were only trying to help. Why did he say all those hurtful things to you when you were just trying your hardest to love him? 

⋆͛♡⋆͛

Your boyfriend came home to you cooking his favorite meal. 

You knew that he had a rough day because Hinata texted you before Kiyoomi left practice. Hinata warned you that there was a ‘storm’ headed your way, and not even he could calm Kiyoomi down. Worried to receive a text from Kiyoomi’s (favorite) teammate, you jumped up from your spot on the couch and ran a hot bath for him. Then, you began preparing his favorite meal, hoping that he would find comfort in two of his favorite things.

To your disappointment, he did not find any comfort in your efforts. He came home and it was like he was a stonewall. You welcomed him home with a warm hug, to which he flinched. 

“Welcome home, Omi!” You smiled as he immediately dropped his bag on the floor and began undressing out of his outer garments. “Dinner should be done in about thirty minutes, and I even ran a bath for you because I know-”

“It’s like there’s never a moment of silence when you’re around.” He says while hurriedly untying his shoelaces. Kiyoomi feels his agitation growing by the second and he decides that all he wants is to change out of his sweaty clothes, take a shower, and go to sleep as soon as he can.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, shocked at his harshness and tone. He then trudged right past you, and without a word, he headed straight for the bedroom. 

As you watched his figure disappear in the darkness of your bedroom, you realized you were holding your breath. It was difficult to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach, but you knew that Kiyoomi had his bad days. If it were you, you surely wouldn’t say such hurtful things to him; but somehow, you still felt inclined to cheer him up.

There was a big promotional game coming up soon and he’d been practicing almost nonstop. There were many nights that he came home late, but still... He always managed to acknowledge you despite his exhaustion. This instance was an exception. He had never said something so hurtful to you before. Sakusa had never disrespected you by ignoring your affection.

Knowing your boyfriend and his moods, it was important that you chose your next words carefully. Kiyoomi’s tongue can be sharp, but he would never knowingly say such hurtful words to the person that he loves. You assured yourself this as you took a deep breath and prepared yourself to try again.

“As I was saying,” You huff as you stand in the doorway of the bedroom while he’s turning on the lamp on the nightstand. “I ran you a bath so you can relax before dinner’s ready.” 

He pulled his shirt up over his head, meeting your gaze from over his shoulder as he threw the material in the hamper. “Did you not hear me or was I not clear enough for you?” 

A moment of silence passes.

“Yeah. I heard you.” You respond, realizing that he wasn’t letting up. He continues to undress, sliding his sweatpants down his legs and stepping out of them. 

 “You don’t have to be so rude ‘Omi. I’m trying to make things easier for you.”

 “Make things easier for me?” He scoffs, uncharacteristically leaving his sweatpants on the floor as he closes the distance between the two of you. 

You take a deep breath at the proximity, suddenly growing uncomfortable with the intensity of the unfamiliar look in his dark eyes. You think, by the way his chest is heaving up and down, that he’s starting to get angry.

“When have you ever made it easier for me?” He asks with the tilt of his head, like he’s remembering a specific moment.  “Everything I’ve done–everything I’ve accomplished– I’ve done it on my own. So don’t ever say that you’re making it easier for me, when in reality, all you’ve ever done is weigh me down.”

You step back, trying to keep your emotions from bubbling over because you don’t want to say something that you’ll regret. That look in his eyes makes him seem like a stranger to you. This isn’t the Kiyoomi that you know and fell in love with. This was the part of Kiyoomi that raged like a storm. His words, sharp and unforgiving as a blade, made you feel sick to your stomach. 

You start to feel your temper flare. Though every part of you wants to scream and cry and say hurtful things in response, you know that there’d be no coming back from it. Ultimately, what keeps you from raising your voice is the realization that he hasn’t appreciated your efforts. To think that your efforts to support him and his dream have gone to waste in seconds. To think that all the times that you’ve stayed by his side to comfort him in his losses have gone unnoticed and under appreciated makes you feel worthless. Deflated. Defeated. The overwhelming sadness that floods you is almost too much to bear. It’s much more intense than the feeling of anger from your boyfriend spewing such hurtful words.

“All this time, you’ve only seen me as a burden?” You choke out, instantly covering your mouth once you realize how emotional you were getting.

“That’s not what I meant.” He says dryly. 

“We both know that’s what you were trying to say, Sakusa.” You sourly point out as you back out of the doorway, retreating to the kitchen. 

To hear his last name from your mouth brings him back to reality. Did he really just say that? He blinks rapidly, like he’s starting to process what he’s said.

He can’t help the despairing sigh that leaves his mouth.  He follows behind you, only in his boxers and socks, and he watches as you start putting the dishes in the sink with a heavy hand– the ones that you were using to make dinner for him. “I’m starting to think that this-” You gesture between the two of you,  “has been a waste of my time.”

Kiyoomi cringes inwardly at your words, heat pricking at his cheeks and the back of his neck from embarrassment. He’s strangely silent because he’s afraid that he might make this worse. Though he’s convinced nothing could be worse than your refusal to spit venomous words back at him, he’s worried that he’ll end up hurting you even more than he already has if he opens his mouth.

 You spare a glance to see him standing stiffly by the entryway, but you don’t want to look at him a second longer. There’s no helping how frantically you’re moving around the kitchen because as much as you want to scream at him for hurting your feelings, you would hate yourself for stooping to his level. In an attempt to distract yourself from crying, you turn on the faucet and begin to wash the dishes.  

Kiyoomi finds himself fidgeting like he used to as a child– pulling the skin hanging from his cuticles– because he’s not sure how to process what you’re saying. A waste of time? Has he wasted your time? For you to say something so drastic with nothing to follow it up, he’s sure that you’re trying your hardest to keep your emotions at bay. He knows how his words have affected you, but yet, he still stands there and watches as you clean up any evidence of your efforts to cheer him up.

Now, Kiyoomi’s internally screaming at himself to apologize; he’s screaming at himself to just do anything. But he can’t. The thought of you finally calling it quits because he couldn’t just suck up the fact that he had a bad day is making him panic. He thinks he feels his stomach churning at the possible reality that this is it. This could be the end of us.

“You promised me that you’d try.” You whisper in defeat, teary eyes focused on the dishes that you’ve thrown haphazardly in the sink.  “You promised that you wouldn’t give up. That you wouldn’t push me away anymore.”

It’s true. He did promise you that. So why does he find himself doing it again?

Maybe it’s because Kiyoomi truly believes that he’s impossible to love.  

In all of his years, there’s only been a handful of people who’ve been there for him. And there’s been even fewer of them that he can recall by name that’ve shown up for him — to his games —and truly shown him kindness and support. Whether or not he reciprocates that kindness is debatable (Kiyoomi has a difficult time deciding if going out of his way is worth it) but still, he hates it: kindness. 

He hates kind people and people who brighten up the room when they walk in. He feels uncomfortable around people who shower him with compliments because he’s not sure how to accept them. He turns his nose up at people who smile at him, even if they haven’t known him for long, because he can’t decipher if it’s genuine. Maybe he’s just pessimistic (he likes to describe himself as a realist) but, if Kiyoomi is going to be friends with someone, he needs to know that they’re real and that their intentions are pure. There have been too many instances where people have tried to befriend him because of his family’s wealth, his talent in volleyball, or his good looks.  And he loathes it.  The fact that people see him as a stepping stone for their own lives or that all he’s worth is being a connection in their own careers. Is that all he’s good for? 

Of course Kiyoomi’s guarded. He’s been hurt and betrayed over and over again. He’s been pushed to the side, forgotten, once they’re done using him. So aturally, he’s become cold and distant; sometimes he’s even negligent and cruel. But if it keeps people away, then he’s fine on his own. He’s almost convinced that it’s better that way. If there’s no one who can disappoint him or make him feel like a tool for a better life, he’s okay with being alone. Maybe that’s the reason why he’s the way he is and why he’s so hard to love. It’s difficult to love someone who refuses to let anyone in.

The real problem is that Kiyoomi doesn’t know how to accept the fact that it’s simply human nature to want to be loved— that it’s human nature to want to love another person. Is it that hard to accept that he’s worthy of love? Yes.

He’s not sure he’ll ever believe that he’s worthy of your love. It completely blows him away when he’s shown such unconditional love and care that his first instinct is to push them away. He believes that he’s saving them the trouble of dealing with someone who refuses to be loved. He’s saving you from himself. You deserve better, he thinks.

But you’re just as stubborn as he is. 

You fight back every time and refuse to let him push you away. When he starts to distance himself, you pull him right back in. 

He remembers that one time when he stayed behind at practice until midnight for an entire week because he was trying to deny the fact that he was in love with you. You were tired of how avoidant he’d become, and decided to show up to the gymnasium. He knew immediately how unhappy you were with him because you forgot to change your shoes at the door. The team was practicing their jump serves until you (rudely) disrupted practice. You yelled out, in front of his coach and all of his teammates, that he better grab his things because it was ‘past time to go home.’ No one dared to utter a word, scared that they’d be the next victim. Even Atsumu stayed silent, watching the situation unfold in front of his eyes. Kiyoomi grumbled under his breath about how bossy you were, but he listened nonetheless. When you drove back in silence, Kiyoomi was surprised about how grateful he felt. It was this moment that he finally understood what it meant to be seen and genuinely cared for. He just couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that you still stuck with him despite how much he resisted. And he loves that about you.

You cause him so much inner turmoil, but deep down, Kiyoomi knows that you’re good for him.  You’re the light he has always needed in his life.

He knows that he needs to make it up to you. You’re finally at your breaking point and that your patience is wearing dangerously thin. Right now, there’s not an inch of room for an error on his part.

He’s conflicted though. The familiarity of this situation makes him want to distance himself again. It’s so tempting to hide and only crawl out of the hole that he burrows himself in when he has tom because sadly, this always happens to Kiyoomi. He pushes the ones that he’s begun to love away until they finally give up. The ones who don’t give up are those who can’t avoid him, like his cousin Komori and his teammates. 

But you’re different. You’ve chosen to stick it through all this time.

How can he continue to push you away and risk letting you go? 

He decides that he can’t. He just can’t let you go.

Because you’ve chosen to love him despite all his flaws.

You’re worth him giving his all. You’re worth the challenge of him conquering his fear of abandonment. You’re worth all his effort it takes to break his bad habits. He decides that with every fiber of his being, you are worth the world and he’d do anything to keep you within his reach. 

He approaches you cautiously, wrapping his arms around your middle as he rests his head on your shoulder. You stiffen at his unexpected touch and you even feel indifferent to his embrace. Before this fight, you would’ve melted at the gesture because you know how he feels about physical touch. But the reality is that you’re still incredibly hurt and angry from all the things he’s said, whether he meant them or not.

“Please don’t touch me right now.” You say quietly.

Your boyfriend knows that you don’t like to repeat yourself, so he listens. He takes a step back, letting go of you as he starts to understand how badly he hurt you. 

“I know I can’t take back what I said.” He begins uneasily, noticing that you’ve stopped what you were doing.

 “I’m-” He pauses for a second, “I’m sorry.”

You stay silent, mind racing as you think of ways to get out of the apartment.  There are plenty of places you could go at this time, friends you could call and count on to let you stay the night at their house. It breaks your heart to think that it’s come to this. No one feels good about avoiding the person you love, but Kiyoomi’s refusal to keep his promise has pushed you to such lengths.

When you turn around and lean against the sink for support, you are surprised to see the gloomy look on Kiyoomi’s face. You hope that he’s not just putting on an act so you’ll forgive him, but you know better than to assume he’d do such a thing. He’s never been one for dramatics.

“I don’t know why I said those things.” He averts his gaze away from you, nervous to be apologizing because he’s never done it before. “I don’t believe it.”

The blank look in your eyes pushes him to clarify. You want to hear exactly what it is that he claims to not believe. 

 “You’re not a burden or a distraction. It’s not true.”

“Then why did you say it? Because you had a bad day?” You feel your cheeks heating up, body riddled with anxiety laced with frustration. “That’s not a good enough reason, Sakusa.”

“I know.”

“You don’t say shit that you can’t take back! It’s not fair for the other person–for me– to be the object that you take your frustrations out on. I’m a person, y’know?” You hear your voice wavering as you continue on; Sakusa giving you his full attention, unlike before. 

“It’s not fair, Sakusa. It’s not fair that you push me away when I just want you to be happy. When all that I want you to feel is loved. You do this to yourself.” 

When he sees that you’re dangerously close to breaking out into a sob, he wants to reach out. He wants to wrap you in his arms and hold you close because the truth is, he’s terrified of losing you. The chances of that happening has skyrocketed. And it’s all his fault. 

The tears finally fall and as Sakusa hesitates on whether or not to comfort you, you cover your face with your hands.

He’s afraid. He doesn’t want to disrespect the boundaries you’ve already laid out. You told him not to touch you and he doesn’t know any other way to comfort you. Truly, he feels lost as he watches the person he loves most in the world fall apart. 

“I just need some space.”

And he gives you what you ask for.

You left the apartment without another word and he’s not sure where you went. Again, he’s too afraid to ask, worrying that he’ll make things worse. He watched as you hurriedly packed an overnight bag, and he watched as you walked out, slamming the door shut. 

When he remembers that he’s only in his boxers and socks, he feels even more pathetic. Unfortunately, Kiyoomi took too long, standing in the spot that he was in as he watched you leave. He stood there for so long, replaying the fight in his head, that he let the bathwater go cold; but he still took the bath anyway because it was you who prepared it for him. He scrubbed at his skin until it was raw. 

How could he let it get to this point?

⋆͛♡⋆͛

You ended up going to a friend’s house. They listened to you as you told them what happened, lending you a shoulder to cry on. The both of you ate ice cream and watched movies until you passed out on their couch. Because you cried your heart out to your friend, you were exhausted when you finally fell asleep. When you woke up the next day, it was already noon. Your friend was in the kitchen, trying to cook some breakfast for the both of you as quietly as they could without waking you up.

There were multiple things that you were grateful for. You felt relieved to have a friend that you could feel comfortable enough with to talk about your relationship. You were also grateful to have some time away from Kiyoomi to think about what happened and what you’ll say when you see him again. 

Because of the distance, your emotions felt more manageable. There wasn’t the urge to scream and cry. There was no voices spurring you on to do things you’d know would enrage him -- no pettiness left in your body. With a night of reflection and advice from your friend, you felt as though you could talk to Kiyoomi with a clear head.

Your friend fed you and gave you some good advice. After breakfast and a quick shower, they encouraged you to go back to your apartment and talk with Kiyoomi to set things straight. 

⋆͛♡⋆͛

Kiyoomi was sitting in the living room when he heard you unlocking the front door. His head immediately whipped up when you walked in and he thinks you’re scared to meet his gaze. Your head’s ducked down as you slip your shoes off and put your bag on the counter.

“You’re home.” He states dumbly.

“Yeah,” You laugh dryly. “I live here, don’t I?”

“I thought that you might never come back.” 

You don’t know what to say to that because you did consider never seeing him again after what he said. He sat up on the edge of the couch, watching as you placed your keys on the kitchen countertop.

“(Name)...” He calls out, “I’m so sorry.” 

You spare him a glance as you shrug off your jacket, hanging it on the back of the barstool. 

“If you really mean it, then you’ll get on your knees.” You say jokingly, walking into the living room to sit on the loveseat that’s diagonal from where he’s sitting on the couch.

He takes you seriously, sliding off the edge of the couch to get on his knees. You can’t hold back the laugh that bubbles up from your throat, stunned that he would do something so degrading.  You swear that this is a sight that you’ll never forget; to see a man like Kiyoomi down on his knees begging for forgiveness is a shocking sight.

“I wasn’t being serious!” You laugh even louder at the scowl that graces his features upon realizing you were kidding.

But he’s persistent in earning your forgiveness. It's the most important thing to him right now. If begging on his knees is what it takes for you to forgive him, he’ll do it for as long as he can so that you’ll stay with him. It doesn’t even hurt his pride, because he already has decided that you’re worth looking foolish for.

He takes your hands in his own, and before apologizing, he looks at your shoes by the door. He never wants the traces of you absent from the apartment ever again.

“Please forgive me,” is all he can say, because what else is there repair the damage he’s caused? He’s already on his knees. That should be proof that he’s sorry. He’d never do it willingly, though he supposes if he’s in his own home, then it’s okay.

“You’re only forgiven if I can take a picture of this.” You cackle, reaching for your phone in the back pocket of your jeans.

He groans, annoyed. 

But he lets you, because there’s nothing scarier in the world than the thought of losing you.

A/N: SORRY THE ENDING IS SO SILLY BUT THE THOUGHT POPPED IN MY HEAD AND I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE HILARIOUS!!!! :D 

but fr.... imagine kiyoomi begging on his knees...... omg

if there are any typos just lmk cuz i barely even checked for them. I HOPE U ENJOYED :D

[causenessus]

how they comfort you. | haikyuu

inc. iwaizumi, bokuto, sakusa

written in second pov (female reader implied)

"love, keep your eyes on the road, 'cause when I stare, all I see is two foggy windows to a lost soul. and maybe, maybe it's all my fault. that it's so quiet on the drive home" from on the drive home by niki

word count: 2.2k words

notes: mainly written for @froyaoya because she's my literal soulmate and i love her so much she deserves the world <3 also, implied established relationship for all scenarios. not proofread!!!

content warnings: angst/comfort, crying, hyperventilating, all that jazz

hajime.

"like any unloved thing, i do not know if i'm real when i'm not being touched."

he can tell something is wrong immediately. 

you think you’re hiding it so well, but he can see it the moment you walk into class.

and in all honesty, seeing him and your friends helped you feel a little better, but the moment the lecture starts, you’re left to your own thoughts again. and he sees the way your face drops when you think no one’s looking.

he sees the way you start to stare at your notebook absentmindedly, picking at the clip of your pencil, and then your skirt, and then you're bouncing your knee erratically.

he sees the way your shoulders rise with every breath, and the way you bite your lip, blink rapidly, close your eyes, do anything to try to ignore the feeling in your chest. it feels like something desperately trying to claw out of your chest, threatening to explode at any moment.

and when the class is dismissed to sit silently and work individually, you stand up, trying your best to keep your composure until you make it out of the class. you slide the door shut behind you and haven’t even made it down the hallway before you stop, one hand on the wall to steady yourself as a sob escapes your mouth. even hearing the sound reach your ears is painful, and it’s the crack in the wall that breaks into rapid breathing and hot tears running down your face. your breaths are shallow and inhales so sharp and loud you don’t hear the classroom door close again. 

you barely even feel the hands on your shoulders, and you’re not quite sure when exactly you fell to the ground. “y/n, y/n. breathe. look at me. breathe with me,” he’s in front of you, and you hear his own inhale, deep and steady in contrast to your hiccups. “breathe. just take a breath,” he repeats, and you try your best to follow his instructions. you can barely see, tears blurring your vision, but he’s in front of you, kneeling and rubbing the sides of your arms comfortingly.

eventually, your breaths steady. they’re still shaky with every breath in, but your able to think again, and you try to wipe the tears from your eyes. they keep coming, but not nearly as frequently as before.

“that’s it, there you go. you’re safe, you’re okay,” he keeps reassuring you, voice soft as he wipes away a stray tear rolling down your cheek with his thumb. “can i hug you?”

you can’t even keep in your sobs when you nod, your eyesight blurring again as a new wave of tears overwhelms you at the question and the strong arms that engulf you. you wrap your arms around his upper back and he has an arm hugging you over your shoulder while the other is on the back of your head, rubbing it gently and holding it close to his shoulder.

“hajime,” you whisper, voice broken. you barely make out the syllables before you sob again, clutching at his shirt.

“i’m right here,” he responds, “i’m right here and i’m not going anywhere. what happened, love?”

his words only make you hold him closer and tighter. at this point, your throat is sore and your cries are barely audible, only coming out as heaves and sighs.

“i don’t know,” you confess, eyes squeezing tightly shut. “i just got overwhelmed with everything. yesterday was bad, and i was alone all night– i thought it’d be okay today, but it just hurts. so bad.”

he takes in a deep breath, exhaling before he speaks, “i know. i know it hurts, baby. call me next time, would you? you’re not a bother. ask me to come over anytime, i will.”

you let out a shaky breath, finally opening your eyes and he pulls back so he can look at you, giving you a small smile before pressing a kiss to your lips. “okay,” you breathe. “you promise? that i’m not bothering you? i’m not holding you back or anything?”

“never,” he promises. “you’ve never and you won’t ever bother me. if anything, you’re helping me get through this all.”

“even right now?” you ask, trying to dry your face. “even though you had to leave class to come find me?”

“y/n, look at me,” he says gently, a hand on the side of your head to lightly guide it to face him. “i’d leave work for you. i’d run across campus for you. i’d come to your room in the dead of night if you asked me to. and of course, i’d skip class for you. you’re more important than anything else in my life. and what else is oikawa good for then making up lies? he’s covering for us right now and he’ll fill us back in on anything we’ve missed.”

a laugh escapes your mouth as you wipe away the last tear, “we’ll have to thank him when we get back. and thank you, hajime, for coming out here.”

“of course, love. i’m glad i did,” he presses another kiss to your forehead. “how’re you feeling? do you want to head back?”

although you’ve calmed down, and the weight in your chest isn’t as strong, your head still feels heavy, and you shake your head, trying not to feel guilty, “no, not yet.”

“that’s okay,” he says, coming to sit next to you on the floor, resting his back against the wall. “take as long as you need, i’ll stay with you.”

he holds one of your hands, running his thumb across your knuckles gently as you take in another breath. “hajime,” you say, and he looks up at you. although his eyes are usually sharp and pointed with determination, in the moment, they are soft and filled with love. “will you hold me again? just for a second, please.”

his arms are immediately around you.

“of course, love.”

koutarou.

"you realize, at last, that you can change without disappearing. that all you had to do was wait until the storm passes over and you find that—yes—your name is still attached to a living thing."

the water is hot when it hits your back. scalding, even, and it seeps into your clothes. you haven’t taken them off, and they stick to your body as you pull your knees to your chest on the floor of your shower. but it feels nice. the water is hot, the sting of the temperature and the noise of the water buzzing out your own thoughts, and eventually you feel numb to the heat.

your tears are mixing with the water dripping down your face, and you can barely hear your cries over the sound of it hitting the floor. 

but you don’t hear him come home, either. and you don’t hear him when he knocks on the door, trying to check on you before he opens the door. you’ve been in there for longer than normal, and he's started to get worried.

“y/n?” he whispers and you look up at him, looking horrified as if you’ve been caught in the act. “what are you doing?” he’s kneeling at the side of the bathtub, hands resting on the edge like he wants to reach out, put his hands above your head and stop the water from falling on you. his tone isn’t accusatory at all, he’s looking at you, face tense with worry and love, and his lip is trembling like he wants to cry with you.

“i’m–” you’re broken off by your own sob as you press your palms into your eyes, trying to stop your tears.

you feel his hand gently wrap around your wrists, pulling your hands away from your face and he’s looking at you with all the care in the world, but that only makes you tear up more. “i’m sorry, kou.”

“for what?” his own voice cracks with how low he’s talking, as if the air between them is fragile.

another cry escapes your chest and that seems to be his breaking point as his arms wrap around you, pulling you to his chest. you try to push back, “kou, you’ll get wet–”

“that doesn’t matter, y/n. you’re the only thing that matters right now,” he whispers, and you can hear how fast his heart is beating. and his grip doesn’t let up, so you let him hold you, taking in deep breaths as you both sit there until you calm down and he lets you pull away.

“i didn’t mean to worry you, kou. i’m sorry you walked in on me like this,” you apologize quietly, looking down at your own clothes, dark and completely soaked. “i was just– feeling overwhelmed, i don’t know. and i came in here so i couldn’t hear anything else.”

“that’s okay,” he reassures, making you look back at him. “that’s always okay. would it be alright for me if i made you tea? do you want to try and take a shower? or maybe just a bath? i can help you start one, and i’ll come back so you’re not alone.”

his words make your bottom lip quiver again, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “that would be nice, kou. thank you so much.”

he helps you out of the bathtub, letting you sit on the counter in a towel while he runs a bath, and after you promise him it’ll be okay, he leaves you to make you a mug of tea. he’s been attentive to you since the day you met him, when he started his list of things that make you happy to look back to when he needed it. by this point, he never looks at the list anymore. he can recite it from memory, and he knows just what to do whenever you’re hurting.

he will be at your side for whatever you need, he will sit on the floor next to you while you take your bath, holding your hand and letting you know you’re there. when you’re ready to get up, he will help you get out. if you’re feeling too weak to stand up yourself, he will be there to catch you and help you stand up. he will grab you a clean change of clothes and wait patiently for you to dress before he holds your hand, grabbing your mug with the other one and leading you to the couch. he will let you lay on him, he’ll place his arms around you, and kiss your head as you pick something to watch. he will be there to distract you from your thoughts, and he will always be there to love you even when you don’t feel deserving of it.

kiyoomi.

"wasn't that the definition of home? not where you are from, but where you are wanted."

this place was becoming too much.

too much.

too much.

this was not a home. and you ran from it. you’d thrown on the first pair of shoes you saw and ran out with tears in your eyes. no keys, no food, nothing but your phone. it’s cold outside, and the frost makes you aware of hot your entire body is, and you think of sitting down, and lying on the cold sidewalk, maybe staying there, but you keep running. because you know where you're going.

when you show up at his door, breathing hard and tears rolling down your face, he pulls you inside immediately, closing the door behind you. he’s holding your face immediately, concern lacing his eyes as he wipes away the tears escaping your eyes, one after the other. “what happened? what’s wrong?” he asks immediately, leading you by the hand to his kitchen, pulling out a chair for you to sit at, finding a blanket to wrap around you before he stands next to you.

“what do you want? let me make you something. tea?” he suggests, and you nod, wiping away the tears falling off your face.

he places the steaming mug in front of you before sitting next to you, holding your hands between his, trying to warm them up. “what happened, love? talk to me,” he urges again, now that you’ve had time to calm down.

“it was–” you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to focus on your breathing, willing yourself to calm down, “it was just being there. at that house. it was too much. there was fighting and–” the rest of your words get lodged in your throat, but he doesn’t push you. he only hums in acknowledgment of your words, smoothing your hair down with his hand comfortingly. “it was going so well,” you whisper, ignoring the way your voice cracks. “today was nice. and then they ruined it,” you let out a shaky breath, blinking away the tears welling up in your eyes. “i’m sorry i showed up here without saying anything, i didn’t know where else to go. i–” you look up at him, a sob escaping you as you talk, “why do i feel like this? what did i do wrong?”

“you didn’t do anything, love,” he answers, holding your gaze. “you did nothing wrong. you came here because you feel safe, and i’m glad you came. you’ve been pushing this all down for so long it’s all coming out at once. and you’ll be okay. i’ll be right here with you until it's over. and even after that. i'll be here for you whenever you need it.”

he has an arm around you, pulling you close and you let your head rest on his shoulder. “is it okay if i stay here for a little bit?”

“of course, love. you’re welcome to stay here for as long as you need.”

[lemurzsquad]

Hand Sanitizer

Pairing: Sakusa x gn!reader (platonic or romantic, up to interpretation)

Summary: You and Sakusa hate each other with a passion, and it's almost always a disagreement over hand sanitizer. So when you leave to wash your hands and don't come back, Sakusa learns why exactly you avoid using it so adamantly.

A/N: Okay so this fic. Hooooo boy. This fic. I've been wanting to write it for a while and finally have. It started as a "Reasons why I'm pretty sure Sakusa would hate me irl" and turned into this.

So I have a skin condition known as aquagenic wrinkling of the palms (or AWP), which affects my hands when they come in contact with water, which is what this fic is about. I never hear about this condition anywhere, and it's very lonely sometimes, and there's no real treatment for it (from what I've seen). So this is essentially a vent where I take my skin condition seriously for once instead of just making water allergy jokes to cope lol

(More info about AWP here)

Word count: 3898

cw: skin condition (non-graphic descriptions and discussion) (AWP - please read above), hurt/comfort, angst, crying, enemies to friends...?, emotionally constipated apologies from Sakusa, hand sanitizer is evil /j, vent, not proofread because I just wanted to get this done and posted to do literally anything else, (please lmk if I should tag anything else)

(Disclaimer: I am not a doctor, and everything written here is purely from my own experiences and observations. If you would like to learn more, please do your own research; this is not designed to be informative. It's purely for myself and for awareness.)

You and Sakusa had never gotten along.

You were certain you knew when it started, having been completely oblivious of one another up until that point.

It was when you were both first years in high school, and there happened to be a lizard in the classroom. You, upon seeing it, immediately proceeded to pick it up and ask the teacher to let you put it outside, to which they agreed.

You came back to the classroom, dusting off your hands, when a curly-haired boy took it upon himself to comment, “Go use some hand sanitizer, would you?”

You squinted at him, partly confused as to why he was talking to you and how you had never noticed he sat there before. “No thanks,” you answered, “I'd rather just wash my hands.”

“I don't think just washing your hands would be enough,” he rebutted with a sharp look behind his bangs. “You probably don't even know how to properly wash your hands.”

“Well, too bad! I'm not using hand sanitizer!” You were starting to get annoyed, crossing your arms.

Somehow, that seemed to make him even more disgusted, possibly at the thought that you were spreading whatever it was on your hands onto your clothes now, too.

The two of you threw jabs back and forth until the teacher separated you, which you were both happy to oblige. The animosity between you never seemed to quite dissipate even as the year went on and you became second years. You almost felt bad for the misunderstanding, knowing it was entirely your own fault, but how were you supposed to explain to this random kid that you couldn't use hand sanitizer even if you wanted to? At least, in your head you couldn't.

At some point, you and Sakusa became something of enemies within your class—renowned ones, at that. People would often ask the both of you why you hated each other so much, but your answers were vague at best.

“He's just so pretentious,” you said once.

“They're just so obstinate,” he said once.

And thus, an impasse stretched between you. You hadn't even learned his name until months after your first encounter, too bitter to really care.

Despite the efforts you both went through to avoid being within the presence of the other, you somehow still ended up nearby. Maybe it was your teachers attempting to make you get along—maybe it was the universe laughing in your face.

Throughout that entire time, you still faithfully avoided hand sanitizer like the plague. The one time the nearest bathroom was out of order for a little while and you couldn't wash your hands, you used as little of the accursed substance as you could. Whatever microscopically thin layer that coated your hands there was, you shook it off almost violently, simultaneously disgusted by the feeling of something on your skin and afraid of what it might do.

The disapproving look Sakusa gave you when he saw that was palpable.

At some point, you hated each other mostly out of principle. You'd both kept it up this long—it would be weird to suddenly just let it go since your flimsy justifications seemed enough until now. To admit that you were being unreasonable would be worse than getting along, you separately reasoned.

So when you were paired up for a project, you couldn't help but grimace. Sakusa was the first to go up to the teacher about it.

“I can't work with them,” you heard him say. For once, you agreed with him.

The teacher, however, dismissed his concerns with a wave, saying, “In life, you don't get to pick who you work with. Sometimes you'll have to try to put aside your differences to get your work done.”

It sounded stupid to you, like some half-hearted excuse so they wouldn't have to rearrange seating or partners. But it's not like you had any place to argue, so you resigned to just sucking it up.

Instead of working together, you both divvied up tasks as quickly as possible and did what you assigned yourselves—separately.

All was going well; you ignored each other and worked on the project silently. Despite other groups discussing their plans and the room being filled with chatter, your share corner was dead silent save the sound of pen on paper.

Which didn't last long when suddenly the tip of your pen snapped off. The now open ink tube spilled onto your hands, and when you tried to minimize the damage, it only got worse. By the time you dropped the pen onto your open notebook, raising your hands in surrender, they were absolutely coated in black splotches. A sense of defeat washed over you as you watched your words get covered and your paper stained in ebony.

Taking a moment to glance at your already ruined hands, you just resigned to picking up the pen and throwing it out. It was your favorite pen, which was unfortunate. It couldn't be helped, you told yourself.

Sakusa had noticed you flailing about your desk, silently judging you for the clumsy mess you made when you should have just thrown out the pen the second it broke to avoid the noir crime scene that now covered you and your area. He scowled knowing you would now have to redo whatever you had written for the project.

It was nearing the end of school, the class you were currently in being the final one of the day. You approached the teacher's table and asked if you could go wash your hands. They checked the clock to see about twenty minutes left before replying, “Make it quick.”

You walked past Sakusa's desk on your way to the door. He made the snide remark, “You could get the ink off really well with hand sanitizer.”

It took everything in you not to snap back at him, but you just hurried past, careful not to touch anything on the way out.

Sakusa knew he would never understand you. From the moment you met, you stubbornly refused what seemed to be basic courses of action. Touch something dirty? Use hand sanitizer. Eating? Wash your hands before and after to keep from touching anything.

The couple of times he had seen you wash your hands, it was very brief, and you seemed to avoid using the air dryer, opting for paper towels that were arguably undoing whatever progress you made in washing your hands.

At the same time, you avoided any task that would require you to touch dust or water. You always asked to sweep or clean windows, so much so that everyone just ended up giving you those tasks to get you to stop asking. If you did get something on your hands, you immediately wiped or shook it off, seemingly disgusted. You would even briefly run it under water just to dry it on your clothes so they weren't wet. It seemed there were things worse than water if you were willing to rinse them off.

But it was still that one avoidance that came between you: the hand sanitizer. It was practically the same as water, and it dried quickly. Even if it was comparable to washing your hands, it was still much more convenient in most scenarios. Yet you continued to adamantly refuse to ever use it. At some point you declared, “I would rather die,” when he had tried to squeeze some on your hand, earning him his wrist grabbed and pushed away. 

He just didn't understand.

So when he found you sobbing in front of the stairs, opening your hands and clenching them closed into loose fists repeatedly, he was beyond confused.

You hadn't come back to class after leaving to wash the remnants of your broken pen, so the teacher decided it was your project partner, Sakusa, who should find you and return the belongings you left behind. He went over to your open notebook that remained just where you left it and noted the handful of words that were still visible. 

Sakusa folded the cover over, enclosing the now dried puddle of ink. The remainder of your things he scooped into his arms, leaving the room once the halls had cleared a significant amount. As much as he wanted to just leave your things and go to volleyball practice, he figured it would end poorly.

Plus, what could possibly have kept you out of class for so long that you would have left everything behind? There was no way it had taken that long to get most of the ink off of your skin, so either you had just skipped the last bit of school or something happened. Since you hadn't taken your wallet with you with your IDs (he checked your bag when he put the notebook back inside, sure that it was completely dry), he reasoned it was probably the latter.

“Tsk.” They would have been able to get it off with hand sanitizer, he thought, brows furrowed. This is such a waste of time.

Sakusa wandered through the halls when he didn't find you by the bathrooms. He was starting to think it was a lost cause trying to return your bag; he even had to text his cousin to tell him why he would be late. It wasn't until he got to a particularly empty hallway did he hear something.

Quietly, in a dark alcove with a set of stairs leading up, a figure was huddled against a wall. Their tears were soft but anguished, stifled because it was in the environment of school. Sakusa had tried to ignore them until he realized it was you.

You held your palms up just past your knees that were pressed against your chest. You opened and closed your hands, a fresh cascade of tears painting your cheeks as you choked back a sob. You pressed—with more pressure than could have been painful—your thumb into the center of your other palm, nails digging into the back of your hand. You set your closed eyes on your knees with the hope that it might stop the water that leaked from them.

Sakusa, with great caution, approached your hunched figure. He didn't want to, he really didn't. You were the person he probably hated the most at his school, but somehow he knew he'd seem like an awful person if he didn't at least give your belongings to you directly—he wouldn't give you the satisfaction of another thing to hold over his head.

And yet those thoughts went to the back of his mind when he crouched down in front of you. His mask and curly hair obscured his focused expression as he tried to study your current state. The moment you seemed to hear him there, you held your breath and repressed your already quiet cries.

When Sakusa got close, you buried yourself further in to hide your face behind your knees and clenched your hands even more.

He frowned and something in his chest tightened. His brows furrowed deeper over his eyes and he huffed. He saw your nails digging into the skin on the backs of your hands.

“That's going to leave a mark if you keep doing that.” It came out more biting than he had meant it, but he was being serious.

It was then that you could no longer hold back your sobs, almost choking on your own tears. The grip you had of your hands softened and unlinked; instead, you lightly shook them apart from each other. Sakusa had to take a moment to process, but it almost seemed like there was something wrong with them. 

He just wanted to get you to stop crying so he could give you your bag. As much as he hated the gesture, he asked, “What's wrong with your hands?”

You curled your lips in to bite down on them, fighting back hiccups. With your eyes tightly screwed shut, you upturned your palms.

The sight alone made Sakusa's eyebrows fly up in shock. 

He didn't mean to, but he grabbed your wrist to get a better look. Ignoring the ink stains that faintly persisted, there were pale, patchy splotches in the center of your palm and on the side edges of your fingers; there were even some tiny pale rings on the periphery of the bigger splotches. But underneath that, the skin seemed as if it had soaked in water for hours or maybe even days. Not only were there dozens of deep crevice lines trailing from the tips of all of your fingers to their bases but the lines on your palms were more prominent, surrounded by profound, dense wrinkles that spanned the entire surface.

His eyes darted around your hand for a few moments just trying to comprehend what he was looking at. It looked unnatural—it looked painful. And when he met your gaze, he saw unidentifiable emotions flash across it. Was it shame? Regret? He couldn't be sure aside from the blood that seemed to drain from your face.

You tried to pull your hand away, but Sakusa wouldn't let go. His eyes never left yours, searching for some kind of answer. When he couldn't find it there, he asked, “What happened?” It was soft, calm, and even, enough to make you tear up a little again.

The second time you tugged, he released your wrist. You pushed your thumb into your palm again, looking away. Hiding your hands away in the space between your stomach and where your legs were still tucked against your torso, you sniffled a few times and tried to even out your breathing.

“I-It's normal… it just h-happens when I-I touch water…” You stuttered and mumbled between hiccups.

“That is not normal,” Sakusa said a little too quickly and curtly, realizing it probably would have made it seem like he was berating you.

With another sniffle, you said, “It's a– it's a skin condition.” You started to scratch your palms partly out of stress and partly out of the persistent stinging. “It reacts to water i-if I touch it for too long.”

His eyebrows knitted in concern. “Was that from washing your hands then?”

You gave a small nod, still avoiding his gaze. “I couldn't get the ink off and ended up w-washing them for too long…”

“You could have just used hand sanitizer,” he said genuinely. For the moment, he almost forgot he was supposed to hate you, more focused on being worried than anything.

Your answer was your head shaking rather fervently. “No, I can't.” You lowered to set your forehead against your knees again. “Well, actually, I don't know. I-It just scares me and I don't want to r-risk any more pain than I already have. I haven't h-had good experiences with it…”

“What did hand sanitizer ever do to you?” It came out snarkier than Sakusa had meant. He slowly lowered himself to sit with his legs crossed in front of you, your bag still next to him.

You let out a heavy breath. “I was a dumb kid in elementary,” you started. “I had an obsession with scented hand sanitizer for probably a few months. I used it multiple times a day, and even though I don't know for sure if it's related, my hands got worse after that year I think. Only after that did I finally go to the doctor to get it diagnosed after my mom did a ton of research. I agreed to avoid hand sanitizer from then on. I just don't want to risk being in more pain…”

You both went silent.

“Oh…” It was all that left Sakusa's lips. A sudden wave of guilt crashed into him. All of the times he had berated you for not using hand sanitizer and all of his snide, rude, annoyed remarks resurfaced in his conscience. He felt terrible. He felt bad. Someone was hurting and all he did was throw lighter fluid on their problems—for months—and it seemed there was finally a spark to set it all ablaze. The thought that he started it all made it worse.

“Stop with whatever weird look you have on your face.” You squinted at him and his downturned, scrunched face. You'd calmed down enough to be making quips, it would appear. “It's not like I can do anything about it.” You shrugged, half-hearted.

He searched your face again for any sign of emotion aside from blank resignation, but he couldn't find anything. “Is there no treatment?”

You shrunk down further into your huddle, not vocally answering, but the answer was still clear.

Something about the whole situation made his heart hurt; it made him upset, he realized. “So what, you just have to avoid water?”

The nod of your head to the side looked pathetic as you avoided his eyes. After several seconds of silence, you said, “I used to love swimming. It's not like I can't, it's just… it hurts and it makes me feel gross. I don't even like the beach anymore because if I go in the water and get my hands wet, there's no real place to dry them off.” You laughed humorlessly. “It's stupid. You'd think I would get more used to it and get over it as I got older, but it just made me more upset. Why me? Why did I have to get stuck with a condition that's rare and isn't really bad enough for people to care enough to find a treatment? At least, it feels that way…

“I know it's awful, but I sometimes wonder, ‘Why didn't I get stuck with something worse? Then I might have a way to treat it. Then people might care.’”

You glanced up to judge Sakusa's reaction, instantly regretting spilling your feelings and questioning why you did. Tears threatened to flood over again and spill from your eyes. You felt helpless; not only from your condition but also from being stared down by the person you were certain despised you more than anyone. You were giving him more ammo to be disgusted and to detest you, too.

But you couldn't find his face. His ebony bangs hung down like a curtain and his mask further obscured your view, his downturned line of sight completely blocked out.

When the silence was beginning to crawl around on your skin and became almost deafening, you took in a sharp breath and held it for a moment before breathing out a tiny apology. “Sorry… you don't wanna hear about this…”

“No.”

“...No? No… what?”

“No…” 

Sakusa was struggling to get out the right words. How does he say sorry to you in a way that you might actually believe? How does he tell you that you're allowed to be upset, that you can talk about it? How does he make you understand that it's okay?

And how is he supposed to get you to believe it when it's coming from him?

His voice sounded almost angry but not at you—it was for you. “You can be upset,” he said between gritted teeth, hands clenched into tight fists. “No one deserves to have to live everyday avoiding something so common just to not be in pain. And no one deserves to have some jerk constantly making light of it even if they don't know.”

The way your eyes widened and water dripped down your cheeks in sudden streams said it all. “Oh…” was all you could muster before you completely broke down. No one you had ever told about your condition had seemed to fully grasp how much you were hurting inside, how every day was a struggle to avoid reminding yourself of how awful your hands were, how even looking at your own hands sometimes made you ashamed and loathing of yourself. It was a constant reminder that there would always be something wrong with you; you would always be broken, and there was no way to fix it.

Sakusa let you cry with the renewed emotional rush. He remained firmly planted where he sat, not moving an inch. He was not going anywhere.

And he didn't, even as your sobbing slowed to quiet sniffles and wiping mostly dried tears. It took a while before you finally muttered, “Thank you… No one's ever said that to me before…”

“Well, they should.” His words were curt but lacked any sharpness to them.

When you looked up to meet his eyes, he turned them away from you. Hesitantly, he uttered, “Look, I can't promise you that we'll get along, but I can assure you I'll try not to bother you anymore. No more stupid hand sanitizer comments anymore, either.” It was the only peace offering he could make for a chance to pave a path towards making amends.

You let out a breath through your nose that was close to a laugh before hiccuping, “Next thing you know, you'll be telling me we'll work on our group project together.”

“Don't push it,” he answered, quickly and humorlessly. It only made you laugh, although he couldn't comprehend why.

“It's getting late,” Sakusa tried to divert. “You should head home.”

You reached for your phone, and the little numbers on the screen confirmed his statement. Suddenly, a flash of panic crossed your face. “I don't have my bag,” you state frantically, “or any of my stuff.”

It was then that Sakusa held up the original object of his search for you, gently lowering it to the ground. “The teacher told me to bring it to you since you never came back.”

Relief washed over you in a calming rush, and you finally seemed to relax. You pulled your knees away from your chest and sat with your legs crossed. Confirming that everything was in your bag, an immensely relieved sigh left your lips in a gust.

“Thank you.” Your gaze was earnest, trying to convey just how much you meant your words to make sure it sunk in.

Sakusa just grumbled, “Whatever.” He was back to his usual self despite how he stumbled embarrassingly when he got up and realized his legs had gone numb. He reluctantly offered up his hand to help you stand, but you only looked at it for a moment, mouth pressed into a line, before you got to your feet on your own.

He pretended he hadn't tried to assist you, instead pivoting on his heels and shoving his hands in his pockets with a slouched posture. Without another word exchanged, you both headed towards the school's entrance.

The air fell into a comfortable quiet until then. When you did reach the entrance, however, you both stopped in your tracks. You turned to Sakusa, giving him a soft smile and a small wave, and headed down the street. Only when you turned the corner, out of sight, did he head back towards the volleyball gym. He was so horribly beyond late that it was almost laughable.

But he didn't care, knowing it meant someone was there in that very moment for you when you needed it most. So what if he also started to mend whatever nonexistent relationship was there in the process? What mattered was that someone told you that it was okay.

And Sakusa was okay with that. Being late to practice wasn't nearly as pressing as his long overdue apologies. What could be more important than that?

Do not copy and/or repost!! Any likes or reblogs are appreciated, though! (c) 2024 LemurzSquad

[flyingwargle]

atsumu is a morning person. he loves the quiet of the early hours, the drowsiness that sharpens into focus, the peace that follows the rising sun. although it pains him to separate himself from his partner each time, the drowsy, soft smile on sakusa's face when he sits at the breakfast table is worth it.

he quietly slips out from bed and into the kitchen. it's their first weekend off after rigorous training to prepare for their match against vc kanagawa, but not even off days is enough to shake atsumu from routine. he rummages through the cupboards for ingredients to make pancakes, an indulgence they definitely deserve. putting on his cooking playlist at a low volume, he gets to work.

it surprised him to learn that sakusa is not a morning person. it takes him at least three snoozes before he could be persuaded to get up, and no morning is complete without coffee. he's also much more receptive to physical affection while half-awake, although atsumu prefers to keep this tidbit to himself, if only to steal a few kisses from his usually reserved partner.

the pancake batter is done in minutes, measurements engrained in his muscle memory since childhood. sakusa likes his pancakes simple - a dollop of cream and butter. atsumu, on the other hand, goes all out, dressing them with fresh fruit and syrup, topped with a crown of cream. he slices the fruit, chills a bowl for the cream to whip once sakusa is awake. pan left to warm on the stove, he ventures down the hallway, knocking lightly on the closed bedroom door. "omi? ya awake yet? i'm about to start cookin'."

he hears shuffling, but nothing else. it's still early, according to his partner's standards, but hey, an extra hour awake just means more time together, right? atsumu enters, adding, "we can check out that park 'samu told me 'bout, said there were geese or somethin'."

sunlight strains against the curtains. a vague human shape is tucked beneath the blankets, unmoving as atsumu approaches. he peels the covers aside, greeted with a glare. "mornin' to ya too, omi."

"do you know what time it is?" sakusa's voice is much deeper after waking, harsher but without any of its bite.

"just after 10. c'mon, omi, yer burnin' daylight. we have tomorrow off too, so we can cuddle or whatever. oh, but we gotta get our cardio in." atsumu dismisses the thought. "that can come after cuddles. pancakes?"

sakusa sighs, low and heavy. "fine. just give me some time to get up."

"i'll get the cream whipped, then." atsumu leans over to kiss his cheek, smiles at his drowsy expression. he retreats, heading back to the kitchen to continue his work.

soon, the cream is chilling in the fridge, the batter is left beside the stove, pan warm and ready. atsumu knocks on the bedroom door again. "omi?"

he hears grumbles this time. pushing the door open, he sees his partner is still in bed, covers pushed aside from where he left it. when he meets sakusa's eyes, it's tinged with pain. "is somethin' wrong?" atsumu asks, worried.

"just pain in my hips," sakusa mumbles through gritted teeth. "sorry."

"don't say that. i'll grab yer heat pad. ya need painkillers, too? best ta take one with food."

"i think i'll be okay. just need some heat on it."

atsumu nods, slipping in and out within seconds. he helps position it under him, his partner letting out a tiny sigh. "there was pain in my knees too after practice," he admits quietly. "i'd rather not move much today if we have to do cardio tomorrow. sorry."

"s'no problem. just relax, 'kay? when ya feel better, let's move ya to the couch so i can feed ya breakfast and we can watch somethin' on tv." atsumu sits beside him, reaching over to squeeze his hand. "the geese can wait."

"i didn't know japan had geese."

"right? 'samu has to be lyin'."

it takes time but eventually, sakusa is coaxed out of bed and into the living room, supported the entire way. he settles on the couch, heat pad shifted to his other hip, massaging his wrists as atsumu makes pancakes, returning to his side with two plates. "want me to feed ya?"

"i can handle it." sakusa takes a fork, uses it to slice off a piece from atsumu's plate. he pops it in his mouth. "it's good."

"what's a man gotta take fer ya to say it's delicious?"

"a michelin star."

atsumu rolls his eyes. "those aren't measures fer good food an' ya know it."

sakusa chuckles, but it ends with a hiss as his hand jerks, fork falling from his grasp, landing with a clatter. atsumu puts his plate down, snatches the fork in an instant. "are ya okay?"

"yeah. just felt a jolt of pain." he sighs, hand lowered to his lap, using his other hand to massage it.

"guess i'll hafta feed ya now," atsumu jokes. when he doesn't get a retort, he blinks, notices the deep frown on his partner's face. "omi?"

"you shouldn't have to deal with me on your day off," sakusa mumbles. "i'm just being difficult."

"if i see my partner's in pain, i'm gonna do what i can to make it better. i hate that i can't make it go away completely, but i can help care fer ya and make life easier fer ya." his tone is serious, eyes bright with a cocktail of love and determination. "yer never difficult, omi. now shut up an' let me feed ya."

sakusa stares at him, incredulous. then, "you better get a clean fork."

"obviously," he retorts, standing.

"and a dishcloth to clean the floor. we don't need ants in the apartment."

"'samu dropped an entire pot of curry once an' we never got rats or anythin'."

"add to that sentence, and i'm revoking your kitchen privileges."

"are ya gonna cook? we both know ya suck at it."

sakusa rolls his eyes. "no, i don't. i learned from the best."

"aw, thanks."

"i meant your brother."

atsumu pouts, and sakusa simply laughs, a light chuckle that fills the room with light. floor cleaned thoroughly, atsumu sits beside him, feeds him bites of pancake in between conversation, checking in with his pain. dishes left aside in favor of watching tv, atsumu rests his head on sakusa's shoulder, simply enjoying his company.

the geese can wait another day.

[artisticxlly]

*timidly knocks on your asks* Tr-trick or treat?

BOO! :D

I'm trying to fit my answers to what you guys like, and since I see that quite a few of your art posts are about Sakuatsu or Osasuna, I've dug around for a Sakuatsu one! Maybe one day I'll turn this into a whole Ao3 post, so here's just a sneak peek!

Atsumu wasn't an idiot, contrary to what Kiyoomi called him.

Kiyoomi had been acting off, and it definitely didn't get lost under Atsumu, someone who deeply analysed his spikers to assist them in the best possible way. Kiyoomi was a strong player, especially with how he could handle the ball, his flexible wrist letting him spin it. During training today, it was different, though. He ball kept losing its momentum, even more so as the training went on.

The others usually showered quickly, and Kiyoomi would take his time. This way, most of them would be finished by the time he got in the shower. Atsumu stayed this time, though, eyeing Kyoomi.

The taller man of the two glares back. "What." He huffs. "You've been staring at me all training, Miya." Kiyoomi points out, untying his shoes and slipping out of them.

"Are ya doin' okay?" Atsumu asks, blunt and to the point.

Kiyoomi looks at him pointedly. "If this is about my spikes, don't bother."

"I'm asking ya 'cause I care. Today was just training, yer performance was... Off." Atsumu puts it bluntly.

"Just a bad joint day." Kiyoomi mutters. "Worry about other things, Miya. I'll be fine."

Atsumu remembers Kita well. Their captain had been just as observant and wasn't hesitant to send them home when they were sick. He remembers Kita leaving him a note and pickled plums to make him feel better back at Inarizaki.

"Any... Way I can help?"

"What?"

"To help the pain, I mean." Atsumu rubs the back of his neck. "Ya should be takin' a break."

"I wasn't aware you were my captain. And..." He pauses for moment, his expression softening a little. "I should be fine."

"I'd be stupid to not make sure that my spiker is gettin' the rest he needs." Kiyoomi stands up and walks towards him. "How about this, since you're so stubborn." He chews on the inside of his cheek momentarily. "You come over to mine for dinner and help me with my routine. Will that make you stop whining?" Kiyoomi huffs, eyes squinting. He was playing right into Atsumu's hands, despite acting like he he was compromising.

Atsumu grins. "Sure does, Omi."

They shower and buy a bite to eat since neither of them feel like cooking.

Kiyoomi's apartment feels nice. Minimalistic, somewhat, with some cute memorabilia. Atsumu avoids staring too much, though, knowing Kiyoomi still felt prickly about having someone over. While taking off his jacket, Kiyoomi explains. "Usually, massages help me most. Since you're so eager to help me, you could help me with that?" He looks shy almost, with a blush on his face. As if it was humiliating to ask for help.

"Sounds good. Do ya have a cream or somethin'?"

Kiyoomi blinks. "Good... Good thinking, actually. I do."

He leaves swiftly to get it, while Atsumu sits down on the couch. He sets down the dinner on the coffee table, waiting patiently. Kiyoomi not only returns with the cream but is re-dressed in shorts and a shirt instead since his knees and ankles would need to be free from clothing. He sits down next to Atsumu, a few wrinkles forming between his eyebrows from the pain. He leans back into the couch.

"Do you uhm... Know how to massage joints?" He asks Atsumu, aware of the other watching him as he hands him the tube.

"I think I could use yer guidance." Atsumu takes some of the cream and applies it to his palms, warming it.

"Well, heat helps..." Kiyoomi offers his wrist, trying to relax.

"You can't really... uhm... Your hands are really warm." He is thrown off track when Atsumu takes his wrist, holding it gently in his warm, broad palms.

"Yer just cold, Omi."

"... Right. You can't really do much wrong. Deep, slow pressure is usually what does it. I'll let you know if you're doing awful." His remark had just a little bite to it, undermined by the blush decorating his ears and neck.

------

Thank you for the ask!

[eurydicees]

3 or 20 with skts for the things you said prompt!!

i've been having a hard time recently so i gave all my issues to sakusa. i hope this turned out ok <3

as simple as brushing your teeth, or: some ways he learns to love you

summary: kiyoomi does not know when he last brushed his teeth. atsumu is kinder about it than expected. they love each other. prompt: things you said too quietly / things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear pairings: established kiyoomi sakusa/atsumu miya words: 1917 warnings: discussion of some not so pretty body stuff (kiyoomi doesn't brush his teeth for a while and they talk about it. that's the whole fic.), a one-line mention of throwing up after drinking

“It’s bothering you again, isn’t it?” 

Kiyoomi flinches, tearing his gaze away from himself in the mirror. He hadn’t heard Atsumu come over to their bathroom. He had left the door open, just intending to grab some lotion before exiting again, and Atsumu must have caught sight of him from the hallway. 

Living together has been good mostly, even if that was slightly unexpected. Sharing his space has never come naturally to Kiyoomi, but Atsumu has been as accommodating as he can be and so allowing his boyfriend of two years a place in his apartment so far has been a net positive. 

It’s only been a few months though and Kiyoomi forgets sometimes that Atsumu is there. He forgets that when he stares at himself in the mirror and makes faces at his reflection, there’s the risk of Atsumu catching him. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kiyoomi says stiffly. He turns away from Atsumu to look at his reflection again. “Nothing is bothering me.” 

At the edge of his peripheral vision, Atsumu crosses his arms, leaning against the arch of the bathroom doorway. “Babe, something is always bothering you. And I see you grimacing every time you bite something too hard. Don’t think I don’t notice. Your teeth are hurting you again.” 

“My teeth are fine.” 

Atsumu is frowning, Kiyoomi knows he must be even if he isn’t looking at the doorway. “You don’t have to lie to me about it, Omi. If you’re in pain then—” 

“I’m not in pain,” Kiyoomi snaps. It comes out harsher than he wanted it to, but standing in their tiny bathroom with its bright white lighting and wide, imposing mirror, he’s beginning to feel a little like a caged animal. “I told you. My teeth are fine.” 

Atsumu is quiet for a minute, and Kiyoomi almost thinks he’s going to change the topic. But then again, Atsumu Miya has never once been able to let something go. “How long has it been then?” 

“How long has what been?” There’s a crisp annoyance in Kiyoomi’s words. 

“Since you brushed your teeth.” 

Kiyoomi stills. He feels a little breathless as he runs his tongue over his upper row of teeth. He can feel the buildup of plaque and a tooth juts out at an odd angle, a product of not having worn his retainer as a teenager. Another tooth is starting to feel much sharper than it used to. “That’s none of your business.” 

Atsumu snorts. “As the guy kissing you on the daily, it feels like a little bit my business.” 

“Well no one is fucking forcing you to do that!” Kiyoomi’s snap is cold and cruel, like a slap to the face or like biting straight into ice. 

Atsumu recoils, uncrossing his arms and straightening up. “No, no one’s forcing me to do it, I like doing it. I’m just—brushing your teeth is kind of a significant self-care thing, Omi.” 

And suddenly Kiyoomi is so fucking tired. “Just leave it alone.” 

“If it’s been so long that it hurts to chew, then I feel like I’m right to be worried.” 

“It doesn’t hurt to chew.” 

Atsumu sighs, and Kiyoomi loves him for caring, he does, but he didn’t—he didn’t ever want to have to have this conversation. He knows it’s disgusting. He’s perfectly well aware that it is. He also knows its unhealthy, and he knows that he should just go to a dentist who will tell him to stop being a disgusting fucking child and brush his teeth. Not in those exact words probably, but it would sting like that. 

“Omi. Babe. Kiyoomi.” Atsumu steps forward, and Kiyoomi doesn’t react, doesn’t turn as Atsumu puts a hand at his elbow. “Why are you fighting me about this?” 

“I’m not—” 

“Kiyoomi.” 

Atsumu is serious, drawing a hard line in the sand with just the tone of his voice. He actually wants to talk about this and Kiyoomi kind of wants to cry or lash out or storm off and he doesn’t know which of the three will hurt least. 

“It’s disgusting,” he murmurs, low under his breath. He doesn’t think he actually wants Atsumu to hear it, doesn’t want him to know: know the truth of the mouth he kisses, know the shame of the boy he thinks he loves. “I know it is. You don’t have to tell me.” 

Atsumu steps closer, moving to stand behind him and hooking his chin on his shoulder. “Didn’t catch that first part, baby. What do I not have to tell you?” 

His words are suddenly achingly soft and crying is starting to seem like the best option. Kiyoomi doesn’t deserve this tenderness. His teeth hurt and he doesn’t deserve Atsumu’s kindness, much less this intimacy. 

“I’m disgusting,” Kiyoomi says, louder, and his voice cracks. “Fuck, I’m sorry.” 

In the mirror, Kiyoomi sees as Atsumu lifts his head with the concern in his expression only growing. He puts his hands on Kiyoomi’s waist and guides him in spinning around so they face each other. “You aren’t disgusting.” 

“I don’t remember,” Kiyoomi says quietly, “when the last time I brushed my teeth was. And now they’re—fucking rotting out of my mouth and you’re never going to want to kiss me again and—” 

“Kiyoomi.” Atsumu doesn’t wait for him to finish panicking, cutting off the ramble before he can truly begin spiraling. “Breathe. You’re okay. Your mouth is not rotting and I am always—always—going to want to kiss you.” 

Kiyoomi looks at him then, really, truly looks at him, at all of the worry and the love in the lines of his expression, and then he feels the tears start to spill over. He squeezes his eyes shut, suddenly feeling so fragile and so far past broken. 

“I’m trying,” he chokes out. “But I’m—it’s—it’s gross and—” 

“Breathe,” Atsumu says again, running his hands in smooth, even motions up and down Kiyoomi’s arms. “I’m not gonna deny that it’s kind of gross, baby. But it doesn’t make you disgusting and it is never, ever going to make me love you less. There is nothing you could do to make me love you less, no matter what habits you have or don’t have that I don’t get. Okay?” 

Kiyoomi swallows. His voice small, he whispers, “Okay.” 

“Okay,” Atsumu says firmly. “Do you want to talk to me about it now? For real, without lying?” 

“I don’t know why it’s so hard,” Kiyoomi confesses. He’s staring at Atsumu’s mouth, at his unchapped lips and the gentle curve of a smile that perpetually rests there. “I know it’s disgusting and I know it’s unhealthy but I hate the sensation and so I can’t make myself do it. Despite being an adult and despite it—hurting. And the longer I wait, the worse it feels to try. And there’s blood and it hurts and—I can’t make myself do it, so I just don’t, and—and I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize,” Atsumu says first. He puts a hand on Kiyoomi’s cheek to wipe away some of the tears. At some point, he had stopped crying and now he’s left feeling like a small child worn out from a meltdown. “I’m just trying to understand. I’m not judging you.” 

“You are,” Kiyoomi snaps, wrenching himself out of Atsumu’s grip. “Everyone does. Don’t think I don’t notice.” 

Atsumu looks at him for a long, tense moment. Then, “And when have I ever been like everyone else? Omi, I just don’t want you to be in pain anymore.” 

“I’m dealing with it.” 

“You aren’t and you know it.” Atsumu takes a small step forward again, pressing Kiyoomi against the sink. He takes his hands and presses a kiss to his knuckles. “You’re so thorough in every health thing but this. What makes this so different?” 

“I don’t know,” Kiyoomi murmurs, looking down at their clasped hands. Shame washes over him like a river, like muscle memory, like déjà vu. “It just hurts. Whether I do it or not. So I don’t. I’m sorry, please don’t—” 

Atsumu hums a little, low in his throat and Kiyoomi cuts himself off. “Stop apologizing. I’m not upset with you. I just hate that you’re hurting and I can’t do anything about it.” 

“It’s my own issue,” Kiyoomi mutters. “Consequences of my own actions. Lack of actions.” 

Atsumu takes a slow breath. “Maybe, but I’m still going to be here for you. That’s kind of part of the deal of dating me, Omi. You’re stuck with me.” 

Kiyoomi snorts. “Okay.” 

“What if we do it at the same time every night?” Atsumu offers. “Together.” 

“Maybe.” Kiyoomi shrugs noncommittally. 

“It’s a yes or no question, babe.” 

Kiyoomi takes a breath. Atsumu is smiling, hopeful with his stupid perfect teeth all on display. Kiyoomi kind of wants to kiss him but his own mouth is disgusting and so he doesn’t. 

“It’s going to be gross,” Kiyoomi says. “There will be blood. There always is.” 

“Okay.” 

“I don’t want you to see me like that.” It’s murmured under his breath, low and unsure of itself. “All…gross.” 

Atsumu lets go of his hands and puts his own hands to Kiyoomi’s cheeks again, cupping his face in his palms. For a moment, Kiyoomi is so small there, and so protected. 

“Kiyoomi Sakusa,” Atsumu presses a kiss to his forehead, soft and cold. “I want to love you for the rest of my life. That means there will be moments when one or both of us do gross things, or embarrassing things. And none of it will change the fact that I love you. If brushing our teeth together will help get it done, I don’t care if I see any blood, or plaque, or old food, or whatever. I just want you to be healthy, and not hurting.” 

“One time I did it, I cried myself hoarse,” Kiyoomi says. It’s plainly spoken, matter of fact, but even Kiyoomi can hear the insecurity in it. “It’s pathetic.” 

“You watched me moan and groan for a week after I slipped and fell at a meet and greet in front of some fans. It was pathetic, and I know you still love me.” 

“It’s dirty. Disgusting.” 

“You held my hair back while I vomited for an hour after drinking too much with Bokuto. You were very brave and sweet about it, even if you made fun of me the entire next day. And you still love me.” 

“It’s different.” 

Atsumu sighs. He leans forward, resting their foreheads together gently. “Omi. Let me see you. Let me help you. It won’t change my opinion of you. Trust me.” 

Kiyoomi makes eye contact for a long, quiet, heartbreak of a moment. Then, finding nothing but honesty and love in Atsumu’s gaze, he closes his own eyes. “I love you.” 

“I know.” Atsumu’s breath is warm on his cracked lips. “So will you let me be with you on this?” 

Kiyoomi exhales slowly, measured and controlled. He’s been wearing face masks more constantly than usual recently, and a not insignificant part of that is the desire to hide his teeth. And fuck, he’s tired of hiding, and he’s tired of his mouth aching, and he’s scared and he feels dirty and gross and—

“Omi?” 

And Atsumu loves him. Is here with him, without shame. Just with love and care. 

“Yeah,” Kiyoomi says quietly. “We have to do it now or I’ll never do it. But okay. Okay.” 

When he opens his eyes, Atsumu is smiling. “Okay. Let’s do it then.” 

[itszazouu]

safe besides you (sakusa kiyoomi x sick reader)

genre : hurt/comfort

character : timeskip!sakusa kiyoomi, gender neutral reader

warnings : mention of throwing up, sickness, insomnia, crying, loneliness

plot (established relationship): as you feel like getting sick you can’t help but miss your boyfriend who is away with his volleyball team for a major encounter. you try to deal with it on your own, but you feel way more safe when Kiyoomi is besides you 

   You feel lightheaded as you make your way back home. 

It was a long day at work and now you feel even worse. Before walking back home you made a quick stop at the nearest mall in order to buy groceries for tonight’s dinner and some medicine to relieve your pain.

Kiyoomi isn’t here tonight, like every other night this week. He is abroad with his volleyball team for the most important games of the season. He might come home during the dead night or maybe in the early morning.

You miss him, even though he called you every night during this week. Just when he’s about to begin his day and you to end yours. You miss his steady presence, his soft kisses when he thinks that you’re still asleep, his always so soft and genuine gestures toward you. You miss his soft smiles and loving eyes, his warm and comforting embrace, his dark and messy hair… Yeah you miss him. 

Tonight isn’t an exception. You open the front door only to face the silence of your shared house… ugh, you just need to eat, take your medicine, and go straight to sleep. 

As you make your way to the kitchen in order to put away your groceries, you feel like throwing up or fainting, maybe both at the same time. 

Crap, this is worse than you were thinking. You do the rest of the chores, because you know that an exhausted Kiyoomi would prefer coming back to a clean home, and decide to skip dinner. You’re feeling too nauseous anyway. 

 As you make your way through your bedroom, after taking some medicine, your phone vibrates. 

This is a message from Kiyoomi.

9:45 pm  Kiyoomi : hi, how are you doing tonight ?                                              how was your day ? 

9:46 pm  you : I’m fine honey thank you. Aren’t you on the plane already ? 

9:51 pm  Kiyoomi : good                                                                                      no, we will get on board in 10 minutes 

9:58 pm  you : oh okay then, I made dinner, it is in the fridge for you to heat up  when you’ll  come back 

9:58pm  Kiyoomi : thanks darling, you should go to sleep I won’t be home      before  late                                                                                                              I love you

9:59 pm you : yes, don’t worry kiyo, I love you too

You put your phone on the bedside table and slide under your bed sheets, desperately trying to warm yourself up and to fall asleep. You need rest, you know that, but you can’t help yourself from feeling lonely in your king sized bed, without the warm body of Kiyoomi. You sound so pitiful right now, but you’re sad and you need the raven haired boy. Even though you know that being sick won’t be very appealing for him and his fear of germs. 

Yes, through the years of dating him you grew accustomed to his fears and habits and he tried his very best to open up to you concerning those matters but that doesn’t mean he likes it when you’re sick. Because he loves you and seeing you in pain isn’t something he particularly appreciates and because who likes being near sick people anyway… 

You toss and turn in the bed. It is almost midnight and you feel worse than before. Cold sweat runs along your back and your head is spinning like crazy. You get up from bed and go to the bathroom in order to freshen up a bit. 

After splashing some cold water on your face, you go back to bed and decide to text Sakusa. Just because you can, and because you’re feeling very bad right now. 

12:10 pm you : hey, love I hope your trip back home is doing ok so far and that you’re not too  tired

No response… he’s either asleep on the plane, in a cab on his way home, or trying to deal with his loud teammates. Dejected and exhausted, you try to go back to your slumber. 

You wake up way later, the room is silent except for the background noises of the street. Besides you, to your delight, lay Kiyoomi. Your sweet Kiyoomi, fast asleep, looking exhausted but peaceful. You snuggle against him and sigh in delight. 

Wait… your stomach turns up in an unpleasant twist and you feel the urge to throw up. You detangle yourself from Sakusa and get up from bed as fast and quietly as possible. You reach the bathroom just in time to close the door and empty your guts down the sink. 

After some time you try to regain some composure in order to go back to bed, but you hear a faint knock on the bathroom door. Shit, you woke him up. 

“y/n, darling, are you ok ?” says Kiyoomi in a faint voice, still tainted by sleep. 

You feel guilty, you woke him up from his much needed sleep. He sounds exhausted, but most of all concerned. 

“I’m fine Kiyoomi, go back to sleep honey, I’ll be here in a minute.” you sigh as you sit up from the bathroom floor. 

He protests, “No, y/n you’re not. I heard you throwing up, can I come inside ?” 

“Kiyoomi, I’m sick, I’m full of germs, you don’t wanna come near me I swear.” you respond on the verge of tears. Because you’re exhausted, you feel like shit and just want a warm hug from your lover. You try, unsuccessfully, to muffle back your sob but Kiyoomi doesn’t buy it. 

“y/n, I’m going to enter okay ?”  you hear from the other side of the door, as you hear the doorknob turning. 

He’s here, in his pajamas, more like an old shirt and a boxer, standing right in front of you, closing his eyes as the sudden brightness of the bathroom light. His curls stick at odd angles and he looks as beautiful as ever. 

You quickly wash your palms, to prevent him from touching your hands that have touched the sink full of vomit. 

He makes his way towards you carefully, and takes your cheeks in his hands, examining your pale face. 

“y/n darling, you’re sick” he locks his dark eyes in your tired ones as you scoff  “yeah, no kidding.”

To your surprise, Kiyoomi tenderly kisses your forehead. 

The tall man makes his way towards the bathroom closet and takes some medicine from it. He hands you a couple of pills and you swallow without questioning him, trusting him for those matters. 

“I’m so sorry Kiyo, for waking you up and making you deal with this, I know you don’t like it and you must be exhausted.” you feel your eyes fill up again with tears as you try to steady yourself because of the lack of sleep.

“y/n, my love you’re sick, you needed me, I’m sorry I couldn’t answer your text, my phone is dead, but I’m here now” he says tenderly while pampering your face with kisses and as you sob uncontrollably.

This is so unlike him to come over his fear and approach you, even though you’re ill. It makes you cry even more as you feel him embrace you in a tight and warm hug and whispering

“I love you y/n and I don’t want you to deal with this alone, now come on you need to rest.” He leads you out of the bathroom which is connected to your bedroom and pushes you gently towards the bed. 

As you lay down under the fresh sheets of your bed, Sakusa pulls you in a tight embrace and rests his lips on your forehead. There, in the warmth of your dear boyfriend, you finally feel at ease. You know that it’s where you belong to and that you’ll always feel safe beside him, in sickness and in health.

[soukokuchild]

first chapter of my 59k words sakuatsu fic is now on ao3!

(to avoid spoilers tags will be added along with the chapters!!)

(also tag as requested! @mniqqss ❤️)

[sktsficrecs]

Title: The Flower From The Crack In The Pavement

Words: 30k

Tags: soulmates, hurt/comfort, slow burn

Thoughts: I ab obsessed with soulmate and slow burn aus and this is no exception please give it a read I loved to see tsumu and omis dynamic here

Summary:

“And what If I never do, Sakusa? What If I never forgive ya?”

This time, his soulmate is quiet for a long time. Atsumu thought he’d disappeared.

“Then, I will have to learn how to live with it.”

At sixteen, Miya Atsumu was rejected by his soulmate, the one person who should've loved and accepted him for who he is.

At twenty three, Miya Atsumu finally learns what it means to love, and to be loved in return.

Link:

[kikiyoomis]

it’s not hard for sakusa to voice out his thoughts and opinions. he sees no point in beating around the bush. while others might think voicing out their thoughts and opinions makes them unlikable, vulnerable or weak, sakusa never once worried about other people thought about him and what he said.

until now.

prided with his ability to remain consistent and put in effort with everything that he does, sakusa doesn’t know what to do when his usual routine slips right out from under his feet.

these past few weeks his serves were lacking, his receiving isn’t as solid and he kept missing spikes. not even punishing himself with a thousand reps was fixing it. he is at the peak of his career and he was watching in real time how everything was crumbling beneath him.

he’s panicking, especially when coach foster subbed him out the first set after his fourth miss of the game. normally sakusa doesn’t mind substitutions much but this was different. normally he was subbed off to rest when the game was going well. but that was usually towards the end of the game. this was the first set and he was not put on the starting lineup for the next four.

“it’s okay omi-kun! we all have our bad days!” bokuto tries to cheer him up after a close loss today.

“bokuto-san is right! after some rest you’re sure to be back on your game!” hinata joins in.

the locker room wasn’t as depressing as it usually is when the team loses. since it was only the preliminaries, the team can afford one loss. even atsumu didn’t seem to hold this loss too personally like he usually does.

“if omi-kun kept that up the entire game i might be more mad,” atsumu says offhandly to another member on the team, clearly without the intention of hurting sakusa but the words cuts deep. sakusa knows atsumu is like this whenever someone on the team is underperforming during the entire game. it was just that this was the first that sakusa was the victim.

“miya!” meian scolds atsumu, and all eyes are on sakusa. he doesn’t like the attention so he quickly packs his bag and leaves.

you’re there when he gets home. smiling and looking ever so beautiful wearing the replica of his jersey you bought years ago.

sakusa smiles back, but you can see that his smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“kiyoomi? what’s wrong? you don’t look so good,” you ask worriedly. this is the part where sakusa would tell you how frustrated he feels however the words are caught in his throat.

he didn’t care about what other people thought. he truly and whole heartedly does not care. but yours, he cares about immensely. more than anyone else’s. he wants to be the strong and dependable boyfriend you’ve always bragged to your friends and family about. but if he tells you, you’re going to think he’s weak and undeserving of your love. with everything going on lately, he suddenly feels scared.

he stands there silently, unmoving. the corners of his mouth turning downwards with every passing moment. his hair hides his eyes, but a singular tear rolls down his cheek before he can realize it.

“is everything okay?” you ask him, shocked because this is the first time sakusa has ever cried around you.

there’s a part of him that’s telling him no, to not tell you what’s on his mind because he’s afraid. but there’s another part of him that’s telling him to tell you because no matter what you’ll be there for him.

but sakusa undecidedly picks neither. he shakes his head ‘no’ but doesn’t tell you why. he can’t bring the words out of his mouth. hell he can’t even calm the turmoil in his mind to even string his thoughts into coherent sentences.

he feels your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him down into an embrace. with his face in the crook of your neck, the security that no one else but you can see him like this, he wraps his arms around your waist and lets his tears flow.

it’s quiet, silent tears at first. but slowly, his shoulders starts to shake as he’s left alone with his thoughts while you comforted him.

“i don’t know why this is happening. i took all the counter measures. i took breaks when i needed to. i practices hard. i never slacked off. i took care of my health. i’m following the doctors, physicians and dietitians’ recommendations and prescriptions. why is this happening? why, why, why? i can’t let this be the way my career ends,” sakusa rambles and you pat his head in comfort.

you didn’t always have the thing he needed to hear ready to say. this is one of those times. you’re flawed too. everything that you could have suggested to sakusa was something that he already tried. what could you say?

but you didn’t need to. the warm comforting embrace was all sakusa needed. this was something only you could give. his teammates wasn’t going to give him comfort like this (they were never going to be close enough to hug anyways) and his family wouldn’t understand his struggles as an athlete. but you did. with every day and night he spent with you, the more the two of you grew to understand each other.

“no one has a perfect career,” you finally say. sakusa hugs you a little tighter, still a little apprehensive about what you might say next.

“but we’ll get through it. maybe it’s not what you’re doing wrong but how? maybe instead of the same consistent routine, you change it up a bit. change the order, give your body something new to work with?” you suggest.

with tear stained cheeks sakusa looks a little stunned at what you said. but he wipes his tears and nods.

sakusa tells other people what he’s thinking without remorse or second thoughts. but with you, sometimes he gets second thoughts because he doesn’t want you to have an ill opinion of him. but it’s okay. he doesn’t need to tell you everything when you can wordlessly read what’s on his mind anyways. and he can always count you being there for him, at his best and at his worst, even if at the moment he doesn’t know. because you’ll always let him know that you will be.

[rk-tmblr]

“Chlorine lips” -SakuAtsu (FLUFF)

♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ❤︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎

“It feels like deja vu…,” Atsumu said, tipping his toes in the cold water of the hotel’s swimming pool.

“Yeah, like one of those times at the YTC,” Sakusa agreed, keeping his gaze fixed on the distance. The city was shining more than the sky itself that night, and it was an amazing landscape to admire.

Incredulous, Atsumu turned his way, mouth slightly agape and eyes wide. He felt out of breath; Sakusa’s confession pulled the rug from under his feet, but he couldn’t not ask now. It was his chance; he couldn’t mess it up and fall again into the oblivion made of ignorance and longing.

“Did ya remember ‘em?” His voice cracked a little, carried away by the night’s chill like a whisper to Sakusa’s ears.

“How could I forget when you were such a nuisance, bugging me every day?” Braver than Atsumu, Sakusa turned to meet his gaze.

And maybe they were too close. Maybe the blond had inclined towards him mindlessly, pushed by the overwhelming emotions that made his heart beat like crazy.

“‘T was my favorite part,” Atsumu smirked proudly and felt his cheeks burning when Sakusa chuckled.

“You’re such a brat,” Sakusa’s comment didn’t have any malice.

They were just joking and keeping things playful. And this led Atsumu to imagine how pale his skin was under the moonlight, what would he feel if he dared to inch closer and reach for him… would his lips be as cold as they looked?

The raven-haired boy gave him all the answers as he met his lips with his own. Warm. Atsumu felt set on fire. When they fell apart, he opened his eyes and his mouth to speak, but it was a fleeting moment. A hand on his shoulders, the warmth shifted to freezing cold as he found himself underwater. He emerged immediately, standing on his feet.

"Ya didn't," he grumbled, his hair flat on his forehead, dripping.

"Do you also remember that time when you threw a basket of cold water on my head?" Atsumu couldn’t see Sakusa’s face, but by the tone of his voice, he imagined a smirk on his lips. Those same lips he kissed a few seconds before.

"I can't fuckin' believe it," he hissed, "Ya kissed me just to throw me in the pool!?" He couldn't help but question, doing a good job hiding the creeping fear in his chest.

"No really, I kissed you because I wanted to and I threw you in the pool because I wanted to avenge my little self: they're two different things," Sakusa said brutally honestly.

Atsumu brushed his wet hair back and looked at Sakusa sitting with his legs crossed and hands on his ankles, perfectly dry.

"But I'm the brat, yeah?" he swam closer to the edge.

"Indeed," Sakusa nodded, eyeing him carefully.

"But ya still wanted to kiss me," Atsumu repeated.

"Unfortunately, you're an annoyingly pretty brat," Sakusa whispered and jolted a little when Atsumu grabbed his hands.

"So, so unfortunate, my Omi-Omi," Atsumu cooed as he leaned up, reaching for his face with his own tiptoeing underwater.

Greedy, Sakusa erased the distance once again and ended up sharing Atsumu’s same fate: the blond backed out as he closed his eyes and pulled him into the pool. He laughed, hugging his belly as Sakusa emerged soon and coughed up some water.

"Miya, I swear to God-"

Atsumu grabbed his face with both hands and crashed their lips together before Sakusa could admit his plan to kill him. He smiled, tasting his annoyed grumbles, while Sakusa's arms tied around his hips.

The swimming pool water wasn't too cool anymore with their bodies close to each other.

♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ❤︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎ ♒︎

Another little peek of the fanfiction I'm writing about SakuAtsu and SunaOsa. But if you're curious and you'd like to read more, I leave you below the links of some previous "moments" I wrote about them:

--------------------------------- SakuAtsu ----------------------------------

-> “The difference between missing and wanting someone”;

-> “You drank too much last time and don't remember what we did”: “You were swaying your hips as if you were alone in the dance floor”;

-> “My twin brother got sus about us”;

-> “Grimly wild daisies”;

-> “You got me fever”;

-> “Longing for your warm touch”;

---------------------------------- SunaOsa ----------------------------------

-> “You didn't text me”;

-> “Cellphone on rice”;

-> “I keep our picture in my wallet”;

-> “Guilty of never be over you”

-> “You grew in a loveless house”.

Thank you so much for reading!! <3

[catszu]

Moments, like emotions, are fleeting in nature. Constantly passing by in little fragments, potent in their wake.

A story in which a person's soulmate mark blossoms on their skin at the most monumental moment in one's life, as flowers.

A terminal illness/soulmate AU where Kiyoomi and Atsumu fall irrevocably in love despite the crippling weight of death, grief, and loss looming above their heads.

[sassycheesecake]

„So Much For My Happy Ending“ (Kiyoomi Sakusa x Reader)

A/N: I listened to Avril Lavigne‘s song „My Happy Ending“ and it tore me apart and this OS was born.😅 I changed the story so it’s not based on a break up and bad experiences in terms of toxic relationships but on something else.

Genre: ANGST! Hurt without comfort! This is my first angst story and please don’t read it if death or this story starts to trigger you! PLEASE! MDNI!

Trigger Warnings: death, grief of a loved one

Kiyoomi Sakusa just finished another typical day of intense volleyball training for the upcoming season and heads first into the showers before anyone else.

He is always keeping an eye on the clock to come out of training as soon as he can and that behavior brought attention to his teammates.

The ravenette has been a lot more quiet recently and isolating himself from his teammates more and more since about three months now. Declining all offers on going out, not staying late for more practice and never waiting on anyone after practice usually finishes at 5 p.m.

The whole team was concerned for their introverted Outside Hitter, since he also lost weight and the dark circles under his eyes make him look empty and tired. Like a lifeless vessel that’s barely holding himself up but by the mere strings of a puppeteer.

Right now, Kiyoomi finishes getting dressed, when he saw his Captain approaching him with slow steps out of the corner of his eye.

Meian decided it would be best if he tried to approach his younger teammate with carefully chosen words. He starts lean against some of the lockers before talking to Kiyoomi.

"Hey, uh… Sakusa. You up for a game night at my place? The rest of the team is coming too. I just thought we haven’t done something together as a team in a while and maybe you will have fun.” Meian tries.

But Kiyoomi immediately turns the offer down.

"No thank you. I see and deal enough with craziness over day, I don’t need it at night too.”

Meian frowns at that, trying to convince him other wise.

"Come on, I am sure you don’t have any better things to do-“

"I said no.” Kiyoomi begins to stand up slowly and glares in anger at his Captain beneath his medical mask.

The Middle Blocker is not fazed by his sudden anger but takes a few steps back while holding his hands up in a calming matter.

"Okay okay, sorry man.”

Just as Kiyoomi wants to leave, the blonde Setter, Miya Atsumu accidentally bumps into him.

“Whoops. Sorry Omi, my bad.”

The touch of Atsumu’s arm against his own sends Kiyoomi in a rage, quickly grabbing Atsumu’s shirt before slamming him into the lockers.

The sudden loud noise startles the entire team, completely caught off guard by Kiyoomi’s very unusual behavior. They know that Sakusa is not fond of his teammates or anyone touching him but this reaction was not what they expected, it was extreme.

Atsumu grunts in pain before he starts yelling at him.

"Oi! What the hell’s ya problem-“

"Don’t you dare touch me again with your filthy germs. You stay five feet away from me at all times, don’t talk to me, don’t touch me! I don’t need to carry your diseases to other people.” The curly-haired ravenette glares daggers into Atsumu’s face.

The Setter returns the anger before pushing his teammate off of him.

"Ya know what? Yer have been a real pain in the ass lately, I get that cha don’ like it when people touch ya but ya need to calm yer ass down! Ya been actin’ worse than me in mah teenage years!” Atsumu growls at him.

"Hey hey you two, calm down-“ Bokuto stands between the Setter and the Outside Hitter, before someone seriously gets hurt.

Without saying anything, the ravenette hastily grabs his stuff and leaves the locker room in a rush.

"I wonder what’s going on, he’s like his complete opposite and he never loses his cool like that.“ Their Libero proclaims.

The rest of the team agrees with the light-haired teammate.

Flipping to the next page in the book you’re currently reading, your tired eyes turn to the clock on the wall. It’s already 5:36 p.m. and your lover still hasn’t turned up. You hope he is okay, usually he is always on time at 5:15 p.m. to come and visit you after his training was over.

Closing and setting the book aside on your side table, you begin to sit up on the side of your bed.

You look up on the I.V. bag that currently has temozolomide dripping into your vein on your arm. Letting out a deep sigh, you begin to stand up but your body immediately tells you to stop as you lose your balance and fall down on the bedside again. Huffing out in annoyance now, you try to hold your grip on the infusion stand and holt yourself up.

As you were taking a few shaky steps, you hear your door open.

Looking up in curiosity, your eyes shine in excitement at your lover’s presence.

Kiyoomi is disinfecting his hands when his dark eyes found yours.

With a few quick steps, he is right beside you to offer help.

"My love, what are you thinking? Why didn’t you get one of the nurses?” He scolds you gently.

You shrug off his scolding and begin to explain.

"I needed to use the restroom and I don’t want to bother the nurses. They already have so much to do and I was afraid you weren’t going to show up, so I decided to do it myself.”

Your fiancé opens the bathroom door for you, making sure you get in safely and having the Infusion stand not scratching up the frame of the bathroom door.

"Please call me if you need anything.”

“Will do my love, thank you.”

Breathing out deeply, Sakusa walks back to your bed and sinks back into the chair right next to the bed. Rubbing his face with his rough hands, he wishes he could have come sooner to see you.

A few minutes later, he hears the sound of the toilet flushing and the running water of the sink.

Opening the door again, you see Kiyoomi with his hands on his face, looking extremely tired.

You frown at your lover‘s stance, walking with careful steps while still having the infusion stand in your hand.

Whispering his name gently, the ravenette looks up to you with red eyes, fresh tears staining his pale cheeks.

Running your fingers through his locks, you grab both of his cheeks, gently wiping away his tears.

As you give him a small smile, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him towards you, while Kiyoomi hugs your fragile body.

Two months later, the Outside Hitter stands on the balcony of your shared apartment in the freezing night, staring ahead, as he remembers your last breath you took after saying ‚I love you‘ one last time.

Kiyoomi looks up into the cold star-filled sky, his breath visible to the naked eye.

He scoffs under his breath and feels his eyes getting watery.

"So much for my happy ending with you, huh (Y/N)?”

@rukia-uchiha-98

[flyingwargle]

the aijinomoto national training center is curtained in darkness, with only neon green emergency lights illuminating the corridors. as midnight nears, the only audible sounds are shuffling blankets from the high school athletes participating in the weeklong training camp, the central heating system working to stave off the winter's chill, and a hushed voice in the corner of the sitting room, irritated face lit up by his phone.

"-seriously," atsumu grumbles, "ya'd think that there wouldn't be scrubs at this camp, but then there's someone like him here, an' that makes ya wonder how he was invited."

"mmhmm." osamu's noncommittal hum is soft on the other end.

"ya woulda beat his socks off, 'samu. he ain't got a candle ta ya."

"maybe he's just crazy, like ya. the way ya described the others, they all have their own brand of crazy."

atsumu snorts. "as if yer not crazy yerself."

"i am," osamu concedes. "just not 'bout volleyball."

"yeah, i know." his voice lowers to a whisper. "i know."

they're silent, listening to each other breathe. the seconds pass on the digital clock on the wall, scarlet red in the darkness. a minute passes, closer to midnight. "is everythin' okay at home?"

"it's only been a day, 'tsumu. stop makin' it sound like ya've been gone for a month."

"it feels like it," atsumu mumbles. "haven't been this far from home before." that's not true, and osamu knows it, but he doesn't call him out. "ya still have practice tomorrow, right?"

"obviously. we gotta prepare for the spring tournament." there's shuffling, and atsumu can envision his brother on his bunk, half-buried under his blankets, stomach on the mattress, elbows propped up, phone pressed to his ear. "what 'bout ya? don't ya hafta start early tomorrow?"

"eh, breakfast is at nine. lotsa time 'till then."

"not if ya stay up longer when yer 'sposed ta be asleep by now," osamu scoffs. "well, ya better have fun playin' volleyball fer a whole week. i'd die, if that were me."

"well, ya better have fun at school. glad i ain't there."

"guess i don't hafta get class notes fer ya."

"gin already said he'd grab 'em fer me."

the clock reads 12:01 am. the line falls silent. "i'm gonna go ta sleep," osamu says, "unless ya need me fer anythin' else?"

atsumu blinks. "did i ask?"

"well, ya called first, so i just assumed yer homesick."

"i ain't homesick! it's just a routine call. ya can expect one again tomorrow."

"ya won't die if ya don't call, 'tsumu. ya'll be fine on yer own."

"i know."

"okay, then i'm goin’ ta bed. g'night."

"g'night, scrub." the line goes quiet and atsumu lowers his phone. his picture for osamu changes regularly, thanks to suna. the newest one is his twin sleeping with his mouth open while on the bus back from last month’s training camp. before that, it was a selfie they’d taken after winning the top prize for a claw machine. and before that, it was a photo he snuck of osamu making onigiri, smile soft and eyes crinkled in concentration.

he peels himself off the armchair and wanders down the corridor, passing their designated shared rooms, finding the stairs that lead to the ground floor. he eventually finds his way to the gym, shoving the unlocked door open, sliding his slippered feet across the court.

atsumu sits cross-legged, neck craned to stare at the ceiling. he was able to quash the heavy feeling in his stomach earlier with volleyball, doing his best to adjust to the other players, observing their habits and styles. it was only after they were dismissed for the evening that the feeling settled in his bones and permeated his mind.

'samu isn't here with me.

it isn’t like they’d never been separated before. once, they continuously argued where to go for a family trip, so atsumu and their mom went to hiroshima, and osamu and their dad went to kamakura. they stayed over at different friends’ houses before throughout junior high, too. sure, none of those absences were longer than a weekend, and they always came back unscathed.

so what's different this time?

he thinks of osamu’s aloof expression when he learned only atsumu was picked for the camp. he thinks of his detached interest whenever they watched matches for leisure than research. he thinks of that night when he saw osamu engrossed in making onigiri, to the point he didn’t even notice atsumu.

this isn't homesickness. this is the start of an end.

his quiet sobs echo around him, endless stream of tears staining the floor. his shoulders shake, hiccupping breaths caught in his throat. he jolts when something drapes over him, a body pressing against his. it’s a blanket, soft and warm. he clutches it tighter around him. “leave me alone.”

“is sitting a crime?” the voice is muffled behind a mask but still sympathetic.

“go somewhere else.”

“i’m fine here.”

that only makes atsumu cry harder. of course, it’s sakusa who finds him like this, pathetic and vulnerable. although they bicker and glower at each other when there’s a net between them, outside of it, atsumu dares to call him a friend, having been acquainted with him since the first training camp they had together. he was glad to see him again, even if he stuck by his cousin most of the time. a familiar face is better than no one.

“are you homesick?”

“no.” atsumu’s sleeves are wet with tears.

there’s a pause. “you miss osamu.” the twins attended the camp together last year; if one half isn’t here, it’s easy to tell why.

“i don’t.” it isn’t a lie. he wants this camp as the first step to making his own identity as miya atsumu, setter, not miya atsumu, setter who can pull off combos with miya osamu. “it’s just…”

his voice catches in his throat. how can he explain the vague sensation in his mind, when he doesn’t know what it is, himself? how can he admit that he’s afraid that his brother might not play with him in the future, when he knows it might not be true?

but it is. you know it is. atsumu just shakes his head. “it’s complicated.”

he feels sakusa lean against him further, the weight on his back strangely comforting. “you aren’t alone. you have me, even motoya, if you want. if you ever…need someone to talk to, we’re here. the camp is only for a week, anyway. you’ll be back soon.”

you have me. it fills him with warmth, makes the tears slow. that doesn’t just apply to sakusa, but osamu, too. yes, it’ll hurt if what he suspects is true, but that doesn’t mean he’s gone. they’ll separate, they’ll go different ways, but they’ll come back, unscathed. because that’s what brothers do.

“thanks, omi.”

sakusa hums. “ready to go to sleep?”

“i think so.” together, they clamber to their feet, and sakusa leads him out. atsumu glances over his shoulder, where his tears remain on the court. they’ll dry, the evidence of the night erased, but he’ll hold it close to him, just like sakusa’s warmth on his back.

--

inspiration: this fanart of sakusa and atsumu sitting back to back while atsumu is crying <3 dialogue tweaked to match the drabble!

[gingerel]

🏐✨ bewitching, besotted 🖤💛

Five (5) times Atsumu (kind of) confesses and the one (1) time Kiyoomi takes his turn.