yakkunmori

[yakkunmori]

i fw most yaku ships bcs at the core of it i just like when yaku gets attention

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The sad part about loving yaku as my fav character is that I don't like levyaku as the main ship ppl associate him with :')

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my ongoing yaku headcanon drafts:

college au

as a parent hcs

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this made me so happy

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I need more sugawara and yaku friendship content

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this made me so happy

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what do i do when i am a man

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Yaku worked as a barista for a short time in his second year.

He quit pretty soon, lol.

He can't do custermer service. People can be so idiotic, and it drives him INSANE. There's only so many ways he can explain to somebody that they are out of Carmel syrup.

[yakkunmori]

It’s a perfect morning for a hike.

The chill dusts Yaku’s nose as a soft winter kiss, his hot breathing tearing up his throat as he pushed onwards.

His thighs strain with pleasant effort, the slope harsh and unforgiving under his well broken-in boots, a stone breaking free of the thin, frozen layer of snow to bounce down behind him. They're all familiar sensations, worn into his skin almost as deeply as the court.

With one difference.

A gasp heaves behind Yaku. He turns back to his companion, who was bent over, hands on his knee.

“Wow, you really have left yourself go, huh?”

“Shut —“ here one of Kuroo’s hands lifts weakly, flagging his words. “— the fuck —“

“I’m waiting.”

“Up.”

The last line is delivered with a laboured expulsion of breath. Kuroo’s hand drops back to his knee, his gulping down of breath audible to even where Yaku is standing. He grins.

Kuroo had always been a single step faster than him in high school, and even in the early years of university he could hold his own; it’s nice to get the upper hand for once.

Yet something needles at Yaku; a slight twinge in his knee. A reminder that he, too, is getting older.

“I’m sorry,” Kuroo continues, straightening up. “That I can’t keep up with an Olympian while having an actual career.”

An actual career, huh?

Kuroo probably hadn’t meant it like that, but Yaku becomes aware of a pit in his gut, one that had been growing since he hit thirty. It seemed to swallow good moments with the overwhelming knowledge of time, and Yaku hadn’t adjusted to it yet.

“Your career is literally making my career a viable thing.”

“Semantics.”

"I don't think you know what that word means."

"I don't think you know either."

Yaku flips up his middle finger at him, and Kuroo cracks a grin, trudging up alongside Yaku.

“I’m good to go for a while longer.”

“I can carry you, if you’d like.”

The answering glare that Kuroo gives him makes Yaku grin again, the movement of his cheeks feeling welcome, as if dislodging a layer of frost.

The camera shutter noise rings out alone in the deserted, slumbering mountains.

“Shame Kai couldn’t see this,” Yaku mentions as he sends the photo to him.

“Yeah, I’m sure he’s devastated,” Kuroo says. “Being flown in to Australia to consult on Japanese flora there instead of waking up at an obscene hour for a hike must be so awful for him.”

“His girlfriend got a ticket too, didn’t she?”

“Yeah.” Kuroo sighs, resting his hands on his hips. “Well, fiancé now. He had a plus one, and I can't believe that he brought his fiancé instead of say, one of his best friends of…”

He scrunches his brows, hesitating. Yaku wants to laugh.

“Don’t strain your—“

“Eighteen years!”

“There you go,” Yaku says encouragingly, and Kuroo shoots him a death glare.

“Don’t pretend that you were any better at me at math.”

Sticking out his tongue, Yaku winks at him. "At least I'm not the one who called Akaashi at two in the morning, crying over his project finance homework."

"He told you that?! And I wasn't crying, just on the verge of tears -"

"Like that's any better."

It works, as it always had. Kuroo doesn't notice Yaku speeding up, doesn't notice how they move faster when sunk into arguing. Maybe he does, and chooses to say nothing.

The sunrise is a haze of orange and pink, and Yaku thinks that it looks beautiful. It shines against the snow-patched hillsides, throwing up brilliant glares as it spreads across the mountains, claiming them for the morning. Here and there, a grey cluster of rocks emerge from the snow, as if waking up.

He glances across at Kuroo. Kuroo, who had agreed to take a day off of the work he loved so dearly to join Yaku at ass o’clock in the morning to clamber up a mountain to catch a sunrise.

He’d sounded tired on the phone when Yaku had called, just at the end of his workday, just long enough for Kuroo to run into his boss’ office and tell him that he needed the day tomorrow — yes, he apologised for the short notice, yes, he had everything in order — and then returning to Yaku to curse him out for forcing him to do that.

Yaku had asked why he wasn’t the boss yet, how come his career was flatlining, and Kuroo’s swearing at him had increased at a rate Yaku hadn’t thought possible before.

Yet he’s here.

“I missed this,” Yaku says.

“Yeah,” Kuroo agrees. His tone is a little wistful, softened by the sight in front of them. “I can’t remember the last time I went hiking.”

He's here, with his hands set on his hips, his chest driving out with each hard breath. There's unmistakable satisfaction in the curl of his lips.

“Better than lazing about on the beach, huh?” Yaku comments, moving closer to elbow Kuroo in the side. “Glad to hear you’ve seen the light.”

“Hey, that was not me saying that mountains are better.”

“Not yet.”

Yaku grins up at him, and he sees the edges of Kuroo’s lips curve upwards in response, despite trying to cling onto the mask of annoyance. His gaze wanders upwards, over Kuroo’s rough cheeks, a day’s worth of black stubble sprouting up, to the almost invisible scar on his cheekbone left from one of Fukunaga’s “inventions,” to rest on the grey bags beneath his eyes.

Cradled in the delicate glow of the sunrise, Tetsurou feels familiar and strange, all at once.

The pit stretches its muscles inside Yaku’s gut again, the pit that consumes his friends’ lives and leaves men in their places that Yaku only half-knows. His absence had been a choice.

He doesn’t regret it, but he acknowledges the painful consequences.

Swallowing, he turns back to the sunrise, and thinks he feels a wave of warmth from it. Kuroo is still a bachelor. Yaku has waited over a decade, expecting him to be one of those consequences, one that he paid the moment he chose to pursue volleyball professionally. He wets his dry, cracked lips, and glances up at Kuroo again.

Kuroo’s face is awash with an orange tint, and there are folds Yaku doesn’t recognise, smile lines faded into his skin, his bone structure just a fraction more prominent than before. Yaku wants to relearn all of it — maybe even better than before. His eyes are creased up in the way they always did when he was considering something; his tongue working within his mouth.

“I’d have brought you here sooner if I knew this is what made you speechless,” he says, and Kuroo’s removed, thoughtful expression vanishes. It's replaced by a flicker of a fondness, a momentary splinter before his usual laid-back expression settles in.

Instead of a snarky retort, Kuroo only leans his forearm on Yaku’s shoulder. He's heavy. Yaku can feel his body heat, revved up from the walk, radiating against his side.

“You’d get bored without my quick wit,” Kuroo proclaims. “We can't ever go to a mountain peak at sunrise again. Only beaches from now on, I think.”

He flashes a smile down at Yaku, and Yaku, after climbing up a tough trail for two hours, now, only now, feels woozy. He wasn’t a stranger to how Kuroo makes him feel. He’d been ignoring it for years.

Consequences.

Yaku looks down at Kuroo’s hand, jutting past his shoulder, dangling in the air. He’d stripped off his gloves at some point during their hike, and the tips of his fingers are tinged with a dusty pink, just visible through the brown. They’re lined. Yaku thinks of Kuroo telling him how his last relationship didn’t work out, that they wanted different things.

For the first time in a long time, Yaku stares at a Japanese sunrise and thinks of coming home.

Bending his elbow, he reaches up and takes Kuroo’s warm hand in his, interlacing their fingers. Beside him, Kuroo shifts his weight; taking more off of Yaku.

One last time, Yaku upturns his face to meet Kuroo’s gaze. His whole body is buzzing with the risk he’d just taken, but Kuroo’s steady eye contact grounds him; reminds him that they’d be alright, no matter what.

He inhales the crisp air, tasting a new day.

Waits.

“You’re serious?”

Kuroo’s voice is low, stripped of all and any teasing edge.

Yaku nods.

“I’m serious.”

[yakkunmori]

or is that Isaiah I'm thinking about? I should reread the Bible. fuck I missed my bus stop

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I forget that most people ship things because they want characters to be in a happy relationship and not because they want them to have weird sex things with atrocious psychological consequences

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JAPAN?!

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I’m late but wip Wednesday!!!

Siblings TM

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kuroyaku is so early 2000s pop punk guitar riff

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thinking about timeskip yaku is so funny to me especially in comparison to his highschool self bcs truly what happened to that boy. would his pre timeskip self recognize him even

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how the tables have turned ;)

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testing out new brushes and new pen tips since my old one broke