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cata-linaa · 3 years

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Miya Osamu x Reader

Summary: Miya Osamu is a lowly peasant who works in the royal kitchen. Not many see his natural talent at baking and cooking, but you and your mother do. What will rise from your interactions?

Word Count: 4.6K

Warnings: fluff, some pining, Osamu being amazing

A/N: Hey y'all, my dumbass accidentally deleted the original post for this, so I'm reposting it. If you've already read it, I would really appreciate your likes and reblogs, this was one of my best fics in a while note-wise and I accidentally deleted it. Anyways, enjoy. -Rach<3

The buzz of the royal kitchen is loud, full of sharp calls, pots and pans banging together, and the crackle of the fires that were used to heat and cook the meals.

Within the kitchen, many experienced chefs work diligently, chopping up the largest homegrown carrots and onions while the baker works on his finest cakes and pastries.

Everyone is so elegant in the way they work, from clean and crisp white hats to finely ironed aprons and pristinely pressed shirts. All except for Miya Osamu, the peasant who wore dark rags and ripped-up shirts as he worked.

The man had only managed to get hired in the royal kitchen due to his close friendship with Duke Kita Shinsuke, who had recommended him to the queen. Once she had tasted Osamu’s cooking, she allowed him to work in the kitchen with her personal chefs as a dishwasher and fill-in baker.

Although the queen let him cook for her once, Osamu was never allowed to actually cook or bake in the kitchen. That was left to the professionals of a higher class than him, so he was sent to clean the dining halls and kitchens after all the food was taken out, or scrub the dishes as they returned.

Osamu’s talent was outstanding in the kitchen, and none of the other chefs seemed to notice or care. They would simply roll their eyes when they saw him up to his elbows in suds, and dump another stack of plates onto the mountainous pile he barely made a dent in.

Even though he worked in the royal palace, Osamu was still treated like a peasant. No matter how much he tried to make a name for himself and his family, nothing could ever seem to boost his morale.

That was until one of the biggest dinners at the castle occurred, where suitors from across the seas came to fight for the princess’s hand in marriage. The kitchen was bustling, where loads of steamed seafood, finely tossed salads, and even intricate hors d'oeuvres were being carried out on shiny silver platters.

Osamu ended up being used to help prep the plates and silverware, so he had put on his finest clothing, which ended up being a simple black button-up and black slacks, and a clean grey apron his mother had gotten him before he moved into the castle.

This was one of the first times he would actually be seen by royals, as he had to carry the plates out into the massive dining hall to prepare for the large feast.

His footsteps were slightly uneven as he carried the large case of silverware toward the tables, eyes darting nervously side to side as if someone were to catch him making a mistake.

Luckily Osamu made it to the tables without a hitch, so he immediately gets to work on setting up the cutlery and the decorative dishes. He got so caught up in making everything look pristine that he didn’t realize someone had entered the room behind him.

Osamu holds a large dining plate in one hand as he grabs it from the case, spinning around to be met with the face of someone he could only describe as ethereal. He does a double-take as his eyes scan over the features of your face, noting the (color) hues of your eyes and the pleasant curve of your lip.

The plate in his hand slips from his fingers and crashes in front of him, shattering into a million pieces as he gapes in awe and then horror at you.

You give him a simple smile as you step forward, curtsying toward him. Osamu flushes and goes to bow as he stutters out, “Your Majesty! I’m so sorry, madame, I didn’t mean to drop that plate, please forgive me. I’ll clean it up this instant!”

A laugh that was reminiscent of a chime falls from your lips as you regard the handsome dishwasher and you reply, “At ease, sir. I heard my taste tester was getting things set up a while and I wanted to come to introduce myself.”

Osamu gulps as he peers up through his eyelashes toward you, his heart hammering in his chest when your words register in his head. As he stands up straight he asks, “Taste tester? I wasn’t aware of these orders, Your Majesty. Let me clean up this plate so no one gets injured.”

You nod and take a step back as Osamu walks around you and to the corner where a small closet was propped open. He quickly grabs the broom and dustpan, sweeping up the remnants of the broken plate in a few efficient moves.

After he discards the plate, he bows again and says, “Forgive me, Your Majesty. I am Miya Osamu, a peasant who was granted permission to work in the kitchen by the queen as a favor to Duke Kita Shinsuke.”

A smile graces your lips as your eyes take in the form of the man in front of you. From the soft gray locks that fell onto his forehead, and the soft hint of pink on his cheeks, you knew that this “peasant” was handsome.

“My pleasure to meet you, Miya,” you reply with a shallow curtsey. As you regain your height, you offer him your hand and you say, “You do not need to call me Your Majesty, for that is my mother. You may call me Princess Y/n.”

Osamu gives you a smirk back as he grabs your hand, pressing a gentle and tender kiss to your knuckles as he states, “Well then, Princess Y/n, you may call me Osamu. For if I am to test your food tonight, I want you to remember me by my first name.”

The cheeky words fall quickly from his plump lips, and he soon releases his grip on your hand as he bows to excuse himself, moving back to finish setting up the plates and silverware.

You blink in mild shock at the encounter with the quiet dishwasher, and you smile to yourself as you begin to exit the dining hall.

Before you make it to the door, you turn over your shoulder and say, “I look forward to seeing you by my side tonight then,” at that, you lock eyes with him and then smirk back, “Osamu.”

By the time the feast starts, Osamu has finally gotten his orders from the head chef on being the taste tester for the princess. He was to be by your side, first tasting everything before allowing you to even pick up your silverware to eat.

He was also to be on the lookout for any suspicious activity involving the food, as many would try to drug the royals to persuade them in bargaining and trade issues.

Osamu was waiting at the side of the head table, his arms folded neatly behind his back as his eyes scoured the crowd. Music was floating through the air, and he smiles at the musicians as they play beautiful arrangements of symphonies he only dreamed of as a child.

He simply swayed along to the music as it came to an end, and applauded with everyone else as people on the dance floor scurried away. Left in the middle of the floor was you, elegantly dressed in a stunning gold and silver trimmed skirt, hair done up in the most regal fashion.

You curtsied for the band, and they all bowed right back, thus dismissing you from the floor as they started their next set of background music. You turn on your heel to make your way over to your seat, and you catch sight of the black-clad figure of Osamu.

Osamu bows lightly as he pulls out your seat and says, “You look stunning tonight, Princess Y/n.” His words, ones you had heard many times, seemed to catch you off guard, and you fight the flush on your cheeks as you thank him and sit down.

Osamu watches as your gaze flickers around the room before it settles on the figures of men walking toward you. With a sharp glance to Osamu you mumble, “Great, more suitors.”

In an instant, a beautiful smile, one that Osamu learned to be fake, rested on your lips as the men in front of you bowed courteously. One of them, a prince from the kingdom of Seijoh, steps forward with a cheeky grin on his lips.

“What an honor to be in front of you this evening, Your Majesty,” Prince Oikawa Tooru states, eyes flashing at Osamu with a mocking look before standing up straight and offering his hand to you.

You nod in response before offering him your hand, the same one that Osamu’s lips had caressed only a few hours before. Osamu can feel himself cringe as Prince Oikawa kisses your knuckles, and he tears his eyes away as dozens of waiters enter the dining hall carrying large trays of food.

As Oikawa pulls away from you, Osamu takes the chance to lean down and murmur, “Princess Y/n, the dinner for tonight is here, allow me to sit next to you to test your food.”

You glance up to Osamu, eyes lingering on his lips before catching his warm eyes and you nod with a small whisper of, “Alright. Let me send these princes off as fast as I can.”

You turn back to the huddle of princes in front of you and you place a hand on your chest as you profusely apologize, “I’m so sorry, my lords. It seems as though the meal for tonight is here. I shall converse and dance with you all later this evening, you can go find your places at the table.”

With disgruntled and unimpressed looks, the princes and lords saunter away to where their plates were awaiting them, heaps of steaming food shimmering from its heat.

A sigh leaves your lips as you motion to the small seat next to you, and Osamu quickly takes note, pulling out the chair before sitting down as gracefully as he could. It almost felt like hordes of eyes were on him for sitting next to you, and he can feel a bead of sweat trying to slide down his forehead as your food is placed in front of you.

The food testing is fine, thus allowing you to eat while Osamu sat promptly next to you, eyes watching anywhere he could, as he had no food of his own to eat. You ended up making quiet conversation with Osamu while you ate, and as you near the end of your meal, a feeling of sadness started to wash over you.

I don’t want to leave his side yet, you think to yourself. He’s a very kind man and I really don’t want to dance with those pompous aristocrats.

You clear your throat politely as you set down your utensils, daintily wiping any stray food from your face before you turn to the dishwasher. You begin, “Sir Miya Osamu, would you please accompany me for a walk in the garden?”

Osamu blinks in shock, his bottom lip falling open as he quickly nods, standing up and pushing his chair in firmly. He helps pull out your chair before offering you his arm, which you gladly take.

Osamu can feel his heart jump around in his chest as you take a hold of his arm, tucking yourself next to him as he guides you out of the dining hall and towards one of the many gardens in the palace.

The two of you wander around the gardens, where you ask Osamu about himself and his past, and he explains to you hastily that he’s a nobody. You listen earnestly, giving quiet comments hear or there as you find each other opening up.

Neither of you realizes that it’s almost midnight until you stumble over a crack in the tile, and Osamu catches your arms and says, “Princess Y/n, it’s getting late. The moonlight is not very strong and I don’t want you to trip again.”

You smile up at him and ask, “Will I get to talk to you again, Miya Osamu? I quite enjoyed our talks tonight, and I would love to try your cooking sometime.”

You can barely see the flush on Osamu’s cheek as he turns and begins walking you back the way you came. He smiles slightly and huffs out, “You can talk to me whenever you want, princess, and it would be the greatest honor to allow me to cook for you.”

A firm hold on his arm stops him, and he turns to you, his eyebrow quirking in surprise. You smile at him gently and reply, “It’s my honor as well. Three days from now I expect one of your finest pastries or soups. I can give you clearance to the other chefs.”

And with a cheeky smirk Osamu takes a step back and bows while saying, “As you wish.”

While Osamu walks you back to the palace, the king and queen decide that none of the suitors that came for the feast were acceptable enough for their daughter, so everyone is sent home. Little did they know that their beloved princess spent the night talking to a lowly dishwasher.

From that night on, you took interest in the handsome dishwasher. There was something about his quiet and calm demeanor, the sly look in his eye, and his kind smile that had you hooked and yearning for more.

Osamu had stressed the days leading up to when you wanted him to bake and cook for you, not knowing what was acceptable or suitable for a princess such as yourself. Meanwhile, you were more than excited to see the capabilities of the peasant worker who you wanted to befriend.

Osamu ended up making a dozen small cannolis around 10 p.m. for you, even going as far as to sprinkle a few mini chocolate chips on the end in hopes to impress you.

Just as he finished dusting a small amount of powdered sugar onto the pastries, he heard the soft clicking of footsteps down the hallways just outside the door to the kitchen. He holds his breath in a moment of panic before he sees your face appear in front of him.

You give him a warm smile as you slip in beside him, and Osamu gulps in surprise to see you in a simple nightgown rather than your intricate skirts and blouses.

“Good evening, Princess Y/n,” Osamu mumbles quietly, rubbing at the back of his head as your eyes flicker over the small cannolis.

You turn to him and murmur, “You don’t have to call me such formalities in private, Osamu.” The grey-haired man chuckles beside you and nods, “Alright then, princess. I- uhm, I made you some vanilla cannolis. Please enjoy.”

At that, Osamu pushes the plate toward, his heart beating faster and faster as you start to reach for one. His blue eyes trace the curve of your lips as you bring the small pastry up to your mouth, and then they flick to your eyes to gauge your reaction.

(Colored) orbs widen in surprise as the delightful sweetness explodes on your tongue, and you turn to Osamu in shock as you chew the small bite of cannoli. When you finally swallow you exclaim, “That was amazing, Osamu! I didn’t know you could bake like this!”

Osamu’s cheeks redden under your intense gaze, and he has to look away as he mumbles a quiet, “Thank you, princess.”

You just chuckle as you playfully bump into his shoulder and you say, “C’mon, don’t get shy on me now. This is fantastic!”

The night slides away as the two of you share the iced desserts, and Osamu sends you off to bed when it gets late and your eyes are drooping. What he didn’t know was that you had snuck the remaining pastries back to your quarters that evening, thinking and dreaming of the quiet baker.

But you didn’t know that you left Osamu standing in the kitchen with a dumb smile on his lips as he dusted himself off and prepped the kitchen for breakfast in a few hours.

The next few weeks and months slide by quickly, and you seem to find more and more interest in the handsome dishwasher and baker. You would drop by to grab small pastries and breads as snacks in between lessons and meetings with foreigners.

Sometimes you would even sneak into the kitchen’s pantry to grab a bundle of carrots to feed to the horses after your riding lessons.

Osamu had caught you once whenever you knocked over a bucket, but he helped you slide out the back side of the kitchen. He ended up getting yelled at by the head chef, and as bad as Osamu felt for getting yelled at, nothing could beat the adrenaline of seeing you smile because of him.

There was one night in particular though, where you found yourself wandering toward the kitchen after a particularly grueling and nasty nightmare.

Small and shaky footsteps lead you to the kitchen, your arms folding across your chest as you rub at them from the chill of the night. What surprises you is the small lights you can see set up on the counters, and you quietly enter to see Osamu dressed head to toe in his apron and work shoes, whisking together something in a bowl.

He freezes when he hears the door creak, but he smiles when he sees your innocent face look in, and Osamu beckons you forward before continuing to whisk.

“Hello, princess,” he mumbles as you slide in next to him, slumping your head against his shoulder as your glazed-over eyes look over the intricate cakes and icings he had made.

“Hey, ‘Samu,” you yawn out as you look up at him. A tiny pout forms on your lips as you whisper, “Can I have some warmed milk, please?”

With a few bats of your lashes, you’ve got Osamu wrapped around your finger, and he’s setting down his bowl of icing to grab a carton of milk and a pot for it so he can heat it up with a little bit of sugar and honey for you.

As he stirs the milk on the small fire, you look more interestedly down at everything on the counter. Your tired gaze flicks over to the grey-haired man and you ask, “What are you working on so late, ‘Samu?”

He freezes in his stirring, and he starts to look over his shoulder as his lip slightly curls down. Osamu moves fluidly to blow out the fire and pour your milk into a cup as he grumbles out, “Y/n, if I can master this recipe, they might just promote me. I might be able to actually cook for people.”

You shuffle and lean your back against the counter as he hands you your mug, and your eyes watch him as you bring the mug up to your lips. You take a sip while keeping eye contact with him, and when you pull away from the cup, you shrug your shoulders.

“Let me handle the promotion. I know how talented you are, and I can convince everyone else that you are more of an asset than you are a hindrance,” you say as he begins working on his recipe again.

He sighs as he mixes his icing, pulling the whisk up to see a slightly too runny mixture. Blue eyes glance at you as he says, “Please don’t tell anyone what I’m doing. If someone finds me in here they might kick me out of the palace.”

You give him your promise that night, and the following morning you go straight to the head chef, requesting for Osamu to be your personal chef.

Osamu is shocked when he is told that he needs to move his equipment to the smaller and more personal kitchen near your quarters. He was told to be there so that he could “wait on you at all hours of the day.”

This ends up being a great setup for the two of you, Osamu gets to cook for you, and whenever you are craving something in particular, he’s right there to prepare it for you.

It’s also a huge bonus that the man you’ve developed a crush on is near you all the time, and you start spending more and more time with him as the months roll by.

Right now, Osamu had the great idea of showing you how to make a simple white cake and icing. He had looked at you and said, “Now, princess, what kind of queen would you be if you can’t even make a white cake?”

This started up your fiery competitiveness, so here you were, donned in your own apron and watching Osamu as he explains how to measure out cups of flour.

“This scoop holds two cups because it’s the kitchen’s measuring cup, usually measuring cups only hold a single cup, but we make things in bulk here,” Osamu rambles as he hands you the cup, turning over his shoulder to look at the basic recipe.

You nod along, slightly zoning out and just listening to the smooth timbre of the grey-haired man’s voice. Osamu turns back to you and states, “Alright, so go ahead and measure out 5 cups of flour.”

You nod as you go to open the bag of cake flour, reaching up onto your tiptoes as you fight with the large bag of white powder. You strain against it for a moment, and as Osamu reaches forward to offer you his help, the bag rips open, making white powder explode into the air.

You wave your hand to try to get the flour out of your face, coughing a few times as you rub at your eyes, and when you peek one (colored) eye open, you can’t help but burst into laughter.

Osamu’s face is completely coated in the white cake flour, his blue eyes wide in shock as his mouth moves to hang open. He starts to spit and cough as the flour gets in his mouth, causing you to giggle and chuckle even more as you take in his flour-coated face and chest.

Osamu’s face pulls into a playful frown when he realizes that you’re unscathed by the attack of the cake flour, and in a swift movement, dips his fingers into the white powder and flings it at you.

You squeal and scream in shock as you squint against the plume, and you brace yourself against the closest thing, which ends up being a bowl of icing.

With a sly grin, you swipe your fingers through the white icing, smearing it across Osamu’s cheek and mouth with a sharp laugh. Osamu flinches in shock at the feeling of the icing on his face, and he grabs your wrists before you can do any more damage.

His hips pin you against the counter, with your back digging into the granite countertop. Giggles are still falling from your lips as Osamu holds your wrists next to your head. He’s chuckling along with you, but when you open your eyes you are met with his darkened gaze and smirk.

The two of you are in close proximity at this point, and you are both catching your breath from laughing. Osamu’s eyes flick around your face for a second before lingering on your lips for a long moment.

You look up at the flour-covered man in front of you, your mouth still slightly parted as you catch your breath, and you find yourself looking at the icing hanging on his lips.

In a brave movement, you tilt your head and reach up onto your toes again, this time placing a soft kiss onto Osamu’s lips. His eyes fly wide open in surprise before they close and he kisses you back.

He tastes sweet, just like the icing on his lips, and you hum as you swipe your tongue against his bottom lip playfully. Osamu pulls away quickly as his eyes dart side to side before locking on yours.

“We’re gonna get caught,” he whispers, taking in the look of your pouty lips and flour-covered cheeks. You go to apologize for your bold move, looking down towards your feet you begin, “Look I-”

A sticky substance being mushed against your cheek has a gasp falling from your lips, and you immediately pull your eyes up to be met with the cheeky smile of Osamu, whose fingers are also covered in icing.

Your jaw drops in mock offense as you gasp out, “Osamu! That was such a dirty move, I’m going to get you back!”

Osamu just laughs as he releases his grip on you, scurrying to the other side of the kitchen to flee. You lunge forward, grabbing a handful of flour with a war cry as you chase him down, running around the kitchen in pursuit.

The door to the kitchen swings open and both you and Osamu instantaneously freeze as you toss the flour at him, eyes wide in horror as you are met face to face with Duke Kita Shinsuke.

The black and white-haired man just looks at the two of you with a bored expression and states, “I’m looking for the birdseed, I didn’t find it out in the gardening shed where it usually is.”

Osamu drops his hands to his sides and bows as he stutters out, “Y-yes, Duke Kita, the birdseed is in that closet over there.” At the end of his words, he points to a small closet near the door, and fights down the embarrassed flush on his cheeks as you walk over to his side, trying to stifle giggles and a smile.

Kita nods at the two of you, and the room fills with a harsh silence as the duke walks over to the closet, grabbing the bag of birdseed, and moves back to the door from which he came.

He smiles over his shoulder as he says softly, “Young love, I see. You might want to be a little quieter in your fighting, I heard you both from down the hallway.”

Kita stops at the door, shifting the bag of birdseed to his hip before he chuckles out, “You might also want to get the icing off of each other’s faces.”

Kita’s words make both of you flush as the duke leaves the kitchen, firmly securing the door behind him. The two of you turn to each other in embarrassment before bursting into laughter again, clinging to each other while giggles and chuckles fill the intense silence.

After a few moments, Osamu nods back to the mess of a kitchen and says, “How about I clean this for a while, and you go get fixed up? I’ll start dinner once I clean up our mess.”

You nod and start to pull away from the chef, but you are quickly tugged back into his arms. You are met with Osamu’s broad chest before you lift your (colored) eyes to lock onto his own deep blue ones.

Osamu hums as he brushes a piece of flour-coated hair out of your face with a small, closed-lip smile. He leans down, firmly planting his lips against your own in a real kiss, his mouth moving against your own in a perfectly slow rhythm.

He seems to pull away too soon, but you don’t have time to complain when he presses a quick peck against your lips before whispering, “Dinner will be extra special tonight, princess.”

You brush your lips against the corner of his mouth as you murmur back, “I can’t wait.”

Tags: @callmepromise @vs-redemption

#sea.recs

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cata-linaa · 3 years

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trespassing with sakusa kiyoomi, a drabble

synopsis: reader takes a rich!sakusa to stargaze in the middle of nowhere. empty threats and a good amount of swearing. reader reads his palms as an excuse to hold his hand. mutual pining but both you and sakusa are too dumb to notice. friends to almost lovers. takes place in their last year of high school!

"i'm pretty sure we passed a sign that said 'no trespassing'. did that sign say 'no trespassing'? i think we're trespassing." sakusa grips the plastic handle of the car, nausea swelling in his abdomen. the headlights illuminate less than ten feet ahead of the vehicle, and sakusa wonders how the hell you can see, let alone drive.

"do you ever shut up?" the car jostles again, having long strayed from the main road, driving over bumpy patches of dirt, "when have i ever led you astray, hmm?"

"all the time. you've screwed me over more times than i can count."

"exactly. you should be used to it by now."

he sighs loudly, "if anything touches me, you're dead."

"how will you get home then? idiot."

"i'll just call myself an uber."

"with what signal?"

"fuck you. i'll drive back and leave you out here to rot."

"big talk for someone who doesn't even have a driver's license."

he scoffs at that, pouting obnoxiously.

sakusa kiyoomi, the bane of your existence and the biggest crush you've ever had. born into one of the wealthiest families in tokyo, he was blessed with all the luxuries life could offer. which is exactly why you hate him.

well, used to hate him.

"oh, lighten up, would you?" you reach to your side to unbuckle your seatbelt, "look we're already here." easing your foot on the break, you put the car in park, yanking the emergency brake with such vigor it makes kiyoomi flinch.

snapping his head towards you, kiyoomi looks at you expectantly, not a single thought swimming behind those big brown eyes. the thought makes you snort.

"what are you laughing at?" he demands, a flicker of bashfulness ignites in the pit of his stomach, "and why the hell did we stop? where even are we?"

the car stops in an empty stretch of land, surrounded by high trees.

shaking your head in amusement, you tug the keys from the ignition, the rumbling of the engine comes to a halt. the sudden silence makes sakusa draw a breath, feeling his heartbeat thrum against his sternum.

"we're nowhere, ki. c'mon."

"c'mon? y/n, c'mon where?" he sputters as you open the drivers door, your old truck creaking at the movement, "y/n, you'll let the bugs in! y/n, i don't think--"

the car door slams.

sighing to himself, he finds the courage to open the door, sliding out from the seat and shivering at the change in temperature.

shutting the old door, he hears a particularly loud creak and feels the truck wobble at the impact. a beam of light hits him right in the face. he winces.

"ouch."

"shut up and come sit."

making his way to the back of your truck, he hoists himself up, legs dangling awkwardly, blades of grass tickling his ankles.

one month.

it took you one month to see the real sakusa kiyoomi. at one point, you did hate him. he was cold and arrogant; acting as if he were unable to care for anyone outside of himself, as if it were a burden to form and maintain friendships.

but you know that's not true.

sakusa kiyoomi, by all accounts, was just lonely.

his parents, thinking they were preparing their child for the world, had actually been sheltering him. he was bad at making friends simply because he never learned how. embarrassed at his shortcomings, he puts up a wall.

it's better to be unapproachable altogether than to humiliate himself in a social setting.

"this... this feels nice," he breaks the silence. mother nature sends a gentle breeze that rustles his hair playfully. smiling softly, he drops his gaze to his feet, "thank you."

it feels more like a prayer than an acknowledgement.

you, however, didn't come from money. your mom stays at home and your dad works monday through saturday as a mechanic. you studied your ass off to get into itachiyama, even earning a scholarship to pay your way through the prestigious school. it's admirable, your work ethic. you never complain, you never whine about your life, or treat yourself like some charity case.

sakusa tried to buy you new shoes once, and you nearly beat his ass in fury.

everything you've achieved, you've worked at it with your bare hands. the world, despite it's horrors and atrocities, was your playground. he guesses that's why you're so empathetic. hardship breeds a special kind of sympathy.

"the pleiades."

"hmm?" peaking his attention, he looks at you in curiosity, only to find you've leaned back on your palms, chin angled towards the sky.

the starlight offers a unique brilliance that brings out the highlights of your face. the thought of kissing you flashes through his mind, and he blushes at the thought. his fingers ache to touch you, his palms sweaty.

"the pleiades, but they're better known as the seven sisters," your index finger now points to the sky, "this time of year, they're super visible."

"the seven sisters..." he mumbles to himself, eyes following the direction of your finger, "i... i only see six."

"that's because the naked eye can only see six. if you had a telescope or binoculars, you could see more."

suddenly feeling small, he persists, "why is it called 'the seven sisters' then? did the last sister do something bad?"

you feel yourself smiling at his interest. averting your gaze from the night sky, your eyes turn to look for him, only to find he's already staring.

"inquisitive today, are we?"

"shut up," his foot kicks yours in reprimand, "you can't just give me a half-assed story and leave me hanging. what did she do?"

taking a deep breath, your eyes turn to the stars once again.

"she fell in love," when he doesn't respond, you continue, "the last sister, merope, the one you can't see, decided to follow her heart and marry a mortal man. her family doesn't respect her for it; they are a family of god and goddesses, after all. that's why they hide her. they're ashamed."

"who's her husband?"

"a nobody. a simpleton. he's a man cursed by zeus himself."

"cursed?"

"yep. he's cursed to work for the rest of his life, burdened by the task of physical labor."

"...that's it?"

"that's it."

"that story was fucking sad," you laugh at the obvious statement. he smiles, "but it's not all bad, i suppose."

"it's not?" you question. the situation was pretty fucking bleak.

"i mean," he shrugs, "at least they have each other. that's really all that matters."

"careful, ki," you tease, "your emotions are showing."

"whatever," he grumbles, removing his jacket and balling it up, only to use it as a pillow when he decides to lay back fully, inviting you to follow suit.

"i don't have a jacket."

"so?"

"so i don't want to lay my head on the back of this old ass truck."

extending an arm out to his side, his eyes plead with you.

"lay with me. please."

scooting back to match the height of his arm, you snuggle into his side, head resting on his bicep. you choose not to tell him you can feel his heart beating.

"i—" he swallows the lump in his throat, a bit flustered at your proximity, "—i want to play volleyball."

"what, like right now?"

"no, idiot," he breaths out a laugh, "professionally. i want to play volleyball as my job. i'm pretty damn good at it."

he had only joined the team because his parents demanded he be part of a club. it started as a pain in the ass, but over time kiyoomi fell in love with the sport. nobody on the team expected it really, but sakusa managed to catch up to the skill levels of players who had been playing since middle school. he had a natural-born talent; the kid was truly gifted.

but you'd rather die than tell him that.

"you're alright at best," you lie. eyes now adjusted to the dark, he can see the gleam of mischief in your eye, "give me your hand."

uneasiness radiates off of him, "why? what are you going to do with it?" he stretches his hand to you anyways. in this position, you can feel his soft breaths fan your face, noses almost touching. he smells like spearmint.

"ooo—" your eyes brighten, pleased at something kiyoomi is yet to understand, "this line," smooth fingers trace his palm, "this line is called a sun line."

"what does it do?"

"it's not about what it does, it's about what it means."

"which is?" you feel his eyes on you. not trusting your heart, you opt not to meet his gaze.

"a long sun line, from the heart line to the head line, indicates fame and luck during the teenage years to late thirties."

amused at his fortune, he presses further, "what else does my hand say?"

"mm," your fingers continue to trace his callused hands, applying a slight pressure to the center of his palm, "your heart line is short, but very pronounced."

"and what does that mean?"

"it means you don't fall in love frequently, but when you do, you love hard. it's highly unlikely that you'll have many romantic partners because you'll pour everything into loving that one person."

he smiles, his fingers catching your own, locking your hand against his.

"i have something to tell you."

rolling your eyes, you respond, "what, ki?"

"promise you won't be mad?"

"i can't promise that if i don't know what you're going to tell me."

"i don't care. promise me or i'm not telling you shit."

"you're a dick," you laugh, "fine, i promise i won't be mad."

"okay," you feel his pulse quicken, "my family is going to pay for your college tuition."

"what college tuition? i'm going to a community college, so i'll only have to pay for my textbooks and stuff."

"that's not what i meant and you know it. i'm talking about the other school."

jaw dropping, your body snaps up to an upright position, "what the fuck!" you slap his shoulder, "what the fuck, kiyoomi! how did you even know about that!"

slowing sitting up, he scratches the back of your neck, "yeah, uh—" he was expecting this kind of reaction, but still didn't know how to handle it, "—your mom tried to hide the acceptance letter the last time i came over for dinner. she didn't do a very good job."

overwhelmed by his actions, your eyes water involuntarily, "why would you do that? we don't— i don't— why, kiyoomi? it's a private school, it's a lot of money!"

because you've helped me in ways you don't even know. because you've made me a better man. because i have no other way of showing you my gratitude. because you deserve it.

because i'm in love with you.

"because it's a great school," he searches for answer that won't make him sound like an asshole, "finances shouldn't stop you from chasing your dreams." a nervous grin breaks out across his face, the tips of his ears turning red.

"kiyoomi, i—i don't know what to say—"

"oh, uh," starts again, raising a shy finger, "one more thing."

"oh god, what? what else have you done?"

"the college you're going to, it's kinda—"

"kiyoomi."

"we applied at the same time and—"

"spit it out."

"i got accepted, too. i'll be playing for their volleyball team in the fall."

you nearly black out from his admission, "i—i can't believe you," you sniffle through intense emotion, "i don't even know what to do with myself right now. i'm so proud of you, ki!"

sakusa watches you ramble, eyes still misty from the good news he just shared. he has half the mind to pull you in his lap to kiss you breathless, but he decides he doesn't want to take advantage of the positive emotions you're feeling right now. he'll keep waiting until the time is right, until you're ready to accept his affections.

so no, that night, he doesn't kiss you the way he's dreamt about a million times, but when you finally settle down, he's lucky enough to hold you in his arms for the second time that night, rubbing comforting circles in your back.

he'd rather have this piece of you, instead of nothing at all.

he sighs dreamily.

#sea.recs

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cata-linaa · 3 years

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[COMING SOON:]

From cata-linaa studios, comes a first, a multi-chapter apology for being away for so long!

Main Cast Includes: Daichi Sawamura, You, and a surprise guest

Summary: A lot can happen in half a year, especially with someone you’d never thought you would cross paths with. (I don’t want to give too much away)

Warnings: So far? Not really, probably like language or sum

Genre: All over the place, nothing explicit

Taglist?: If you’re interested

Chapter One: April

Chapter Two:

....

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst #daichi x reader #haikyuu daichi #daichi sawamura #daichi fluff #hq daichi #daichi sawamura x reader #haikyuu x y/n

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cata-linaa · 3 years

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yuh-505 → cata-linaa

#sea.talks #i just didn’t like the old one much

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cata-linaa · 3 years

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Hey it is me again! The anon from Germany! I wanted to tell you how happy your match up made me. I really liked your writing, thank you for your time 🤍

Keep up the great work, I think if you get motivated for writing more, you'll get even better! Lot's of love, have a great day/night.

hey, i'm really glad you liked it, and now that school is over and i fixed my laptop, i hope to really get into it this summer!

#sea.talks #i keep doing this and i apologize

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cata-linaa · 3 years

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i wish everyone a good night except for that one person who made that kyoya favorite crime edit on tiktok, you’ve devastated me and i haven’t watched that show in years

#sea.talks #sorry i haven’t been around #ouran hshc #kyoya ootori #ouran #my laptop just got fixed so i hope i can post for real #i can talk about how tragic his character is for an hour

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cata-linaa · 3 years

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Hello, how are you? Okay, well not gonna lie it's my first time requesting anything, so I would like to request a match-up. If possible. :) If I have any mistakes you are more than welcome to correct me or tell me to do it again.

I am 20 years old, female and from Germany. I study medicine, am in the 2nd year. I can speak five languages and am currently learning Icelandic - I don't know why to be all honest- and love to read and draw in my free time. I am also in a MMA club, it's my fourth year now -it's a miracle that I'm still alive, hahaha- and I've played football for seven years. Because of the pandemic we are not allowed to participate in any sports, so I'm rather at home and studying. I also love volleyball, not gonna lie, I've watched HQ because of it. I never played volleyball professionally but I would like to. The adrenaline when I play with some friends is indescribable! To my personality, well I am really "direct", if something doesn't add up in my mind I would not hesitate to tell my opinion. I am a really good listener and give amazing advices, in my 20 years I've been through a lot, my mind is like a 70 year old person's. Due some traumatic experiences, I've developed depression and its best friend anxiety. Even though I have the feeling that I have no friends -which I have but, I don't know how to explain, it's more like you try to keep the friendship up, ya know?- I have depression and anxiety right next to me as my friends, they come and go to check up on me can't deny their effort for that. Damn, I wrote a lot. However, to the last things, I have brown hair and hazel-green eyes. If you want to know anything else -which I don't think- Hahaha.

I wish you a nice day! ❤

hello hello! sorry this is so late, my life is VERY funny, and by funny i mean I’m a piñata, and life is a blindfolded child with their older sibling’s metal baseball bat. But i’m hopefully going back to my semi-sporadic schedule, maybe posting once every week or two, or if i’m feeling extra inspire-y i’ll do more :)

yo anon you’re legitimately one of the coolest people ever from this description alone my smoker lungs could never do sports tf i’m jealous-

anyways, are you ready…. to…..RUMBLLLLLLLEEEEE?!!!

i match you with…

HAJIME IWAIZUMI (27) ATHLETIC TRAINER (woooooo!!)

Lucky lucky you!!! (this got very long I got carried away-)

Listen, I can already TELL this one is gonna be a good one

You’re a polyglot? He could listen to you speak all day, he would even try to help you learn another language with flash cards, even if he has no idea, you’re you, it’s important!

He can’t draw, but he sits at the kitchen table with you nevertheless, and has some fancy art paper and materials for you (because you deserve it) and some 8x11 printer paper and a 12 pack of colored pencils he purchased form the local corner store. He often wants to draw you, the warped ms paint-looking drawings are quite charming, and you find yourself keeping them in your bag, or on your desk.

You in turn, give him a portrait you drew over the course of a while to him as a part of a birthday gift, and he brings it wherever his job takes him, pressed neatly in a clipboard or notebook, he sometimes brushes his fingers over the lines drawn by you as if it was strands of your hair

Imagine this real quick: medicine??? Being an athletic trainer??? those studies are kind of similar, so y’all would meet in class hypothetically in the weird idea bank that is my head

Iwa is a complete sucker for interesting features in someone, green eyes? He will melt, and thinks about your eyes and how they light up when you smile, when you look at him he genuinely loses his train of thought and starts to lose his cool and stutter a little bit, oikawa teases him a lot about it, you two are close and

it’s a match made in hell when you two go party together, and you guys have to get Iwa to come pick you guys up (i feel like every writer on here has made a post about this very scenario, its just canon at this point)

When you had your football games, (idk what position you play but i hope you mean the soccer kind of football bc thats what i’m imagining) he’s always at the edge of his seat on the side of the field, if you score a goal/block a goal he stands up and he’s cheering for you, or even better, when you look at him, he has the most supportive look In his eyes, and smiles at you, and shit, the other team knows they can’t stand a chance now.

When you’re doing MMA, he finds that SO HOT PLS-

Forbid if you ever get hurt while doing sports, he will run to your sides where he is watching you and make sure everything is okay, because he can’t have someone else go through that, not on his watch ouch lmao sorry

you two often play sports together in the park or something, maybe a morning run or two to keep yourselves active during the pandemic (can you tell i’ve barely ever even thought about athletics i’m so sorry)

You guys definitely have one of those friend groups where you do shit like climb a mountain or do a bootcamp for fun and post it on social media

The two of you look GOOD in athleticwear together.

strong people are his absolute weakness, both physical and mentally

When he sees you caught up in a rant, even if its about something serious, a part of him smiles, since that passionate energy is what attracted him to you in the first place

when you told oikawa that he looked ugly in the outfit he picked out, Iwa laughed so hard he couldn’t fucking BREATHE for like ten minutes

On a more serious note, when you’re not feeling your best, he stops everything to make you feel better. One call and he could be on the next car ride, bus, train, or flight home, ready to tell you that you are loved and valid. Everyone loves your presence, he reminds you, and if your’e comfortable with it, he invites oikawa and the rest of your friend group for a self-care/movie night, just to show you just how much everyone wants to be around and how they and him will just show up to you, no matter what.

He’s your safe space, and wants to spend every part of his life with the thing that matters most- you.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #sea.matches #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #iwa chan #iwaizumi #hajime iwaizumi #iwaizumi fluff #iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuuu matchup #hq iwaizumi #hq #iwaizumi x y/n

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