#echo volleyball rambles

[apollos-lyre-hehe]

okay first of all I am kinda pissed about their choice of players, why the hell didn't they invite Saber Kazemi or Bardia Saadat, huh?! those two were our best players last year, it doesn't make ANY sense

#volleyball #echo volleyball rambles #vnl #vnl 2023 #Iran vs Japan

[justanothercloudinthesky]

Unrequited

Atsumu x Reader, Oikawa x Reader, Kuroo x Reader

notes: best friend falls hard, knowing all too well it’ll never work, but the heart wants what it wants.

Angst

Atsumu:

his laugh echoed again through the gym, full and magnificent, filled with childish glee as his eyes crinkled in the corner, head cocked to the side as he listened for more, eyes focused. the only wish in your heart at that moment is that it was you over there.

now, it would be ridiculous to be territorial over his time, toxic even, seeming as you’ve not talked a whole lot, and were just friends. Atsumu often leaving mid-conversation to find his friends. but you would also be lying if you were to deny that you... loved him. 

you loved that abrupt cheer he lets out after a particularly good set, or the tiny glares he throws at his brother when Osamu points out his shoe’s untied. the way he chattered along, mouth half full, or when his eyes focused, perfecting his technique again and again. so why?

“they’re talking about cake pops” Osamu filled you in, leaning against the wall behind you, his eyes trained on your face, watching as the smile you plastered on didn’t actually reach your eyes.

“ah, I see that’s why he’s so.... engaged.” you murmured, watching as he placed an arm around them, joining in with them to laugh along too. you hated it, the bubbling, boiling feeling in your core, making you want to vomit, and scream and cry. the worst part knowing that it’s absolutely ridiculous.

“it’s for the best, he’s an idiot anyway, and I don’t want you to stop showing up for mario kart because the bozo with fewer brain cells ran ya off” Osamu added, and you smiled, aware he was trying desperately to comfort you.

ridiculous. but that’s never stopped feelings before.

Oikawa:

again, staring at your phone yet again, as a single text message popped on the screen, your homemade dinner growing cold. tonight was supposed to be the night. where you’d put in the effort. hoping just once he’d hold your hand during the movie, instead of screeching that your hands were ice cubes.

“hey there, I’m actually not coming to movie night, sorry. I got asked on date by ‘them’, wish me luck, this man is about to turn on the charm”

you stared at the screen, typing so many different responses, before settling for a simple thumbs up, throwing your phone to the other, vacant, side of the couch. it shouldn’t matter to you. best friends. you don’t mind... you... shouldn’t mind.

but all those little things add up, the one time he took off volleyball on a thursday night to plan to come over, he was bringing the ice cream, you were serving the snacks. all ruined cause of one text. You should be happy for him, but the next thing you know, tears are dripping onto the couch.

reaching over to the phone you shoot off a text to Iwa too, letting him know not to bother and to come over to take any food if he wanted to. the message left on read soon, as you set it back down as so much as texting felt exhausting.

now, maybe it all could’ve been avoided, but even so. even tho he hurts you. there’s no way you can be mad. for you’ve waited now too long to speak up, nodding along as he rambled about their gorgeous eyes. it would’ve been easy to simple ask, but then again. is anything regarding Oikawa ever simple?

so you sat there, tv playing, no ice cream to cry with. and nobody to blame.

Kuroo:

now, you should’ve expected it given his natural charm, soft eyes and boyish smile. expected him to sweep someone off their feet, and watch as he drapes his jacket over their arms, his conversation constantly filled with only them. no longer walking you home, as you shiver against the wind, tears freezing on your skin.

now, you’d never blame Kuroo, you should’ve been guarding your daydreams, keeping them grounded, even when he leaned in to check your homework over your shoulder during study nights, the edges of his hair tickling your face.

how he’d constantly ask you to the café, complaining that there was never any blueberry muffins left when he got there. your daydreams running wild as you’d gotten home, baking some, more and more, as you’d constantly gift them to him.

He had to admit, you were one of his best friends. but it stopped there, and you knew, but hearts retaliate in their own ways. breaking you as their ripped to shreds. over what? a polyester jacket. which brought you to now

walking the quiet streets, tears frozen to your face as you continue, phone left on do-not-disturb, as you hoped maybe it would get you out of your own head. walking along the roads, maybe to find Kuroo, maybe to simply appreciate the weather, or to cry where nobody could hear you. where your heart could tear you apart.

your feet finding their way to the café, walking through the door, as the heat stopped your shivering. looking up, growing instantly nauseous, as your heart stabbed you from the inside out, dying a little itself. the sight of Kuroo, feeding your muffins to his... special person. at your special table

so... maybe you were taking it personally, but, you never knew he found you so... replaceable.

#haikyuuxreader #haikyuu x reader #oikawa toru x reader #oikawa x reader angst #oikawa toru x you #oikawa headcanon #unrequited feelings #atsumu x reader #atsumu miya #oikawa #kuroo #atsumu x reader angst #atsumu x you #kuroo x reader #kuroo x you #kuroo x reader angst #CloudPassingBy #kuroo headcanon #atsumu headcanon

[scarebats]

REPOST

You’re My End And My Beginning (Even When I Lose I’m Winning)

ao3- Honckity

Icemav- Iceman/Maverick

WC- 6224

repost bc the link was glitching on my part

Two days before the men's volleyball tryouts, most of the people that were on the team last year and are trying out this year, Goose’s girlfriend, Carole, was there too. They are outside by the parking lot of Miramar College. They were all waiting for Goose’s new roommate to show up. Apparently he and Carole have known him since high school.

Based on what Goose has said about the guy, he seems rather interesting and is said to have a strong right arm from his position as a wing spiker.

Everyone was doing their own thing in the same area, Wolfman and Hollywood sitting on the curb, deep in conversation. Carole leaned up against Goose, they both looked excited to see their friend, they never gave him a name. Iceman tuned out Slider’s rambling of whatever he was saying, it’s either about volleyball or his family, there’s really no in between. Sundown was sitting in a small section of grass, reading a book. Everybody else was really just standing or sitting around randomly, kind of awkwardly too.

The sound of an engine being revved echoed from down the street, any conversation that was happening was cut short as the sound grew closer. That included Slider finally stopping his rambling. Iceman glanced at Carole and Goose, Carole’s grin grew impossibly wider as Goose pulled her closer.

read the rest of chapter one(1)!:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/41128146/chapters/103093263

#icemav #top gun #gay #fanfics #honckity

[sunatooru]

hi hello can i request a scenario/drabble for tsukishima, kuroo, oikawa, and akaashi with a fem!so who fainted during their heated argument? their argument would be about s/o being clingy and needy, and always talking and being noisy; turns out the reason she fainted was because of the fever she had early in the morning but didn't tell them about it in order not to be a 'bother' or 'nuisance'... then her fever got really worse during the argument and faints. *cue their boyfriends feeling like shit for all the rude things they said*

i am in need of some angst🪆

Sorry it took so long (I’ve had this since March 😭) but I hope it fills your angst need x

~

Warning: angst/comfort, gn!Reader, post Timeskip spoilers …are they dramatic?Yes

~

Tsukishima

It was rare you got to spend time with your boyfriend. Especially as he juggled working and playing volleyball. You wouldn’t miss the chance to be with him for a whole day, even if you woke up feeling like your head was being hammered.

You stayed wrapped around his arm, happily joining him on the sofa. You move to wrap your arms around his torso but he pushes your attempt away. You blink at him in confusion and try again, but fail when he stops you once more.

“Keiii, I want to cuddle..” you pout and he scoffs.

“What’s wrong with you? I finally get a day to relax and instead, I have you clinging to me and being annoying.” He glares at you, making you pull back and your throat tighten.

“I-“ you get cut off

“You what? You’re always trying to push yourself on me. It’s suffocating!” He gets up and walks towards the bedroom, you hot on his heels.

“Kei, can you please be a little quieter? All I want is to spend some time with you…you’re always so busy…” you defend but he kisses his teeth.

“Exactly. I’m always busy, so can you just let me chill out? I don’t need you whining in my ear and having you on me all the time! God, it’s like you need to annoy me!” He shouts at you.

You swallow harshly. Your chest feeling tight as his words ring in your ear. Your head pounding as you feel yourself heat up.

“Kei…I-I don’t…” you try to reach for him but he moves.

“Did you not just hear what I s- hey..hey!” You feel yourself lean forward as your eyes close.

You wake up when you feel something cool on your forehead, opening your eyes slowly to see Kei next to you.

“Kei…”

“Are you okay? You just fainted out of nowhere…why…and I said all those thing-“ you grab his hand.

“I wasn’t feeling well in the morning…I tried to push it away to spend time with you…” he looks at you guiltily, sighing and cupping your hands.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean anything I said. You’re not suffocating…everyday I come home, I can’t wait to see you. I don’t know why I said that…I’ve just been so overwhelmed and I took it out on you. I’m sorry baby. ” He confesses.

“I love you so much…I don’t even deserve you.” He whispers, biting his tongue as he looks at you.

“Hmm, I love you too…it’s okay. Can you just hold me, please.” You give him a small smile and he wraps you around him.

Kuroo

It’s that time of year where deadlines need to be met. You watch him scribble on papers and pull at his hair. You could see how tense he was and decided to bring him something hot to sip on.

“Tetsu, you need a break.” You slowly make your way into the room, carrying a hot mug and small snack.

“Can’t. Got to finish finalising the contract.” He informs, crossing out lines and writing again.

You huff and approach him, struggling to find a place to set the tray due to his messy desk.

“Come on. You need to atleast drink something, you’ve been at it for hours now. “ you press, causing him to clench his jaw.

He slams his pen against the desk, startling you before he faces you.

“I just said I need to finish this contract. Of course I’ve been working on it for hours. It’s important. You’ve been coming in and out of the room and disturbing me! I’m busy trying to do my job and you can’t even leave me alone for a few hours? Stop being so clingy all the time!” He fumes, eyes glaring at you as he starts to stand up.

You feel you mouth go dry as his words echo, your vision starting to fade as he finally stands, a rush taking over that you drop the tray. A loud smash of the mug rings in your ear.

“Are you serious- babe! What’s- babe!” Is the last thing you hear before your vision goes black.

You stir when you feel movement besides you. Slowly opening your eyes to see his leg bouncing nervously. He notices you looking and instantly grabs your hand.

“Have you not been eating? Were you waiting for me? Fuck! You fainted, I- what happened?” He rambles, eyes filled with regret.

“I felt a fever in the morning but I didn’t want to tell you because I knew how important your contract was.” You mumble, avoiding his eyes.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, babe. I was so stressed and occupied with the deal that I forgot about you and said so many regrettable things. Please, I didn’t mean anything I said. You’re not clingy. I love that you’re always watching over me. I promise, I’ll take more care. Of you and me.” He apologises, bring your hand up to kiss it.

“Here drink this.” He hands you a mug, your eyes widening as your remember the one you dropped.

“I cleaned it, don’t worry. I’m sorry. Let’s just get you feeling better, okay. The contract can wait. You’re more important.” You give him a small smile and nod.

He stays besides you until you persuade him you’re better. He kisses and hugs you until you’re both laughing like before.

Oikawa

You always told each other where you were going before leaving. It was something you did for safety. Yet, recently he’d been leaving before you wake up and coming home late. You reasoned it was probably for the upcoming game. The game that would makes his dream come true. But it did hurt that that one routine had started to break.

You had woken up to your head pounding. Your body feeling hotter than usual and the bed empty for another morning. You attempt to shake it off and go on with the day.

You’re surprised when the door open around midday and see Tooru drop his bag.

“Tooru! You’re home!” You run up to hug him but he stops you.

“Sorry, I’m just really sweaty right now.” He kisses your forehead and runs towards the bathroom.

You smile to yourself, quickly fixing lunch, in hopes you would both enjoy together. But instead, you hear him run down and reach for the door again.

“Tooru, where are you going?” You stop him, confusion on your face.

“Ah I just need to go out again. You know the game and practice.” He states grabbing his bag.

“But you just got home. Look, I made you lunch too. You can practice tomorrow. I barely see you recently! You don’t even tell when you’re leaving…” you shout.

“No! I need to go. I need to practice more. I can’t be with you all the time, every day. You’re so needy. Can’t you see how important this is for me? What? I can’t even leave my own house without telling you?” He yells in frustration.

“That’s not the problem. You- you’re not even caring about your health. I just want to make sure you’re okay!” You feel yourself burn up again.

You get closer to him, hands shivering as you feel weak.

“Listen I’m going to training! Don’t wait-“ he’s walking out the door but you reach for him, collapsing against his back.

You hear mumbling and groan as you open your eyes.

“Tooru…” you call out and he’s there in a heartbeat.

“Do you know how high your temperature was? You were burning up! And then you fainted and I-I didn’t know what happening and god if anything happened to you I would never forgive myself.” He cries, wrapping his arms around you tightly.

“I’m okay..” you whisper but he shakes his head.

“No you’re not. Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well?” He says, hurt.

“I don’t want to me a nuisance…and you haven’t really been here so I tried to shake off in the morning.” You reply.

“Since morning… please forgive me, baby. Please. I know I’ve been neglecting you and if I was here then you wouldn’t be feeling like this. I’m sorry for what I said. I know i can’t take it back but I wish I could, because it’s not true. You’re not needy. I’m just an idiot who keeps forgetting to appreciate you. Baby, I’m sorry for hurting you.” He sniffles, sitting next to you and pulling you into him.

“Tooru, you’ll get sick too.” You stress but he holds you tighter.

“Just a few more minutes. I’ve missed you too. I promise I won’t leave you and take care of you. Forever.” He kisses you deeply.

Akaashi

The best way you decided to get rid of the fever you woke up with, was to distract yourself doing anything else. You organised yourself desk, bed and even laundry. You could feel yourself getting warmer again and decide to find your boyfriend.

He’s in his study carefully editing a new clients work. He’s usually calm and collected but he’s been on edge due to the pressure from his boss. You watch him take off his glasses and rub his tired eyes. You sigh and walk in.

“Hi darling!” You say cheerfully, only to get a less enthusiastic response.

“You’ve been stuck to the desk the whole day. Come on, talk to me a bit. Think of it as a little break.” You wrap your arms around him from behind.

“I’m almost done. We can talk after.” He whispers.

“Keijiii, I’m so bored please. Plus you need to take some rest. Let’s just talk about something, like I don’t know, where we should travel to? Or maybe anything interesting that happened at work? Come on, I want to spend time with -“ you’re cut off by his stern voice.

“Gosh, why are you so talkative? I’m trying to focus on something and you keep talking and being noisy after I said we can talk later. It’s like you’re trying to annoy me on purpose!” He scrunches his fists and huffs.

“I-I’m just trying to look out for you. You know you need a break too. Don’t yell at me! Sorry I’m so talkative and trying to engage with my boyfriend, who clearly thinks I’m annoying.” You choke out, feeling a little woozy as you start to leave.

“Love, wait! I didn’t mean it…”

“Whatever…I should’ve just stayed in bed-“ you feel your eyes getting heavy, and your knees feeling weak.

“Y/n!”

You wake up a few minutes later to him wiping your face softly. You try to get up but he stops you.

“Easy, let me help.” You can hear the guilt in his voice as he sets your pillow.

“I’m sorry for shouting at you. I let my frustrations take over and put it on you. I want you to know that, I didn’t mean what I said. I should’ve paid more attention and seen you weren’t feeling well.” He fidgets with his hands, scared to look at you.

“Your words hurt, Keiji. Even if you were frustrated, just please take some breaks. You’re going to burnout if you don’t.” You cup his hands and he finally looks up.

“I know. I know, I’ll do better and listen to you. How do you feel?” He presses his hands to both your foreheads.

“Better now that you’re here.”

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu angst #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima imagine #hq x reader #hq imagines #hq angst #kuroo imagine #kuroo testuro x reader #kuroo x reader #oikawa x reader #oikawa imagine #oikawa tooru x reader #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi x reader #akaashi imagine

[katsukiflr]

oikawa tooru as your boyfriend

⤷ pairing: tooru oikawa + gn!reader

genre: fluff

a/n: enjoy some tooth rotting fluff because i’m feeling very single.

when tooru is dating someone, he unashamedly loves them with his whole heart. it’s how he does everything, with one hundred and ten percent. he is a very affectionate person in general and is no different when it comes to loving you.

he constantly compliments you, it’s something that comes so naturally to him. tooru regularly tells you how beautiful he thinks you are and goes into detail about every little thing he loves about you. he tells you how pretty you are and how he doesn’t deserve the honor of being able to wake up to you every day, how comforting you are, how you make him feel loved, and how your wit never fails to make him dissolve into laughter.

tooru loves kissing, he just adores it. he thinks it’s such a sweet gesture he will most definitely never get tired of kissing you. that being said, as your boyfriend: he’s always kissing you.

in the middle of a conversation with you, he finds his gaze being drawn to the gentle curve of your lips and can’t help but admire the softness of them and how kissable they look. before you can even register what he’s doing, tooru’s lips are on yours. his hand delicately cradling your jaw before pulling away with a, “go on.”

he gingerly presses his lips to your temple while your arms are wrapped around one another, kisses the top of your head while you’re slow dancing in the kitchen to the dull echo of a song none of you can bother to pay attention to, kisses the inside of your wrists and the back of your palm while your fingers are intertwined, kisses your neck at any given opportunity, and kisses your forehead before pulling away with a lovesick grin.

in the morning if tooru happens to wake up first in your shared bed which is more often than not, he peppers soft kisses along your jaw and the nape of your neck under the dull light of the rising sun while relishing in the the feeling of holding you in his embrace. he dotingly admires your features and how peaceful you look in your idle slumber. his nimble fingers reaching out to brush over the tip of your nose, before brushing his lips against it. when your eyes flutter open, you’re already met with his warm ones staring back at yours and his deep and raspy morning voice muttering a groggy, “good morning angel.”

when you’re cuddling he loves holding you impossibly close to him. he buries face in the crook of your neck, pressing kisses and allowing his eyes to flutter close and to inhale your comforting scent with a calm hum. he cherishes when you run your fingers through his hair softly. he runs his hands up and down your back soothingly, fingers caressing your curves and the soft skin of your hips. he tells you about his day and all of the encounters he had. he tells you about the aimless volleyball nonsense which doesn’t make any sense to you but you assure him that you enjoy listening to him ramble. he runs his fingers through your hair while mumbling, “tell me about your day my love, wanna listen to you talk.”

as your boyfriend, tooru would take you on late night drives on the open road where you just drive aimlessly for a while, enjoying each other’s company and loudly screaming the lyrics to old hits. he pokes at your side, “i’m telling you this because i love you but you sound horrible.” you make a surprised face before poking at his cheek with your finger. “you sound worse idiot. be glad i’m not going deaf from the screaming you call singing.” you taunt. he pouts at you, faking an expression of hurt before you both erupt into a fit of giggles.

when the two of you are watching your favorite movie, he’s not really watching it half of the time. he’s watching your expressions when different scenes come up on the screen in front of the two of you, he’s admiring how the different hues of the screen illuminate your features, he’s watching the way you giggle while he subconsciously grinning at you in reverence. he reaches out and cups your jaw with his hand causing you to face him. he presses kiss to your lips before pulling back and continuing to watch the movie with a sly grin as if nothing ever happened.

early in the morning, tooru softly plays throwback songs from the kitchen as he prepares breakfast for the two of you. when he sees you sleepily trudge into the kitchen he places his arm on the small of your back, pulling you towards him so he can plant a kiss your forehead. when he pulls away he turns up the music playing, grabs your hands, and begins making a fool of himself by dancing wildly with you in the kitchen. the assorted ingredients on the counter and the mixture that was supposed to be your breakfast is now long forgotten as the two of you caper and laugh wildly. 

after winning a game he’s hugging his teammates with a grin so joyful it almost hurts. tooru is searching for you only to find you running across the court towards him with open arms. he scoops you up in his arms and spins you around excitedly, putting you down only to kiss you on the court in front of the roaring crowd and his snickering teammates. neither of you can bring yourself to care as you smile against each other’s lips, too lovesick to pay attention to the world outside of the little bubble you and him stand encased in.

#. #🧺 #.oikawa #oikawa x reader #tooru oikawa x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #oikawa fluff #oikawa headcanons #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu hcs #tooru hcs #oikawa hcs #hq fluff

[palbabor-writes]

Latibule pt. ii

Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, kinda heavy petting? we still going slow up in this ride, adult language, eventual SMUT, oh & Kiyoomi being a blunt asshole

Words: 12,880

His usual spot at the cafe is taken, and he’s already decided to keep walking on, but somehow, somehow, he manages to catch your eye.

His feet are slowing, a stuttering breath stagnating in his lungs, all at once hopeful and bewildered, but before he can examine his fluttering emotions, you’re alongside him on the noisy sidewalk, passing him his usual evening drink, a pleased smile on your soft lips.

Suddenly, the world smells like velvety pine and heady bergamot, and he can’t stop staring down at you.

Notes: me: try to keep it at 7,000 words, also me: what’s a word count?  

i owe my life to @wickedfaerytale & @albinoburrito​ for their edits and suggestions on this monster. i love you both & appreciate you to the moon and back.

Latibule 

pt. ii: Four Set

a high set to the strong side/outside hitter

[ pt. i: an opening ] || 

[ You: 4:35pm ]

Hey! It’s me– from the coffee shop. Wanted to see if you were busy this evening? Maybe we can meet up when I get off?

[ Sakusa: 5:02pm ]

I know. Sure.

[ You: 6:21pm ]

Great! I’m off at 9:30. Want to meet at the shop?

[ Sakusa: 7:10pm ] 

Read at 7:10pm

“Is he coming?” Kane asks, following you out of the coffee shop and pausing under the shallow awning, twisting his head, watching your back as you turn the key in the door. You tug against the handle, testing the hold, your hands heavy against the cool metal. 

“I don’t know,” you sigh, eyes peering into the darkened depths of the cafe lobby. “It says he read the last text, but he didn’t respond. He’s likely busy. I have no idea how long they practice; he’s a professional athlete, and after seeing that game...well, I can only imagine how intense his training schedule is. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone move like that before it was so fluid, like watching quicksilver.”

“Eh? Quicksilver? What is this, a poetry slam? Who describes people like that? Still, I bet he does, like, 20,000 sit-ups a day. You can tell, even under that baggy jacket, that he’s crazy fit,” Kane ruminates, leaning against one of the stacked sets of metal chairs. “Damn. It’s kinda crazy to think about, you know? You and a hot pro athlete going out on a date.”

You huff out a laugh and give him a playful scowl. “Ugh, shut up, you’re so rude, Kane. And I wouldn’t say it’s a ‘date.’ We just exchanged numbers. That’s all.”

“Oh? I’m sorry. You’re totally right. All those googly eyes must have happened with someone else. Definitely not you and that six-foot monster of a man. I mean, usually the guy just sits at his seat and ignores us, watching those videos on his computer and taking his notes, or he gets his coffee and is on his way, but today he was practically sitting on the hand off plane, and staring at you. 

Don’t gimme that face! You know I’m right. And–awe, look at you! So bashful! Oooh, you like him, don’t you? That’s so cute! Come on (Y/N), that’s so––ow!”

“Didn’t you say you had a paper to write?” you grumble, shoving your knuckles against his shoulder again. “There was so much whining from you tonight. Way worse than usual. So many, ‘hurry up, (Y/N)! I need to get home. What if this makes me bomb my paper! What if I fail the class because of this?’ What happened to all that? Huh? Suddenly you’ve got time to suss’ me out on the sidewalk?”

“Yow! So touchy! And this is totally workplace harassment, ya’ know! Jeez, that’s a mean right hook you’ve got. You didn’t even warn me! Eee, I’m gonna be bruised tomorrow!”

“Oh, shut up. You completely deserved that. Now go away and go finish your paper, you soon to be fail––”

“You said 9:30, right?”

The sound of Sakusa’s low voice startles you and you spring away from Kane, head whipping around and eyes wide. He’s standing a few feet behind the two of you, his shoulders curved into their usual hunch, eyes dark behind his fringe of curls. Under his golden jacket, a crisp white shirt is stretched across his broad chest, the bottom tucked carefully into the front of his jeans, and his MSBY bag is hanging against his back. His onyx hair looks heavy and you can see some lingering moisture, no doubt from a recent shower, glistening against the raven waves. 

“Hey!” you call, unable to bite back the elated grin that’s suddenly curving the edges of your lips. Kane is right about one thing, you think, stepping closer to Sakusa’s stiff form. This is kinda surreal. “We just finished closing up. Uh, this is Kane,” you wince, gesturing to the smirking face of your coworker. 

Shit. Stop it. You sound like an idiot. He knows who Kane is. You’ve seen them talking at the register before, but the rambling introduction keeps tumbling out of you. “He works here. He’s usually at the register, he’s learning, um, the bar and–uh. I don’t know why I’m telling you this, you’ve seen him before, uh, probably...definitely...ha, but, er–”

“And that’s my cue,” Kane chuckles, shaking his head at your janky attempts to introduce him properly to a man that he’s known, in passing, for over a year. “Nice seeing you Sakusa-sama,” he bows, tossing you a cheeky wink from his polite curve, “you guys have fun.” And with that, he’s gone, leaving you and the impassive Sakusa alone on the empty street.

A hushed quiet falls over the two of you as you adjust the straps of your purse, eyes lowered. Stop freaking out, you chide yourself, taking a deep inhale of air into your lungs, fingers padding aimlessly over the leather slings of your bag. Just talk with him. It’s always easier when you ask the questions first, since he’s not much of a talker. So ask him about something he can answer.

Volleyball. Yeah, ask him about that. It’s not exactly a groundbreaking conversation starter, but it will work.     

Strategy set, confidence mounting, you open your mouth.

“So, how did your practice–” “How was your day–”

He speaks when you do, and the two of you clatter directly into each other, words smattering into nothingness as you both fumble into an uneasy silence again.

Hopeless, you’re both hopeless. It’s kinda funny, in a horrifically awkward way. 

“Uh,” you grin, eyes finally lifting to his. “You first?”

The gentle thud of his heart echoes against his ears and his breath is hot under the cover of his mask. You’re so close. If he wanted to, he could reach out and touch you, could drop his hand from his pocket and let it slip into yours again. That thought makes his palms feel itchy, and he scrapes his nails down the skin, easing the ache.

Not yet.

He watches you as you shake your head, a glowing smile breaking across your lips. You’re not just pretty, he thinks, unconsciously drifting closer, you’re captivating. It’s like you’re some kinda homing beacon. 

He’s a cautious guy, always has been. But something about you makes him want to blindly reach, to be nearer to you. 

“Practice was fine. Where did you want to go?” he murmurs, fingers lifting, tugging his mask down his face. 

He wants to kiss you. 

It’s been on his mind all day, through the training, through the practice games, hovering over him, shrouding him with the foggy remembrance of the pressure of your lips. He’d fucked your first one up and he wants to try again, to do better. But it’s different when you’re expecting it, when he can see your gaze following the downward pull of his hand, your eyes hooded and watchful as he reveals the lower portion of his face to you. When you bite your lip into your mouth, teeth pressing before slowly letting the plump flesh spring free again, he nearly groans aloud.  

He wonders if you’ll let him do it, let him kiss you, and that thought makes him feel lightheaded. You’re so close––No, he gulps, jaw clenching and shoulders straightening, his back arching upward and right foot jerking a step, pulling away from your tempting openness. It’s too much, it’s too soon. 

Just wait, he reminds himself, be patient. Not now, not yet. 

You notice his shift and look up at him curiously, popping your weight onto your other leg, one hand braced against your hip, but you still smile up at him, acknowledging his unspoken cues for distance. “Well, I was going to see if you wanted to get a drink.”

“I don’t like bars,” he blurts.

Your eyes widen and you suck a sharp breath into your lungs, lips falling into a half-formed ‘oh.’  

No. He didn’t mean it like––Damn it. 

Kiyoomi flinches, nose wrinkling and mouth pulling into a thin line. He’s not good at this. 

“Mm, well, this is less of a bar and more like a gastropub. It’s small, laid-back. Plus, it’s a Tuesday night, they’re gonna be slow, and if they’re not, we can leave and try something else...”

“It’s fine,” he rectifies sharply. Again, he sounds too harsh. “I don’t care about any of that. If it’s slow or not. If you want to go, we’ll go. I didn’t...I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“Don’t worry about it. Besides, I didn’t think it was rude.”

Kiyoomi jerks his chin up, his mouth pressing into a pursed frown, peering skeptically at you, eyes narrowed. You let out a laughed exhale and tilt your head, quickly shrugging your shoulders, attempting to mollify his mistrustful stare. “I mean it!” you insist, waving your hand. “I’ll take someone who’s blunt any day of the week. It’s exhausting trying to read people who are good at hiding behind smiles, or false facades. You always know where you stand when someone is straightforward. Seriously,” you continue, grinning up at his abashed expression, “it doesn’t bother me. Be yourself. Besides, I like it. It kinda makes me jealous…”

“Jealous?” Kiyoomi echoes, watching you step past him and down the darkened street. His heart is beating out that uneven tattoo again, and it feels like he can’t catch his breath. What do you mean, ‘you like his bluntness’? No one’s ever told him that. No one’s ever told him to ‘be himself’ either. And, as if that wasn’t enough for him to chew on, now you’re casually saying that you’re jealous of his unapologetic retorts. It doesn’t make any sense.

“Sure,” you nod, slowing your footfalls, letting him catch up with you as you stride down the sidewalk. “I always lean on the polite side of things, likely because I’ve spent too many years in customer service, haha. So it’s refreshing to hear someone just speak their mind. Besides, you don’t strike me as someone who’s careless with what they say to others; you’re candid, but careful, you just don’t mince your words. Nothing wrong with that. Anyway, I’m babbling, again. Looks like you kinda have that effect on me, huh?”

His lips quirk at your admission and he steps a little closer, the fabric of his jacket wicking across your clothed arm as he matches your pace. “Is it far?” he asks after a time, watching as the lights of the main street twinkle between the lumbering edges of the buildings. 

“Not much farther. But you might wanna put your mask up, we’ll go past the cross street and that area is always a little busy this time of night.”

[ Damn. That’s––The fact that that thought would even cross your mind–– ]

His hand is out of his pocket before he can blink, seeking the soft warmth of your curled fingers, cupping over your knuckles as he heeds your advice with his other, tugging his mask up and pinching it securely over the bridge of his nose. He can feel your eyes on him, but he doesn’t pause, doesn’t look down. He likely should have asked. After all, he doesn’t know you that well. But you ease your digits against his, your thumb curling over the joint of his ring finger, and his lips twitch into a smile.

You greet the girl behind the hostess stand with a hug and a few other members of the staff walk up to the table that you select, big grins and booming voices calling out jovial ‘hello’s’ and ‘good to see you’s’.

“You come here a lot?” Kiyoomi inquires, slouching against the cushions of the booth, obsidian eyes peering around the space. The table is off to the side, tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the main dining area and bar, and is half covered by a glass wall that provides the two of you with an extra buffer of privacy. It’s an ideal spot, and he’s inwardly grateful that you’d chosen it. 

“I used to work here,” you answer, lifting your purse onto your lap before fishing around for something within the depths of the leather. “I–ah! Here it is. I always lose stuff in here, it’s like a black hole, no matter how many times I organize it, it goes right back to being a mess. Price you pay when you have a big bag, I guess.” You lift a small bottle of hand sanitizer out and dollop some onto your palm. He blinks, following the rapid motions of your hands as you clean them off with the solution. That’s...nice. Nice feels like a strange word for this observation, but it’s true. You spy his gwaping expression and hold the bottle out, nodding your head at his coiled fingers. “Want some?”

“Thanks,” he rumbles, mimicking your motions as he eases the cold sanitizer against his chapped hands. “So you worked here?”

“Yeah! I did this and the coffee shop for a while. I was behind the bar, mostly. It was a good job, but when things picked up with my degree plan, I had to drop it.”

“Ah,” Kiyoomi hums, pulling his mask off and tucking it carefully into the pocket of his jacket. “That’s why you knew it wouldn’t be busy.”

“Yup! Tuesdays and Wednesdays are always slow. This is likely the busiest it will get. They have food here too, if you’re hungry. Got some good sushi and the agedashi tofu is one of the best in the city.”

“I already ate.” [ Shit. ]

“Ohh-kay. Well, I’m probably going to get something. They’ve got non-alcoholic drinks as well. Should be at the bottom of the menu.”

“I said I don’t like bars, not that I don’t drink.” [ Fuck. ]

“Fair enough,” you shrug, cocking your head at his clenched jaw and averted eyes. “You see anything you want?”

“Sorry,” Kiyoomi sighs, lifting the paper menu and scanning the side that lists the specials.

“I told you,” your voice is soft, and he glances up at you, glad to see that you’re still smiling happily at him, “I don’t mind. Tell you what, if you go too far I’ll let you know, sound good?” You stretch your hand toward him, bunching your fingers, except for your pinky, which is waiting, outstretched, and reaching toward him.

“What?” he asks, chin dipping and heavy brows furrowing as he eyes your hand suspiciously. 

“Whaddya’ mean, ‘what?’ It’s a pinky promise. You’ve never done this before?”

“I’ve never done this before,” he deadpans, blinking slowly. 

You guffaw and the burst of joyous sound makes him snicker too, his shoulders easing from that all too familiar hunch, his head ducking, the faint stain of a blush seeping over his cheeks. It’s just a laugh, he reasons, annoyed by his flushed skin and twitching fingers. Why is he getting worked up? He takes a second to refocus, but when he does, you’re still waiting for him, your pinky wiggling, blithely enticing him. 

“It’s easy,” you promise. “You just hook your smallest finger with mine and we shake once on it and boom, that’s an unbreakable promise. And, well, if it kills you then I guess you’ll go down in a book of world records or something.”                        

Kiyoomi scoffs at your jab and lifts his arm onto the table, holding his pinky out, waiting for you to make the last move, rolling his eyes at your dramatically slow approach.  

Your touch is gentle, finger ghosting over the middle joint of his pinky, curling slowly, teasingly, before it wraps around the width of his digit. Then you give him a quick squeeze, swiftly bobbing your joined fingers in a mock shake. It’s over in an instant, but you maintain the touch, gradually untwining your crooked digits. “Your fingers are long,” you observe, eyes catching his before traveling back to that lingering connection, distractedly easing your fingertip down the line of his hand and pausing against the base of his wrist. 

It feels like his entire arm is electrified and a fine shiver of goose flesh breaks across his warm skin. His mouth is open, lips parted as he sucks in a shallow drag of air and he can’t stop staring, wholly enraptured by your flirtatious strokes. When your eyes rake upwards to playfully find his, that pleased smile soft against your lips, he thinks he might just lurch forward and grab you. 

“There,” you beam before pulling away. “Now that that’s done, what are you gonna’ order?”

He lets you place your drink order first, saying he needs to keep looking, that it has been a while since he’s had a drink, and he’s never been all that sure of his preferences, anyway. 

It’s an unexpected admission. 

If there’s one thing that you’ve been relatively sure of, it’s that Sakusa is a man who doesn’t hesitate. In the two years that you’ve known him, granted from the other side of the counter of a coffee shop, he’s always known what he wants and is confident in his selections. He can rattle them off by rote, by flavor, by taste, by temperature, so seeing him this off balance, a little frazzled and out of his depth, is a bit of a surprise. 

He’s not fidgety, his hands are resting placidly in his lap, feet evenly placed on the floor, but you can tell there’s an underlying thrum of agitation behind all those half ducked glances he keeps giving you, his obsidian eyes sharp, gleaming like flints each time they linger against you. He’d laughed once, before you’d squeezed his pinky with yours, and then promptly fallen back into that sullen silence, answering your questions with one word quips or hushed murmurs. 

It made you feel guilty. 

He said he hated bars, so maybe you should have taken that admission a little more seriously. But out of all the places the two of you could go, this late at night in downtown Osaka, you’d figured that this was likely the quietest, the one where he’d feel the most comfortable. 

“So you’ve played with them for two years?” you ask, giving your server a quick thanks as they sit your drink down. “That’s impressive. But you said you went to school for four? That’s different. I bet most players skip college and go right for the pros, so why didn’t you do that?”

“Volleyball isn’t everything,” he answers, tone clipped, matter of fact, as he watches you take a sip of your drink, waiting for the clink of the ice and the gentle clatter of the glass as you set it back down on the table before he continues. “I’m not invincible. Someday I won’t be able to play. And it makes sense to have a backup, something that I can do later.”

You pop your chin into your upturned palm, lips resting against your curled fingers. “True. You’re very thorough, you know?” 

Sakusa’s forehead creases, and those two perfectly stacked moles lower over his right eyebrow. “I like to do things properly, that’s all. It just feels right. To take things one step at a time. I do that with everything. I guess most see it as something repetitive, or monotonous, all those basic tasks that you do day in, day out, but I like it. And if you think of them as mindful tasks, rather than mindless, then you can get to that point where those little things become pleasure, instead of drudgery. I know that I’m not guaranteed anything, but, if I’m lucky, I’ll be able to go out, to leave volleyball, satisfied. Knowing I did my best.”

It sounds stupid to his ears, pompous, and as soon as he finishes his preamble, he lets out an inaudible sigh, teeth worrying against the soft flesh of the inside of his mouth. Damn it. Why did he say all that? What’s the point? You’d only asked him about college and here he is, rattling off his ideologies and distant thoughts. Why did he–

“That’s...that’s a cool way of looking at it.” 

His jaw is gritted, his face covered by a sheen of impassive blankness. But he looks up when you say that. He wants to see you, even if it’s only to take in your bewildered amusement. But you’re not giving him some piteous smirk, no, you’re looking at him like he’s helped you solve a long awaited puzzle, and your face is filled with the softest, haziest glimmer of ardent happiness that he’s ever seen. Your smile broadens, and he looks away, fingers feeling blindly for the pulse in his lowered wrist. 

His heart’s pounding. 

How do you do that? Then, as he tries to steady his shaking breaths, you lean back, lifting your glass to your parted lips to take a quick sip, a distant look in your eyes.

“You know, I’ve never really thought about it that way, but you’re right. I always have so much trouble explaining that mindset to new hires. Like, how do you tell them that, yeah, while this seems like a stupid thing we have you do, to keep busy during the slow period of the day, it matters in the long run. Take our cleaning routines, if you don’t clean something, and clean it diligently, then the gunk and grime builds up, and it’s harder to get out later. Things harden, become set in their ways, and I guess the same thing can happen to the pros too. It seems like most don’t go to school. They just slip right into the sport–after all, if you’re good enough to make it onto a division ranked team right out of high school, then there you go, that’s your end goal, right? 

But I like that you took the little steps, the ones that people ignore, or try to bypass. It’s another sort of preparedness, really. Others may not see it that way, might think of it as wasted time, but you did what felt right for you and I know it’ll pay off. It’s–oh! Sorry! I’m babbling again! Ha, God, I’m gonna stop, okay?”

“You don’t have to,” Kiyoomi utters, arms lifting from his lap, pressing against the smooth wood of the table, ignoring the racing of his heart. “I liked it. I’m glad that you...I liked it. Keep talking. I like hearing you talk. And, uh, can I try your drink? I know nothing about gin, or whiskey, or whatever that is. I usually just stick to beer and sake.”

You bite your lip, a soft chuckle falling between the two of you, and press two fingers bashfully against your nose, covering your giddy smile and pushing your drink forward, toward his open palms. “It’s kinda nice to know that I’m not the only one who’s flustered. Hmm, but here. If you don’t drink much, then you may not have had this before. Sorry if it’s strong. Also, I go for brown liquor, so it’s got rye for the base.”

“Rye’s a whiskey, right?” he asks, pushing the tiny black straw aside and taking a careful swig from the rim of the glass. It’s got a smooth flavor, almost like the caramel notes of his doppio con panna, but without that cloying sweetness that sometimes sits against the back of his tongue when he’s finished. Instead of the hum of sugar, there is only a shiver of bitterness and then the quick bite of the alcohol is gone, passing over his teeth and down his throat in a single gulp. 

It’s good. 

Better than he expected. And he passes the glass back, his fingers holding against the cool surface, waiting for yours. “I’ll get that,” he tells you, an impish smirk lifting his lips. “It’s perfect.”

After that-and a second round of drinks-the night went a little smoother. He did his best to not lapse into unsociable silences and you did just as he’d asked of you and kept talking. 

You traded the basics, where you were born, talked about your family, your education, degrees, pets, and, slowly, the uncertainty simply faded away. 

You were easy to talk with, impossibly so; always ready with another question, a congenial quip, or an antidote about your own life. Soon he was regaling you about his cousin, Motoya, the latest antics of his teammates, his hopes for the upcoming season, for the 2021 Olympics, for anything that he could think of, anything to keep you in that seat, to keep you chatting with him for just a little longer. 

[ It’s late, but that doesn’t matter. Keep talking, ask her something else. ] 

Is it supposed to feel like this?

He’s never really had a relationship; not when he was in high school or college, and any of his half-formed attractions always fizzled out before they ever really started. He was too busy, too one track minded to notice, [ to care ] to find the time [ to make the time. ] 

It’s certainly not love, [ Tch. Love at first sight, who believes in stuff like that anyway, this isn’t some movie, plus he’s known you for years, so it’s not first sight either ] not yet, but there’s another feeling that’s laced within this humming excitement that keeps bubbling to the surface, that has him hanging onto every word that passes from your lips.

It’s want.

He wants more, greedily so, and he hasn’t experienced that feeling, outside of volleyball, in a long time.

“I’m not too far from here. I’ll just hop on the train and then be back in my district. Easy-peasy.”

Sakusa nods at your jovial reassurances, hoisting his track bag higher against his shoulder, following you toward the lights of the street. It’s late, later than he’s used to, and his eyes feel heavy. The lull of the alcohol isn’t helping either, so he shuffles closer, bumping unevenly against you every few steps. You twist your head toward him, a faint smile on your lips, eyeing his lumbering form skeptically. “Sure I don’t need to walk you to your station, Sakusa? You look dead on your feet. Sorry I kept you out so late.”

“You didn’t,” he sighs, his words rasping past a yawn. “I wanted to stay. I’ll regret it tomorrow. For now, I’m fine.” 

“Pfft, okay, well, I’ll look forward to receiving your annoyed text about me keeping you out past your bedtime in the morning then.”

Huh? Text? You want him to text you in the morning? Can he do that? Be the first person you think of when your notification lights up your dark screen, the first one that you reply to. Shit. What–what does that mean?

Sakusa slows, his hand reaching for you. 

He misses your arm and snags your purse instead, jerking the straps, and by association you, a little harder than he intended. [ Damn it. His coordination’s off. ] You stumble backwards, shoulders bracing against his broad chest, and you blink up at him. You lift your face, looking at him curiously. He’s already peering down, and the glow of the distant street-lamps makes the onyx of his irises morph from jet to a rich blue. For a long breath both of you simply stare, content to watch the other, waiting for some kind of advancement in this stalemate. 

You cave first. “Um, you alright?”

“What are we?” he asks pointedly, large palms running up the sides of your arms, his head tilting, dropping raven curls over his brow. 

“Friends?” you reply, but it feels more like a question than an answer and you let the word hang, unsure what else you can say, what else he wants to hear. You feel a bated breath leave his lungs. It dips you back as his chest falls, slipping you minutely closer even as his hands droop limply from the curve of your shoulders. His eyes shift from yours and his lips fade into a thin line as he steps away, letting you slip from his grasp. The air between you changes, hardening back into that early uncertainty, and by the time you turn to face him fully, his hands are re-tucked into his pockets and his slouch has returned.

“What’s wrong?” 

You know, but you don’t want to assume. You’d warned him after all; you’re not good at being blunt. 

He gives you a frank stare, dark brows creasing, furrowing his expression. “Friends means I can’t kiss you.”

For a moment you can’t feel your heart. You know it’s beating, still diligently pumping blood through your body, but as that declaration leaves his lips it’s like your entire world has narrowed. He wants to...how can he just say that? Just blurt out whatever comes into his head and not care what happens after. Where do you find confidence like that?

You flash your gaze upward and he’s still looking at you, his unmasked face open as he stares, dark eyes watchful, half veiled behind his lashes. 

He waits. He’s good at that, you think, feeling a smile creep across your face as your tongue passes over the swell of your lower lip. He instantly tracks the movement and takes a shallow step forward. You can hear his fingers coiling and uncoiling inside of the slick lining of his pockets, but that simple, near silent admission of his nervousness makes up your mind.

“Well,” you begin, eyes lowering, easing closer, pressing until you can almost feel the heat of him against you. Your hands lift tentatively, passing over the flat, honed planes of his chest until they come to rest against the top of his stomach. His nostrils flare at the tempered stroke but the rest of him remains stock still, wholly rooted to the spot, listening, observing, a glimmer of distant hope cresting against the back of his mind. 

[ Yes. Keep going. Don’t stop. ]

Then, those final, all important words are leaving you, cast into the air. 

“I wouldn’t say that.”

Before you can look up at him, his hands are hovering beside your ears, the ghost of his touch urging you upward as he lowers himself over you. 

His lips meet yours with a gentle tap and you can feel his unsteady exhale pass over your mouth as he allows himself to linger against you. It’s more like a press than a proper kiss, but you indulge him, gripping your impatient hands against the thin material of his jacket, giving him time to adjust. He’s featherlight, his lips scratchy, but the lubrication that your swiped tongue has left behind eases the touch and he gasps when you lift to meet him, your lips gliding over his.  

Then he’s wavering; like he can’t decide. 

He shifts away, only to return moments later, lips never fully leaving yours, caressing until you’re doggedly chasing after him, a poorly concealed groan slipping from your throat. He hums appreciatively at your enthusiasm and steps impossibly closer, his fingertips tapping under your jaw and down your neck. 

On one of his shuddering pulls you slip your tongue over his lips, tracing the seam, wordlessly asking for him to deepen the kiss. The sound he makes in return is garbled, caught against his throat and lost in the shuffle of his hands, his breath, his want. 

His arms are like steel cables as they twine around your waist, holding you to him as he finally opens, his teeth clattering against yours in his rush. You smile against his eagerness and pop onto the tips of your toes, hands releasing his jacket, sliding up his face before you let your fingers coil into his obsidian curls, your teeth nipping against his dampened lip. He lets out another hushed gasp, the flat of his palm warm against your shoulder blades as he urges you upward.  

“You’re — mmm, you’re too tall, Sakusa,” you complain, finally easing away from his greedy kisses, and grinning when he follows. 

“Kiyoomi,” he insists, hands cupping, thumbs tracing the edge of your jaw, dropping another kiss against your upturned lips. “Call me that. I want to hear it.”

You laugh and he huffs impatiently against you, brows folding into that deep crease. “Not joking,” he grumbles, lips and breath hot against yours, “I want to hear you say it.” 

When you manage, at long last, to pull away from him again, your eyes bright, lips kiss shined and swollen, he knows this image of you will be etched into his mind for weeks to come. It’s perfect [ you’re perfect ] and all he can think about is that he wants so much more. 

“Kiyoomi,” you call, head canted at his staggered expression, eyes glittering with fond amusement. “You’re kinda bossy, aren’t you?”

He scowls at your question and tugs you back, kissing you until your laugh fades away and his name comes a little easier.

[ You: 9:18am ]

You sure you want to go there? I don’t care if we do something else instead, your call.

[ Kiyoomi: 10:54am ]

Got the tickets. See you after your shift.

“Bringing your phone onto the court–ballsy move Omi,” Atsumu leers, dropping his bag beside Kiyoomi’s, a troublesome smirk on his face.

“Shut up,” Kiyoomi snaps, darkening the screen with a click and placing the device beside his trainers. “At least I know how to keep it hidden. And you’re the reason we’re banned from bringing them out here at all. You and your stupid snapchat stories.”

“Omi! Ya’ big jerk! Be quiet, ya’ know yer’ not supposed to mention that app where the coaches can–”

“Miya!” a booming voice calls from across the gym, “You better not be doing what I think you’re doing! If I catch you on that phone, you can expect to do a hundred serves at the end of this practice match! Got it?”

Kiyoomi scoffs, a lackadaisical grin ghosting over his lips as he neatly dodges Atsumu’s elbowed jab. “See? I’m not the problem here.”

“Such a jackass. It’s a miracle (Y/N) is even giving you the time of day.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kiyoomi bristles, heavy brows creasing. 

“Means I don’t know what she sees in ya,’ you big dummy. Where you taking her this week?”

“Why do you care?”

“Damn it. Why do I bother? I mean really, am I some kinda masochistic or something? Yer’ terrible to talk with, but here I am, attempting some harmless small-talk. Cut a guy some slack, would ya’?”

“What are you talking about?” Kiyoomi stares, onyx eyes narrowing at Atusmu’s haggard expression. 

“You! I’m just trying to have a conversation, you know, checking in, seeing how yer’ doing. Making sure you haven’t screwed things up yet. Ya’ know, being polite!” Atsumu glowers, golden hair falling over one umber eye as he flashes Kiyoomi a fixed glare.

“What would I screw up?”

Atsumu lets out a heavy sigh and shakes his head. “Tell you what, ask me that question again when you do, how’s that sound?”

“Miya–”

“Bringing your phone to practice, coming in late, or right before things kick off, yeah, you got it bad, don’t cha’? You better watch yer’self Omi.”

“The hell you talking about?” Kiyoomi sneers, chin lowering, steeling himself for one of Atsumu’s long-winded tangents. 

“God, yer’ so dense, especially with shit that’s not volleyball. Come on, Omi, use your head. The coaches, the managers, they’re all gonna try and make you pick. That’s what they do. She’s a nice girl, and I’d hate to see her get caught up in all of that bullshit. Stop gaping at me like that! Like I’m not making any sense! I’m trying to look out for ya’! Not that you deserve it, being such a prickly asshole, and all...”

Kiyoomi sighs, lips pursing into a sharp point, his shoulders slumping forward, arms hanging limply against his sides. Fine, he’ll engage. Whatever. If it’ll get Atsumu to explain whatever the hell he’s talking about before the practice match, he reasons, then it’ll be worth it. “We’re going to the museum in Tennoji Park.”

Atsumu stares. “Damn. You agreed to go to a public park? In the daytime? That’s real big, if true.”

“I’ll serve every ball directly at the back of your head, don’t think I won’t.”

“Alright, alright,” the setter laughs, propping his hands against his hips. “Shocked yer’ not just staying close to that one restaurant. You seem like a, ‘this is what I like and I’m sticking to it’ kinda guy. Not one to branch out. You know, boring.”

“How do you know about the restaurant?” 

“She told me about it?”

Kiyoomi curls his lip over his teeth. “When did she do that?”

“The other day, went by for a coffee.”

“Ugh,” he huffs, swinging one arm across his chest, stretching out the muscles of his biceps. “What else did she say?”

Atsumu grins, bracing his forearm against Kiyoomi’s shoulder, waggling his brows mischievously. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Fine. I’ll just ask her.”

“Ughhh, zero fun. That’s what you are. Tell me, ya’ got a mode that’s not: ‘Sakusa Kiyoomi, ‘the world’s most boring man’,” Atsumu groans, head dropping as he lets his body hang limply off of Kiyoomi’s stiffened form.

“Shut up. What we do isn’t your business anyway, so enough with the questions. You’re just poking your nose in shit that doesn’t concern you,” Kiyoomi accuses, shrugging Atsumu’s heavy arm off of his, glaring.

Atsumu straightens, a quiet scoff puffing between his smirked lips. “Fine. So touchy today. And you think this crap ain’t gonna bleed into your playing? Yer’ way–”

“Line up!” the assistant coach booms, silencing Atsumu’s bristled retort. Kiyoomi opts to hold his tongue, letting the setter pace away from him, eyes narrowing while sucking in a steadying breath before he follows. 

Damn it. He got so caught up in––Atsumu never told him what he meant.

It’s early afternoon and the broad concrete pathways of the park are mostly empty. The spring flowers are in bloom and the ginkgo trees sway in the crisp breeze that dips in from the sea. It’s a beautiful day, but Kiyoomi can’t shake himself out of his head.

He’d stared dutifully at the portraits in the museum, read the placards that rested below the painted screens and pottery, and listened when you asked him questions, or answered his own. He shouldn’t be like this, he fumes, adjusting the ear straps of his mask as the two of you step out into the bright sunlight once more. 

Who cares what Atsumu was trying to imply. It was vague and unhelpful; likely meant to get under his skin, something that–

“You alright?” Your voice shakes him out of his thoughts and he looks down at you, brows unknotting, eyes softening as they rake over your curious face. 

“Yeah. Miya said something at practice that I’m having trouble forgetting.”

“Oh? What?”

He tells you, and it feels like some of the tension leaves his shoulders. It’s nice.

Usually he’s guarded, quiet. Sure, he’ll let others know what he’s thinking with little finesse, but that doesn’t mean they know the truth of what’s on his mind. This is different. With you it’s easy to disassemble, unexpectedly so. It’s only been a month since the two of you started seeing each other, but in that time he’s opened up more to you than he has to anyone, outside of his family, and he’s still not sure if he likes that.

[ That’s a lie. He likes it; he does. He’s just not used to it. ]

“Make you pick?” you ask, skimming your hand over the red railing of the bridge, head cocked thoughtfully to the side. “He actually said that?”

“Mentioned it. Like I said, Miya talks in circles. I usually just tune him out, but this felt...different.”

“Hmm,” you ponder, easily keeping up with his long strides, your body close to his. “Well, maybe he means they, the coaches that is, don’t want you to be distracted? I could see that. I mean, you are playing at an extremely high level and next year is the Olympics. Damn, it feels strange to say that. I know someone who’s playing in the Olympics…”

“I know that. And I’m not distracted,” his tone is clipped and his chin ducks, his side swept curls fanning over his left eye. 

You look over at his tensed expression and puff out an exhale of air. “Well, maybe he’s just messing with you? You said he likes to do that.”

“Told you, this felt different.” The words are sharp, punctuated by his clenched jaw and the forward roll of his shoulders, and you suck your teeth softly, staring across the shimmering surface of the pond as the two of you cross the last stretch of the bridge. You’re on the back foot here, a little unsure of how to reassure him, but you can tell he wants to shake this off, so you press the issue, hoping it’ll help ease that stiff tension that’s building in his shoulders.  

“Okay, it felt different. How so?”

The words come without hesitation. [ This isn’t normal for him, but it’s also so damn nice to know that he can be this comfortable with someone. ] “Miya usually babbles. Goes on and on about the most inane things. But he also loves to chatter about his reasoning, and this time he didn’t. Instead of answering my question, he gave me that shitty smirk and changed the subject to something he knew would distract me––why else would he say he’d gone by the coffee shop?”

“I mean, I don’t know him as well as you do, but he seems like the kinda guy who likes to provoke–to see if he can get a reaction out of you and...I know it’s not much of a reason, but maybe that’s all that it was?”

Kiyoomi gives you a curt nod and picks up his pace, his hands coiling into clenched fists within the confines of his pockets. You follow him, unsure if you should strike up another line of conversation or let him simmer for a bit. You opt for the latter and turn your attention to the scenery of the parklands, quietly studying the picnicking couples and laughing clusters of children that jostle beside a nearby set of monkey bars. No matter his mood, it’s a lovely day and you’re still glad he’d agreed to come with you to the park. 

But when the trail reaches the main street, you pause. “Hey, you wanna call it a day?” you ask, a soft smile on your lips. If he needs time, you rationalize, then you can give him that. 

Kiyoomi jerks to a stop, his heavy brows furrowing as he stares down at you. “What? No,” he grumbles, voice muffled by the fabric of his mask. 

You raise your hands in a gesture of supplication, palms facing his looming form. “It’s just...you seem like you’re upset...”

“I am upset,” Kiyoomi answers frankly, his breath heavy. 

His honesty never fails to catch you off balance, and you laugh cheerfully at his stoic expression. Kiyoomi promptly fixes you with a perturbed stare, his eyes narrowing. “Kiyoomi, if you’re upset, then we should head back. You don’t have to stick around me if you want space, I totally–– ”

“I don’t want space. I want to be here, with you,” he bites, stepping closer, watching as your grin fades into a perplexed gape. 

For a breath you’re flabbergasted, lips parted, eyes wide, but with a shake of head you step forward, your arm twining with his, and dipped forehead pressing against the sleek material of his jacket. “Alright, then stay with me,” you smile, hands squeezing against his coiled muscles, a pleased warmth spreading up your joined arms before flowing downward, into the pit of your stomach.

The contact, as muted as it is by the shell of his track jacket, makes him shiver and he can feel the thump of his heart speed up. It presses against his ribs and makes his chest feel tight and his head light, and when your fingers slip into the warmth of his pocket, your smooth digits tracing the knuckles of his hand, he lets out a contented sigh before lightly brushing his chin over the top of your bent head.

“Come on,” he murmurs, the rich tone of his deep voice dampened by the stretch of his mask, but you can still hear the creep of his smile within the clipped words, “I’ve got an idea.”

You’ve walked past the training facility plenty of times, so many that it’s a blip on your radar now, its jagged silhouette falling into the category of mundane, but never, not in a million years, did you ever see yourself actually passing through those glass doors.

It’s a massive space. 

The blazing down-lights scatter brightness over the finely polished elastic flooring. You’d worn comfortable shoes to the park, but they still scuff loudly against the unfamiliar material so you stop gawping and look toward Kiyoomi’s arched shoulders. 

“Uh, are you sure we can be in here?” you ask, trying to keep your voice down, but it reverberates around the vast space and you wrinkle your nose at the sharpness of the sound. 

“Yes. I work here,” Kiyoomi answers simply, tugging his mask down and stopping just short of one of the white lines, cocking his dark head at your question.

“Okay,” you snicker, rolling your eyes playfully at his static features, “let me rephrase that, are you sure I can be here?”

“Why would you being here be a problem? Practice is done for the day. It’ll be fine. Worst case, Bokuto or Miya might show,” he replies, shrugging his shoulders, a faint smile passing over his lips. “So what do you say, you wanna try to play?”

A full-throated laugh bubbles out of you, and you shake your head frantically. “No way! You’ll either kill me with one of those terrifying spikes, or be bored out of your mind trying to teach me the ropes. Besides, I haven’t played volleyball since middle school, and even then, I’m, uh, not sure a quick rotation in a 40 minute P.E. class counts as playing. It was more like all of us kids screwing around and testing out how many times we could annoy our teacher.”

He snorts at your explanation and strides over to a dark red cart, digging one of his long arms into the depths before straightening and returning with a yellow and blue Mikasa ball that’s perfectly balanced within his broad palm. “Humor me,” he smirks, one brow quirking upward. 

“Tch, I’m not wearing the right clothes...or shoes,” you bemoan jovially, but you’re already letting your purse slip from your shoulders.

“So whiny,” Kiyoomi tuts, stepping away from the cart and tossing the ball rapidly between his spread hands. “That doesn’t matter. Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you.”

“Oh, you will, will you?” you tease, a beguiling smile lifting your lips. He looks so good in here, you think, admiring the flex and bounce of his hands, the lean coil of his powerful neck that peeks from underneath his track jacket, so different from the stoic man who walked beside you in the park. 

As soon as he touched the ball, his entire demeanor changed. Within the space of a few seconds he’d gone from hunched and brooding to dauntless and firm, all of his early agitation and uncertainty forgotten as he slipped into the comfort of his element. 

“All right, coach,” you sigh with mock dejection, “where do you want me?”

“On the other side of the net. See that line? The first one past the netting? That’s the attack line. Stand there.” 

He’s clear-cut in his instruction, telling you where to plant your feet and how to stand with the correct form. You listen intently, nodding or asking one or two clarifying questions, and he’s patient with your queries, answering you swiftly and thoroughly, obsidian eyes keen as they follow your movements across the net. 

“Alright, that looks good. We’re going to do a simple drill, the catch and throw. Don’t worry about setting the ball, or receiving it with your arms, see how it feels to position yourself under it, just make sure it never gets behind you, and catch it with both hands and toss it back to me. Try and keep it in an easy arc.”

You blink at him, pulling your lips into an exaggerated frown. “Just catch it? That sounds too easy…”

“It’s meant to be. It teaches you how to see the ball. If you’re wanting something harder, I can always up the speed as you get better at it. Now, you ready?”

You nod and the ball lifts from his fingers in a flash, gliding over the net cleanly, and you shift back, arms outstretched, feet planted firmly against the slick flooring. You catch it neatly and mimic his overhand toss, sending it back to Kiyoomi’s half crouched form. But the arc isn’t controlled and the ball paps against the tape of the net, screwing up the trajectory and sending it shuddering toward the gym floor. 

“Shit,” you curse, wincing at your clumsy return, but he’s already moving, his form a blur. He slides under it easily, back curved under his well-muscled legs, all ten fingers spread, as he neatly catches the ball, sending it prettily back to your side. 

You’re so mesmerized by the fluidity of his supple form that you completely ignore the returning ball and it slaps against the floor with a crack. Always the professional, he’s intently watching the ball’s trajectory and doesn’t notice your open stare at first, but once his dark eyes flash back to yours a faint blush seeps across the well-cut apples of his cheeks and he ducks his head, obscuring his flush with a cascade of onyx curls. “That’s one point for me,” he sighs, his voice low, tone gruffly catching over the words as he studiously avoids your awed expression. 

“Points?” you repeat dumbly, snapping your mouth closed before popping your hands on your hips, forcing yourself out of your stupor. “Hey! You didn’t say anything about points.”

“It’s a game,” he counters with a shrug of his broad shoulders, “of course there’s gonna be points.”

“Pfft,” you chortle as you walk toward the discarded volleyball. “What happened to this is just a drill?”

Thirty minutes later your hands are aching and you move sluggishly as your feet squeak over the polished flooring of the court. Kiyoomi, on the other hand, looks perfectly at ease, his eyes hungrily stalking the track of the ball as it flies to his side of the court. When you miss the next lightning quick toss that he sends your way, you drop your head and lift your hands, palms flattened and facing toward him, signaling your defeat as a heaving exhale leaves your straining lungs. “I think that’s it for me. I’m about to collapse onto the floor, like seriously. This is not a joke.” 

Kiyoomi huffs out a bemused laugh and ducks under the netting, pausing beside your half crouched figure. He peers down at you through the lazy waves of his hair. You look staggered from the constant shuffling and overhand tosses, but you smile up at him and he can’t help but return it.

“I may be down for the count, but it looks like you wanna keep going,” you say coyly, eyes shining under the brilliance of the lights. [ You’re so pretty ] He [ wants to kiss you again ] sucks in a shallow breath and mutely nods at your assessment. [ Don’t go. ] 

“Well,” you begin, lips falling into a thoughtful pout, arms twisting behind your back, “In that case, I’ve got some things that I need to finish up, anyway.”

[ No. Don’t go. Not yet. ]

“I left my laptop at the cafe, so I’ll head that way. Maybe I can see you–”

“Use mine.” The words leave him with a sigh, his voice hushed, but you hear him and your head whips up.

“What–I’m sorry, what?”

“Use my laptop. It’s here, in my locker.” [ Should he have said, please? He’ll say it, if that will get you to stay a little longer. ]  

“You don’t...that’s not necessary–– ”

“I know. I want to,” he closes the distance between the two of you, his hand ghosting up the line of your arm. “Stay. If you want to.” 

You contemplate his request, tapping a finger against your bottom lip, the flicker of a grin catching at the corners of your mouth. Finally, you nod.

[ Good. ] 

He can feel his pulse against his eardrums and he feels jittery now but through that excited haze he tells you he’s going to change into his gym clothes and grab it, that there’s an outlet under the scorer’s table that sits at the edge of the court, and that he’ll be right back. He’s not sure why he feels the need to elaborate, that’s not like him, but he’s doing a lot of things that don’t feel like him these days.

He likes you; he thinks as he steps toward the double doors that will take him into the locker room. 

He likes you so much.  

When he returns, he’s wearing a dark pair of shorts and a bright yellow shirt emblazoned with the words Itachiyama VBC across his left pectoral. The laptop is propped under his muscled arm and he walks slowly toward you, dark eyes watching you thoughtfully. But you’re not meeting his gaze. No, your regard falls to the curve of his calves and the sharp jut of his ankles before you track back up to his thighs and linger over the ripple and pull of the corded brawn that peeks from under the line of his shorts, and it takes him clearing his throat to lure your eyes back up to his burning face.  

You’ve seen him in his MSBY uniform, and you’ve seen him in various outfits over the last month, but the way you’re watching him right now makes his skin prickle and the air around the two of you feels charged, like the smallest push could create some kind of reaction. 

He pauses beside the table and waits for you to sit before he leans down, one leg shaking restlessly under him as he clacks his passcode across the black keys. He’s lifting his right hand to click ‘enter,’ when you cup your hand under his jaw. 

Kiyoomi quavers under your touch, a low shiver slipping up his spine as he twists to face you, his heavy brows arched and onyx eyes wide. He’s perfectly level with you and so close he can faintly smell your lavender shampoo. It’s a nice scent, lulling and woodsy and he wants to shift closer, but before he can act on his instinct you’re already leaning upwards and using your fingertips to dip his head forward, your lips pressing a chaste kiss against his topmost mole, breath warm against his heated skin. 

“Thank you,” you purr, delicately resting the tip of your nose against his curled hair. 

It feels like his body is sputtering to a halt, his arms heavy, his head desperately following your touch as you shift back, a half groaned sigh tight against his split lips. His fingers are twitching against the cool surface of the table and he knows he must look like an absolute idiot when he lifts his eyes back to yours, but he doesn’t care. 

He’s glad you’re going to stay.

“Question for you,” you ask from your perch on the scorer’s table, your fingers flying over the computer keys as you clatter out another email. “How the hell do your hands do that?” 

Kiyoomi smirks at your curious amusement and flips his wrists deftly upwards, easing onto his haunches, flicking his fingers out and rolling his newly stretched wrists as he finishes his final cool down routine. “It’s called joint hyper-mobility. Most lose it when they get older, I’ve been lucky.”

The two of you have been at the training facility for hours. You’d dutifully finished up some last-minute work enquiries and partially outlined the basics for your upcoming grant proposal, while Kiyoomi worked on his spin rotation and spikes.  

You’d watched him intermittently, teeth plucking at the swell of your lower lip each time he lept into the air for a jump serve, or dropped low to the ground as he dug another ball up from his hit to the nearby wall, so you’d noticed when he’d finished his first water bottle. He’d set the plastic down, the tap ringing hollowly over the quiet gym, and rose from your folding chair, making your way over, already asking him where a water station was. 

When you’d returned, passing the newly filled bottle back to him, your fingers stroked up his arm and swirled faint patterns against his clammy skin as he steadied the plastic in his grasp. And later, when you’d refilled his second water bottle, you’d pushed some of his raven waves back, lifting onto the balls of your feet to tuck the dampened strands behind the shell of his ear.

He was a sweaty mess, but that didn’t bother you.

Usually he didn’t like for others to touch him when he was like this. Something about the sheen and prickle of the salty perspiration bothered him, [ disgusted him ] so he actively shunned his teammates when they sought high fives during a game, but this was different.

The instant your fingers alighted against his skin he’d felt a jolting lurch of electricity, but instead of pulling from it, he’d leaned into it, draping his broad palm over your tracing digits, or resting his warm cheek against your open hand, eyes half lidded as they watched for your reaction.

He liked this. 

“Hey, Kiyoomi? Uh, hello, Earth to Kiyoomi! You listening?”

The sound of your voice jerks him from his musings, and he glances at you. “Hmm?”

“I said, how do you feel about a low-key dinner?”

“I’d prefer it,” Kiyoomi replies, easing from his haunches to his feet, rolling his long arms over his head as he stands.

“Yeah, but I mean...low-key, low-key.”

He fixes you with a flat stare, his face falling into that well practiced blankness, obsidian eyes dimmed. “What does that mean?”

“Well, I’ve got some things that I’ve been meaning to cook and, uh, I guess what I’m trying to say is...did you want to maybe have dinner at my apartment? I know you’re picky about how your food is prepared, so if you wanna go out instead, that’s fine too. I won’t be offended. I just wanted to– ”

“I’d like that, but...can you cook?” he rumbles, a teasing smile coiling against his lips. 

“Oh, I see. No, you got me. Totally can’t. I just wanted to know if you’d suffer through burnt rice, and then lie and tell me you’d liked it, or some shit,” you threaten, sticking your tongue out and scrunching your face at his blatant leer. 

“Don’t worry, I’d definitely tell you.”

“Pfft. You’re the worst, you know that? Now go shower. If we wait too long, we’ll hit rush hour at the station and I bet that’s pretty high on your list of things to avoid at all costs.”

Your apartment is small.

Well, compared to his. But his place is an empty shell, brittle, almost sterile in its vacant emptiness. He’s not there often, so why fill it with more than the bare essentials? It’s got what he needs, and he’s never been bothered by the Spartan coldness of the tiles and dark wood, that is, until he steps into your space. 

There’s so much color. 

The living room is blanketed in a mix of cheery yellows, warm reds, and deep purples. It’s not displeasing, but it makes him pause within the confines of the genkan, onyx eyes wide under his raised brows. It’s a difference. Now there’s an unexpected worry that’s pricking at the front of his mind.

“You coming?” you ask, poking your head around the cut of the wall that divides your living room from your kitchen, peering curiously at his tense expression.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, easing his trainers off of his feet. This place reminds him that there’s still so much about you he doesn’t know. 

So, to alleviate himself from his lingering trepidations, he peers curiously around the apartment.   

Most of your furniture is Western. And while there is a traditional chabudai beside your kitchen and a familiar kotatsu that rests beneath the glass doors of your balcony, the rest of the room is decorated with cushioned couches, stiff-backed chairs, neatly organized shelving units, a large tv and stand, and several side tables that hold a mixture of lamps, artfully stacked books, picture frames and candles. 

He’s still gazing over the plethora of things when you appear beside his elbow. “I’m going to shower. Make yourself at home. The remote for the tv should be on the kotatsu. You alright with soba stir fry and okonomiyaki for dinner? It’s easy, well, quick...”

“That’s fine,” Kiyoomi breathes, voice muted as his eyes rake over one of your bookshelves. “You could have taken one at the gym, you know...a shower.”

“Oh-ho, sure! Like a shower at your gym doesn’t come with the awful possibility that one of your teammates or, god forbid, coaches could have walked in. Yeah, no thanks,” you chuckle, shaking your head as you pad over to the small hallway that separates your kitchen and living space from the rest of your apartment. “I won’t be long. Please do not rob me, kay’?”

Kiyoomi blatantly scoffs at your remark but doesn’t look up until he hears the click of your bathroom door. Instantly, his feet carry him toward your collection of books and miscellany, one long finger tracing up paper spines. He will not miss this opportunity. 

He’s curious, ravenously so.

There are small bowls that are filled with a mismatch of silver and gold jewelry, peeling bound novels with English titles printed down their spines, and asymmetric jars that carry the weight of seashells that gleam translucent and bright against the dimming sunlight.

Beaming smiles radiate from your collection of pictures. Some are snapshots of you and others who look enough like you he assumes they must be your family, while other images are older, with people dressed in vintage clothing, the photos sheened in dull greys and time blown sepia rather than vibrant, modern colors. 

Then there are the books. The room is littered with them. Most are organized within the confines of the shelves, but a few are stacked on the kotatsu and he flips open one cover, eyes scanning the orderly lines of Japanese that dart down the pages.   

There’s just so much here, so many little pieces of you that are scattered about, and he wants to see...no, he wants to ask you about all of it. 

Dazed, he leaves the open space of the living room and steps toward the kitchen. It’s less cluttered in here, and he can smell the faint tang of bleach and lemon as he moves onto the dark tiles. Clearly, the fastidious habits you’ve displayed at the cafe are ingrained into your daily routines. 

Cleanliness and routine. You’ll always have that in common.

His roving observations falter at your fridge. It’s covered in a scattered array of playful magnets, pinning down lists and newer Polaroids and he steps closer, index finger extended once more as he glides the digit down the faded ink and shine of the photos. Resting atop one of the larger check-lists is a crisp slip of cardstock. It’s clearly been given pride of place and Kiyoomi curves himself downward, somber brows wrinkling as he reads the print.

The departments of Anthropology, History, Languages, and Education invite you to attend:

The Deans Meeting

10th Annual Conference & New Faculty Welcome Event

Thursday, April 23rd

6:30 - 9:30 p.m.

Graduate School of Human Sciences, Osaka University

(Number Attending: ____ *limit of one guest per invitee)

Kiyoomi straightens, raking a hand up through his loose curls. The 23rd? That’s a month...no...almost five weeks away. He slips his cellphone out of his jacket, thumb tapping over to his calendar. It’s a Friday...but good, there’s no game that day–however there is a team meeting. If he asks now, he should be able to be excused from the meeting and maybe the mid-day practice as well. You haven’t mentioned this event to him, he muses, fingers rapidly tapping the date into his reminders, but it looks important and he wants to go with you, if you’ll let him. 

He hears the telltale shudder of your shower’s cut-off valve and he turns, ready to walk back to the neutral safety of your living room when he spies a haphazardly cracked doorway that clearly leads into your bedroom. His feet are carrying him around the low base of the chabudai, and before he can justify his impulsive [ curious, hungry ] reasoning he’s already leaning in, unabashedly looking over the space. 

The room is dark; the dusky light of the sunset is muffled by the curtains that drape over the large window, but Kiyoomi marvels, obsidian eyes whisking over the small space, greedily taking in the neat folds of your downy comforter, the soft pillows that nestle under the headboard, and the fan that sits atop the tatami mats. It smells like you in here; the chilled air holds the gentle scent of rich florals and spice and he wants to step closer, but then his hand is catching against the doorframe and he jerks back, hurriedly gulping down a sharp breath as his black hair slumps over his hooded eyes. 

It’s...it’s not...he shouldn’t have looked. It’s not polite, but damn, he almost doesn’t care.

What would it be like to step past that threshold? To walk into something that’s so saturated with you? He feels like his skin is too close, too heavy, and he wants nothing more than to stretch out on the cool sheets of your bed to ease that simmer that’s thrumming under his heated flesh.

Wait. A bed. You have a bed. 

Shit. 

Kiyoomi’s always been content with his futon, satisfied with the simplicity of it. He’s always considered beds to be a waste of space, unnecessary, after all, he’s just sleeping on it. Why did it matter? 

Unanswered questions whir around his half cocked head. What if you don’t like futons? If you think they’re uncomfortable, or inconvenient? Besides, now he’s picturing laying with you on a bed, [ this bed ] not a futon. Kiyoomi wants to see you stretched out beside him, comfortable and happy, with that tantalizing smile and those playful eyes watching him, waiting for him. What side do you prefer? Right? Left? And then? What happens when you’ve picked your spot and settled in? 

Would you want him to shift closer? Could he run his palms past your arms and down the sloping curves of your hips? Would you do the same for him? What would your nails feel like as they scratched faint lines along his sides, over the muscles of his abdomen, or down his back? You’d be so close. So close that every sigh that passed between your lips would be shared with him and he’d inhale every sound, his lips rough against yours. And if you arched into him, your hands urging him to straddle himself over your intoxicating softness, your thighs spreading as he lowers his hips––  

The bathroom door clicks and the fevered daydream fades, his feet cumbersome and tangled as he lumbers back to the living room, his heart pounding in his ears. He doesn’t like this breathlessness, doesn’t like that his hands are trembling as he stuffs them into his pockets. Any second now you’ll be in front of him and he wants to hold you, to let the pull of your hands and the sleek drag of your lips satiate the feel [ throb ] of his unexpected [ visceral ] arousal.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to take that long, I just–– ” 

The distance between the two of you is closed within a heartbeat, and his outstretched fingertips glide down the smooth line of your neck. You suck in a sharp breath, your body rigid under his hold, [ damn it, too fast ] and he drops his hands, easing you into the suddenness of his movement with lazy kisses against your warm cheek and neck, grinning when you lean into him at last. 

[ Yes. Perfect. ]  

You want him to kiss you properly, and you do your best to chase his lips, your arms folding around his bowed neck as you tap a few impatient kisses against his lowered forehead. But he ignores your temptations, not ready to move away from the intoxicating fragrance of your freshly cleaned skin. That soothing smell of peppermint and fresh lavender is near ambrosial, and he greedily digs his nose against you as his muscular arms drape over your sides, and his broad hands pause against the small of your back.

His sharp exhales against your shower dampened neck make you shiver but he maneuvers you closer, rubbing his lower lip against the dip of your shoulder before lifting to catch his teeth on your pulse. He knows just what you like now; he thinks smugly, tracing the flat of his tongue over a line of gooseflesh that bursts over your slicked skin. 

In the last month he’s gained a steady mastery of your preferences when it came to his kisses. You preferred to start things slowly, to have him cup your face and stoke you up steadily, but once he eases down the intricate line of your neck, well, all that softness and coy sweetness would bleed into something else entirely.

You liked it rougher then; liked for these caresses to be charged with lightning fast pushes and pulls, your fingers alternating between the sides of his jaw or the coiled thickness of his hair as you swayed him closer, and that shift never failed to set his heart racing and often sent his tightly reigned control spiraling. But that’s not what he wants, not right now, so he’s careful to keep you at bay, distracting your breathless twists with a fresh set of nips and unhurried pecks against your throat.

He wants to lose himself in you; to blank out all the other worries. The differences don’t matter, not when he can hold you like this.

“Hey, Kiyoomi,” you gasp and only then does he stop his incessant assault, arms tensing as they clutch you to the broad slope of his chest, his dark waves falling heavily against your kiss glistened shoulder.

“Hmm?” he murmurs, his voice reverberating against your wet skin.

“What...what’s gotten into you?” you falter, distracted by the hum of his low tone and the soothing pass of his hands as they curve along your spine.

“Dunno, just felt like kissing you,” he lies impassively, lifting his head from you, obsidian eyes shielded by his mussed curls, the tops of his cheeks aglow.

You exhale a tight laugh at his serious, but utterly flushed expression. “Okay–so why did you stop?”

“Liked it that much, huh? I’m hungry,” he clarifies, a smirk curling his erubescent lips and you laugh, melting that jaunty grin into his usual straightlaced frown. “Tch,” he tries again, sliding his dark eyes away from your open bemusement, a pink blush staining the bridge of his nose. “It’s not that I...hmph, come on, don’t act like you’re not hungry, too...”

You were an excellent cook. Not that he’d fully meant his droll quip at the gym; after all, why offer to do something if you’re not good at it? But he’s glad he agreed to a home cooked meal. 

Besides, there is something soothing about the whole thing.It was nice, watching you deftly maneuver around your tiny kitchen, turning on burners, setting timers, and arranging the ingredients in simple bowls and plates; it reminded him of the coffee shop. And he’s always liked watching you work. Your movements were always smooth [ elegant ]. You kept your hands close and your elbows in, so confident in the motions of your ingrained routines and the tidiness of your space, that you could easily carry on a conversation with him, your eyes careful to meet his over the top of the espresso machine.

But this is better than watching you in the coffee shop. There’s no divider now. There’s just you and him. It’s comforting and he wants to experience it again and again.  

You let him set the plates out, chop the vegetables, prep the soba, and asked him to pick out some beer from your fridge, saying you trusted his choice and chuckling good-naturedly when he padded back to your side, four cans sticking icily to his palms as he asked a few [ five or six ] clarifying questions about the brews.He enjoys your cheerful teasing; he thinks as the two of you sit at the low chabudai; it makes him feel like he fits in, like he can be part of this side of you. You tuck your legs to one side as you sit, your shoulder gently bumping against his as you ease into a comfortable position on the tatami mats and Kiyoomi leans closer, indulging himself in the press long after you’ve picked up your chopsticks–a shared meal of of cabbage and onion okonomiyaki and salmon stir fry resting between the two of you. 

It’s a simple thing, all of this touch, but Kiyoomi can’t get enough of it. Every time your arm brushes against his, or you ask him to pass you something from his side of the table, he wants to prolong the contact, to keep his fingers beside yours, or feel the warmth of your thigh and the jut of your hip as he shifts nearer.

He didn’t think he enjoyed being touched. 

He always did his utmost to avoid it, shunning the clapped backs and constant high fives that always seemed to be prepackaged and expected in the contact heavy sport of volleyball. Not because he didn’t like his teammates [ sure, sometimes– eh, most of the time ] they were too much, but he genuinely liked playing with them. But he didn’t enjoy the balmy heat of skin on skin contact, or the worry of shared germs. Touching meant weakness. It allowed things to spread from person to person; it created variables, and more variables always meant things could slip out of his control. No, Kiyoomi valued the predictable, the known, the cleanliness and routine, and touch threw most of that out of the equation. 

He doesn’t like touch. 

Yet he’s craving yours.  

It’s another thing that isn’t like him, he contemplates, passing his empty bowl to you, already missing that pleasing closeness you’d shared with him as you walk back into your kitchen and that stark absence makes him stand. It’s an urge, a compulsion, and it’s not something he wants to question so he listens to his instincts, feet planted firmly beneath him as he follows you, his hands lifted, reaching for you. When he tugs you against his chest, his dark head dropping beside yours, jet curls fanning beside your cheek and along your neck, he feels the ache within him settle and he lets himself wallow in the familiarity of crisp peppermint that sits against your skin. [ There. He can worry about the rest later, right now this is all he wants. ] 

“I should go,” he whispers, the tip of his nose cool against you. He locks his forearms around your waist and sighs when you rest your temple against his. 

He [ doesn’t want to ] should go. 

“Yeah,” you echo, cupping your fingers over his crossed arms and stroking them over his goose-fleshed skin. “I work in the morning. So I need to be up early.”

His steady breaths match yours and he pulls you closer, humming contentedly as the curve of your back falls into the hollow of his chest. “I’ll go,” Kiyoomi stalls, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the slope of your neck. He really should. There are only a few more trains tonight, but he can’t let go.

So he lingers, his heavy body leaning against yours, full lips dragging along your pulse as his arms loop tightly around you. You twist your head and he lets you return his caresses, groaning against the sweet pressure of your lips. You’re gentle with him, your kisses filled with restrained desire, and the gossamer touch makes him reach for more. When you pull away, your eyes shining in the gleam of your kitchen lights, he brings you back, his broad palms turning you to him as his chapped fingers tilt your chin, his arms cupping you so close he can feel the thud of your heart against his.

He [ doesn’t want to ] should go.

notes: @kugutsuu​ made me these lovely lines. aren’t they pretty! (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧     

#sakusa kiyoomi #kiyoomi sakusa #reader insert #sakusa x y/n #sakusa x you #sakusa x reader #kiyoomi x y/n #kiyoomi x you #kiyoomi x reader #hq imagines #haikyuu!! imagines #hq!! #hq #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #multichapter #slow burn #eventual smut

[sadlysoulx]

HAIKYUU CHARACTERS WATCHING YOU GETTING MARRIED TO SOMEONE ELSE. . . (BOKUTO& KENMA)

⚠️ Warning⚠️: angst

BOKUTO

He watched the newly-wedded couple— you and your husband. Both of you drank you wines, arms interwined with each other.

He watched as the both of you laughed along with the other visitors when the host said something funny.

He watched as the both of you feed each other with your wedding cake.

Bokuto regretted coming to your wedding, and right now he also regretted in coming to the after party reception.

It hurts him seeing you with some one else. And it kills him to see you already married and connect to someone else's hearts.

Why not me?

The question echoed in Bokuto's head. Why not him? If he had confessed earlier to you than your current husband, would he be the one sitting there beside you? Laughing together and married to each other?

Bokuto pushed his food around on his plate with his fork.

Maybe.

From across the round table, his old high school volleyball teammates looks at him at pity, they knew how much their captain love you, how much he had dreamed to be with you.

Akaashi forced Bokuto to eat.

"C'mon, open up!" Akaashi sighed when Bokuto sat there, not showing signs of eating or wanting to eat.

The time rolled by and soon, the part was over.

Bokuto immediately stood up, after bidding his goodbyes to his friends and acquaintences— No, he didn't say goodbye to you, he doesn't want to make things harder for the both of you.

He went out the hotel, planning to go home and sulk. To cry his heart out, knowing he can't change things.

Bokuto opened up his car and was about to go in, when someone called him.

"Kou!"

His heart clenched in pain. Why only now?

You struggled running in your fluffy wedding dress, the one you always dreamed about since you were little.

"Kou!" You huffed and stopped infront of the former captain.

Bokuto turned and tried to put up his usual playful smile.

"Y/n. . ."

You threw yourself over him, hugging him tight.

"Oh God, I miss you so much!" You giggled against his chest.

Tears bloomed in Bokuto's eyes. You had no idea how much he had missed you too. Slowly, he wrapped his mascular arms around you smaller figure.

"I miss you too, Y/N. . ." Closing his eyes, he savored the momment. Bokuto knew this would be probably the last time he would hug you, your new path of life wouldn't be with him but with your husband.

He understood that, but that doesn't mean he can accept it easily.

You pulled back, smiling widely at him, oblivious to his teary eyes.

"How was it? How was your big day? How did you feel?" He asked slowly.

You chuckled to yourself as you started rambling about how you were so excited and nervous to start a new life with your husband and how you were excited to start a family of your own– Bokuto almost lost it there, an unexplainable feeling at the pit of his stomach.

You mindlessly rambled on and on, unaware of Bokuto who looked like he was about to break down. So when you looked up at him, you stopped in your mid-sentence, in shock, he was crying.

"Hey. . ." You panicked. "What's wrong?"

Bokuto let out a broken laugh.

"I'm just. . ." He was trying to find words. "I'm just happy for you,"

He was partly lying. Bokuto cried because of you, but not because he's happy. He's broken because he wasn't a choice, that you didn't choose him, that you didn't give him a chance.

You smiled, tears also start threatening your eyes. "Awww. . . Kou~"

You brought your hand up to caress his cheek. Bokuto leaned in to your touch, feeling the cold metal of your wedding ring.

Tears streamed the both of your faces, ruining your makeup.

"I'm also happy for you, look at you! A successful volleyball player!"

He smiled through his tears, ignoring the painful tug of his heart strings.

"Babe!"

You turned to see your husband.

"I have to go now, Kou. . ." You smiled up at him and kissed his forehead, leaving a soft lingering touch of love.

"I know. . ." He whispered.

At least, he knew how it felt like to be with you, only if it's in a short period of time.

"Bye!"

He waved back at you as he watched the you and the man he was jealous about trail away.

When he was sure you were out of sight, he completely broke down into a crying mess.

Kenma

He hesitantly stood infront of the door before knocking it.

The door opened and he was met with a not very-impressed- looking make-up artist.

"What do you want, boy?" The lady croaked.

Kenma struggled with his words.

"I—"

"Who's that?" He heard your voice pipe in from inside the air-conditioned room.

"It's a pudding-headed boy,"

Kenma was about to sue her off when you spoke up again.

"Oh! That's my best friend let him in!"

The make-up artist mumbled a few words before reluctantly letting Kenma inside.

Kenma fidgeted with fingers and walked in. The first pretty thing he saw is you, infront of the make-up mirror with light bulbs on it's sides, highlighting your beauty. You were on a white robe and hair curled up into a complicated twisty messy bun.

You were beautiful, no matter what.

Too bad he isn't the one marrying you.

You looked up and smiled at him through the mirror.

"Kenma~"

He sighed watching you, heart aching so badly that he couldn't breath, heaviness swam in his lungs and in the pit of his stomach making it hard not to cry infront of you.

"Y/N. . ."

He walked up to you and sat on one of the artists chairs beside you, looking at your eyes.

"I'm getting married!" You talked to yourself, wiggling on your seat. "Oh my gosh, I'm getting married!"

He wanted to be happy for you, really, but how could he when the person he loves is marrying someone else and not with him.

How?

Kenma shuffled on his seat.

"Yes, you are getting married, Y/N. You know what? I really want to be happy for you but I couldn't. And that's because I love you, right until this momment. Tell me how could I let you go that easily, when I spend my whole life finding out how to make a move on you, to tell that I love you. . . Only realizing I'm too late because here you are now, marrying someone else,"

But he said that all in his mind.

Failing to say those heavy words to you, he said instead:

"You are getting married, Y/N. I'm so proud of you, you are about to make a new level of your life,"

You smiled at him.

"Thank you, Kenma,"

He hated himself so much at this point, he would have been marrying you instead of that guy, if he hadn't chicken out the whole time, he would be with you.

But life has other plans.

And life wanted to make him suffer, to make him see you marrying another person.

People are right.

Life is unfair.

He watch as the make-up artist continued doing your make-up. Once in a while, you would laugh whole telling her a story about your fiancé.

He quickly stood up and went out the door, before he could cry infront of you.

__________________

Kenma refused to eat but he started to drown his 5th glass of alcohol.

"Oi! Kenma eat!" Kuroo wiggled the steak infront do his face, prodding from the fork. Kenma disgustingly put the man's arm down, muttering a curse aimed at him.

He looked up to see you dancing with your husband.

He wished it was him dancing with you.

He wished it was him feeding you cake.

He wished it was him who you ended up with.

He wished, he wished, he wished. A ton of more wishes chanted in his head, even though he knew it won't come true.

He buried his head in his hands, tears slightly burning his eyes but not ready to fall.

Suddenly, he was called. He looked up and saw that you were handing out you hand, waiting for him to take it.

Kenma blinked back the tears and shyly took it, standing up and getting dragged into the dance floor.

He placed your hands on you waist and you wrapped your arms around his neck and began swaying to the music.

Kenma ignored the people surrounding the both of you.

"I'm sorry for running away earlier," he muttered.

You laughed.

"You probably want to pee, so I don't mind,"

No, it's because it pained me to see you with someone else.

"Well I'm sorry for bringing you here to dance with me, I know you have social anxiety,"

"No, it's fine," he looked into your eyes as he twirled you around. "Even if the whole world was dancing, I'd still dance with you,"

You smiled, tears prickling your eyes.

"As long as it's you," he softly said, tears blurring his vision but he could still see your beauty.

And it's because I love you.

The song ended and your husband came walking by.

"Take care of Y/N," Kenma said to him. "That person you just married is the world's beautiful treasure,"

He didn't care if he cried infront of everyone. He just did. The pain in his heart is so painful, so suffocating.

The groom nodded softly.

You hugged Kenma tightly and everyone stared in awe.

He wanted to say you are so beautiful and pretty, he wanted to say he love you so so much, but he couldn't.

He just couldn't.

The heaviness in his heart worsens, making it hard to breathe properly.

The words I love you was sitting at the tip of his tounge but they just couldn't get out.

And he was glad you were the one who said it for him.

"I love you," you mumbled against his chest, crying quietly.

Kenma completely broke down and sobbed into your neck, bottom lip trembling and body shaking.

"I love you too, pudding, go and have the best life with your husband,"

He pulled back and handed you to your husband, who was smiling softly at Kenma.

Kenma immediately ran out of the venue and into the bathroom stall.

He leaned on the wall and slid down until he was sitting on the tiled floor, he cried, screaming into his hands, muffling his cries.

I love you so much, Y/N. . .

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x self insert #fanfic #anime #haikyuu #haikyuu angst #angst #hq angst #bokuto #kenma kuzome #kenma angst #haikyuu kenma

[spiriteddreams]

Champagne Kisses

Pairing: Iwaizumi x Reader Warnings: just fluff fluff fluff! Word Count: ~1.7k A/N: was gonna make this an angsty unrequited christmas love but i decided to spare you all hehe :)

The music blaring from Oikawa’s speakers is headache inducing, and Iwaizumi wants nothing more than to leave the party behind and go home. But it’s the first time Oikawa’s been home in months after spending time in Argentina playing volleyball with every waking day. So instead of slipping from his best friend’s home, he hides away in the kitchen, glancing at his phone every few seconds and half keeping an eye on Makki and Mattsun who are drinking a bit too much than they should. It’s their annual holiday gathering but with each year the party invitation list grows larger and larger to the point where Iwaizumi’s not sure if he knows half the people there. The old Aoba Johsai team is there, as well as some of the MSBY players who had quickly become friends with Oikawa after Hinata had encountered the setter in Brazil. Granted, there was tension that remained from their high school years, but here they were all together and drinking as if they’d known each other forever. It’s not that Iwaizumi hates being there, he truly does enjoy the presence of his friends but tonight, he wants nothing more than to slip into his own bed and waste time by watching the list of movies Oikawa has compiled for him. 

“Iwa-chan, you look so lonely!” Oikawa’s fluffy brown hair bounces into his vision and the setter is grasping onto his shoulders with a dazed smile, cheeks flushed red from drinking and his words slurring together.

“Get off me, Shittykawa.” Iwaizumi grumbles but he makes no move to shove his friend off. The drunk setter giggles and falls dramatically in his best friend’s arms whilst looking up at him with a certain twinkle in his eyes. It isn’t long before Oikawa pushes himself back up and moves to stand next to Iwaizumi, observing the partygoers in his living room. Such a lively scene, with glowing lights and so many smiles and echoing laughter, and yet Iwaizumi chooses to keep to himself in the kitchen. And despite having knocked back a couple drinks, Oikawa’s acutely aware of Iwaizumi’s habits. 

“You know, I could set you up with someone here.” Oikawa wiggles his eyebrows, earning himself a scowl and a sound of unamusement. “You remember the manager from…” Iwaizmumi tunes him out, ignoring Oikawa’s exaggerated rambling as he nudges him every few seconds. Yeah, he’s getting more and more tired of this party by the second. Oikawa snorts, earning him another sharp glare and the setter shrugs innocently before glancing down at the watch wrapped around his wrist.

“I have your gift by the way.” The way Oikawa sings those words makes Iwaizumi feel uneasy but he doesn’t say anything, only waiting for his friend to continue. “It should be here… now! I paid for this rapid delivery so no sulking!” As if on cue, someone knocks on Oikawa’s door and the setter lets out a whoop of joy and practically drags Iwaizumi with him. He apologizes to everyone he bumps into, but his words get caught in his throat when Makki and Mattsun start grinning at him with teasing smiles, suggestively telling him to enjoy his gift. He scowls at them and pushes Makki’s face away, much to his dismay before getting pulled along with Oikawa who doesn’t seem to care that Iwaizumi’s stumbling over his own feet.

“Merry Christmas, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa throws open the door and shoves the athletic trainer forward. He stumbles forward and barely has time to grip the doorframe before he looks up and his eyes widen comically. Because standing in front of him, wrapped up in a sweater and holding a small box in their hands is you. Your mouth is parted slightly into an ‘o’ shape, clearly surprised at Iwaizumi’s ungraceful stumbling the moment the door opened. But before he can say anything, you’re laughing at him and greeting him in such a warm tone that Iwazumi’s grip on the doorframe relaxes instantly. He barely registers you throwing your arms around him, pulling him into a hug and pressing yourself closer. He can hear Oikawa snickering behind him, but he chooses to ignore it and hesitantly returns your embrace, his eyes still staring out in front of him in disbelief, caught off guard by your presence. You pull away too early for his liking and he can feel his cheeks heating when you look him up and down and pat his chest, commenting about how he cleans up well. Iwaizumi’s barely processing anything that’s happening as you move to embrace Oikawa, the stupid setter sending Iwaizumi a wink that makes him want to yell. 

“It’s been too long, Mr. I’m-too-busy-because-I'm-an-athletic-trainer!” You tease with a smile as you slip your arm through his and gently tug him back into the crowd. Iwaizumi doesn’t get the chance to reply because Makki and Mattsun are jumping towards you, their loud yells attracting attention as they greet you with such enthusiasm. You’re stumbling backwards as they hug you and declare how much they love and missed you. Iwaizumi scowls at their words but he stays in his spot and waits until they finally release you, throwing out teasing comments and making Iwaizumi wonder why he still keeps in touch with these fools. 

Oikawa’s watching from beside Iwaizumi and he grins, “Your jealousy is too obvious, Iwa-chan! Relax a bit!” He snickers as Bokuto practically throws himself at you as well, embracing you tightly as he asks how you’ve been. Sakusa is there a second later, apologizing quickly and pulling the eccentric spiker off of you before turning to scold him with a scowl. It seems as if everyone who’s crammed into Oikawa’s home wants to greet you, and Iwaizumi isn’t sure how long he stands there, his patience starting to wear thin as you indulge them in conversation. He sighs and is about to move away when you catch him by the wrist with a faux look of hurt and he feels butterflies erupt in his stomach. He hates this feeling, hates that he becomes speechless when you’re around, reduced to nothing but a bumbling blushing mess who doesn’t know what to do. But you don’t seem to notice, or if you do, you don’t seem to mind as you pull him to grab a drink for yourself. The grin that’s etched upon your face is so genuine, so easy going, so free and pretty and Iwaizumi can’t help but stare.

“You look tired, Hajime, I hope you’re not overworking yourself.” Ah there it is. Iwaizumi doesn’t think he’ll get over the way his name sounds when it spills from your lips and he momentarily forgets your words when he looks over with such a soft look in his eyes that Oikawa’s scrambling to take pictures with his phones (for blackmail of course). 

“I— Of course not.” He grumbles, “I’m not like Shittykawa.” There’s a sneeze from the crowd but the two of you don’t pay any mind. Well, Iwaizumi’s too entranced by your loud laughter that quickly fizzles out into small giggles. It’s embarrassing, he thinks to himself, how much you manage to capture his attention, capture his heart in just seconds without even knowing. And it makes his chest hurt because you’re right there, standing just in front of him but he can’t even reach out or do anything. The two of you fall into easy conversation, trading stories of work and your social lives, not noticing the looks that your friends cast at you from a distance.

If anyone went up to ask them later, they’d likely recall the look in your eyes whenever Iwaizumi began to retell a story rather passionately. The athletic trainer himself doesn’t notice, but everyone else can see the way you look at Iwaizumi as if he was your entire world. The smile on your lips grows wider and wider as he continues to speak, and no one else misses the way your eyes flicker up and down every so often. They all know, you’ve been in love with this beautiful man as long as they’ve known you. From your days running after him in Aoba Johsai, to your occasional presence at friend gatherings, they can all see the way you treasure Iwaizumi Hajime. And tonight, that same feeling of adoration is present in Iwaizumi. Soft eyes and gentle smiles are there when he listens to you speak, his body pressed against yours as the two of you block out the rest of the world. Oikawa, Makki and Mattsun are standing just a little ways away with satisfied smiles on their faces, their successful planning finally paying off.

“I was in such a rush, so I wasn’t able to bring your gift.” You look at Iwaizumi sheepishly but he’s brushing away your worries when he too admits that he doesn’t have yours on hand with him at the moment. Granted, Iwaizumi didn’t know you were going to show up as the last he had heard from Oikawa, you were celebrating elsewhere. 

“We can exchange them another time.” Iwaizumi suggests and he shoves down the anxiety that’s building up in his chest and blurts out, “Maybe over a coffee tomorrow morning?” You nearly choke on the champagne you’d been sipping and Iwaizumi wants nothing more than to run away and die of embarrassment. But then you’re smiling at him and nodding, asking to meet at the little cafe that’s central to your homes. Inside he’s celebrating, there’s fireworks going off in his head and the roar of success. It’s the same feeling as when he’s won a game with Aoba Johsai and he can barely contain his giddiness. But all of that is quickly thrown out when something hits him in the side of his head. Both of your heads snap over to see Oikawa wailing with disappointment at a failed throw and you glance down to see mistletoe sitting right by Iwaizumi’s feet. The athletic trainer narrows his eyes at Oikawa and lets out a sound of annoyance but before he can move to give his friend a piece of his mind, you’re grabbing hold of him and yanking his body towards yours, your lips meeting his. His mind goes blank but he’s quick to regain his senses as his arms wrap around your own and he holds you. He can faintly taste the lingering traces of champagne on your lips, and he makes a mental note to ask Oikawa what champagne it is. But he’s here, with you in his arms and mistletoe at his feet.

“Happy holidays, Hajime.” The smile on his face is probably the biggest it’s been all year as he squeezes you gently and murmurs, “Happy holidays, (y/n).

A/N: as you all can tell, i’m lonely :D but ANYWAYS happy holidays everyone, and even if you don’t celebrate, i hope you have a wonderful rest of the year!!

comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi hajime x reader #spiriteddreams writing #spiriteddreams

[kaita0]

Ｓｔｒａｗｂｅｒｒｙ Ｋｉｓｓｅｓ

Hajime was walking down the hall, he was leaving during practice because he had a doctor's appointment. As he walked down the empty halls, his nose caught a whiff of something sweet. Hajime was a sucker for three things. And that is Tofu, Volleyball, and Sweets. Hajime is quick to follow the scent into the home ed classroom. He slowly opens the door. His eyes fall upon a male he never seen before.

The male had soft features, long eyelashes, big innocent e/c eyes, soft and plump lips, smooth skin, and fluffy h/c hair. The male had a pink apron on and a soft smile on his lips as he took out a tray of cookies from the oven. Hajime hesitates as he began to think to himself. Should he go over and ask what he was doing by himself or should he just leave?

Not before long, the male turns towards Hajime. Hajime tenses up as big e/c eyes examine him. The two were silent as they shared eye contact. Minute by Minute under his gaze, Hajime's cheek began to heat up. Hajime quickly diverts his eyes onto the floor. "Do you want a cookie?" Hajime's ears were blessed with a silky smooth voice.

Hajime's heart skips a beat. "I-I, Yeah. I would like one." Hajime stutters out. He cursed himself in his mind for the embarrassment. The smaller male giggles softly, catching Hajime off guard. He looks up at him. Hajime's eyes widened at the scene before him. The sun shined through the curtains and shined on his face. His bright smiled tugged on Hajime's heart strings. The male takes a napkin and three cookies from the tray.

He makes his way over to Hajime, who couldn't take his eyes off of him. He places the cookies out for Hajime. Hajime's eyes travel down to his hands. "It's ok. I promise they aren't bad. My name is LN YN. What's yours?" His silky voice echoed through his ears, like a soft melody. Hajime takes the cookies and glances at him. "Iwaizumi Hajime." YN beams. The two stared at another in silence. Hajime takes one last glance at YN before he rushes out of the classroom. Muttering a small 'sorry' as he left. YN watched, his cheeks heated up and his lips lift up into a soft smile.

I know I said I was making a Kuroo fanfic but like Iwaizumi was like my second crush before Kuroo but after Daichi. And plus, I been had this in my drafts, just didn't know if anyone would like to read it since I mostly write BNHA fanfic but like that don't matter and I ramble alot. So welcome to Strawberry Kisses, not smut (until the end that is). Just fluffy fluff or whatever.

And this story will mostly be in Hajime's POV. Because I want to know what my hubby be thinking when I read fanfic, ya know?

#strawberry kisses #iwaizumi x male reader #haikyuu x male reader #kaita senpai strawberry kisses #kaita senpai #kaita senpai fics

[karasunology]

⸙ ˚₊ ➷ NEKOMA WITH A SHY! ANXIOUS AND ASTHMATIC MANAGER ! ❞

✎ . . . hello since your requests are open may i request vbc teams (karasuno, nekoma and shiratorizawa) + shy manager with anxiety and asthma? i rlly am hungry for some team dynamics and your work is amazing so if you may? YOU DON'T HAVE TO DO IT IF YOU DON'T WANT TO DO IT THOUGH!

❝ ― submitted by @ nonnie <3 ❞

-ˏˋ ➶ character(s) ━ nekoma vbc <3

[ trigger warnings ━ none ]

✎ . . . TEAM MANAGER HEADCANONS.

[ other parts coming soon . . . ]

NEKOMA VBC.

➜ after finding out about karasuno having TWO managers now,

➜ like they  m u l t i p l i e d ✖➗➕➖

➜ and with taketora's failure of recruiting one,

➜ kuroo was PRACTICALLY BEGGING YOU to be their manager

➜ his reasons being and i quote; “ giving more motivation to the team ” and of course “ to show those bastards the sanctity of nekoma ”

➜ and rooster boi was a determined person, once he sets his mind to something ─ he will do everything to attain it

➜ you knew kuroo ever since you first started first year with him, the both of you quietly competing against each other on your collage preparatory class but soon grew closer to be called friends

➜ but he'd always call you his rival even though it was lowkey one-sided

➜ and after hearing that the club you joined in this year, just for the sake of joining; disbanded, and kuroo was UNASHAMED to ask of you to be the manager of their team

➜ it's been two ever since nekoma had a manager and he was TIRED™ of not having one and it was already his last year playing

➜ you having no other reasons to object, you agreed, but not without asking in a small voice to help you introduce yourself to the team

➜ you were shy to new people ─ hell, even after knowing him for three years you would still get shy around him

➜ and because of that, kuroo was already one step ahead of everything;

➜ talking to the reliable third years ─ kai and yaku, about looking out for you explaining your slight anxiety and asthma problems

➜ homeboy would have a team meeting just to discuss and announce about a new female manager

➜ YAMAMOTO DEAD ASS DROPPED ON HIS KNEES WITH TEARS ON HIS EYES AND PRAISED WHOEVER GAVE HIM THIS OPPORTUNITY

➜ the third years weren't shocked, since kuroo already had a word with them seperately

➜ LEV, BABY BOY WAS ECSTATIC, HE WAS ALWAYS IN FOR THE IDEA OF MEETING SOMEONE NEW

➜ kuroo knew that lev would be ALL UP ON HER FACE if he doesn't do anythibg about it, so he threatened on benching him if he ever does something to scare away this ONE CHANCE of having a real girl manager

➜ fukunaga was curious to say the least, he wondered how it would be like to have a girl manager helping them around since it's always him and yaku

➜ inuoka, being the bubbly boy he is, was excited to have a female manager, since it is his first year in the vbc

➜ kenma was just straight up vibin, he already knew alot about everything he needed to know about you because of kuroo

➜ but still listened as he played with his psp

➜ shibayama and tamahiko were neutral about it honestly, satisfied because their team needed a bit more motivation if they wanted to win nationals

➜ kuroo just wanted to make you feel comfortable and safe with the team

➜ genuinely, the team didn't know how it would honestly flow with actually meeting their manager

➜ scared of scaring her off, they remained uncharacteristically toned down abit right before they meet you

➜ kuroo opened the metal doors to the volleyball gym, while peaking your pretty little head out to see where the members where; you were shocked to see them straightening their backs the second they saw your head peaking out from behind kuroo

➜ it was . . silent, and it was weird since, you've once secretly dropped by on their practices and they were evidently chaotic just by the sounds of their voices which echoed around the gym

➜ your palpitations slowed down a bit as you fully showed yourself to the members before flusteredly bowing at them

“ I HOPE WE CAN GET ALONG ”

➜ it was quiet for a second, before you hear sobbing as you lifted your head up to see yamamoto trying not to cry

“ this, this is my first time having a female manager . . . ” with snot drooling from his nose

➜ being the worried sweet senpai manager you are, you hurriedly took out your unused napkin from your pocket which you packed for the sole purpose of avoiding smoke; offering the napkin to him as it only made him burst into TEARS streaming down his face

➜ like that scene where the third years and second years bursted in tears when kiyoko put up their banner?

➜ yeah that

➜ but it's just taketora LMAOO

➜ before their captain could tell him off, a small laugh came out of you and kuroo just looked at you like

➜ 👁👁

➜ kuroo : ma'AM DID YOU JUST ─

➜ cue kuroo also dying inside because YOU. RARELY. LAUGH.

➜ since you're more on the reserved side

➜ kai and yaku almost had to put their foot down because now you have broken their captain until you spoke out

“ i was honestly anxious when you guys were quiet, since i've never seen you guys as serious whenever i try and drop by to look. ”

➜ in the end of the meeting you've got acquaintaned yourself with shibayama and inouka, though the former seemed a bit flustered.

➜ you've also hold a small conversation with kenma, the both of you kinda clicked right away since both of you were a bit shy aswell. while you listened to lev rambling excitedly, not noticing your slight trembling figure

➜ bECAUSE MANS WAS A WHOLE ASS ONE FOOT TALLER THAN YOU

➜ after meeting them, the team had already attached themselves in your heart

➜ baby girl you are ATTACHED

➜ though it was subtle but you've noticed how the boys really cared about you ─ bruh even coach nekomata since he has noticed that you are a great asset to the team

➜ if not yaku, kai would always remind you of taking your meds for your asthma if you ever have been prescribed one

➜ kenma would always be the first one to notice if you were ever tensed up or your anxiety was acting up

➜ since he's very perceptive and observant

➜ he'd grow a soft spot for you and if he ever sees you stressed, he'd let you borrow his psp

➜ shibayama, inouka, fukunaga and tamahiko would ALWAYS help you carry stuff around because they don't want your asthma to act up or else tHEY WILL ACT UP

➜ fukunaga would always tell you his jokes since now he finally has someone to tell them to whenever he's in the sidelines watching the others play

➜ yamamoto would PROTECT you from any dangers, like literally, mans knew he was done for the day you gave him your napkin 👁👄👁

➜ you're literally one of the first girls he isn't shy to talk to and one of the first girls to not scurry away whenever he's near

➜ as i said, yaku would BE YOUR MOTHER, he'd one step ahead with having extra masks for you on his bag and an extra inhaler he borrowed from you in case you have forgotten yours

➜ LEV, KUROO & YAMAMOTO ARE YOUR BODY GUARDS AND THAT'S ON PERIODT😡💅

➜ period. periodt. periodism. periodic table.

➜ would not let any guy from other teams come your way and bother you while being the good manager you are

➜ and while doing so, shows you off as they are basically saying “ this is the sanctity of nekoma, you bastards wish you were us. ”

➜ these boys CARE FOR YOU like alot and they love it when you reciprocate their love

➜ whenever you surprise them every other day with their favourite snacks despite always being anxious of looking at the eyes of the guy on cash register,

➜ always having their towels and waterbottles ready for them to use after practice

➜ giving them clarity of mind before a match and whenever the non-regulars start to feel insecure

➜ overall, they'd be the sweetest boys of yours that would give and likely to give you the world to you as you would to them😡💝

-ˏˋ playing soleil's tape ˊˎ-

[ 📼 ] . . . i'm crying bubs, y'all had me at 200 last night ?? um okay i didn't even know people like me enought to even follow me 🥺 y'all cute or whateva😳✋ i'm not even DONE WITH MY LOVE LANGUAGE HEADCANONS FOR 100 FOLLOWERS HSJSJDJ but here's a manger headcanons mini series one of my nonnie's requested for to celebrate 200 of you guys !! <33

[ 📼 ] . . . I also know a bit of about asthma because i also had experience with it when i was young, and my little brother still has them while i've already grown out of it.

#haikyuu social media au #haikyuu smau #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu x reader #nekoma x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu imagines #hq imagines #kozume kenma x reader #haikyuu requests #kuroo tetsurou imagines #kuroo tetsurou scenarios #haikyuu!! #haikyuu!! headcanons #nekoma manager

[apollos-lyre-hehe]

Morteza Sharifi I am your biggest fan

#echo volleyball rambles #vnl 2023 #vnl #volleyball

[kumzume]

SLAP! ft. goshiki tsutomu

wc. 1.7k :D

warnings. SMUT (duh), impact play, slight angst???, a lil fluff, cumming untouched, hard-ish dom!reader, sub!goshiki, established relationship, dom drop (???), shit ending but what’s new lmao

an. i realized i was neglecting this blog while Trying™ to work on desperate pt 2 &&& i was missing my baby goshiki so :p

♡´･ᴗ･`♡

“i’m sorry, you want me to what?”

you could feel the disbelief written all over your face, the absurdity of the situation ticking up the corners of your lips into an incredulous smile.

goshiki—bless his heart—sat fidgeting in front of you, his face painted in a bright pink shade while he played with his lithe fingers in his lap.

you just couldn’t believe your ears. your goshiki—the one who nearly fainted when he asked you out, the one who threw up twice before meeting your parents and the one who sobbed so hard through your vows he was impossible to understand—that same goshiki was asking you to do what??

“i-i asked if y-you would hit me,” he mumbled, eyes downcast as though to avoid rejection, “y’know, during sex.”

okay, so you weren’t having an early stroke when you heard him earlier.

he actually wanted you to hit him—pretty badly it appeared if the bulge pressing against the zipper of his jeans was anything to go by.

you took a deep breath in order to ground yourself and collect your thoughts. you knew your husband’s mind was probably going a mile a minute while he awaited your inevitable dismissal of the subject but you needed a moment to just think.

were you seriously opposed to this? i mean, throughout your entire relationship goshiki had always made accommodations for you, from little things like buying more pillows for his bed when you moved in with him to big things like scheduling time off for you when you got too stressed to take you on a vacation.

he’d always been there for you so why couldn’t you do this little thing for him? it was only sex and your relationship was so, so much more than that. giving him this was honestly the least you could do to repay him for all that he’d done for you.

with your mind made up and your resolve successfully steeled, you made your way over to your husband who looked about ready to keel over. you felt your heart clench in your chest, feeling rather bad about leaving him in silence for a good 5 minutes.

it took you a few short strides before you finally stood in front of goshiki, observing the shuddering of his shoulders and his pointed avoidance of eye contact.

you breathed out a soft sigh before bringing your left hand, adorned with your glittering wedding ring, up to his cheek, caressing the warm skin gently. despite his refusal to look you in the face, goshiki leaned into your touch, turning his face so that his petal soft lips were flush with your palm.

carefully, you lifted his face up so that he was finally looking at you. you weren’t at all surprised to see the tears growing in the corners of his eyes, threatening to fall over his lashline—he’d always been somewhat of a crybaby.

goshiki stared at you with such adoration and love that you couldn’t help the sharp exhale that escaped from your nose. his eyes fluttered shut as he moved just enough to take your thumb into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it and sucking serenely.

the sensation was nearly enough to knock you entirely off track but you quickly regained control of the situation. you slipped your thumb out goshiki’s mouth, your hand roaming to his jaw before gripping him tightly, his eyes shooting open and welling up with tears.

“‘tomu,” you began harshly, “tell me what you said before, hm? what do you want me to do?”

“yn pleas—“ your hand held him tighter causing a choked whimper to slip past his parted lips.

“ah ah ah ‘tomu, you know better than that.” from your place above him, you could see his eyes beginning to glaze over as he sunk into the comfort of your control. the sight never failed to get you, a warm smile almost overtaking your face but you swiftly stomped it out.

the grip on his face tightened once again as you leaned down to whisper in his ear. “what do you call me to get what you want ‘tomu?” the warm breath tickling goshiki’s ear sent a shudder crawling down his spine to rest hard and heavy in his pelvis.

“i supposhed to call you mish,” he finally responded, his words muffled by your fingers digging into his cheeks. you let the smile breach your face this time, letting go of his face before turning on your heel to make your way towards the bedroom.

you don’t turn around but you can hear goshiki knock over his chair in his haste to follow behind you. you grinned before schooling your face into an unimpressed mask.

the cool air of your bedroom hit your shoulders causing tiny goosebumps to arise but you ignored the discomfort to focus on goshiki. he had entered the room a while ago, his big bright eyes trained on the ground while he awaited your instruction.

he was so good. that’s what made what you were about to do just that much more fun.

“‘tomu,” you began, your tone harsh and unforgiving. “come here.”

your husband obliged, shuffling over to you until he was only a foot away. despite his naturally submissive nature, he towered above you, his body built from his years of volleyball and working out.

you allowed your eyes to trail down the dips and curves of his body, just barely hidden by his tight t-shirt, leaving little to the imagination.

now that just wouldn’t do. you needed to see all of him.

“take off your clothes.” he was quick to do exactly as you asked, his clothes growing in a pile on your floor until he was clad in only his tight black boxers that did little to hide his hard and leaking cock.

you grinned at the wet patch on the front of his briefs signaling that he was more excited than he let on. the more you stood there observing him, the bigger the wet patch grew and the more he began to squirm.

breathing out a faux-disappointed sigh, you reached out and weaved your hands into his purple strands before yanking him down to the floor, his knees crashing against the hardwood painfully.

the sound he released was so guttural that you nearly stopped the scene right then and there but the way he moaned your name and rutted his hips in the air at the pain had you hesitating.

you agreed to this, yes, but could you really go through with it? you mentally shook your head at the sentiment. no, you were going to hurt him and he was going to like it.

with a new outlook, your stare grew harsher and your words became more pointed. “what a little pain slut, getting off on this,” you sneered, enjoying how goshiki’s eyes filled with tears.

“miss i—“ SLAP! the sound rang throughout the room, echoing off the plaster walls. goshiki’s head was whipped all the way to the side, a bright red imprint beginning to form on his cheek. your hand stung at the severeness of the hit so you could hardly imagine how much pain your husband was in.

you were horrified at how hard you had hit him, your mind too embalmed in the dominant persona to think before you hit.

“oh fucking hell, baby i am so sorry,” your current whimpering voice a far cry from the bitter tone you had held only minutes ago. you immediately dropped to your knees before very carefully taking his heated face in your hands.

when one of your palms touched the affected area, goshiki flinched away from you and the pain. you felt your heart break in your chest at the gesture, his eyes remaining downcast and away from you.

“tsutomu, you have to believe me, i didn’t mean to hurt you,” you rambled while tears filled your eyes. you were repelled by what you had done, your mouth pouring out apology after apology.

“i just thought it was what you wanted but i shouldn’t have taken it that far and—“

“yn,” goshiki interrupted, one of his calloused hands coming to lift your chin so that your eyes met his. “it’s okay.”

he looked at you with such kindness and love but you just couldn’t accept it. “tsutomu, i hurt you,” you pleaded, your vision becoming blurry with yet another wave of tears.

through the liquid in your eyes, you managed to see goshiki shake his head before taking your hand in his and leading it down to the front of his boxers. your breath caught in your throat as your fingertips met with the wet—soaking—cotton fabric that engulfed his dick.

you looked back up at him with wide eyes which he met with a blinding smile. “i came,” he said nonchalantly, “you made me come.”

he came... from your slap?

if that wasn’t the hottest thing in the world, you had no idea what was.

“tsutomu, i...” you couldn’t finish your sentence due to goshiki’s slightly chapped pink lips being pressed to yours in a passionate kiss.

your eyes fluttered shut as you gave into him, your arms coming to rest in his silky purple strands while your tongue pressed itself into the warm cavern of his mouth.

goshiki pulled away first, resting his forehead against yours as he tried to catch his breath. your eyes remained closed for a moment while you tried to still your own rapidly beating heart but when they opened, you were met with his wide-eyed stare of adoration.

“i love you yn,” he muttered before kissing you on the nose and standing, not allowing you to respond. he pulled you up with him (you always forget how strong he is) before burying his face in your neck.

you giggled at his childish behavior, one of your hands coming up to stroke through his hair. “what do you need ‘tomu?” you asked, placing gentle kisses around his ear.

“need to shower. ‘m all sticky.” you both laughed at that before pulling apart and leading him to the bathroom.

“okay but if i have to clean off your dick, i expect at least two orgasms from you, mr. ace.”

“yes ma’am!”

“god, i love you.”

#is this good?? not by any stretch of the imagination #SKDHDJS #SORRY #a lil ass but i missed goshiki so yknow #sighhhh #haikyuu goshiki #goshiki smut #goshiki tsutomu #tsutomu <3 #😽.writing #goshiki x reader #goshiki x y/n #goshiki x you #goshiki tsutomu x reader #goshiki tsutomu x y/n #goshiki tsutomu x you #goshiki fluff #goshiki angst

[sneezefiction]

soft karasuno sleepover

Karasuno x Reader - Sleepover Headcanons

anon request: “please make a karasuno version of the sleepover headcanons!”

a/n: when the haikyuu manga ended, my heart kinda dropped and i was feeling a bit low. writing this was a bit like like honey to the soul. i hope you enjoy some Karasuno team fluff and sweetness!

warnings: none!

wc: 1050

---

let’s be honest, the Karasuno boys have already hosted several team sleepovers

they’re usually held at the school gym, as long as they can get permission from the principal

it’s typically just the guys, but since you only became a manager this past month, Noya and Tanaka are insisting (begging on hands and knees) that you, Kiyoko, and Yachi join them this time

you’re skeptical that this will go well but, all things considered, this is an interesting (if not disastrous) opportunity to get to know everyone

so you roll with it, trying to get a read on the crazy boys you’ll be spending a lot of time with over the next year

but when the time comes for the sleepover, you barely make it into the building before hearing Hinata screeching and Kageyama... well, he’s calling Hinata an idiot repeatedly

so nothing seems out of the ordinary… yet

you’re greeted by a softly smiling Yamaguchi and Tsukki, who loosely trails after him, a look of regret plastered to his face

“Y/n! Daichi said to help you with your pillows and bags while he and Suga buy snacks from the store. Can I grab anything for you?”

so you let Yams help you get set up while Tsukki off-handedly comments that you could definitely lay out your own sleeping bag

but you get sassy right back at him and Tsukishima loses some of his colder edge, opting to consider you as “interesting” instead of “another person born for the purpose of bothering him,” as Hinata likes to put it

it’s not long before Asahi notices you, the gentle giant waving at you with a sweet grin and starts to walk over to you

but this only alerts Nishinoya of your presence

which is actually kind of terrifying bc the enthusiastic libero is bolting towards you at full-speed with no intention of hitting the brakes

“Y/n, you came!!!” Noya’s yell echoes across the gym, successfully ending your final moments of peace for the night

you’re almost tackled to the ground, but Daichi arrives just in time to grab him by the collar and save you from impending doom and an aching back

both Suga and Asahi are apologizing for Nishinoya’s “outburst” while Daichi chews both Noya and Tanaka out (even though Tanaka didn’t do anything??)

thankfully, things calm down a tad after that and you’re now in the hands of Kiyoko and Yachi who arrived shortly after you did

the girls place their stuff and sleeping bags near yours, but Daichi is sure to put Ennoshita and Asahi nearby so that you can have peace of mind that you won’t be attacked by sharpie’s and curious gazes after dark

and after a little more fighting and catching up, everyone plops down onto their pillows for a little game of (what was supposed to be) truth or dare

but thanks to “The Unmentionable Bottle-flipping Incident,” (courtesy of Sugawara, Tanaka, and Noya) Daichi has banned the dare part. so it’s basically a glorified “20 questions”

at the request of Hinata, you’re the first to answer questions:

“Okay, y/n… what makes someone ‘family’?” the bubbly, orange-haired boy reads off a question from a p*nterest post

“What the hell, Hinata?” Tanaka and Suga say simultaneously

“Uh, yeah, most people start with stuff like, ‘What’s your favorite color?’ But you’re an idiot, so what was I expecting anyways…” Tsukki rambles quietly to himself, a smirk growing on his and Yamaguchi’s faces

Kageyama had literally zoned out until he heard the word stupid and then joined everyone in insulting Hinata (but Kags isn’t sure why. It’s second-nature at this point.)

Yachi is attempting to reign everyone in, doing damage control, and apologizing to you for the commotion at the same time

but your sweet, unexpected laughter brings them out of their bickering, sparing Hinata more grief than he can physically handle

“It’s okay, Hinata. I don’t mind answering this one.” your voice is reassuring, everyone’s attention centering back onto you

you’ve only spent a month or so with the team, so you’re still learning about each and every one of them… but you’ve never felt more at home than when you were surrounded by their comforting chaos

they never seemed to judge you for things you didn’t know. they didn’t question your intellect or disrespect you. even Tsukki, who’s salty as all hell, tolerates you and lets you get in on some of his and Yamaguchi’s inside jokes

so you answer as honestly as possible,

“I think someone becomes family when they welcome you just as you are. When you’re treated as equals but also as an individual, I guess.” you pause, considering your next words

but their attentive gazes beckon you to continue

“...And I think you all fit that ‘family’ mold pretty well.” you beam, your smile reaching your eyes even though you feel heat rising to your chest and face

Yachi has tears welling up in her eyes, her hands covering her mouth and Kiyoko’s gaze softens

the third years are speechless and Hinata is copying your bright smile. Kageyama actually looks kind of… touched? and Tsukki maintains his disinterested disposition, but secretly he’s intrigued by your words

“Well, in case you were wondering, y/n, we already think of you as family here.” Daichi manages to get out, still processing your incredibly precious answer

before you can say anything, Noya has already gotten to his feet, jumped over to you, and has you wrapped in the biggest hug

and everyone else joins, practically dogpiling on top of you until you finally have to tap out for the sake of not being stuck under them forever

the rest of the night is filled with laughter & “Hinata, boke!” & chocolate & Sugawara trying to convince Daichi to let him try “that” dare one more time because, and i quote, “i’m the vice-captain and I deserve to have a say in this!” 

although you don’t get much sleep, you’ve pretty much hit the jackpot with these kids

because out of all the people you could’ve met, all the teams you might have managed, never would you have felt so at home if it hadn’t been for Karasuno’s volleyball team

now you’re a part of their wild family... and there’s nothing you can do about it

---

soft team sleepover series

soft shiratorizawa sleepover

soft seijoh sleepover

soft nekoma sleepover

soft fukurodani sleepover (in progress)

—-

tags: @cherryonigiri, @yams046, @miss-rin, @shou-kunn, @senkuwu-chan, @super-noya, @stcrryskies, @holaaaf, @sugacookiies, @vintgicals

(comment, dm, or send an ask to be added to my general tag list)

#haikyuu #kageyama x reader #tsukishima x reader #sugawara x reader #daichi x reader #asahi x reader #yamaguchi x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq #hq x reader #haikyuu imagines #hinata x reader #yachi x reader #haikyuu headcanons #hq headcanons #sneezefiction

[pxnk-velvet]

congrats on the milestone !! can i get kuroo x reader to the song moments by alextbh ? ❤️

𝑀𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠 [NSFW!]

.・ ✧。.・゜✧・.・✧・゜・.・ ✧。.・゜✧・.

𝐾𝑢𝑟𝑜𝑜 𝑇𝑒𝑡𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑜 𝑥 𝐹𝑒𝑚!𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

✧ word count :: 1.5k

✧ summary :: After a pretty bad break up, Kuroo finally gets the chance to tell Y/n how he really feels about her. Not only leading to confession of heart and mind, but body too. 

✧ warnings :: nsfw!, mentions of a breakup (not w/ kuroo), fluff, intended for mature readers only

✧ a/n :: This is my first time writing for Kuroo so I’m sorry if it doesn’t seem like him lol 😅 and as always reblogs and feed back are always appreciated. Come stop by the party and have some fun for a while!

.・ ✧。.・゜✧・.・✧・゜・.・ ✧。.・゜✧・.

It had already been weeks since Y/n had broken up with her ex, yet she was still experiencing repercussions. It felt like the pieces of her heart were scattered in her chest, in desperate need of being put back together. 

Her friends had suggested hooking up with another guy to get her mind off of things but inevitably she simply wasn’t the type to do so. Often developing feelings quickly and getting attached at the snap of a finger. 

It had taken so much of a toll on her to the point where it had begun to affect her academics. Her grades automatically plummeted right after her heartbreak and now she was having a hard time getting them back to where they used to be. 

Hence why she was now currently seated against Kuroo’s headboard while he sat in his desk chair by the edge of the bed. Open textbooks and notes scattered across the bed sheets, her head tucked between her knees as she groaned. 

“Why do I have to do so much work?” Y/n whined, setting her notebook beside her to stretch her legs out and rest her eyes for a bit. 

As her eyes were closed Kuroo’s trailed up the length of her legs, admiring how soft they looked, appreciating the fact that she didn’t wear tights today. Sporting only the cute little skirt that was part of the girls uniform. 

“Well for starters, if you hadn’t slacked off for so long then maybe you wouldn’t have fallen so behind?” He mused, picking up an inquisitive tone towards the end of his sentence. Softening the words, hoping they wouldn’t hit a nerve considering her situation. 

Since the day he had heard about what happened, he had done everything he could to help out. Granted that they had only been friends before hand, not nearly as close as they are now. But still, he worried for his team’s manager, his friend, the girl he cared so deeply for. He rode out his feelings hoping that they would dissipate while she was dating her ex, only to discover that he had simply fallen for her even harder. Now, he figured it was the perfect time to tell her how he felt. Using every opportunity he could make to spend time with her. 

“It’s not like I chose to be broken up with Tetsu…” Y/n muttered, turning away from him, curling her legs up to her chest, which was now starting to fill with the sad sinking feeling she was trying so hard not to acknowledge anymore. 

Ever since she had started spending more time with Kuroo, she had begun to actually appreciate time with him outside of volleyball. Getting excited, a giddy feeling bubbling in her chest whenever she realized she had a tutoring session with him. She wanted to be around him so often because he made her forget it all. Like she was herself again and not some heart broken girl that moped around all day. Yet she didn’t know if she was ready to pursue another relationship so quickly, still hesitant about making any moves. Hell, she didn’t even know if he actually liked her or if it was his usual flirtatious, friendly attitude. He truly was a good friend but that is what made it so hard to decipher. 

Little did she know he was essentially thinking the same thing, he wanted so badly to make Y/n his but he didn’t want to overwhelm her so quickly. He had spent countless nights laying awake, thinking about her. The way she walked, the way she talked, wondering what her lips felt like. Thinking about waking up next to her, making her breakfast in the mornings. Just spending time with her, he wanted to treat her right. Make moments with her that would last forever. Engraved in their hearts and minds, and hopefully, eventually seal it all with a ring. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-” He tried to apologize, placing his hand on her leg to get her attention. 

“I know, it’s fine. I’m just tired.” She sighed heavily as she turned back to him, sitting up to face him properly, “Like I don’t want to feel like this anymore. I know I’m over him but I just can't get rid of all these feelings swirling around in my chest and I don’t know what to do, Tetsu.” She spoke softly in hopes he wouldn’t hear the shakiness in her words as her eyes glassed over. 

In that moment, Kuroo thought long and hard in the matter of seconds. Was this his chance? That one opportunity, that one moment where he could finally change things for the better?

“Y/n,” He began, the confident demeanor he usually dawned all of a sudden gone, “I honestly don’t know if this is the right time to say this. And I totally understand if you’re not ready and never want to talk to me again but I just need to tell you. I think it’ll be better for the both of us.” 

As he spoke, Y/n’s heart rate began to pick up, suddenly hyper aware of how loud it was beating. Echoing in her head, trying to dismiss it as Kuroo continued. Yet someone how her mind was already jumping to conclusions, a million scenarios playing out in her head all at once. 

“Um- I, uh-...I like you a lot. I have for a while now. And obviously I’m hoping you like me to but, again, no pressure especially since you just got out of a relationship not too long ago and you might not be ready-” Kuroo’s rambling was interrupted by the feeling of warm, soft lips. 

A wave of euphoria took over his senses as he was pulled by the collar of his shirt to meet Y/n’s lips in the middle. The shock that was evident on his wide eyes immediately washed away, allowing himself to fall victim to the moment. A warmth growing in his chest realizing that he finally got to fulfill it all with her, every waking moment he had spent with her was all starting to make even more sense. 

Relishing in her touch, her presence. Savoring every time their lips would part and meet again in yet another passionate kiss. Her lips plush and sweet, tasting of her strawberry chapstick. 

Eventually, the books and papers that littered the bed earlier were long forgotten and scattered on the floor. The soft, gentle kisses had grown to ones of desire and lust, clothes being shed by the minute as Y/n and Kuroo became tangled in the sheets. 

It didn’t take long until they were pressed chest to chest, hands wandering as Kuroo’s lips trailed from her lips, nipping her jaw, eventually trailing lower to her neck. Paying extra attention to the column of her throat, noting the sultry moans that fell from her lips as he did so. 

“Y/n,” Kuroo abruptly pulled away from her, towering over her smaller frame, “Are you sure you want to do this? Because like I said before I don’t want to rush-” 

“Kuroo, do you really think I’d be naked under you if I didn’t?” Her voice dripping with sarcasm, correcting herself a second later with a softer voice, “But thank you for your concern. I appreciate you being so thoughtful.” A blush crept up her cheeks as her hands trailed up his broad chest, fingers tracing the strong muscles underneath. 

“Anything for you,” The captain’s head fell into the junction between her neck and shoulder, placing a chaste kiss on the warm skin, “Let me show you how long I’ve waited. To make moments like this with you. To treat you right and learn more than there is to know about you.” 

In that moment everything felt right, like this was exactly where they were both meant to be. Limps tangled as their lips met in another kiss. Driven by the growing tension that was rising between them, lust evident in every move they made. 

Soon enough, breathing became feathery and hot as Kuroo’s hips rocked into hers. His face buried in her neck as her hands clasped his back, little moon crescent marks and scratches littered across his shoulders. With a firm grip, he sat up, eyes wandering to where he clasped her hips. Admiring the divots his fingers imprinted as they dug into the plush skin, surely to leave pretty bruises for later. 

“Kuroo, I-” Y/n whined, voice just above a whisper, eyebrows knit together, desperate for release. He could tell she was close by the way her walls fluttered around his length, only enticing him closer to his own release.

“I know, cum for me. I’ve got you.” He sang out, gently cupping her cheek with his large hand, continuing to thrust up into her. 

He watched in awe as he drove her over the edge, face morphing to the pleasure rippling throughout her body. The muscles in her lower abdomen going taunt as they spasmed with her release. Mouth hanging open, a pretty drawn out cry leaving her lips as she peaked, triggering Kuroo’s own high. 

To which his body fell forward, again chest to chest with Y/n as he brought her in for a kiss. Taking in every shake and cry she uttered, all because of him. 

With his head on her shoulder, Kuroo caught his breath, arms snaking around her waist to bring Y/n impossibly closer to him as he embraced her tightly. 

“Thank you.” He mumbled against her skin, kissing it softly after he spoke. 

A giggle rang in his ears, “For what?”

He smiled, breathing in her scent and just soaking in her presence all together, “For making every moment worth waiting for.”

.・ ✧。.・゜✧・.・✧・゜・.・ ✧。.・゜✧・.

#pxnkvelvet’s party! 🥳 #pxnkvelvet::spice:: #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo scenarios #kuroo x reader #kuroo smut #hq kuroo #haikyuu smut

[ynisamenace]

 Party For One

Warnings: sub! Aone being a flustered mess, confident dom! Reader, nsfw kinda (grinding, not pg-13 kissing), mention of drugs and alcohol, college au! Aone.

Word count: 2.3k

a/n: ok guys this is my first fanfic so apologies if it’s not too good or if the ending is too rushed. Constructive criticism is always welcome and pls don’t forget to like and/or reblog. Thank you!

Aone was not much of a party goer. Although his friends were more outgoing, he in fact was not. He was more of a homebody, mostly leaving his shared apartment with Kenji for school, to get more ramen from the corner shop near his uni or practice with his newly-formed volleyball team; courtesy of his newly-formed friend, Kanji. Then proceeding to come home to shower, nap, wake up, struggle with his homework and then sleep till the next day. He was about to start the fourth activity of his daily routine when the sound of the doorbell rang through the apartment.

Sighing, he left his spot at the kitchen island to open the front door, then trying to close it once Kanji’s face appeared behind it.

“Woah woah if you wanted some alone time, you should’ve just said that”, the cat-faced friend exclaimed, just barely slipping through the crack in the door. Face adorned with brown freckles and a smile seemingly super glued to his face, he looked like the poster boy of golden retriever boys, “Wouldn’t matter anyway since I’m still dragging you to Sugawara’s tonight.”

Ah yes, Suga’s party, the one Aone was being forced to go to as a favour for his new friend. The white haired boy uttered a grunt of disapproval as Kanji plopped down onto his couch.

“I’m telling you man, when girls see us walking in together with my beauty and your scowl-,” he smirked while giving Aone a once over, “-they’ll come flocking like parakeets.” Aone ignored his new friend’s rambling and was about to go back to his homework when his phone buzzed. Picking it up and looking at his crush’s name made him do a double take before realizing it was from his class groupchat.

Y/n❤: Someone better come pick me up or else I’m dumping the mary jane😤

Sugawara: You live on campus, how did you sneak it in?

Y/n❤: Come pick me up and I’ll tell you

Bsf/n: I can see I’m gonna be on y/n duty tonight. I’ll come get you in 5

Y/n❤: Girl I’ll literally marry you don’t play with me

                                         -5 minutes later-

Y/n❤: Psa to everyone in this groupchat, bsf/n and I are married now

Bsf/n: As long as you do my makeup for the party lol

Y/n❤: Deal

A slightly dejected sigh left the tall boy’s lips, wishing it was him y/n would joke about marrying to the- wait party?? The realization that y/n was going to the same party as him made heart race with anticipation and although he never talked to her in any of the classes they shared, Aone developed a massive crush on y/n just by seeing the way she interacts with others as well as her personality. Her presence when she walks into a room, beautiful coily/kinky hair either flowing or in a different ‘protective style’ (which Aone ended up googling the meaning to) and her face adorned with a smile so bright, he could feel his ears getting hotter just by its look, it would be foolish to think that no other person in his uni or elsewhere had already snatched her up. Which is why Aone never felt the need to let her know about how much he was falling for her.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of his roommate’s door opening, revealing a clearly tipsy Kenji trying and failing to button up the last button on his silk shirt.

“Is anyone g-gonna help or what..” he slurred, stumbling into the living room, planting himself right in front of Aone who begrudgingly helped him with the last button. Satisfied, the intoxicated boy walks over to Kanji on the couch who’s currently scrolling through his instagram feed. He gives Kenji a once over before giving a nod of approval to his outfit. He turns to the tall, white haired boy, “Aone go change, the party starts in 10 and you know it’ll take us half an hour to get there!”, he exclaimed gesturing to Aone with his hands in a shooing manner. He didn’t understand what was wrong with his gray shirt and black sweatpants but went to his room to go change anyway, returning six minutes later sporting a green and white checkered shirt with dark blue jeans and black levis. The trio hurriedly leave their apartement, Kanji practically dragging both boys to his car before appointing Aone as the designated driver as the boy was the only one who had no intention to drink at the party.

The ride to the party took much more than half an hour as Aone was forced to drive while simultaneously trying to stop the two boys at the back from drinking any more of the pregame Kanji brought as well as preventing Kenji from messing with the aux cord. In the end, both boys settled on playing Ei8th mile on repeat the rest of the drive, both alternating between rapping DigDat and Aitch’s lines. Finally getting to the address Sugawara sent to the group, the trio hopped out of the car and went to knock on the door, opening to reveal the silver haired boy in all his glory wearing a burger king crown and a drunk smile.“You guys look li-hiccup-ke you had a fun drife here”, opening the door wider to reveal flashing red and purple strobe lights, living room filled with drunk and soon-to-be drunk college students and a hiphop song playing with a loud base that almost made Aone’s teeth clink. The two drunk boys wasted no time heading to the make shift bar in the kitchen, Aone following reluctantly behind feeling quite awkward in the party setting. Even worse, he was unable to spot y/n in the crowd making his heart drop lower into his stomach.

 No no no no. 

Even though Aone didn’t think y/n would like him the way he likes her, he was hoping he could at least use this party to make himself known to her, maybe forming a friendship with her first before professing his love. Dejectedly, he trudges to the bar, sulking next to his now very drunk friends who are far more interested with the designs on the kitchen counter. 

“Dude it’s so swirly…how do they make it like that?” one of the boys asks.

“Bro it has to be like a top secret thing. Like in the dark web,” the other replied, his eyes widening as his pupils are blown out more.

Not wanting to deal with their drunk conspiracies, Aone heads to the store room in search for some water after not seeing any laid out. Finding a bottle, he quickly gulps it down, faintly hearing the song in the living room change to one with a much deeper base. Leaving the store with his thirst finally quenched, he recognizes the song as Cold by Rico Nasty, her gravely voice echoing around the living room and drowning out some of the chatter which Aone was grateful for.

Ridin’ in a Maserati

Like Scotty I’m with two hotties

I ain’t just walk in the party-

“I brought the drugs to the partyyyy”, a voice which made Aone’s heart beat faster screamed, Y/n bursting through the front door with a medium sized pack of marijuana and a tray of what he assumes are pot brownies as the crownd cheered at her arrival. Her eyes wide with excitement, hair in cute little bantu knots (which Aone noted is now probably his favourite hairstyle on her), and dazzling smile still glued to her face. Making a bee line to the kitchen to drop the stuff she was holding, she hugged and greeted the people closest to her, making Aone regret not standing closer to the front door before realizing she was making her way straight to him.“Hi Polar Bear!” her scent of f/p enveloping him as she hugged his stomach, hair right next to nose, making the boy short-circuit. Y/n is hugging me. Me. Hugging. She smells so good. I should probably hug her back. But what if that’s weird. Hugging me. I’m gonna marry her. I’m gonna throw u-

“Takanobu woohoo you good?” she whispered in neck, drawing him out of his daydream, while at the same time making blood rush to his lower region. His eyes widen as he turns to see her staring right at him, inches apart and eyes questioning.

“I-I’m doing well y/n, um you uh look great tonight”, he managed to blurt out, his compliment making her lips curve into that signature smile. He unconsciously let out a low groan as he felt his jeans tighten even more as his mind raced a mile a minute, envisioning her on top of him, smile turning into a smirk as she runs her hands over his body making him squirm. His neck, his nipples, his happy trail, his-

Once again brought out of his daydream, he looked around to see y/n already gone and dancing in the living room, her presence making her look ethereal in the flashing lights. Smiling slightly, Aone deciding to stop before his imagination made him cream in his pants, decided to go look for his friends spotting both of them laying near a potted plant in the hallway caressing the leaves and muttering under their breaths. He discreetly goes back to the store, getting two bottles of water and placing them on either side of his friends, knowing they’ll be shocked at it ‘appearing’.

Sighing tiredly, he briefly thinks of just driving back to his apartment having already seen his crush and hugged her, but decided against it not wanting to feel guilty for abandoning his intoxicated friends. He was about to go to the backyard looking for some fresh air before he heard his name being said in the crowd. Turning around too quickly he bumped into someone, gripping their waist and letting their scent envelop him before he caught a glimpse of their hair. 

Yes yes God yes

“Nobu I’m so sorry, I was trying to get your attention but you didn’t turn around!” y/n exclaimed, gripping his shirt making the boy realize his grip on her waist was tightening significantly. He quickly tried to let go but y/n wasn’t having any of it and planted his large palm on her backside, squeezing a little. Aone’s face had never been as red as it is now from that simple action. Clearing his throat, he gives a tentative squeeze to gauge her reaction and seeing the smirk on her face as her pupils darken. She finally releases her grip on his hand and turns to the dance floor, Aone follow behind.

 As they reach the dance floor, afrobeats fill the air as joro by wizkid which Aone knew was one of y/n’s favourite songs) plays turning the energy of the party to a slower tempo. Y/n turns to the tall boy, once more putting his hands on her waist, before pulling him closer to her, their bodies now pressed against eachother.

Aone can feel her grinding on his pants and begs to any God who’ll listen to please not let him pop a boner right now. Her mouth comes closer to his ear and he can feel her breath making shivers run down his spine. “I could feel it you know…” she whispers as his eyes widen, embarrassment from though him as he realizes she felt the first boner he popped while hugging her in the kitchen “…didn’t peg you as the type. What a pervert you are Nobu.”   

That small gesture almost made Aone cream in his pants. Almost. If not for the overwhelming shame he would feel if someone saw him, his dick was already as hard as can be. A murmur left Aone’s lips and y/n has to strain her neck to hear him over the sound of the music flowing through the house.

“What was that Nobu?”

“P-plea-ase,” he whispers, ears a bright shade of red as y/n smirks looking him in the eye to see his pupils blown out, clouded with lust and feeling his member poking her in the thigh.

“Please what Nobu?” their lips almost touching.

“..Please kiss me”

“That’s all you had to say ya damn polar bear”, finally pressing her lips on his and making the butterflies in his stomach turn into fireworks. He really couldn’t believe it. His head felt like it was about to burst from all the blood that rushed into it. Her lips felt so much better, so much better than his imagination. Her hands sliding up to his neck and slipping into the hair on the nape of his neck, he uttered a low groan giving access to y/n to slip her tongue onto his. Aone could feel his precum dampening his briefs and hoped that a dark spot wouldn’t be visible by the end of the night. She tried to break the kiss, his head leaning closer not letting her go until she tugged hard on his nape hair forcefully, a string of saliva still connecting them.

“What a needy boy”, she smirked, letting go of him to swipe at the corner of his lips. “Why didn’t I come speak to you earlier?”, he didn’t care because for him, this really was worth the wait.

 Aone was not much of a party goer, but he’d have to thank his friends in the morning for forcing him to go to this one.

Tags: @itzgabz22

#aone x reader #dom!reader #haikyuuxblackreader! #aone x y/n #haikyuu!! #blackreader! #sub!aone #ceowrites

[tetsvya]

❛ in the middle of the night when the wolves come out, they head straight for your heart like a bullet in the dark. one by one, i gotta take them down. ❜

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷  mattsun is prepared to fight off anyone who attempts to steal your heart

➼ song! wolves - one direction

➼ pairing! matsukawa issei x fem!reader

➼ word count! 2.3k

➼ warnings! a lot of talk about murdering oikawa, inaccurate representation of how valentine’s day is celebrated in japan, not properly edited

➼ type! fluff, humor??

➼ author’s note! happy valentine’s day! (i am in fact, not late. it’s still the 14th in california). here’s a slightly inspired valentines matsukawa one shot. part of my haikyuu x one direction series!

Ten minutes into practice and nearly every member of the Seijoh Volleyball team has had the urge to murder their captain at least one. Iwaizumi looks as if he's about to succumb to that urge, if the deathly grip he has on the blue and yellow volleyball is any indication. Oikawa is either the most oblivious person in the world, or he simply doesn't care that his best friend is currently sending him the most malicious glare Kindaichi has ever witnessed as the younger boy switches his wary gaze from one boy to the other.

"And I just feel so bad, you know?" Oikawa continues to ramble on, sighing dramatically as he places his hand against his heart, "Who knows what my rejection will do to them? I wish I could say yes to all of them, but there's just not enough of me to go ar—,ow!"

Oikawa yelps in pain when a volleyball comes into contact with his head at full force, and Kindaichi glances at the vice-captain of the team to see that his hands are indeed, now empty. Oikawa seems to notice this as well as he points a finger at his best friend, "You're so mean to me, Iwa-Chan!"

"Shut up, Shitty-Kawa!" Iwaizumi shoots back, glare scolding, "No one wants to hear about all the Valentine's offers you've received!"

Oikawa huffs, crossing his arms over his chest as he turns away from his best friend, "There's no need to be so bitter, Iwa-Chan. And stop frowning so much, you're going to get wr—, ouch!"

Another ball to the head cuts Oikawa off once again, and Kindaichi wonders just where Iwaizumi had even gotten that one from seeing as the volleyball cart was on the other side of the gym. Iwaizumi begins to stomp his way over to where Oikawa is, and Kindacihi knows that it's very unlikely that Oikawa is going to make it out of this alive. Not exactly in the mood to witness a murder, Kindaichi searches the gym for the only person that seems to possess the ability of being able to stop Iwaizumi from ripping Oikawa's head off, but he's quick to realize that they are nowhere to be found.

"Hey, guys?" Kindaichi calls just as Iwaizumi snatches Oikawa by the collar, diverting their attention to him, "Where's Y/N-San?"

It seems as they've also just now realized your absence, and Iwaizumi let's go of Oikawa, taking a step back as he surveys the gym. When he comes up empty-handed, he turns back to them with a confused look, "I have no idea."

"I don't know either" Oikawa admits, which all three of them find odd. You always informed Oikawa at the very least if you were going to be late for practice.

"What's wrong?" Yahaba questions, Kunimi at his side, as the two stroll over to where the three boys stand, wondering why they're no longer practicing.

"We don't know where Y/N-San is" Kindaichi explains, and Yahaba's eyebrow shoots up. He has no idea either, now that he thinks about it.

"I saw her outside when I first came in" Kunimi speaks up, tone bored and uninterested, "She was talking to some boys."

His words seem to grab the attention of the rest of their teammates, the sound of shoes squeaking across the floor and balls being slapped across the gym coming to a stop as a silence falls over the gym.

"Boys?" Makki echoes, making his way over to the small group, Matsukawa at his side.

"Yeah," Kunimi confirms plainly, "Like five of them maybe. Some had chocolates I think."

"Chocolates?" Makki repeats once more, and Kunimi turns to him with narrowed eyes, annoyance seeping into his features at having to repeat himself.

"Yes, chocolates."

"She doesn't even like chocolate."

All eyes shift away from Kunimi and over to Matsukawa at the sound of his voice, the usual relaxed look on his face replaced by the smallest hint of annoyance. Oikawa raises an eyebrow at his expression before an idea pops into his mind.

"Well, it looks as if our precious Manager-Chan needs some saving" Oikawa states aloud, and Kindaichi finds himself cringing at his captain's words. He's sure you'd put Oikawa six feet underground if you ever heard what he just said. A mischievous smile plays at the corner of Oikawa's lips as he turns his body to face Matsukawa, making his way over to him, "Mattsun, go get her."

"What? Why?"

"Because I'm the captain and I said so."

"Since you're the captain, shouldn't you be the one to go get her?" Matsukawa argues back, narrowing his eyes at the boy.

"No, that'll never work" Oikawa shakes his head, waving his hand through the air as if he was swatting away the idea, "I'm too nice and approachable. But you, you're big and tough. One look at your face and those boys are sure to go running."

Matsukawa looks as if he's about to murder Oikawa.

"Yes, that look!" Oikawa exclaims, pointing as if the that scary glint in Matsukawa’s eyes isn’t currently directed at him, "Now, get going!"

"Screw you!"

"Matsukawa, can't you just go get her?" Iwaizumi joins in, sighing as he begins to rub at his forehead.

"Fine" Matsukawa sighs, pointedly ignoring the cry of shock that slips past Oikawa's lips.

"Why do you listen when he tells you to do it?”

Matsukawa opts to ignore the boy, turning on his heel as he begins to make his way to the exit of the gym. Oikawa's grumbles can be heard even from outside the gym, Matsukawa finds, as he steps outside and into the fresh air. A sigh slips past his lips as he begins to lazily walk around the perimeter of the gym, eyes peeled for your familiar frame. He really should have asked Kunimi where exactly he had seen you, he finds himself thinking. The thought is quick to leave his mind, however, when he finally spots you. But what he finds has him stopping in his tracks, eyes narrowing.

You're surrounded by a group of five boys,  a couple of heart shaped boxes clasped in your hands. You regard them with a timid smile, and each one of them is looking at you with bright eyes and variations of flirty smiles. In all honesty, they look like a pack of starving wolves, and you're the meat. The sight makes Matsukawa's lips turn down in distaste. What kind of idiots ask out a girl as a group? And on top of that, ask them out with chocolate when they don't even like it? Pathetic, he finds himself thinking, you deserve better. So when his ears pick up on parts of your conversation, he knows he has no choice but to intervene.

"So Y/N-Chan, we were wondering if you wanted to go out with any of us?" One of them finally asks, and the others quick to nod along.

"Any of you? Like, you want me to choose one of you?" You repeat dubiously, eyes growing wide as you find yourself a little startled at the prospect. They all wanted to go out with you, and they wanted you to choose who?

"Yeah," Another one of them confirms, smiling as he continues on, "We all like you, and we've already promised not to get mad about what decision you make. We'll be happy for whoever you choose."

"Oh," Is all you can manage to say, growing nervous under their expectant eyes, "Well-"

"Sorry boys," Your body jolts backwards as an arm slips around your shoulder, a body pressing against your side, "But she's already got plans with me."

"Issei?" You question, eyes wide as you turn to peer at the boy. You only manage to catch sight of the side of his face, as his eyes are set on the group of boys before you. They've suddenly grown awkward under Matsukawa's intense gaze.

"Oh," One of the boys blanches, cheeks red as he, along with the rest of his friends, actively avoid Matsukawa's eyes, "We're sorry, we didn't know you guys were a thing."

"We're—”

"Yeah, we've just been keeping it on the down-low, you know?" Matsukawa is quick to cut whatever you were planning to say off, a lazy smirk playing at the corner of his lips, "But now you know."

"Right, well, uh, we're just gonna go then" The boys are quick to scamper off, and all you can do is watch them helplessly.

"Oh, and by the way!" Matsukawa is quick to call out, stopping them before they can fully disappear from view, "She doesn't even like chocolate!"

They don't say anything more, but their walk is even faster than before. The sight makes you frown.

"That was kind of mean, Mattsun" You find yourself saying, feeling bad for them as you shrug his arm off your shoulder. Mattsun turns his attention back to you, and he's quick to follow after you as you begin to walk in the direction of the gym.

"What, you weren't actually going to go out with any of them, were you?" Matsukawa asks, finding himself dreading your answer as he trails after you.

"No" You're quick to deny, but then a sigh slips past your lips as your shoulders sag forward, "I mean, I don't know."

"You don't know?" Mattsun finds himself echoing your words, a sudden feeling of dread forming in the pit of his stomach.

"I mean, I guess it would've been nice to get out, you know?" You find yourself saying, avoiding his eyes as your gaze falls down to your feet, "Between school and managing the team, I don't really get much time to go out and just enjoy myself."

"Shit, Y/N. I'm sorry, I didn't think you were actually going to want to go out with any of them." Matukawa apologizes, suddenly feeling terrible. Sure, he'd rather much it be him to take you out, but putting his own selfish desires aside, he really just wants you to be happy, and he’s pretty sure he just screwed that up for you, "I can go back and tell them it was a joke, or-"

You're quick to cut him off, shaking your head as you hold onto his arm to keep him from going after them, "It's fine, Mattsun, really. It was probably a dumb idea anyway."

Matsukawa falls silent at your words, and your hand drops from his arm. A silence falls over the two of you, and Mattsun can't help but feel like the shittiest person in the world. He really, really wants to make it up to you. But he’s not sure if the only solution he can think of will appease to you. He figures it’s worth a shot.

"Hey, uh, Y/N?" He finds himself finally speaking when the two of you near the entrance of the gym, pulling your attention away from your shoes and over to him. He can't help but avoid your eyes, growing nervous under your stare, a feeling he isn't very familiar with. Especially not when it comes to girls, but you've always been different. The thought makes the tips of his ears burn, and he coughs awkwardly before he continues on, “I could take you out, if you wanted me to?"

You fall silent at his words, your feet no longer moving as you come to a stop. Matsukawa follows suit, also coming to a stop as he turns to you witch expectant eyes. Your lips are parted just the slightest and you blink at him a few times before you finally manage to find your voice, "Mattsun, it's fine, really. You don't have to. Just forget about it."

You move to walk past him, but Matsukawa stops you, wrapping his fingers around your wrist. You turn to him with wide eyes, and the nervousness he had previously felt is seeming to melt away as he finds himself saying, "What if I really wanted to? Go on a date with you, that is."

"You do?" You find yourself asking dubiously, eyebrows furrowed as you stare at him.

"Yes," His answer is almost immediate, and he can't help but smile as you look at him with those pretty eyes of yours, "I've wanted to for a while now."

"Really?"

"Yes," He nods, smile widening, "Really."

The corner of your lips slowly begin to curve upwards into a smile, until you can’t contain it anyone and you’re practically beaming at the boy before you, a sight that makes his stomach do flips and steals the breath from his lungs.

“Okay.”

_____

EXTRA:

"Am I a genius, or am I genius?"

"Shut up, or they'll hear you, dummy-kawa!"

"How about the both of you shut up, or they'll surely hear us!"

Kindaichi cringes at the volume of his teammate’s words, fearing that you really will hear them. The thought of you finding out that he, along with Yahaba, Oikawa, Iwaizumi, and Makki, are currently spying on you and Mattsun from behind the gym door scares him to no end. He can only imagine the earful they'd get from you.

"Guys" The fear of that very scenario happening is what prompts the first year to speak up, "Maybe we shouldn't be spying on them. Y/N-San will be really mad if she finds out."

"Nonsense," Oikawa waves his hands through the air, "She'll never find out."

"She'll never find out what?" All five of them freeze as they hear your voice. Hell, even Kunimi freezes at the sound of your voice, and he's not even remotely close to the door. They're slow to turn around, nearly flinching at the sight of your angered face. Matsukawa stands behind you, peering down at Oikawa with a smug smile and a knowing look in his eyes. One look at Kindaichi and you can tell he's probably close to tears. The sight almost makes your glare falter. Almost.

"Hey Y/N!" Oikawa chirps happily as if he's done nothing wrong, and his tone makes your eye twitch. Both Iwaizumi and Makki have to fight the sudden urge they have to smack him upside the head.

"Get back to practice, now."

The five of them are quick to scurry off.

#matsukawa x reader #matsukawa x you #matsukawa fluff #matsukawa oneshot #matsukawa issei x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu oneshot