peachysamu

[peachysamu]

i like to think that ushijima’s favorite past time is being right beside you. when he’s free and has no other obligations, he simply abides by your schedule. if you’re cramming for an exam and obviously, being a volleyball player, he does not have to, he’ll still be right next to you working on a puzzle or reading a book. or if it takes you two hours to get ready, ushijima lengthens his routine to match yours. man just like to do things with you. doesn’t matter what.

#reins.rambling #haikyuu!! #ushijima wakatoshi #i love him v much #in my head he literally treats me like a princess #dotes on me bc he wants to not bc i ask

[peachysamu]

“I love you.”

You say it for the first time and you expect a reaction like from the movies. You expect an utter speechlessness and unbridled joy overcoming his face, but Ushijima just stares.

It has you second guessing at first. Had you imagined all those moments? He’d only routinely call you before bed to wish you good night if he loved you. You’d colored every action of his through love-laden eyes and at one point, it all made sense — the days spent warm, engulfed in his embrace, his palms, and honeyed words.

But looking up at him now, his grip on your hands only tightens and his lips purse. He’s statuesque and it looks nothing of the movies.

Your heart shrivels from this new frost and the a/c running in the cafe you’re in becomes apparent with the gooseflesh running across your arms.

Ushijima stares down at you with that piercing gaze. You’ve seen it before, a focused look he constantly wears. He’s always focused, just a man who does what he wants. It’s an expression you’ve grown fond of, proof of his passion, but now, it makes you feel minuscule.

“I love you.”

His tone sounds so obvious you only pull away in shock but Ushijima’s steadfast vice holds onto you. The resistance grounds you and then, in a moment of clarity, you giggle. The warmth finally enters your lungs once again and your heart revives.

You’ve almost forgotten the man you’ve fallen in love with.

Ushijima pulls you in closer and tucks your head into his chest while placing a large palm to coddle the back of your head.

“I’ve been wanting to say that for a while now. I was just waiting for the right moment.” His voice rumbles into your ear and vibrates down your body as a tingling sensation inspired by his speak and the intentions of his words run through you.

Yes, for a split second, you’d forgotten. Because Ushijima is a sure man. Loving you has been obvious since the second month of dating you when you offered him a glass of water in the midst of you two reading in bed. It feels the same as the first moment he bumped a volleyball across his arms. Apparent, natural, and regardless of the amount of effort it takes, it still feels easy.

He perches his hand at the back of your neck and encourages you to look up. He’s got that same, sharp gaze. The one that means he’s focused and finally, you read the signs right.

Ushijima is focused on loving you.

#y’all really went and put my first fic i ever posted back in my notifs #making me sentimental and not wanting to end peachysamu #i love ushijima

[peachysamu]

his whole life was dictated by volleyball at one point. wake at 6 and go for a run. practice at 8. could you imagine the loneliness atsumu would feel when he’d jolt at his alarm, prep for his run, and get irritated bc osamu didn’t wake up only for him to realize that… he doesn’t have to?

and then the emptiness that osamu would feel when he wakes an hour later and atsumu’s not there. that he’s not with him out of breath and racing after each other.

i always forget how good osamu was at volleyball and now my heart hurts bc my man really did that. he left his favorite sport and his other half behind to follow his dreams. i’m so proud of him

#reins.rambling #i’m in my feels #he’s my comfort man #and ya girl needs a lot of comfort rn bc her exam is in less than 24 hours and she does not feel ready

[peachysamu]

i always forget how good osamu was at volleyball and now my heart hurts bc my man really did that. he left his favorite sport and his other half behind to follow his dreams. i’m so proud of him

#reins.rambling #just me simping while i study

[peachysamu]

i have a crack thought where when osamu hears wind that a former volleyball player is now living abroad, he will show up unwittingly at their door and ask them if he can crash on their couch.

knocks on Tendo’s door like, “hey! Shiratorizawa middle blocker. Miya Osamu from Inarizaki. i’ll be in paris for a week so can i crash on your couch?“

slides past him when the door opens slightly wider and sets his stuff on the coffee table, “wanna have breakfast together tomorrow? there’s this place nearby i wanna try.”

#reins.rambling #idk where but that panel when the twins ask tanaka if they’re besties bc they found our saeko was his sister? #yeah. does this to kageyama and ushijima and hinata #i watched a compilation of the twins this morning and i legitimately had to contain myself from rewatching after #seeing that once scene where osamu says that atsumu loves volleyball just a smidge more #the angst potential of unrequited love?? #but i have four exams so i have no time! #anyways he’s dumb i want him

[peachysamu]

iwa would definitely crack your back for you if you asked. no actually, he’d offer, especially when you first start talking just for an excuse to hug you so close.

#reins.rambling #haikyuu!! #iwaizumi hajime #i am once again pushing the agenda that my husband is a true iwaizumi kin #he was even an assistant for a physical therapist at one point

[peachysamu]

when osamu answers, he’s tense. a quick, short, hey, feeds into the line, but even so, even if you’re the one who walked out on him, he’s always held out his promise to be there for you. he may have let the phone go off an extra two rings just out of spite and he may have disregarded his usual salutations of affection, but he answered. he’s there.

“hey.” you reply back, equally confrontational because the tension hasn’t dissolved yet but it has softened. rather than jagged edges, it smooths into a silent pressure that nags at your chest.

“yeah?”

you don’t know what to say. you’re mad. but you’re in love. you’re scared. but you’re in love. you’ve been taught that life is fleeting, that beauty is found in temporary. euphoria and grief will pass and you will be okay.

no one had told you that love is constant. no one had prepared you for the realization that love exists in an infinite plane that transcends between contradiction and similarity. loving is like inheriting a new skin. it sticks to every crevice of your body.

“hey.” this one is more tender, softened too in concern. it’s like he’s trying to reach in between the distance you both have placed between yourselves. you take it.

“i’m not saying sorry because i’m still mad at you.” you preface.

“for fuck’s sake—“

“but i just wanted to call to tell you i love you.”

he inhales like you’re saying it for the first time but it only takes a second for him to gather himself back together. “i love ya too.”

and with his admission, you feel yourself liquify in your seat as you wait for the light to turn green. it’s silent on the line as you two absorb the events that have occurred in the last couple of minutes because the last couple of hours seem negligent now. whatever you were fighting about, whatever it was that made him scream and made you walk out, seem trivial when it comes to this.

“i passed by an accident.” you tell him, gripping the wheel firmly as you make a left turn. “and i had to tell you i love you.”

“okay,” he accepts. “drive safe. call me when you’re done driving so i know you’re okay.”

“okay.”

there is no tension through the phone. love persists.

#q’d #icymi

[peachysamu]

A/n: im sobbing while I write my vows so here’s an outlet and maybe a couple phrases of what ill be telling my own irl iwa in a few weeks. crying

“I remember when—“ and you can’t help but smile at the way his fingers tremble in yours. He’s the pinnacle of strength and has got the core muscles to balance himself among your tumultuous storm. Rigid in form he may be, (some people like Oikawa might even say he’s a little too stiff) he shows you vulnerability within your touch, only something for you to hold, something to call your own.

He tsks at the beam you display but his pout only smoothes into an unwilling bite of a smile. There’s adoration in his eyes and you’re unaware of how much time passes as you share this moment until he nods his head and urges you to continue forward. It’s easy to forget that the light and the attention are on you when his eyes focus on yours.

But you shake your head. The show must go on. “I remember when I met your mom for the first time. Back when we first started dating and you were a nervous and sweaty mess.”

A shut up from Iwaizumi drowns out from the laughter that surrounds you. “And your mom had told me the meaning of your name. Beginning.”

It was a story of love and you never knew, that at that moment, you and his mother shared a love so deep that you failed to comprehend it until months later. Iwaizumi’s parents faced a fruitless endeavor for years, struggling to stay on track with the plan of having children two years after marriage. Iwaizumi came ten years later, a miracle, a gift, a new beginning. You’ll never forget the love in her eyes as she shared the tale, looking longingly at the son who talks happily with his father in the kitchen. And she’ll never forget the way your eyes followed and held the same exact weight that she had beared since he was born.

“And in that moment, I don’t know.” The rush of your own nostalgia renders you speechless for just a moment. Iwaizumi’s grip on your hands tighten as if trying to remind you that he’s here and that he always will be. “I just remember thinking, there is no way you could have ever been more perfectly named. I think I truly fell in love with you then and there.”

You laugh at the sudden realization. You’ve known you’ve loved him for a while, but in that moment, love feels like it has manifested into a physical form. It is him right before your eyes. It is the heaviness in your gut, and the clench of your throat. It is the tears that make the journey from your eyes, down your chin, and splatter against your heart. It is laughter in spite of crying. It is anguish that someone has the capacity to coax all these emotions out of you and euphoria that you are loved and one of the lucky ones.

“I thought, ‘Yeah, you’re right. He’s my beginning too.’” The tremble is back in your hands but you can no longer differentiate whether it is his or yours that shakes. “And you remind me every time we fight, but refuse to go to bed angry. And every time we’d talk on the phone while we were long distance and you struggled to say goodbye. And when you plug in my phone after I’ve forgotten and fallen asleep. You are the beginning of love. You are the rest of my life.”

With Hajime who means beginnings, you know there is no end in sight.

#gray i’m sobbing in the tags :( #you put this back in my notifs and im… i can’t believe i’ve been married for two months now #thank you for reading and letting me share about my relationship

[peachysamu]

when osamu answers, he’s tense. a quick, short, hey, feeds into the line, but even so, even if you’re the one who walked out on him, he’s always held out his promise to be there for you. he may have let the phone go off an extra two rings just out of spite and he may have disregarded his usual salutations of affection, but he answered. he’s there.

“hey.” you reply back, equally confrontational because the tension hasn’t dissolved yet but it has softened. rather than jagged edges, it smooths into a silent pressure that nags at your chest.

“yeah?”

you don’t know what to say. you’re mad. but you’re in love. you’re scared. but you’re in love. you’ve been taught that life is fleeting, that beauty is found in temporary. euphoria and grief will pass and you will be okay.

no one had told you that love is constant. no one had prepared you for the realization that love exists in an infinite plane that transcends between contradiction and similarity. loving is like inheriting a new skin. it sticks to every crevice of your body.

“hey.” this one is more tender, softened too in concern. it’s like he’s trying to reach in between the distance you both have placed between yourselves. you take it.

“i’m not saying sorry because i’m still mad at you.” you preface.

“for fuck’s sake—“

“but i just wanted to call to tell you i love you.”

he inhales like you’re saying it for the first time but it only takes a second for him to gather himself back together. “i love ya too.”

and with his admission, you feel yourself liquify in your seat as you wait for the light to turn green. it’s silent on the line as you two absorb the events that have occurred in the last couple of minutes because the last couple of hours seem negligent now. whatever you were fighting about, whatever it was that made him scream and made you walk out, seem trivial when it comes to this.

“i passed by an accident.” you tell him, gripping the wheel firmly as you make a left turn. “and i had to tell you i love you.”

“okay,” he accepts. “drive safe. call me when you’re done driving so i know you’re okay.”

“okay.”

there is no tension through the phone. love persists.

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu angst #i needed to write this because… idk…

[peachysamu]

iwaizumi gifts makki an apple watch for christmas one year and makki thinks it’s such a nice and thoughtful gift. he downloads the app and adds his friends. it’s all fine and dandy until he gets a text from iwa one day that says get your ass off the couch and do something, makki. then he never wears it ever again.

#reins.rambling #haikyuu!! #iwaizumi hajime #bruh i just know he’s 10k steps in before noon #i can’t handle that bro #the man is literally living his best life #iwa please just let him i’m jealous

[peachysamu]

Tupperwares That Intermingle

Summary: you go over to Iwaizumi’s house with one tupperware only to be sent home with two.

Word count: 1.7k

Genre: fluff; pining; love found in food (it’s me. what do you expect?)

A/n: me reposting bc tags :/ and bc i really thought i forgot how to write fluff but all it takes is time skip iwa to get my heart going again.

you gather a deep breath, tote digging into your shoulder as your chest expanded before exhaling it all out and hunching over a bit. it’s no big deal, just a simple dinner at a friend’s house. it’s not even a date. he asked you if you wanted to have dinner and you’ve had many of those before. granted, dinner was usually a party that consisted of three or more people including your mutual friends. it was never just him and you and as much as you enjoy his company and believe him to be a fascinating meal partner, for some reason, you can’t even prepare a conversation to talk about besides weather and the latest update on the PlayStation 5 software.

(you only know this because you woke up to a notification from Apple News this morning. hopefully this dinner isn’t as dry as your phone is.)

“you got this.” you try and convince yourself. “it’s just eating. you do it all the time.”

you mimic the action in front of you with your hands as if you were an extra in the background of a restaurant scene of a theater play.

“just shovel, then nom. shovel then—“ Iwaizumi opens the door and his untimely presence finds you whispering to yourself and eating a mouthful of air. a sexy brow quirks with his lip.

he smirks down at you, obviously amused. his bicep hits his door frame as he leans against it with crossed arms and now you’re hoping he’s serving fondue so you can melt into the pot along with it. you want to sink to the bottom so no one can ever find you in the viscous, yellow abyss. maybe you’ll be left unstirred and then you’re nothing but burnt cheese too stubborn to be scrubbed off. it’s a better fate than this.

“i didn’t mean to bother you. go on.” he teases. he nods his head for you to continue. “i’m very interested.”

you fluster. if not at his words, then simply at his physique because even until now, you can’t get over the fact that you actually know a man as handsome as him, let alone have dinner with him.

“i was just practicing.” you huff with your hands now gripping your tote just so they have something else to do other than embarrass you.

“practicing.” he repeats with a small pause as he tries to connect the dots between your words and actions. “eating?”

“yes, practicing. i have a tendency to forget how to do things when i’m nervous. anyways,” you try and deflect by taking a step forward. iwaizumi stands his ground and just the overbearing presence of him, his cologne, the sound of his quiet huff that might signify a laugh, has you quickly retreating and taking the one step back. “are you going to let me in?”

his eyes widen a bit before a tanned hand shuffles behind his neck in what looks to be an expression of embarrassment.

“oh right,” he chuckles his way through, “sorry, i guess i should have practiced opening the door too.”

you bite your lip as you scuttle past him with your head tucked into your chest. if you acknowledge what he means, pry even further, any answer he might give you, good or bad, would have the capacity to make you faint and truly, it really is a wonder how you’re even alive right now, alone in iwaizumi’s kitchen with the man himself.

although you’ve welcomed yourself to his home many, many times, it feels different. you’re nervous. you’ve always looked at his place as the setting for a night of social hour, but this time, as you tread through his hall and into the kitchen, it finally hits you that this is his home. he lives here and suddenly, all the little details he’s decided to display pop out at you.

there’s a photo of a young group of four boys, probably in their late teens outside of a shrine near the entrance. those must be his childhood friends he talks about. the knuckle of your index finger cautiously flits over the dining table and when you go to check, there is no proof of dust. a big tub of protein powder at the top of his fridge and one, lone cactus at the sill of the window near the sink, you start drawing lines, connecting stars, because these little intricacies fill the blank spaces of iwaizumi, the handsome man who can do it all. it brings him closer in a sense and reminds you that he isn’t a caricature. he’s a human being, just like you. mightily attractive, sure, but a human being who looks like he might have overwatered his cactus nonetheless.

“here,” he extends a hand and you have to stop yourself from ogling at the veins that line his forearm. your heart that beats may be weak, but your eyes that linger are definitely weaker. “let me hang up your bag.”

you reach for the contents in the bag before handing it to him with a grateful grin. even his manners are a feat to admire. iwaizumi has always been conscientious. it didn’t matter if anyone was watching. he simply abides by his morals. add that to the already superfluous list of great things about him because he truly is a wonderfully decent guy with even better looks to match.

“i brought back the tupperware you gave me from last time.” you hand the plastic back to him, subtly eyeing it. you may have washed it more than once at home but one final look couldn’t hurt. you’d shrivel up and die if you found out you returned it with grease residue still along the edges. “i cleaned it already.”

“you didn’t have to do that.”

the smile he flashes you almost has you tipping backwards. thank goodness you’re holding onto a barstool of his for support. you make a mental note to keep your alcohol intake low because there is no way you can handle it if he offers. he is too much of a presence without the buffer of your friends.

“of course i did. that’s yours.”

“okay, sure.” he gives out an amused chuckle and then pulls out the chair that you’re holding onto. “come, sit. dinner’s ready and i hope you didn’t forget how to eat.”

of course dinner is wonderful. there has been a permanent smile etched on your lips, sweet, serene, and smitten. you don’t know why you thought there would be nothing to talk about because conversation has been endless chatter. a mix of extraordinary to mundane, you recalled childhood memories and then discussed your quality of sleep from the night before.

“here.” he slides over two plastic containers to you. “leftovers for tomorrow.”

“you’re always making me bring home food.”

he shrugs. “i accidentally made too much.”

“accidentally?” you tease. “i’m pretty sure you’re one of the few people i know who know how to portion their food correctly.”

then with a bass tone to mock him, “by weight. it’s the only way.”

he snorts and turns his face away from you but there’s an inkling of a curve in his lip that makes your heart flutter. “you suck at that.”

“you suck at lying. is this your way of getting me to wash your tupperware for you?” you grab both of them into your hands. “i came with one and now i’m leaving with two.”

“you don’t have to bring them back.” he offers.

“yes i do. they’re yours.”

“no,” he points at the new one, the yellow one in your hands. “that one’s actually yours, remember? from last week? you sent me home with some soup.”

you give the piece of plastic an incredulous look until you realize that it is yours. you had totally forgotten all about it.

“they’re ours. i send you home leftovers and you do the same thing. it’s no big deal.”

no big deal. right.

“alright. fine you win,” you concede. then you hop out of your chair and bring the leftovers to your chest. “i guess we can continue doing this back and forth trade kind of thing.”

you do this shimmy with your shoulders to mimic movements your hand would make if they weren’t full of tomorrow’s next meal. you feel ridiculous.

“my tupperware’s your tupperware and your tupperware is mine.” okay, now you really need to shut up because iwaizumi hasn’t had a word in and all he can do is give you an unsuspecting stare. “anyways, thank you for dinner. and for lunch too, i guess.”

“no problem.”

he walks you out to the door and you turn back to find him leaning against his door frame again. this time, his arms are by his side, a hand tapping nervously against a jeaned thigh, as his gaze focuses on you. it looks like he has something to say, but as the minutes (really it’s seconds, but time ticks by slower when you’re breathless and drowning in his deep green eyes) pass, you decide that it might have been hopeful thinking on your end.

“thanks again.” you repeat only to have something to say.

“no problem.” he reiterates.

“okay, i’ll go now.” then you wave him off and turn around.

“text—“

“text me when you get home.” you finish in that mocking tone of yours. when you turn around, he’s rolling his eyes but the faux irritation is masked by a cheesy grin. “yes, hajime. i will text you when i get home. see ya!”

“goodbye.”

iwaizumi’s hand falls with a hard slap against his thigh. he watches you walk away and when the image of you disappears, he only curses at himself for not having enough courage to ask you to stay and to ask for more.

for now, he guesses he’ll have to settle with leftovers, with plastic containers balmy from residual heat. he hopes that, when you hold it precious to your chest, that it keeps you warm on the cold trek to your car. he wants his love to last from the ride home and through the steps of your door. he hopes it greets you good morning when you open your fridge to make breakfast without him. and after you sate your belly and eat your meal that hopefully resurface fond memories of the night before, he wishes that you’ll see how you make his heart glow iridescent like the suds along your sponge. then maybe you’ll give it back just for him to do it all over again until eventually, he finds the courage to ask you out.

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu #hq!! #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi fluff #i am tempted to rename this #oh and q’d #i am hopefully in a cafe rn enjoying the ambience and working on hw and truly living my best life #q’d

[peachysamu]

failed novelist akaashi who then became a children’s author after his daughter’s continuous requests for his bedtime stories. she eventually brings one of his books to show and tell and akaashi literally has to step outside bc he starts crying

#reins.rambling #haikyuu!! #akaashi keiji #i promise i do NOT have baby fever! #don’t look at me!

[peachysamu]

atsumu is the type of partner who is always bragging about you like you’re in a competition. oh, your s/o always wins uno? he invites them to come over for game night so you can show them what’s good.

#reins.rambling #haikyuu!! #miya atsumu #lots of atsumu thoughts

[peachysamu]

atsumu is also the type of guy who is super clingy and all he wants is to be cuddled next to you. he’s sleeping on osamu’s couch when he’s visiting back home but you have him renting out hotel rooms for weeks on end just so he can share the same bed and play house with you.

#reins.rambling #haikyuu!! #miya atsumu #he’d be attached to your hip if he could

[peachysamu]

Me, caramelizing onions and thinking Osamu would love you just as patiently. Starts off at a gentle but confident heat. Warm enough for you to start wilting at his touch. And he tends to you so carefully. Doesn’t turn his back on you because he knows if he looks away, things burn and turn bitter. He softens you, brings out your sweetness in careful strokes. A long, arduous process but you’re worth it.

#q’d #back on my food/cooking imagery

[peachysamu]

no one tells you you’re old. one day the world shifts. it rotates one too many times and suddenly, you realize that life is no longer full of opportunity, but regret. it’s nostalgia and yearning for a past day rather than looking forward to the next better one.

suna may jokingly call himself a piece of shit, but he’s always considered himself a decent man. this time though, not even his own conscience can save his ass.

“what the fuck were you thinking, rintaro?” you snap at him finally.

he’s not sure. he wasn’t, hasn’t been able to. he can’t remember when he has because if he had been thinking, if he could do this all over again, this car ride would feel different.

there’s a mixture of turmoil the sight of your presence brings, an irrational thought process he goes through that thinks you’re the solution to his problems. but every time he sees you again, he forgets that you’ve always been the source of them too.

you drum your fingers when he doesn’t respond. he can only imagine the tight lip of your disappointed frown, and the swollen eye bags you must carry since he’s decided to bother you in the middle of the night. back then, when you were roommates, when things were all good, homework would be the source of your ire. never him.

so suna closes his eyes and lets his head jostle against the window and presses his cheek against the cold glass to relieve the heat from his skin. he pretends he’s back in college after a long night out. it’s easy enough with your throwback songs wafting out of your stereo in nostalgic reverie. he can smell the wheat liquor on his lips and you smell like bedsheets and home, just like it had always been.

“your pr team is in for some work when they find out about the scene you just caused in the bar,” you grumble out at him. there used to be a hidden fondness within your tone that he would ignore back but this time you make it obvious he’s only an object of your torment.

suna was the one who left you behind. he was the one who moved onto higher things beyond your reach, and somewhere he thought you couldn’t follow. he was a fool.

if he could take it all back, if only he had known that he was lucky enough to meet the best thing that’s ever happened in his life so early, he would have dragged you with him. or he would have never left. he would have simply chosen the path that stayed by your side.

so he hopes, that maybe, time may warp itself and repeats the past.

“please take care of me.” he says, the same exact way he did when he walked through your door and became your roommate.

you sigh. it makes him open his eyes and look up. this is exactly what you did before. he holds his breath, waiting, mouthing the words he hopes you’ll say. suna’s spent months, years, revisiting the memory.

“you’re trouble, aren’t you?”

and though it’s an exasperation, it’s laced in a fondness that he has always hoped would be perpetual and he grins.

you give him a glance before rolling your eyes to stifle a smile, “don’t look at me like that.”

“can’t help it.”

“and get rid of me as your emergency contact.”

“can’t do that.” suna turns his head so you can’t see the beam that rides along his face only to be startled  by his own reflection. it’s been a while since he’s seen himself so happy. “you’re so good at getting me out of my messes.”

the world can rotate once more. he doesn’t care. there are better days to come.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!! #hq!! #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu drabble #haikyuu x reader #suna rintaro #suna rintaro x reader #suna x reader #haikyuu angst #post and go

[peachysamu]

Shame On Me

Summary: Aran is a babysitter for the day and this time, Atsumu comes to the rescue

Genre: fluff

Word count: 1.2k

A/n: it’s part three. Predecessors are Date’s On Me and Rely On Me; quick little thing

Aran the volleyball player. Aran the Olympic athlete. Aran the caretaker of two twins. Aran, the reliable guy with the kind smile and only kinda funny as described by you. He goes by many names, but he’s never been called a football player babysitting a fussy baby.

“I do what now?” He exasperates over the phone pinched to his cheek as he desperately sways back forth while patting the crying infant’s back.

“Football hold,” You repeat once more, as if that’ll get him to understand.

He shushes the girl after a shrill screech before returning, “Football hold. As in hold her like a football.”

“Yes.” You supply mindlessly. Aran knows he’s calling you while you’re busy with your cousin, the mother of the child in his arms right now. You’re shopping for her bridal dress which somehow ended with Aran being an impromptu babysitter. He’s babysat before, but the twins required a different kind of supervision than the one he’s got in his arms. He can break up fights with one swift warning from his chest, but he doesn’t think you or your cousin would be too happy to find out he’d been yelling at your precious niece to shut up.

Aran anxiously chews on the piece of gum in his mouth to distract himself for a moment. You’ve only been gone for an hour. He doesn’t know how much longer he can take. “And what’s that mean? How do I do that?”

“You lay her on your forearm, belly side down.” A swish rustles through the speaker, “Oh my gosh, this one’s so cute, right? Do you love?”

There’s audible excitement in the background.

“Baby, and then what?” Aran asks desperately on the line. “Hello? Baby? Ya hear me?”

“Yes, yes, I do.” You answer in annoyance, “Sorry, we just found another option for a dress. What did you need?”

The frequency of her wriggling increases as she kicks her feet out against his ribs. Dark circles line his shoulder and the more she moves, the more Aran becomes restless himself. He wants nothing but to placate her so then he can squish the chubs of her cheeks while she sleeps because as much as he hates to admit it, she was a lot more bearable that way.

“What do I do after that? After she’s on my forearm?”

“Coddle her face into your palm and then rub her back. She should calm down after that.”

“But what if she doesn’t?” Aran can’t help but be apprehensive. Babies are like insects, unpredictable. “What do I do if she don’t?”

“You’ll be fine, baby. You got this.” You reassure, “I know I can rely on you.”

Way to throw his words back at him. He’s about to say something until you interrupt.

“Oh, I have to go. We’re headed into the fitting room right now. Bye, love you.”

“Bye, love ya,” He mutters. With a groan, Aran sits onto the couch and lifts his head so that his phone may slide down next to him. He eyes the child in his arms, two hands holding her up by the pits. Though one palm is wider than the breadth of her chest, she is squirming in his grip and using every bit of strength in her 5 kilogram body. She hardly weighs more than a volleyball, at least it feels like it.

“Well, it’s just you and me.” He says to her, “Let’s give this a try. I’m gonna hold ya like a football, okay?”

Aran turns her around so that her back faces him. Her legs jut out kicking.

“It’s okay.” He tries to murmur softly. “I ain’t gonna throw ya like one.” Aran chuckles at the thought, “No, that wouldn’t be good. Your mom would kill me.”

He’s able to roll her onto his forearm and extends his palm so that she may rest her head. Her fidgeting eventually stops and the cries turn into soft little babbles that actually make his heart stir.

“There ya go, Princess.” He continues to rub her back. Finally, he can breathe a sigh of relief. He smiles down at her and when she snuggles into his palm, Aran’s jaw unhinges at the sweet sight. “Look at ya, all… oh fuck.”

One second of peace has Aran’s life flashing before his eyes because in your niece's hair, precious little swirls of nutmeg across her head, is a vibrant green wad of gum.

Oh no. His eyes widen as he tries to process what is happening but the panic has rendered him motionless.

Oh no. He thinks again, once the situation finally settles in. “Your mom is gonna kill me.”

Aran tries to carefully pick the clump of green from her hair, but just the simplest of touch has it sticking to even more strands and soon enough, he’s gathered a small lump at the crown of her head.

“Oh no,” Aran exhales softly at the scene before him. The only good thing is that she’s sound asleep.

He has to do something about this immediately. He calls Kita first because the man always keeps on a straight head. Unfortunately, with how busy he is, he reaches voicemail. The next person is Suna, because he always answers the phone.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Suna’s chuckle runs Aran’s patience thin. “I’m still on the football thing. You’re holding her like a football?”

He’s laughing through the line and once he composes himself says, “Will you take a picture for me? I want to see.”

Aran hangs up on him immediately.

“Did ya try putting oil in her hair? I heard that works.” Osamu offers once Aran explains his situation for the second time.

“What kind? I got olive oil, avocado.”

“I dunno.” Osamu shrugs. “Baby? Because she’s a baby?”

“I don’t have that!” The longer the gum stays in her hair, the more Aran comes undone. He’s about to lose it knowing the consequences he’ll face if he doesn’t get this fixed.

“I heard an ice pack works too. Ya make the gum get cold so it’s easier to work with.”

“You’re crazy if ya think I’m gonna ice this girl’s head.”

And that’s how Atsumu, the one with the brassy hair and a mane full of split ends, has come to save the day. He breaks through the entrance in his usual Atsumu flair armed with vinegar, bows, and a cute yellow bonnet.

“Ya really know what you’re doing.” Aran admires while Atsumu carefully brushes the tainted strands after having soaked it in vinegar.

Atsumu chuckles, “Learned a lot after high school.”

He cuts off the last stubborn pieces and places a giant pastel purple bow to rid the evidence.

“All better.” Atsumu grins. “And she slept through the whole thing.”

Relieved, Aran can finally breathe.

When you arrive, Atsumu is on his way out. You give him a side glance before greeting your niece who has finally woken from her nap and eager to greet her mom.

“Shame on you.” You mutter under your breath at the driveway. The two of you are waving your cousin goodbye.

When the car fades, he turns to you with an innocent tilt of the head. “Shame on me? What’d I do?”

“If Atsumu was here, that means you two were up to no good.” You cross your arms and size him up, as if daring him to challenge your thought.

Aran cannot help but pull you in and smile with his teeth.

“Yes,” He agrees, “Shame on me.”

Shame on him for thinking he’d want to do this again, but with you instead.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!! #HQ!! #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #ojiro aran #ojiro aran fluff #ojiro aran drabble #ojiro aran scenario #ojiro aran imagine #ojiro aran x reader #aran x reader