#🌻— flying around collecting pollen—queue

[soranihimawari]

1/100th of a Second

Or how a poor college student became the sweetheart off a popular rookie athlete in his debut season…

Warnings: none? Just a meet cute at Noehbi…?

Pairings: Bokuto Kotarō x (fem!)reader

Ratings: reunitedbest friends!->lovers

Based on this image i had commissioned from @/rrabittt

Love, as scientific experts say, can change the chemistry of your brain. Love, some romantics who write in the genre, say can happen as often as a clap of thunder in the storm. Love, as you know it, walked into the classroom of your fifth grade class and you feel your young heart fall instantly within 1/100th of a second when your eyes meet the most talkative boy in your class.

Sure, for the next four years, until you enter different high schools, you were inseparable. Taking naps, going to support each other’s sporting events, you name it, he was there for every win and you were there for his. It wasn’t until your middle school year was ending that you had to break the news to him up weren’t able to join him in at Fukurodani. He was devastated and he seemed to visibly deflate and poke around his bento.

“But it’s not like I’m going to be too far away, Bo,” you remind him. “You can always watch my games when I start the season in Hyogo. My mom went to Inarizaki too before moving here to Tokyo for university and she met my dad instantly and kicked off their love story…”

“Yeah, but it’s not the same! You’re gonna be 12+ hours away by bus even more so my walking…”

“The scouts saw me out perform everyone on the team this year even if we didn’t make it to the girls’ junior nationals…’m really sorry bokkun.”

That summer, before you packed up and left, you don’t let the fight you two had nearly three hours before you leave with your parents who would drop you off in another city, stop you from marching to his house in the pouring rain. You pounded on his door and when his older sister answered the door, she leans over her shoulder and you don’t wait for her to return with a towel. For once, you put your heart on the line and in true story book fashion, you bully your way into your best friend’s room:

“Bokuto Kotaru!”

He’s never heard you yet at him, but you at 14 years old knew how to get his attention without the yelling. He hit his growth spurt this year and is now at a comfortable height difference for you to reach up, cup his face and humble him with his first kiss being stolen by you.

“You’re insane,” he mumbles.

“Absolutely stark raving mad,” you jest back before hugging him. “Thought you should know I’ve been wanting to do that since we were ten.”

And so, you leave when he wishes you luck in Hyogo.

Almost a full three years later, you’re back in the city that bared and raised you. Tokyo was ever growing, ever expanding. It would be the same across the country in Hyogo. Sure you were a bit timid even in the past, however ever since your parents decided to split, you find yourself back in your hometown.

It's a weird feeling hearing your old friend in your new high school's gymnasium. Apparently, though you were studying at Nohebi (because they were still accepting transfer students right before the year had started), you happened to join a classmate to oversee her boyfriend's volleyball club training. That's when you see a few of the guys clad in ivory. The third team that were invited were a den of cats, and you seem to pick up this was a pre-pre season face off. Noehbi's vice captain nudges one of the others whom your girl friend from class waves toward and you are introduced to Daisho Suguru. His rival, the tall guy in red, still insults him, but you sort of laugh at their banter. However, your attention goes to the third young man clad in the ivory and gray practice uniform. Sure, you haven't seen each other in three years, but you can tell he sort of filled out: chest and torso was worked out on a weekly focus rotation; his legs were covered with compression leggings which only accentuated his...other assets; and oh my god, you realize he's walking toward you.

"Excuse me," you smile at Daisho and his-your-girl friend, and you respond when you know Bokuto's voice has changed to a little raspier one than before. "Bo?"

"YN?"

You both chuckle and you let Daisho make the call to have the first practice match be between Nekoma (red team you found out later) and Nohebi, begins. WInner of that match will square off with one of the five top aces in the year.

Hours later, you're seen walking in the opposite direction of your own home, reconnecting with the boy you stole your first kiss from at 14. You fill him in on your life, even your parents divorce, "so the judge agreed I was old enough to choose who and where I wanted to live, so I came back home...with my dad."

"Cool, but y'know, 'm sorry they split," Bokuto says, holding your hand and giving it a squeeze.

"Me too, but I'm glad they're living their own truths now," you reply, shyly combing a piece of your hair behind your ear. “I’ll be here through the end of our third year. So, I’ll be seeing you more I guess.”

He hums, nodding along. 

“Once an old friend, always an old friend,” Bokuto beams. 

You don’t bring up the time you literally gave him his first kiss, that memory could burn for all you care. Awkward and all, however that was three years ago and as his house comes to view, he asks you something a bit…sweet?

“Want to come in?” 

You, who think nothing of it, agree, stepping across the threshold of the front door you’ve came through so many times. His house is lively with with sisters and even the eldest one now is finally expanding the family. Her sweet smile invites conversation, but thankfully after you had said your greetings, she understands her kid brother more than anyone else. The middle sisters are gushing over the latest sonograms of their eldest sibling while Bokuto chimes in with being named a godparent almost immediately.

“Well, if I make Koutaro a god parent, then,” his expecting sister glances at you. “I’d have to make you one too I guess.”

Your cheeks are burnt sunset orange when Bokuto pulls you away from the kitchen saying something about homework.

“They are as lively as ever…So, your one-san is expecting? That’s something I wasn’t expecting when you told me she was gonna come home for a few months and travel back I think before she gets too far along…You an uncle? That’s also great too,” you ramble a bit. You take an opportunity to see the achievements he made with being the ace for the volleyball clubs since your move, spotting the article framed of him and his near perfect posture for a pipeline spike. 

“Bokuto,” your voice is gentle. “Why did you invite me inside?”

He places his things down at the corner of his bed before sitting on the edge of it.

“Because I missed you way more than I imagined.”

Considering you’re standing by his desk right now, you arch an eyebrow, but you shrug your shoulders. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t write or call,” you confess. “I didn’t have enough time to ask for a computer at the time. I mean, I had tablets, sure, but we didn’t make it a point to trade social media.”

“Come here,” he holds your hand. You listen to him and walk toward him until you’re close enough he hugs you; a hand of yours rustles his hair. You chuckle slightly amused when he nuzzles his cheek against your torso. 

“Affectionate as always,” he hears you say. His eyes light up and he chooses to ask you something a bit bolder. 

“Mind if I do something?”

You shake your head before asking if he’s attempting to flirt with you (again).

“So what if I am,” Bokuto loves it when you tease him a bit. His lips find yours after he guides you to sit on his lap for a bit. There’s a smile you feel post him pecking your lips as he finally decides to take a chance for you both. For the boy who cares and emotes too much to find the person who inspired him to return after some time, having you return his affections meant the world to him.

So when future you had honed your skills in obtaining your degree in public relations, you stand in the press room with the rest of the rookie volleyball players from the Monster Generation, a sparkly stone shines on your finger when just a regular ace answers a question from the press.

#🌻— flying around collecting pollen—queue #haikyuu x reader #bokuto x reader #sfw piece

[qm-f-rases]

#🌻— flying around collecting pollen—queue

[piecrust432]

🌻🌻🌻Ideas for what I would want in a dream home escape . I might just list a bunch of ideas for what I have in mind. 🌻🌻🌻

#aesthetically shitty #sunflower 🌻 #🌻— flying around collecting pollen—queue #sunflowers #sunflower aesthetic #sunflower field #can i live there in a sunflower field #dream house #dreamcore #dusk #cottage aesthetic #cottagecore #plants #plantcore #escape

[ace619305]

#🌻— flying around collecting pollen—queue #resting #honeybee

[soranihimawari]

120 beats per minute

word count: tbd

pairing: reader x osamu// reader x atsumu

rating: t/m for lor love triangles and sibling violence

it's a funny thing, love. this emotion causes joy, anger, anxiety, so why does your best friend's brother stand before you with a soft smile. a warmth radiating off of him when his hazel graham cracker eyes which match his hair dye chooses to take you in, disheveled hair and all, and spots someone who deserves this sort of rendezvous too. miya atsumu is out of breath and has such a cross expression like he's about to go off on you for no reason, but his words fail him the moment you leap into his arms and he catches you.

ok, maybe if we start at the beginning, you'll completely understand why he's there at your house in an unholy hour of two in the morning.

[[twelve hours ago]]

you leave school in the sunshine afternoon of a day. there is a letter that falls into your school bag. a girl friend of yours invites you the karaoke club. what you didn't know was it was going to be a club building exercise between a few single guys from the volleyball club and your jazz band club. your best friend, the one whom you've been claimed to be inseparable since you were seven. imagine the look on your face when you see him canoodling up to one of the other girls in the group at the couch in the karaoke room. it's your turn to sing and you sing" la vie en rose" in a shaky voice. your eyes don't leave the spot on the couch when the girl from your group stakes her claim on with your best friend's lips. if there is a moment in time your best friend could hear your heart snap it must be the equivalent when your microphone drops to the cushion in the crescendo of the song. you rush out, no word or excuse of an apology. the boys sort of cheer on their teammate's liplocked confession, but two people in the room, your girl friend and one other teammate raises their brow.

you're home when your friends the girl who had invited you and the other teammate decides to text you together. both of them are apologizing saying that you didn't deserve it. they comfort you in their empathetic facetime call with you.

"y'know until that hussy kissed 'samu-kun, i thought he was gonna sit next to you," your girl friend from class nods.

"yeah, yeah!" a miya with blonde hair says. he closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of the nose. "my brother is a bit of an oblivious dolt."

"a bit?! my closest friend these past three years whom you've quite literally grew up with yn-san and your brother locking lips with the biggest slut of the year!"

"guys, guys," you sound a little defeated about it. "it's ok. 'm sure 'samu liked her too."

you speak no more of this incident, rather after your friend hangs up first, the older twin brother of the young man you learned to like, suggests something gnarly.

"i like you, why not date me instead?" he's still on facetime and he hears you sniffle once, then twice, then he calmly expresses his brother might be an idiot, but for what it's worth: "i can be greedy too."

"but that's not fair to you," you say, all ounce of rationality makes your heart stutter a bit.

"osamu's an idiot," atsumu retorts. "how can he possibly not adore you?...and in case you've forgotten, yn, i've known you for the same amount of time--i've loved you for longer, trust me. i'm on your side. i just want you to win."

you say nothing as you let atsumu's words both stun and linger in your mind. it stirs something ancient in your wounded heart and immediately, flashbacks of your childhood with the twins play in realtime. for every scrape, ouchie at recess, every tear his brother had by proxy caused, atsumu was there bandaging you up with neosporin, giving you a piggy-back ride home from the playground, made you laugh by inserting jellybeans on his canines on halloween thus chasing you until you fall in his room side by side with him laughing into the night. love, you realize is a double edge of sword.

come the weekend after the karaoke mess, osamu and atsumu are rumoured to have an awful fight in the gym locker room. apparently the rumor was atsumu cornered his brother and charged him the crime of breaking your heart and soiled your self-pride. suna has it recorded the moment aran and kita walk in to the twins being pulled apart. osamu has as bloodied nose and atsumu has a busted lip:

"at least i was honest with my feelings ya scrub! how could you not know?!" atsumu's voice is quieter, angrier.

osamu shakes his head. "how can i when ya always make 'em smile?!"

the twins fought about twelve hours ago, but without warning, you awake to a rapping at your front door. the blue light of the netflix show you were watching were now adding an ethereal glow behind you. your box of tissues after watching the latest episode of a popular k-drama your cousins turned you to for heartbreak. you heard a familiar harsh, yet gentle voice you recognize as belonging to atsumu.

neither of you say anything as you pull back the door further, only to glance at him all aglow with a thin layer of sweat in the cool autumn night. it's a funny thing, love. this emotion causes joy, anger, anxiety, so why does your best friend's brother stand before you with a soft smile. he doesn't even speak your name, yet those memories from earlier replay in your heart of hearts you throw yourself at him and his arms hold you closer to him.

"hi sweetheart," his voice is breathy and deep.

"s'late," you whisper against his skin before he puts you back down to the concrete again.

"i know, but i needed to see you."

"want to come in?"

"maybe some other time," he plays with your hand before raising it to his face, which turns into you cupping his cheek until his breath catches up to him. he breathes normally for a few moments, he tells you about the fight word for word.

"are you alright?" your concerned worried eyes search his face for more minor injuries before you relent after he assures you, he's fine.

"jus' my lip is all," he chortles a little. "what's that pout for?"

you shake your head before standing on your toes to have your lips press against his. you don't have an explanation why you kissed him so when you pull away, his cheeks are a soft hue in the moonlight.

"'m sorry, did that hurt?" you ask and before you could receive an answer, the boy ahead of you smashes his lips on yours.

your hand on his face slides down to his chest, clutching the fabric of his pajama shirt the more you let him kiss you; his hand on your waist, the other cupping the back of your head, he leads you into opening your mouth a little more when he runs his tongues over the grooves of your lips. you gasp a little when you taste the mint of his toothpaste and he licks the salt on the corner of your lips from the tears you cried watching another kdrama recommendation (he knows your routine when something heartbreaking happens in your life).

it's two in the morning, you and miya atsumu have since declared that the hour is meant for the romantics whose heart beats quickly rise to 120 bpm.

[[bonus scene]]

you wake on the couch when you feel atsumu's hand brush back your bangs to tuck them behind your ear. it's a strange habit he developed over the years ever since the autumn of your second year.

"morning sweetheart," his hard g's at the ends of his words still cause your heart to flutter.

you, on the other hand, turn to smile at him from where you slept. someone else pitter patters up to you both, the reason why you slept on the couch in the first place and the reason why you have a row in your fridge dedicated to juice boxes.

"papa, why's da ray o' sunshine on our couch?"

"because," you speak up, stifling a yawn. "ya little gremlin took over my side of the bed!"

the kid runs after you made a monstrous, playful growl, and for what it's worth, the faux blonde who gets to witness this exchange the morning after coming back from an away trip with his team, just counts his lucky stars you answered your door that night. laughter fills the halls and they reach an all-time high with atsumu walking to see you scoop up the proof you two have of your love. the tyke holding on to you saying that they were sorry in between the giggles and kisses you give them; your lover in the doorway leans against it, swears he’s never had his heart this full.

“atsumu, c’mere,” you beckon him as the kid settles down and you maneuver your hold on the child to have them on your hip. with your free hand you smile at him when you trace over that small scar on his lip now nearly a decade old. you and osamu might have made up at the wedding shower, but knowing you were always going to wind up a ‘miya’ was predicted by your family and theirs. the kicker was when you stood in front of atsumu since everyone swore osamu was never going to let you go, but he did. that’s the funny thing falling for both siblings at different stages of your life: osamu was more of a puppy-love, yet atsumu, who seemed to glow like a solar flare, set your soul ablaze with the chemistry he provided you.

currently, atsumu stills breathing ahead of you, pressing his lips on the pad of your fingers before your shared child hides his face in your neck declaring: “papa! just kiss the monster and make ‘em pwetty again! ah miss sunshine!”

a chuckle is heard from you before atsumu kisses you quietly matching his lips to yours on this delightful morning.

you whisper, “i love you, g’morning.”

he in turn, tilts your face up again lingering his lips over yours before humming a quiet, “i love you and i will always remind you how you shine like starlight.”

you took a leap of faith when you kissed him at seventeen years old and now? now, the future has been bright ever since.

#🌻— flying around collecting pollen—queue #sora after hours #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #miya twins! x reader #reader x oblivious!osamu #atsumu x reader

[soranihimawari]

I Missed You

Pairing: Oikawa x (gn!) reader

Word Count: tbd

Rating: Oikawa Tooru Fluff [otf]

Warnings: none// reader in timeskip becomes a doctor specializing in aging/older athletes and completing necessary check-ups before a match.

Note: I tried to not tie any gender-specific nouns when describing reader.

How I think OIkawa & reader hug each other after not seeing each other in a long time.

[23:45]

That’s the time stamp you receive on an old friend’s text. There are only three words which the message is comprised of. When you read them aloud to yourself in the comfort of your own home, you seem to repeat them like a mantra.

‘I miss you’

Simple hope draws from this in a way that can’t be described as you stare at your screen until you ultimately lock your phone. You close your eyes for a a few minutes when your brain decides to show you a highlight reel of the activities you used to do with the sender. Learning the rules of volleyball, joining in their team jogging paths, coming to scheduled matches, accompanying him to the nurse’s office when he landed on his feet wrong, etc. He was destined to be famous, just not here at home in Japan, no. Somewhere half a world away called out to him first. Argentina was distant, far, the most you’d ever be separated and even then, the times prior were literally at the start of up schooling lives.

Unfortunately, the last memory behind the closed eyes you see is a bittersweet one: the reality your friend, confidant, (and crush) hits you. You never did want to wind up fighting with him, but for once you’d want him to fight to stay here. With you. As his best friends remind you, you’d be holding him back from his true potential ever since he started practicing with the collegiate teams up the road from where you live—this was where the initial rift began to be drawn between you two.

During lunch one day, you visit his classroom, sitting next to him explaining (or rather complaining) the trouble you were having with a particular class and one of the assignments needed to be completed prior to a content exam.

“Do you ever shut up about schoolwork, yn?”

You pause, a disappointed look heavy on your brow as those within earshot suddenly fall quiet.

“I’m sorry not all of us have a righteous path carved in front of us, Tooru,” the tonality in your voice was one of annoyance. “Some of us have to work even harder to achieve our dreams other than hoping to skip town and follow in their idol’s footsteps.”

Ever since that brief conversation, you and one Oikawa Tooru, are now practically strangers come graduation day. You hear whispers via the third year rumor mill of his accomplishments and his ultimate defeat against both Shiratorizawa and Karasuno. Matches you weren’t there to show your support for, even if Iwazumi Hajime, the ace and vice captain, had invited you because, “it would be nice for him (oikawa) to see a familiar face in the crowd.”

Glancing back at Iwazumi’s moss green eyes and stoic countenance, “and if I recall, it would be nicer if I wasn’t there because it might distract him further. There are plenty of scouts heading to those matches. I’m sure he’d catch one of their eyes.”

“And if those scouts ask him to move to another country, are you really going to be ok with not saying your goodbyes when we graduate, yn?”

You aggravatedly sigh at him, muttering an annoyed, “Yes, Iwazumi-kun, even then.”

Many months later, post Oikawa's jog in the winter while watching the Karasuno v Inarizaki match, it is now springtime. You’re holding a bouquet of flowers from your parents who pose with you for pictures around the inner school gates of Aoba Josai’s campus. Your fellow classmates and club members surround you for more photos as well. This was going to be one of the final memories you have for your high school career. You were accepted into a university specializing in biomedical engineering with a strong focus on exercise science.

This was your dream, not necessarily the same path as Iwazumi’s to become an athletic trainer, no, however you had wanted to be a doctor whose focus would help restore and maintain older athlete’s bodies even post retirement. Helping those who had maybe one or two career setbacks was something which had captivated you the more you began to focus on the life sciences of your high school careers and with the help of those teachers, they had written for you a brilliant recommendations to boost your acceptance after passing the various university exams.

[13:43]

In your office nearly a decade later from high school graduation, sits your newest patient. He comes from Argentina, like your nurses tell you, but the rumor that he had come on a friend's recommendation is what actually piques your interest. Well, to be fair, two of your friends' personal recommendation are what causes you to raise your eyebrow. The nurse on duty that day takes his vitals as normal, asks him the routine questions before giving him the proper spiel of, "sit tight and the doctor will see you in a few minutes."

Oikawa Tooru has come home for several reasons. The only one on the top of his list is coming home for an exhibition match game he was invited to by the former captain of Nekoma and now representative of the JVA. However, when word reaches Iwazumi's camp in the national team's gym, he smirks, sending a text halfway across the world. Your name is thrown into the mix of doctors who are willing to examine older, closer to retirement age, athletes. Considering this was not how he had wanted to spend his second day back in his home country, Oikawa Tooru asks to book this appointment to get an all clear before playing the V-League exhibition match Kuroo talked him into attending.

You are reading over the file of the new patient outside of the room in the hallway. You scan over the various ticks he had made on the questionnaire along with your nurse who says that his young son looks up to Oikawa-san as a professional volleyball player.

"Repeat that one more time, Sato-san," you clear your throat when Sato-san repeats what he had said earlier.

"My son is as huge fan of Oikawa-san," he points to the name at the top of the document in your hand.

Right there, next to Sato-san, the nurse's pointer finger, is the kanji of the name of a person you thought about since your high school, university, and medical school graduation days. You clear your throat, thanking Sato for his time measuring the vitals of the next patient in the room you're about to enter.

"No prob doc," is all Sato says when he walks back to the nurse station leaving you to enter the examination room where an old flame sits.

You take a deep breath prior to knocking and entering. You open the door and you see OIkawa bent over on the examination bed, reading something on his phone. His hair is cropped shorter, his shoulders are a bit broader, his skin a bit tanner, and for lack of better words, his muscles quite filled out the rest of him. He's still humming a tune you're unfamiliar with until your shoes enters his field of vision.

"Hello Tooru," your voice causes him to freeze and immediately causes his eyes to avert away from his phone. "It's been a while."

Oikawa's coffee-colored eyes study your face and the recognition hits him like a truck. Although he is dressed in a sky blue buttoned blouse and dark jeans compared to your teal scrubs and white lab coat, he stands up, arms extended to crush you in a hug. His patient file falls to the floor when you hug him back.

You hear him for the first time since that argument long ago, voice wobbly and all, "I missed you."

#haikyuu x reader #oikawa x reader #an hq: timeskip story #soft sora hours: ft oikawa tooru #🌻— flying around collecting pollen—queue #sora scribbles 2023

[soranihimawari]

Woo Me

Quotes for dialogue can be found here.

Pairing: (teacher & childhood friend)Gojo Satoru x (childhood friend) Reader

Rating: GSF (gojo satoru fluff)// childhood friends ->lovers

Word Count: 550

You’ve been friends with one Gojo Satoru since your childhood. You two grew up together side by side and though now in your late twenties, you’ve come to realize through all the ups and downs life has thrown both your ways, you sort of love having him around. Witty comebacks and playful annoying bantering with him always seems to have cheered you up. Him calling you on several occasions, “my one and only,” seems like a drunk fever dream, regardless, here you are in a small cafe sitting across from him. He seems troubled by something, perhaps a paper or two from what his students submitted earlier last week. On your end, though you have a free afternoon, you do still have little recollection of the evils your friend has spared the world from. Surely, you’ve heard family members of his call him, “the strongest,” but you never really asked him about it. You’ve drawn imaginary conclusions in your head what it meant for your dear friend to be called that, however you push those thoughts aside for a moment when you realize his eyes, apparently all six of them, are on you. Through his stunning set of ice blues, you see your reflection in them and the words he had spoke into the air seemed to have been repeated.

“I need just one date.” 

In your head, you think you’re dreaming, yet the warmth of the coffee in your coffee mug tells you otherwise. This dear, is reality and so with a skeptical look, you give the twenty-something year old man a flirtatious look. For being the same age, you two have had your fair share of listening to each other babble on about awkward first dates with new partners, not necessarily giving the other the chance to be said partner. 

With Gojo’s statement though, you seem to return your face back to a playfully neutral one. It’s an expression he has grown to love over the years of being in your company. 

“You think you can woo me with just one date?” 

You ask this as if he hasn’t planned the perfect ideal date for you two since he was about eleven years old: it was supposed to be to the botanical gardens when your favorite flowers were blooming. You told him once you loved the scents and beauty of lavender–it wasn’t necessarily your favorite color (which was black with pops of bold cyan), but lavender had such a calming effect for you both. You take a sip as you observe him straighten out his students’ reports and actually he leans forward. Right as you place your cup down on the table, Gojo Satoru has this amused smile on his face and for once you begin to see the world around you two slow as it takes on this new hue of rose glass. Your friend since early childhood is honestly asking you on a date. Perhaps both of your hearts needed this break from the norm in the world of dating to finally be able to give each other a decent chance, so here to sit back and play with your shirt sleeve and lock eyes with your dearest friend as he has this grin and jovial tone in his reply.

“Absolutely.”

And woo you, he will.

#🌻— flying around collecting pollen—queue #sora after hours #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #🎋jjk🎋

[soranihimawari]

Cats & Sweet Starts

Kuroo Tetsurō has been nominated for many things: most likely to succeed, most likely to be chemistry quiz bowl champion, most likely to date a supermodel… but when he stands in front of you at your first JVA-interns reunion, he’s sopping wet from the beer a horrid ex-boyfriend of yours throws at your face. Or at least tried to.

“You always protected ‘em huh Kuroo? Just like helped cover her mistakes when the boss was around,” the jerk scoffs.

“I just did it because you kept putting ‘em down at the board meetings, asshole,” Kuroo says before wiping his face. He turns to you asking if you’re ok, you nods. However, before your old fling at the office leaves, you put your glass down and march right up and sock the idiot who ruined your friend’s suit with your fist.

Kuroo laughs a bit stunned you could hit that hard. Jerk of an ex-fling looks at you and rubs his cheek.

“Pop quiz dickweed,” you square your shoulders in your bar attire. “Before volleyball what was the the one sport I was the captain for?”

The rag doll of a guy who probably has an STD now for being a player looks at you says you probably broke his cheek and you shake your head.

“Does it look like I care? You ruined our reunion. Get out of here,” turns to look at Kuroo with an apologetic smile. “Your suit’s ruined. I really liked that one too….”

An hour or so later, the pub is lively again and you walk together with your current department neighbor at the JVA. He talks about how badass you were after he took the whiskey sour hit on your behalf.

“… but you kicked Kuwabara’s ass. Have you always been that strong?”

You’re at the lobby of Kuroo’s apartment complex about to leave after saying your goodnights.

“Hmm… you didn’t know me in high school, but i guess I still am, haha. Don’t forget I’m paying for your dry cleaning. Just send me in the invoice, ok Kuroo-kun?”

He nods and waves as you head to your home via hailing a cab.

You’re about to be dropped off in your drive way when you piece some things together and tell the driver you’d pay him double to take you back to the apartment complex he picked you up in.

The ride back to Kuroo’s complex was an entertaining one. You tell the driver all about how Kuroo introduced himself in the first day; you were cubicle buddies for the next six to eight months during your internship five years ago; now you’ve officially signed on with him your department and his work on promotional athletes from the national team…

“I’m in merchandise development and he’s in sports contracts,” you say proudly at the light right before the complex.

“And falling in like, happened when?” The driver asks bemused.

“Three years ago when we had to fake a relationship so his family would stop worrying about him too much,” you smile.

“And falling in love…?”

“Two hours ago when my ex splashed a cocktail all over his face…thanks mister.”

You hand the driver some cash and run straight to the elevators.

Meanwhile, Kuroo is on the phone with his team trying to sort out his emotions that are tied to you until one of them turns into all of them saying what he’s known since you bought him that little cactus for his big boy promotion desk. It stares at him everyday and he watered it for a year then on the eve of your friendship anniversary (his idea you went along with), you tell him it’s a fake plant. You and him laughed together over tea time. Kuroo’s friends agree saying he’s just got to for it and see what works.

“I gotta go fellas, thanks,” Kuroo hangs up and though he is in his tank top under shirt and old college sweatpants, his finger hovers over your name on his phone. Sighing he’s about to call you when he hears a knock and goes to open the door after seeing who it was.

“YN?”

You smile brightly apologizing for the late house call after you saw each other not that long ago:

“Excuse me,” you say sternly, standing on your toes to kiss him.

Kuroo’s golden eyes seem matte and warm when you pull away. Your cheek is stroked gently by his curled forefinger and his other hand holds you steady when you return to the ground shoes and all.

“Wh-when?” He lingers near you before you push him inside to close the door behind you. His smile is Cheshire like and cheeks are a soft plum pink under the fluorescent lighting of his living room. He holds your hand and realizes you haven’t answered just yet, but he sees your blush spread.

“Pub,” you laugh and he cups your face to kiss you again. “You?”

“When you reminded me you did judo,” Kuroo laughs too, letting you kiss him for as long as you’re able to. He returns them with as much vitality as he deems worthy.

#🌻— flying around collecting pollen—queue #sora after hours #haikyuu x reader #kuroo x reader #haikyuu fluff

[soranihimawari]

Fates Aligned

Word Count: TBD

Pairing: Akaashi Keiji x YN!Reader

Rating: AKF (Akaashi Keiji Fluff)

Notes: Josei manga refers to manga which appeals to young adult women. :]

Thinking back on your high school days could pose a problem for you. You're attending your reunion and are amongst friends who are filling you in on their lives: who got married to who, who's adding to their family, and who's dating who. You realize as they talk you become more and more disassociated in the conversation. It's not like you had any juicy gossip to offer--you weren't dating anyone with the prospect of marriage on the way and you definitely weren't expecting an addition to your family except for maybe adopting another kitten to go along with the two year old cat you have waiting for you at home.

As the night progressed, you enjoy a few more drinks and light snacks at your end of the table. That is until you see him. Him, the young man from your past Japanese literature class with stunning gun-blue metal eyes, soft charcoal hair, and quiet nature. His best friend was the loud and often cheery captain of the volleyball team. You remember him as a gentle soul, after all he was much taller than you then. Nowadays, as you over hear of his publishing successes, you are shy to say to you have read many of his publishing house's manga. Your collection is massive, yet no one here would think you were an avid fan.

Until one member of your side of the table brings up a highly popular josei manga title. Your ears perk up as you enter the conversation saying you are an avid fan and reader of the title. A few things to note: the title was published online independently, second, when the copyright was up for renewal, a new publishing company bought it to have the author continue the story, third said author was attending is high school reunion in the pub where you seemed to be gushing over their work.

Whatever you said caused Akashi Keiji to confidently stride up to you and hang out at your end of the table.

"I take it you like that work," he says. "You're, yln yn,m right? Shared a desk with you in Japanese literature."

He seems amused. You seem a bit flustered as you swirl your empty water cup in your hands. You were trying to be a little less drunk before calling it a night.

"You remember me?" you say with a slight scoff. "It's usually hard for people outside of my friend circle here to recognize me. Nice to see you too Akaashi-kun."

He laughs as he clinks glasses with you. As the night progresses, you two become more and more acquainted past the "what happened after university" and the "where/what do you do now" questions.

You were pleased to know he landed a publishing job much like he was impressed your hobby of photography landed you a few lead exposes for National Geographic. Regardless of the years spent apart from that one classroom in Fukurodani, Akaashi lets you in on a little secret.

"You know," he begins. There is a small curl of his lips. "Sitting next to you inspired me to start drawing a little."

"Really? Now that you're a publisher, I didn't think you'd have to be the artist behind the manga," you reply.

"True, but my first manga heroine? She was inspired by you," he said this casually as he pulls out his phone to show you a very rough sketch of a short, limited series run of a manga you read online.

"N-no way," you gasp. You start to see little coincidences of you in the character when you re-read the first few pages and you glance back at Akaashi.

"I was too shy and reserved back then to ask, but," he starts when you hand him his phone back. "Would you like to go out with me sometime? I have a deadline to meet next Thursday, but Friday I am free."

And without missing a beat, you reply.

"Sure, I can be free next Friday. Anything for the author of 'fates aligned': a red string of fate short series," you smile brightly as he chuckles.

#haikyuu x reader #sora after hours #🌻— flying around collecting pollen—queue #akaashi x reader

[soranihimawari]

Call Me

Based off this prompt.

Word count: 300+

Rating: OTF [oikawa tooru fluff]

Pairing: timeskip!(retired) Oikawa & YN friend

"You called me," you said to your friend who was sitting on the floor next to his bed. It seemed he had a rough day ever since he was told to give the sport he loved a rest or risk losing whatever is left of the cartilage in his knee. Jumper's knee was a thing you thought couldn’t ruin a promising career in sports, hence why you encourage your friend, now back home due to said injuries over time, to continue playing until it was time to quit.

So here you were, spare key in pocket and all, glancing down at the once proud “Great King.” He’s a bit older now, a few strands of his auburn hair feathering off into grays. The years abroad had been kind to him and his physique. You do check him out every once in a while, today your gaze was a little softer than normal. 

Extending a hand to him, he turns to look at you, debonair smile and all.

"And you really came,” he lightly chuckles as he takes your hand.

You help pull him up to his feet and he breathes a word of thanks. He sits on the edge of the bed patting the space next to him. His hand doesn’t leave yours as you sit next to him.

“Remember when I said I wasn’t going to let an injury get me down?” he asks. There is a nostalgic glint in his chestnut brown eyes. The lamp is dim in his room, the rest of his apartment is dark this time of night.

“Yeah,” you smile and give his hand a squeeze. “And you kept playing–for years. Became one of the greats even if you were half a world away.”

You and him look around the collection of trophies and medals each with a year engraved in them. A few even had Olympic rings stitched on to the chords to hold the medals up. Others had the South American League stitched on them too.

“Proud of you, Oikawa Tooru,” you nudge him with your shoulder. You hear him hum. “Oh, and one more thing.”

You let go of his hand, turn to face him once you stand up with a charming grin on your face. He has a curious look on his face.

“Whenever you call, I’ll come running.”

#haikyuu x reader #🌻— flying around collecting pollen—queue #sora after hours #soft hours with oikawa tooru

[soranihimawari]

Fondly Yours

Delayed Sakusa x Reader (sorry Omi!)

Pairing: Sakusa x friend!reader

Word Count: TBA

Warnings: none? Mentions of injury (reader: head// Sakusa toe stub)

Reader is fem!presenting

The first time you met Sakusa Kiyoomi, you were out on a coffee shop delivery. The MSBY had asked for a coffee run early in the morning from your family ran shop. Regardless, you were on the morning delivery rotation and weren’t prepared to take a volleyball to the noggin.

“Oww,” you rub your head after you spilled the last coffee all over the court floor. Number 15, the outside hitter steadies you and he snaps at his setter who accidentally hit the ball to go astray.

Funnily enough, that’s how your absurd friendship began with the popular outside hitter began. You two hung out every other weekend and one hang out led to a party invitation which led you to a year later where you find yourself.

“Oh c’mon, Atsu,” you whine. You’re all gussied up in your dress blues (your military casual formal wear from when you were [and still] employed with) and you wait on the blonde setter comes out of his room.

“You look sharp,” you say.

“Was it yer idea to have a ‘formal’ for Omi’s 30th?” Atsumu says fiddling with his cuff link.

“Yes,” you laugh and roll your eyes. “Because you all wanted to see me in my old dress blues. Gotta remind youse guys I make a wonderful lady.”

“And who you trying to impress huh? Cause lord knows if Omi didn’t fall fer yer ass ya would be having his birthday party at his penthouse!”

Atsumu’s typically a loud mouth and an instigator of saying rumors that may or may not be true. You raise your eyebrow at him and play it off, but given the heavy hitters in your shared core memories with the man of the hour being told second hand by his closest confidant on the team, you realistically… freeze. Blushing three different shades of lock and peach color. You momentarily gain your motor skills back as you find yourself being escorted to the ride share with Atsumu holding your arm.

Hours later, at the private area of the speakeasy lihnge you’re in, you are all cozy nursing a whiskey smash cocktail next to a very socially drained Sakusa Kiyoomi. Surely there are snacks scattered on the table, gifts—intimate toys and other wise too are haphazardly littered as well—too are noticeable in the dim lights. Here is something not many people know about a tipsy now 30-year old broody volleyball player: he becomes very affectionate. Like a neighborhood feral cat become docile as he rests his head against your shoulder. You hold his hand and give it a squeeze whispering a birthday greeting on top of his curls and you see his lips curl into a small smile.

Yes, you may have an unconventional start to your friendship, but knowing how Atsumu was right, you push that aside the moment you enjoy your privacy away from the rest when said 6’3” volleyball player presses his lips against yours soberly at 5am. The rest of the party is a blur until you recall his team allows you to watch over their more than tipsy friend. You go home with Sakusa to his place, holding him upright as he limps due to stubbing his toe earlier at the speakeasy’s low table before leaving. You help him undress halfway, no belt, no silk button down in bed, and you decide after he falls asleep to go to sleep too right next to him.

That’s how you find yourself nose to nose with him in the dawning hour. His lips suddenly on yours calling you, “pretty” and his mumbling woke you slightly and you, garnering your senses to realize not all of Atsumu’s tale was a lie, you cup Sakusa’s face and kiss him back.

“Sakusa fuckin’ Kiyoomi,” you curse under your breath with a warm groan when he kisses your neck next. “You do that again and ‘m afraid you might need to show me what else that mouth can do.”

“Gladly,” is the last thing you hear before humming an acknowledgment of said dare.

#🌻— flying around collecting pollen—queue #sora after hours #haikyuu x reader #sakusa x reader #sora scribbles 2024

[soranihimawari]

Needle & Thread

An Azumane Asahi x reader short

Word count: 2.2k+

Rating:AAF (azumane asahi fluff)

Warnings: none, a little ooc moments from Sawamura & Suga//unspecified gender!// fluff

I just wanted to say perhaps Azumane having a crush is something I’d love to read about every once in a while. Also, this is how I think he hypes himself up mentally when yn is around

All was well in the home economics lecture hall at the community college you were attending this semester. The fashion course you had signed up for had been advertised as an introductory one and though you may have been one of the youngest designers among your peers, yet your desk mate was another student definitely from another part of your city.

You were always intrigued by both his designs as much as he was enamored with your use of unique materials when you had much simpler projects due. Perhaps it was your use of felt and wirework that inspired him to create an ornate jewelry set for that week and maybe he inspired you to create a three piece suit in hunter green and navy. You each had received praise from both your peers as well as the professor who hummed with a curt smile during the review.

Now, as the chimes on campus begin their late night tune to announce the hour, you settle into your seat and wonder about the young man whose seat has remained vacant for the second week in a row. It’s not like him to be absent, you wonder. Yet you recall him mentioning his volleyball team had won all necessary matches in their prefecture. Your professor drones on with the attendance list since art courses, especially design ones at that, where time is of the essence. Your sketchbook along with your personal tablet holds the keys of the past designs you had breathed into existence. As your attention is drawn back to the front of the classroom’s whiteboard, a singular word was written there: BIRDS.

The hell are we supposed to do with this? You think. Funnily enough, as you were zoning out, your hand had already picked up the stylus and you had already begun making several shapes that resembled crows’ feathers. The fact you remembered your deskmate had a little white crow plush on his sewing fabric bag to show ‘school pride’ must have been the silver lining when you continued to sketch a few more key components for the dress you will attempt to create.

An hour goes by and pretty soon you had a more refined sketch of the completed outfit. Your professor stops by your desk as you add a few more details thus tapping their index finger on the desk to announce their presence. You slower your stylus strokes of color to give your professor your undivided attention.

“Fascinating design as always,” they say.

“Thanks,” you reply. Holding up your tablet, you give a brief summary of the birds you chose to showcase with the completion of the project.

“Hmm… a crow and a pheasant, huh?”

“Yeah, I was thinking maybe adding some hints of sapphire satin or even amethyst tulle to the bodice…”

“Given your design, I suggest a more pliable fabric, but if sophisticated chic is what you were aiming for, try playing with nylon and pleather fabrics for those details,” was their advice.

You nod.

“By the way, y/n,” the professor pauses before moving on to the next workstation. “I heard Azumane-san’s team won against Inarizaki today. You ought to text him later.”

You feel the blush creeping up the back of your neck as you realize your professor’s intention on feeding you that intel. Your brain seems to have short circuited as you hear their voice give other advice a few work stations ahead. Nervously swallowing the pooled saliva in your mouth, you feign a cough as you shake your head side to side to reset your focus.

Class wraps up about twenty or so minutes later. On the train ride home, you decide to search the intramural results. There in the black white newspaper sports pages for the Tokyo City News you see the results from today’s match. You swipe that article away and immediately open your text message chain with Azumane, A.

It’s forty-five minutes post the Karasuno coaches’ “Light’s Out” call when suddenly Azumane’s phone lights up with your name flashing across the screen. He immediately picks up though the others the ace shares the room with suddenly scramble to take possession of his phone.

“Oh ho? Is that text from the illustrious y/n?” Sugawara wriggles his eyebrow.

“Or is it from your mom this time reminding you to buy her a souvenir?” Sawamura teases in a light hearted tone.

The fact Sugawara brings up your name so casually causes Azumane’s ears to sort of turn a magenta hue.

“And so what if it’s y/n?”

He unlocks his phone to read the texts you sent him. The first was fine:

-Y/L/N, Y. (23:13): Professor Z told me you had a game today. Missed having you in class tonight. Congrats on winning against Inarizaki! :]

His phone vibrates in his hands again after staring at your text for about five more minutes. There is something about your cheerful demeanor radiating over there words you sent that make Azumane’s face flush—perhaps when he returns to class he’d muster up the courage to ask you to walk home together. Maybe even pick up some hot cocoa at the combini near the train station by the college.

-Y/L/N, Y. (23:25): Been home for about an hour or so now. You must be tired. Is it too late to call?

“So, before you mentally shut down for the night Asahi,” Sugawara sits up on his mat with his arms crossed over his chest. “What did your crush say this time?”

“Suga!” Sawamura used his eldest sibling's tone this time thus forcing a playful yet sincere apology to come from the vice captain. “Ya can’t just blurt out facts like that aloud. I mean sure our Asahi is tall, devilishly handsome, and our charming ace finally has someone who caught his eye…”

“Y/N w-wants to call me,” Azumane’s voice is a mixture of excitement and nerves. It’s eerily similar to the first time he attended practice again in the dingy gym back on campus, yet glancing back to the way he was then versus now. He slides his phone in his pajamas pocket while reaching for his hoodie at the foot of his bed.

With an abrupt and politely uttered, “I’m headed out for a bit.” Azumane grabs his hoodie and slides the balcony door open. He slips on a pair on house slippers as well. Tokyo and the neighborhood they’re staying in seems to glow in the wintery haze. Once the door is closed behind him, Azumane taps his reply. He presses the green arrow only to be greeted with a delivered message under his reply. A couple minutes go by as the winter wind whistles through the barren tree branches in surrounding the hoteru when a familiar ringtone designated just for you reaches his ears.

Meanwhile, Sugawara and Sawamura updates the rest of the team of their ace’s latest installment rightfully dubbed by Yamaguchi: ‘love but make it fashion’. Even Kiyoko and Hitoka-chan were included in this team chat. Though by now most of the team had begun to drift off one by one prior to Azumane dialing your number.

Azumane breathes your name with a visible puff of air.

“Asahi,” there’s a cheerful register in your tired voice. It’s like a warm invitation to stay awake for a little while longer. “I’m surprised you’re still awake at this hour. Shouldn’t you be asleep by now?”

“Yeah, but I figured you could fill me in on what I missed in class today?”

“Oh,” you sound a bit disappointed. “Professor’s word today was BIRDS. It’s the theme for the next project.”

“Ah, I see.”

You hum into the receiver. “You played a really great game today. Saw some highlights on the late night sports recap on t.v. Almost makes me want to ditch classes tomorrow and cheer your team on, haha.”

He chuckles after regaining his composure because surely you’re flirting with him right now, yes? Absolutely.

“We play Nekoma next.”

You suppose it’s your turn to be a bit bold. A small smile tugs at your lips. You hear the wind whistling in the background.

“Is that an invitation I heard from my dear deskmate?”

“Yes.”

He hears you struggle with the sheets as you sit up bolt straight in your bed. A soft thud he imagines came from you clumsily hitting the back of your head on the wall by accident and a curse escapes your lips as you feel your heart beat increase.

“Smooth ass motherfucker,” you mutter through gritted teeth. “When do you play?”

Azumane on the other side leans against the railing trying to suppress his laughter. A few more minutes go by before your call ends with an open ended promise of attending the match in a few days time.

Come the morning, you awake with a bit of a headache. Your phone rests charging by the end table in your room along with a glass of water your parent typically leave behind before reporting for work. Across your bed on the wall located next to your computer desk is a rip off calendar themed with Chococat imagery. You realize you forgot to tear it off the night before, so as you mentally replay the conversation you had with your fashion course classmate, you hum blissfully to yourself until you pick up your phone with wide eyes.

“Oh shit!” you whisper yell into the air. “No way! It can’t be that late. Right? Arugh!”

Kicking off your sheets and tearing off the date off the calendar, you rush into the hallway to wash your face in the guest bathroom of your residence. Afterwards, you decide to dress rather quickly opting for the jeans and crew neck sweater along with a beanie to keep your ears warm when you leave. You knew attempting a day trip to Tokyo would be an ambitious endeavor, but if your parent can do it, so can you. You send a text quickly after sorting out a travel drawstring backpack complete with bottles of water, a few almond butter and jam sandwiches, your wireless headphones, your Canon AE-1 35mm camera, and external battery pack.

Leaving a note behind on the kitchen counter for your parent in case they would eventually blow up your phone like the first and last time you left for a day trip (to go shopping with materials at the beginning of the semester-long course) with a girl friend from your school.

The total amount of travel time to reach Tokyo, more specifically the sports arenas where the Intramural Spring Tournament for Volleyball was held, had been estimated to be a solid ninety-minute commute via trains. Apparently luck was on your side since most trains had been running on time. Renewing and purchasing the student monthly pass at the automated ticket kiosk had been a breeze and now you stand on the designated platform; you wonder if this rush of excitement and nerves will be as close as you’d ever feel to what Azumane felt when he (and by extension his team) walks on to the court. Once you arrive at your final stop (since your trip included two transfer trains), you walk off the up escalator and breathe the bustling capital city warming air. You see a sign for the local coffee haus: within a matter of fifteen minutes, you leave with a warmed bagel in a small brown bag and a cup of coffee. You follow a few cheerful students who came to cheer on their classmates; you figure you’re headed in the right direction when you bump into a voluptuous blonde who seems to have a very unique outfit despite the weather.

“Whoops, sorry miss,” you apologize as politely as you could.

The blonde raises an eyebrow at you as if to challenge you, then something changes in her demeanor as she extends her hand to you.

“You came to watch Karasuno beat Nekoma, right?”

You sip your coffee and nod. The bag with your bagel crinkles in your other hand.

“C’mon, I’ll take you to the arena where they’re playing. I’m gonna go cheer for my little brother,” she adds.

You bite into your bagel quickly before she calls out over her shoulder, “Tanaka Saeko. Call me Saeko-nei.”

“Y/L/N.”

The walk to the arena doors isn’t that far, nor is it too long. Saeko fills you in on what you had missed since the tournament began (or rather when she arrived with a few of the neighborhood ex-volleyball club members) to formulate the Karasuno cheer club. She had dubbed themselves that considering how the school was once considered powerhouse.

“Flightless crows?” you continue eating your bagel while pondering upon the insulting title. Saeko points to the banner hanging over the railing with the team’s motto: FLY. You crumple the now empty bag and toss it in the next trash bin while you still sip your beverage.

“Crows aren’t flightless creatures,” you mention to Saeko when she joins you in the second row of the bleachers. “They’re quite intelligent. Besides, a flock is known as a murder. How flightless were they?”

For once, the blonde remains quiet. She has a pensive look to her face, so much so that when other members of the neighborhood alumni come to join you two, one of them asks Saeko who you are.

“Oh, this is Y/L/N-san. They sort of bumped into me on the street on the way here, past the bakery. Mentioned they wanted to watch the match.”

“So you just tagged along?” the man with glasses and a kind smile asks. “Y’ know you shouldn’t really talk to strangers, haha.”

You shrug, mentioning that if it weren’t for his blonde friend you’d be even more lost and would probably be at the arena when a good chunk of the matches were done for the day. The man nods as he adjusts his glasses.

“I wanted to see what a classmate of mine does with his spare time. Attending fashion courses isn't cheap either,” you stick with the truth. “Besides, I go to a different school; one where a few of our sports team clubs were cut due to lack of funding. Unfortunately volleyball was one of them.”

“That’s awful, sorry to hear that,” the man continues. He turns to see Saeko busy conversing with another alum along with the rest of the drum line. “You want to sit here to stay a in the next section over? You might see your friend better from there.”

He points to the front row a few meters away close to the railing. It’s close enough to the side of the net where you would presume Azumane’s team would play.

Meanwhile, in the locker room provided for Karasuno today, an entirely different conversation was happening.

“Did Y/L/N contact you?” Nishinoya wonders.

“You better not freeze out there if you see ‘em,” Sawamura teases.

On the other side of the bench, two first years are having another tussle of words as well that had little and or nothing to do with trying to Azumane to calm down.

“Quit it boke!”

“You’re going to break my brain even more Bakayama!”

Azumane for the life of him decides to silence the room and his fellow teammates with a sharp squeak of confusion in a poor attempt to mask his incoming text tone. Funnily enough, though the majority of the club had already changed into their traditional ebony uniforms, hearing their ace squeak made them shut up rather quickly.

-Y/L/N, Y. (10:59): do your best. I know you and your team deserve to win, Azumane-san. Win or lose, you’re still an ace. [ : oh! And a damned good designer.

A strange sense of calm comes over Azumane when his shoulder receives a gentle yet affirming squeeze by Kiyoko who just nods with a small smile. Surely everyone knows of you, but considering how their friend currently stares at his sent reply to your message with a mere thumbs up emoji accompanied by a ‘Thenks’ line a child on the morning of their birthday, they knew they might need to cover for him for the first few plays of the match.

Lo and behold the telecasters begin their normal routine checks not too far from the court you’re standing above. The anchor men are having their microphones hooked on their lapels when a different chime to announce the hour goes off. You watch as both teams enter the court with to begin their warmup routines. It doesn’t take too long for you to open your bag to pull out your camera and watch as a few members of your classmate’s team take to the air to hit the airborne ball back over the net. Others on both sides of the court continue with their stretches. You snap a few photos here and there to test out the original settings, making adjustments as needed.

The game begins with a shrill call of a whistle. You hear the team chant and when you lower your camera for a split second, the player in the black jersey with a bright “2” on the front grabs Azumane’s attention; with a swift nod in your direction, your eyes meet briefly.

“Holy shit,” the ace who rarely curses suddenly becomes nervous all over again.

You just mouth out a quick “focus & excel,” with a raised fist.

And for once in his young adult life, Azumane Asahi chooses to embody the very definition of those words.

“Ready?” Sawamura asks him with a smirk.

“Let’s play,” Azumane chuckles preparing to receive the first serve of the match.

#🌻— flying around collecting pollen—queue #sora after hours #sora scrbbles 2023 #azumane asahi x reader #hq x reader #hq fluff

[soranihimawari]

Be my Light

Pairing: Geto Suguru x Reader// platonic! Gojo x reader

Warning: none(?)// mentions of alcohol & death

Rating: fluff & dark humor

Part 2

Notes: saw the .gif and thought yep! reader is a baddie.

“So curses are real, huh?”

The cafe is busier today than normal. You’re sitting down with your childhood neighbor’s friend, who is stabbing a poor blueberry to death. To the right, his best friend, the man in white and black, sits humming an affirmative answer to your question.

“And you two… ‘kill’ these things?”

Your jacket and jeweled hand rest easily on your shoulders as you pause to drink your hot latte. It’s autumn now, so your leather jacket comes out of storage and your dark academia jewelry is on display. You were warned by parents and loved ones alike about how you shouldn’t be too friendly with the Gojo heir since his friend is also troublesome, but you don’t take their worries to heart. For the last decade or so, you helped soothe their fears before a mission or especially after tiring ones, you offer your home for them to rest their weary heads. You always left a lamp on in the spare room when you know they’d come back. You don’t know what has transpired since they went off to help keep a young woman safe, but what you do know now is how much Geto and Gojo seem to be affected by her loss.

That was half a year ago now. Here you three were, discussing curses and you asking them questions you might not want to know the answer to, but you press on until Geto stands up and snaps at you for poking into their lives:

“It’s dangerous,” that is all he says and leaves. He doesn’t want to let you know he’s on the precipice of spiraling, so you shrug it off.

Gojo apologies and pays for his and Geto’s drinks.

You don’t hear from them for a week.

In that time, you decide enough is enough. Your parent at home is asleep when you sneak out a quarter to midnight and your feet take you to their dorm area on campus. As quietly as you can, you climb and tap on Geto’s window.

“Su? It’s me,” you say low enough for your voice to travel through the glass. “I-I just haven’t heard from you in a couple days & if Satoru won’t answer me, I jus— ”

The window slides open and you’re pulled into his arms as he gives you the tightest embrace. He smells of cheap alcohol, no doubt an adviser bought it for him to help cope. He just casually lifts me and sits me on his lap when he sits on his bed; he says nothing, but you know he knows and you see it. Bags under his eyes, his thinning face, his baggier than normal clothes. You cup the side of his face, slightly smiling giving him some hope for this to pass.

“I’m not here to tell you what to do,” you whisper. “Or what you should be doing…”

Geto grunts before he growls, “tell me not to go murder every damn monkey in that church. Please.”

You realize he’s proud and arrogant to a fault, but he listens. He adheres to whatever code of friendship he has with Gojo; he has respect for his fellow sorcerers; and you notice whenever Gojo’s not around, he clings to you. You’re an innocent in all this, yet yesterday at the cafe, you asked more questions and the last one caused him to have an epiphany that perhaps a new world order needs to be started. Especially if you have the ‘Eye’.

There is something your childhood neighbor hasn’t told you while you were at a park hanging out over the last couple of days and Geto is around a few feet away—

“Boys, considering your last mission did not go as planned your next one will be a bit easier: considering you know your target.”

Their teacher slides the file of a person with a familiar name and Gojo glances up saying it was a mistake.

“You’re joking,” he’s amused and serious when he passes the file to Geto.

Their teacher and an elder sits down and describes what may occur if they choose to deny this mission: “you either protect your friend and ensure y/n lives to see another day or you have her killed just like…”

“Don’t,” Gojo stands abruptly. “We’ll accept, right Geto?”

Geto asks more important questions like why and what significance does keeping you above ground serve.

The elder straightens up and right as Gojo is about to leave, the elder states: “the Eye can see weak points in a cursed humans body—they can extract the curse without even touching the human—originally found in Korean lore, the Eye is usually passed maternally, from mother to daughter, typically their abilities are active once the mother is dead or hunted. Your friend, yn, is one of the last few remaining in the known sorcerer world.”

Gojo freezes and turns to tell his raven haired friend it’s time to leave. Later in Geto’s dorm room, Gojo reads into the file more. Geto, on the other hand, listens to how his friend rambles on.

“Satoru, you know what to have to do,” Geto sighs as Gojo’s rambling ceases.

“But how can I hide yn, the person you also claimed to be your light in these times, in my void? YN would die there,” Gojo says, a deep melancholy floats heavily on his last words.

Geto, leans forward with his chin resting in a prayer hand pose, elbow to his knees.

“If you don’t do it, I can.”

“You’d do that? You’re cruel.”

“But if it protects yn…”

The conversation lives rent free in Geto’s mind, even now when he hears how you fret over him. Calmly tracing his features, one thing you discovered when you saw Gojo with him the day after your turned nineteen. You tell Gojo you’d rather hang out win your friend; when asked why, you nonchalantly say, “Suguru needs a break from consistent sunshine, right Sugu?” And your smile, your smile brought a solar flare to his hardening soul even if Gojo walked ahead saying you two should date. Your cheeks blush though, as Geto chooses to walk past you, he hears you muttering, “I’d say yes if you’d asked me.” His heart must have stopped immediately the moment you lock eyes with him, soft with affection, understanding that this might be the first-last chance at a youthful romance given where life was taking you, he had no qualms of hiding your relationship while he went on missions.

Gojo finds out naturally one day when he catches his best friend hiding a familiar onyx ring.

“When?” Gojo asks him quietly.

Geto says quiet. It’s been a month since their disastrous mission with the middle schooler. You are consistently checking in with Geto even if it’s by proxy through calling Gojo since the other won’t answer his phone for hours at a time. Geto might not seem like he appreciates it, but he does. It’s the one went that is making him not snap and kill everyone on sight. One night, when you were walking home with him after a series of dead end conversations, you present him the onyx ring, telling him it’s ok to lose himself for a little while. He tries to give it back, but instead, you press it into his palm, close his fist around it and press that fist against his sternum. You cup his frowning face, kissing his forehead lightly, whispering against his skin in the autumnal air: “you have every right to feel these emotions. I’ll be right here to help you if you like.” And just like that, Geto bows his head and he crumbles just a little bit; strong arms shake asking with his shoulders and you, you who seem so small, you soothe him until the sadness, the fatigue, the everything-wrong-with-the-world leaves Geto’s soul alone for minutes, hours even. You don’t know how long he plans to sob into your already soaked shoulders, but you don’t stop him.

“How tragic and full of sorrow you must be,” you whisper against his cheek, running your fingers in his hair. “Things will work out, you’ll see.”

Waving your free arm behind his crouched form as you calm him, several of the most hideous creatures burn away above him. Your warmth is something he cannot get enough of, only then does he see through blurred eyes just how bright you can shine. He calls your name and you glance at him, his tear streaked face now dry, his lips quiver. At the end of the day, you two part ways, but not before Geto, tall and proud, kisses your lips praying he doesn’t fall further in his spiraling descent.

Back in his room, the ring is still in his hand. Geto feels six eyes on him, he knows. Even if Gojo will never attempt to admit loving someone else whether romantic or not, Geto finally has something Gojo cannot have. The onyx ring warps their reflection a bit as their conversation continues.

“Geto Suguru,” Gojo is warning in his tone. “YN is like my family. You already knew what our next mission entails. Are you sure you’re up to the task?”

Geto picks up his long hair and puts it up in a half bun. His dark eyes focus on the ring and turns to Satoru.

“YN deserves to hate one of us,” his voice is calm yet loaded with livid undertones.

“Can you live with it being you?”

Gojo had this annoyed look in those gleaming eyes, but his friend, his dear friend, his charcoal haired brother in arms, turns and with a smile throws back the question to the self-proclaimed strongest:

“Can you?”

Gojo slams the door when he leaves, his mouth dry and feet heavy. He believes he needs to find the resolve to ensure you can survive his technique—like those princess stories where they are cursed sleeping for eternity. Meanwhile, Geto calls one of his seniors who buys him cheap alcohol. It’s the only way he might be able to deal with what they had planned for their mission later in the week.

You’re here now, resting a head against Geto’s shoulders, your ministrations cease as you tell him about what Gojo told you just earlier that night on the phone.

“I know, you don’t have to hide it,” not an ounce of regret in your tone when you kiss his furrowed brow.

Geto’s grip loosens, then tightened, then loosens again. His head is bowed in shame because you were read into this mission, their world, their jobs…

“I won’t hate you,” you continue, voice quiet and Geto has a pained look on his face. “Sugu, I don’t think I ever can.”

You feel his hand reach the back of your neck, circling the nerve that will make you go limp. Grinning, you nod, understanding the implications of the boys’ plan. You persisted to stand by his side, help him through a majority of his darkening times, and for some odd reason in the shower, when he stood there for an hour, both naked and with soaked clothes on, your countenance enters mind—the comfort you provided and still do makes his heart ache. Gojo was wrong, Geto thinks leaving the dorm showers, we never should have accepted this mission.

“You should,” his hand retracts from that spot on your neck and he pushes you forward by the small of your back to kiss you instead.

Your hand presses against his chest as your eyes close and he hums approving of how you move. Geto entices you to follow his lead to deepen this kiss when his canines nibble gently at the top of your lip; you taste the fear and uncertainty but the love and genuine compassion is there. His lips leave yours momentarily, his nose tickles your jaw and his teeth graze your neck before he bites you, sucking the flesh, bruising you. And you bite your bottom lip, sort of chortling away at his eagerness to show you that you too can drive him mad. You call out his name and he pauses, hungrily ready to receive more of your sweetened warmth.

After a moment’s reprieve, you brush away his loose bangs, noticing the hurt and soft loving expression in his dilated eyes.

“Shh...” your breath is hot and you kiss away the tears that escaped his eye. “It will be ok. Everything will work out.”

He is frustrated, you know he’s caught between a rock and a hard place, yet you make him want to try to be better.

You kiss his brow when he holds you tighter, his mouth close to your ear, you hear Geto Suguru, special grade sorcerer, “Don’t make me lose you too.”

You nod, bringing his forehead to rest against yours as you slide your lips over his with more igniting a passion more fierce than earlier. Your fingers tangled in his hair and with a light nudge, you feel him press his tongue against your lip, asking, imploring you to let him memorize the taste of green tea cheesecakes and the shapes of your teeth. He almost moans into your mouth, making sure you are breathing still because heaven forbid Gojo finds you both like this, Geto believes he’d be a dead man. He inflates your lungs in order for you to stay with him longer. Your kisses are powerful, filled with a light that seems to make his shattered heart become filled with gold like those old art pieces. He kisses you like he knows you understand his betrayal and the best part of it? Geto’s the first and last person whom you’d expect to love you—so yes, you do get that teen romance a been craving. Ah, but alas, Geto makes up his mind: he would sacrifice the world to have you back. Even if you’re frozen in time for an eternity. He will watch the universe burn if it meant you breathe again tomorrow.

“Stay still,” are two words you’d never think you’d hear from Geto, yet you obey.

“Let me look at you one last—”

Right outside the door to his dorm, Gojo Satoru drops a bouquet of gardenias along with the resolve to confess how he truly felt since you crashed into his bicycle when he just turned six.

As you stay still, your words are interrupted, Gojo enters the room through a rip in his own void, taking your now unconscious body out of his best friend’s hold. Gojo doesn’t get very far when he hears Geto run behind him and the door to the void closes, snipping edges off Geto’s hair. The last time Geto Suguru sees you is when you are encased in a written and glass coffin in a quiet meadow in Gojo’s void. Gojo Suguru seals it with several layers of a barrier before picking up the ruined gardenias and placing them atop the coffin. You look so peaceful here. Your eyes closed, the bouquet eventually withers, but you stay youthful. Gojo, once the void closes, bows to your sleeping corpse, whispering words of a confession and apology.

Geto memorized that place, so if he does indeed fail, he can find you once more. Panic, depression, obsession. Those three words and their definitions finally cause Geto Suguru to snap. He leaves for his hometown for a fresh start the morning after you are pronounced DOA by a hospital, although you sleep in the glass coffin in one chamber of the limitless void. You dream of Geto finding you; out of the blue you’d forgive him and Gojo by default.

After that night, Gojo retreats into himself a little more while his peers think of other missions they’d get assigned to. The elders and the principal are happy this mission ended successfully; somehow Gojo finds himself walking past the cafe, a random memory blooms in his mind.

“The void is a dangerous place,” you’re reading in the Gojo family library with Satoru on your right. You’re both finally the same age of eight. Right before you turn nine, though, Gojo asks you to read the prophecies book his nanny left out. “Once you enter, it is limitless.”

Gojo’s phone lights up with the news that Geto Suguru has killed everyone in his hometown.

#🌻— flying around collecting pollen—queue #haikyuu x reader #🎋jjk🎋 #🎋jjk.angst🎋 #geto x reader #plantonic! & pining gojo x reader

[soranihimawari]

Good as Hell

A drabble of sorts inspired by this list:

Sunflowers by Van Gogh

SingleParent!Kita x reader

Supporting cast: Kita Hae (6years old); Miya twins

Word count: 1.7K

Rating: KSF (kita shinsuke fluff)

Warnings? Read the disclaimer below ⬇️

Disclaimer/Brief backstory:Kita’s unnamed ex has been out of the picture for about four years, abandoning the farm and leaving behind a two year old Hae on the screen porch along with papers to surrender mother/parental rights thus leaving Kita the sole guardian of his child; Miya twins agree to help their former captain out by becoming godfathers and it is also fair to imply that the rest of the notable players from Inarizaki are Hae’s precious, formed uncle squad.

It’s not everyday that the farmer’s market near the Mori-Kita farmlands would host a night market, but alas, there comes a time for firsts like this summer night. On the eve of the summer solstice, all former students of the Inarizaki sports team had been contacted especially to help one former captain put on an excellent stand for said night market. One half of the Mori-Kita farm owners, Kita Shinsuke, had an easy time setting up the night market stand after receiving a few critiques on the product being sold via his financier, Mori-kun. Regardless, the former captain enlisted the help of all his underclassmen as much as he could to have the stand market-ready by the end of July.

The prep time had been scheduled about a month before the date of the local night market, yet you happened to be off from your inner-city job in the downtown area this particular weekend. A few coworkers from the motorcycle dealership had decided to take a few days off together for team building purposes and attend the summer solstice festivities in the country-side. You had received an invitation as the newest staff member in the mechanic division, suffice to say the men and women whom you work with were using this time to not only get to you know a little better, but to also ask those personal, yet kind of awkward family questions (ex. You have a boyfriend/girlfriend? Where did you learn to ride and fix motorcycles or dirt bikes? etc.). Your calm and nonchalant demeanor caused a few rumors to spread outside of the garage. To be fair, you do your job as best as the rest of them, but when you mentioned you had lived alone for an x-amount of years, your shop buddy, Kunei-senpai, had seemed to thwart any other awkward questions. He was able to shoo away those pesky up sellers from the showfloor out of the garage when they had been very clearly harassing you for dates and the like.

Thankfully, by the end of the first two work weeks, you had been included in very many lunch breaks and even had been invited to a bar by the shop owners to gain familiarity with everyone you work with. A few nights before the night market, you receive a call from Kunei, mentioning to meet up around 6:30p.m. by the old YMCA pool center:

“Apparently, that’s where the motorcycle parking will be, see you tomorrow YLN-san!”

Flash forward after busy work week, the night of the official night market arrives. You meet up with the others at the appointed time in the parking lot where Kunei-san had mentioned. You’re walking by the official banner entrance and you all eventually branch out. You’re at the warmed yams stand when you spot a lost kid who in their heightened panic runs straight to you, panic crying no less. You pay the stand owner and you ask for a sliced version of what you ordered, attempting to soothe and calm the kid. You kneel down after paying for the second portion as you introduce yourself:

“Hello, I’m yn-san. Can you tell me your name?”

The kid sniffles and bops their head.

“I’m Hae. Kita, Hae,” they straighten up and try to formerly shake your hard.

“Say, I have some extra sliced steamed yams here, are you allergic?”

Little Hae shakes their head and you notice how fair their platinum blonde hair is along with their bronzed fox-Iike eyes. It’s like they hit the generic lottery and that kid would break a lot of hearts when they’re older. Regardless, when Hae says they aren’t allergic, you hand them the little to-go boat with a disposable fork in the steamed vegetable. You’re eating yours as you suggest that you two stick together until Hae finds their way back to their parent’s stand.

“Daddy’s got a stand here tonight,” Hae says after taking a sip of the water you provided at a soda stand.

“And how did you get lost?” You wonder.

“My goddofāzās, ´Samu & ‘Tsumu, went to help my daddy bring stuff from the truck and I saw a cat plushie I wanted, so I walked to find it,” Hae looked dejected and embarrassed when they said that.

You try not to laugh, this was serious matter after all, but you’re sure whoever Hae calls ‘daddy’ is busy scolding his friends who were left in charge of watching the kid. Honestly, on the defense of the godfathers, Hae seemed really put together for a six year old. Sure, a little shaken up, but now with a stomach filled with a vegetable snack and water, you’re sure the kid is more determined to help you help find their parent.

Along the way, a few of your coworkers saw you being friendly with little Hae. They sort of send out a text chain saying that the kid looks like the spitting image of the owner of the sponsored booth for the night market. Luckily, your phone goes off and though Hae holds your hand, you use your free hand to read and catch up with the text chain. The ambient sounds of the night market around you calms you as you observe and let Hae lead you down a row of booths they think seems familiar. You give your thanks to your coworkers as they helped narrow down the booths and probable solo guardian of your one new pint-sized friend.

Elsewhere, a set of twins are getting an earful from a worried and angry father:

“Hae’s the most precious person t’me and you both lost ‘em?!”

“We sent out the Bat-Signal to the team, kita,” one of the godfathers says.

“Don’t worry, Hae’ll come running back here in no time,” the other says.

“For both your sakes, I pray my kid comes back in one piece…” Kita grumbles a string of curses as he reluctantly goes back to his stand to man the register.

It takes another fifteen minutes for Hae to start recognizing some familiar booths and although they complain about how much their feet hurt, you notice how the kid’s feet had already outgrown the shoes…

“Say, Hae,” your voice calms down their excited heartbeat.

“Yeah?”

You step in front of Hae and ask if it’s ok with them for you to pick them up and the serendipitous moment Hae says yes, you’re literally almost tackled to the ground by two men who wear the same face—so you scream and push Hae’s head into your shoulder as you make a run for it and those two fools slam into each other chest first. Hae’s laughing the entire time and now your brain is hitting overdrive as you let the adrenaline sink into your bloodstream until you hear a deeper voice call out to Hae. Judging by how much Hae squirms in your arms, you presume this was their father’s voice you hear.

Slowing to a stop, you see the kanji in large font as the cashier jogs to meet you.

“Daddy!” Hae excitedly exclaims as their father who by the way, seems to have been original in terms of strong inherited jeans. You put the kid down and you watch Hae run off to their father’s waiting arms. The two gentlemen from before come back defeated and after a few minutes of scolding alongside a heart to heart with not following strangers, you clear your throat.

“Technically not a stranger, “ you point to yourself. “New friend, right Hae-Chan?”

Hae nods much to their father’s dismay, although when he looks at you in your black jeans, smudged crimson striped shirt, dirty under the fingernails from motor oil from the latest tune-up in the shop, and sensible boots, he can’t help but soften the scowl on his face.

“Hae, promise me you’d stay with your godfathers this time, ok?” Hae’s father says he lets them go into the other men’s care.

It’s only apparent to you now that the gentlemen from earlier are not only the godfathers, but also twin siblings who can be heard making small bets with Hae when they depart the stand for a few minutes.

“So,” Hae’s father begins. He sheepishly gives you a small smile while stuffing his hands into his jeans pocket.

“Umm…YLN, YN,” you extend a hand for him to shake.

He shakes your hand while apologizing for his child’s behavior—

“It’s alright, really,” you chuckle. “I liked their company…”

“I think I might like yours too,” he says.

You blush a bit, nodding along while he sort of chortles over speaking his mind.

“Over coffee sometime?…would that be ok?”

He pulls a business card from the register: it has a star and small cornucopia of seasonal vegetables on it: KITA FARMS INC.

He takes a pen and scribbles down his phone number for you on the back and hands it to you.

“I’ll call you sometime,” you say, squinting at his precise penmanship. “Kita Shinsuke.”

His eyes are a softer bronze tone when you say his name for the first time. It’s like you’re a bit unsure for a moment before he says your name back to you and it seems delightfully whole; the confidence in both of you rise and you make a very bold choice.

“If it’s not too much to ask, mind if I buy a few of those blueberries? I muddle them with some soda water and ginger beer at home…”

Kita smiled warmly at this and you hand him some spare yen notes.

“Keep the change,” you say as the register opens. “The first round of coffee is on you. Oyasumi, Shinsuke.”

A light breeze follows you as you disappear into the night crowd, Hae and her godfathers return with some ice cream and other souvenirs, and all three of them have this smug and impish look on their face.

“Daddy, did you ask YN-san to marry you?”

Kita denies it defending that he’d only do it after you had coffee with him.

Yet, his friends, his faithful kouhai since high school, the twin godfathers of this sharply witted child, burst into laughter when Hae goes to call their father out: “Your face is all red…”

“…they had a sunflower tattoo,” Kita says this to himself proud he finally felt the universe deliver a much needed ´win’ especially since it’s been four years since the mother of Hae had wanted nothing to do with either of them.

And for the first time in the four years since he came home to an empty place and an abandoned two year old inside the screened porch during the early spring, Kita felt this calming wave of genuine goodness the second he saw you with Hae, running through to get to his stand. He sees you now, a few yards away, and you lock eyes with him as you make your purchase of a blown glass sunflower pendant. His phone vibrates in his pocket and he reads the text from you:

I’m free day after tomorrow, does coffee sound great then? —Hae’s new friend✌🏼

#🌻— flying around collecting pollen—queue #sora after hours #haikyuu x reader #sora scribbles 2023 #kita x reader

[soranihimawari]

Shaken not Stirred

7. We always used to have sleepovers as children, why would it be weird now?"

Pairing: teen->adulthood friendships||nanami x yn

Warning: 🔞nsfw! bc sexual awakenings and teasing may affect those who’s first choice was hawk girl or j.depp (specifically Cry Baby era)// nanami & reader realize their friendship was built on lustful attraction versus friendly ones as they grew up. 👀 also, implied that reader’s family has yakuza or mafia ties…

Rating: adult!relationship with nanami kento [adult as in a good fucking means someone tried to test reader’s patience and they are not one to stand by and let nanami be insulted…]

You are writhing beneath him; a man twice your size is above you, giving into his earthly desires. His voice is gruff and demanding as he pulls another pitiful moan out of you. He mocks you, lustfully licking a stripe from your neck to where your ear connects—it’s hot. The heat in the autumnal day is now cooling, but the bed creaks. Something ancient is awake and angry, his broken growl of your name hangs in the air. He fucks you to his rhythm as you cry out you can take one more fleeting orgasm. And the jackal of a man laughs muttering how brave you must be.

Rewind yourself to 72-hours ago when you arrived back on your home neighborhood in Sendai. You’re reuniting with some old friends after you found out your last remaining uncle had passed. Being in your mid to late twenties and working for a moderately ran start-up company for blue light lenses, you thankfully had merciful bosses who believed in putting family first. Though rare, they did make you file a leave of absence as you finalize your travel arrangements in the office before the end of the week.

You fly out on cold February morning, kind of overrated but if you’re able to get to Sendai Ciry by dinner tomorrow, your folks would have said it was worth the red eye fees. Honestly, once you traverse through bay check and the security points, you’re at your gate, eyes heavy as sleep is something you lacked.

Fourteen hours. Fourteen hours (and if you count the other twenty four you were up for, you’re sure you’d put your body through some sort of cardiac issued stress), however you were able to picked up by an old neighbor—Nanami Kento. Sure, the two of you grew up and apart, but considering the other options of your contacts, you went with the most reliable one. He bows as he greets you, his driver acknowledges you and you introduce yourself to the man and apologize for the delay.

“Snow this time of year is brutal,” the driver chuckles.

You nod as Nanami opens the passenger door for you. You give him your thanks as you sit down and strap on the seatbelt.

Looking back as both the driver and Nanami get in after you close your door, you fidget on your seat and nervously crack your knuckles, chuckling here and there as you listen to their banter until you speak up at an upcoming red light.

“Umm… I’m sorry, but I forgot to ask if I could spend the first few nights with you, Nanami-kun? If not, I know you’re busy with work, but if it truly is a problem, I could find a hotel to stay in…”

You’re stifling a yawn and he notices the slight wrinkles at the sides of your eyes. Surely you’re not still suffering from insomnia before trips, he thinks. Then, after he ponders for a light or two, he agrees.

“Bless you, my parents just texted me that my room was part of their remodeling phase and it’s getting a fresh coat of paint right now. I don’t mind taking the train from Tokyo back,” you explain with a soft smile.

You don’t remember much after the turn to his apartment high rise. You figured you knocked out and the driver, Mr Iji, had taken your things up for Nanami because well, for lack of better words, Nanami would have been carrying you. At the thought, your cheeks flush and you swat away all the raunchy things that could have happened, but it didn’t.

Nearly six in the morning and you are awakened again this time by an alarm and a half dressed adult blonde best friend. There’s several bandages on his arm and ribs from what you used to consider an awful part time job. He worked in an office from 9-5, but he did clock in some hours since he went back to being an adjunct teacher. Apparently even in this relic of a neighborhood, something keeps killing his colleagues. He told you all this before when you were nineteen and he had just turned twenty a season prior:

“You ought to be careful next time,” you hum as you help him place gauze over his cut brow. “I won’t be here to patch you like Shoko-chan can.”

“You can stay,” he hums, sort of pleading to you when the alcohol seeps and stings between the stitches there. “Mm…was that necessary?!”

Shows him the message from Shoko.

“Doc said so,” you mirthfully laugh as you see him frown. You put away the first aid kit and sigh. “I worry about you. This job, can’t you quit it before you die?”

“What? Why would I?!”

You realize he hasn’t loosened his grip on your hand; the alcohol must still be stinging a bit you reason.

“Because I can’t lose my best friend right after we had just gotten back on better terms,” you’re gentle tone makes him look you in the eyes and it dawns on him just how right you must be. “Besides, who’s gonna come bother me in the U.S. when I get my doctorate degree in medicine over there? Don’t send Gojo, I’d kill him with whatever fad he’s on now…”

Nanami chuckles.

“My girl is a clever one,” he says.

“If I really was yours, you wouldn’t be talking,” you tease. “Remember what happened when you told me you loved Hawk Girl and I still loved that crybaby movie?”

“‘Get wings or I think you’re a square?’ Oh get over yourself, we were seven and eight.”

You laugh and slip your hand out his… “I know! Isn’t that wild? Anyways, I better get home now.”

You grab your bag and wave over your shoulder, “See you at the airport. Thanks for offering to take me!”

The conversation plays in a loop in your mind and he’s in the middle of greeting you when you walk up to him and study his face, then his body…he has so many knicks and scars and even bruises. Some deeply rich in color you think he has internal bleeding. Then coffee maker begins whirring for both of you and you force his face to glance at you. You hold his chin firmly and move his face to see the same scar from the conversation still prominent with his bangs swept back.

“You told me you quit,” you half smile.

Nanami turns, wincing as he holds his bandages on his ribs to hand you a mug, but your hand presses against his side first and his breathing stutters. It isn’t the close proximity that causes him to do so? It’s just…he hadn’t seen how bright your eyes are in the dawn.

“What’s wrong? How did you…?”

You’re adjusting the gauze and your breath ignites his skin in the most subtle of ways and you adjust the pressure on his side. You gauge how he reacts and you know how he gets when you fret over him and you’re afraid you might have angered your host.

“Not important,” Nanami stubbornly stated, but he saw how the wrinkle in between your brows becomes prominent before walking away.

“I didn’t mean to pry,” you whisper and straighten up to walk away from the kitchen.

Silence ruled over you both as you fall into line with helping him make some rolled eggs and rice. He glances over every once in while, keeping his hard pressed lips together, he focuses on how delicate you’re chopping the chives. Your hands, he’s noticed, are calloused over from your trade in the medical field.

“I’ll leave tomorrow,” you say to him. “I found a hotel near the memorial services building.”

You take your plate once your dish is finished and sit on the table waiting for him. You eat together, he didn’t try to make much small talk, but you say some hurtful words.

“I never backed away, so why?”

Your voice cracked a bit when the plates were placed in the sink.

“Because you don’t deserve to use your talents on people like me,” he stands behind you, wrapping an injured arm around your waist, you’re pulled into his chest. “Can’t lose you too.”

Your hearts hammer like a forger beats the metal into a fine shield. You can feel his pulse practically race through this veins in his forearm around your waist. He whispers he’ll be back no later than six-thirty.

You think nothing of it as the day progresses even going so far as to cancel the hotel reservations. The services are day after next, so you don’t have much time left with Nanami before your life would be filled with aunts and would be retired uncles from your father’s side who’s ask awkward questions. Your cousins though? They’re immature and annoying, but the worse part? Everyone would ask you if you’re married yet, expecting, or trying to out you as many believe you’re not as you define yourself. Surely, family can be invasive, but yours is a whole other level. Hence why you being Nanami to these functions growing up or at least steal away to ditch the gatherings and hang out with him at his dorm room halfway across the prefecture.

Even now, as you don your ceremonial robes for the hybrid family traditions, he leans against the door way connecting his room to yours. The bathroom light backlights your frame as he hums in approving. Communicating with Nanami has improved, but you are reminded by him to move one stone at a time before moving a whole beam. He said that old saying of your grandmother to you when you introduced him to her in her flower shop. Nanami offered to help with the chores one afternoon and you, you decided it would be a good trial run before introducing your new friend from the middle school you started would be worked into your everyday life. Things did go well, or at least you thought they did until graduation day. His parents were a no-show, and your parents thought it was a bit awkward having him stand next to you for photos until the family matriarch decided to show up and pose for photos with him claiming how much she loved her future grandchild-in-law. The embarrassing situation was swept under the rug for the later half of the next fifteen years: in that time, you two grew up and apart especially with your residency being in the United States and he would continue his studies here in Japan. Only now, after a death in the family has returned you to your home soil do you stand before the boy you liked-maybe even dared to love-and he adjusts his spectacles to see you clearly.

"Think this is too much?" you tilt your head this way and that as he notices the bronze glitters of your neutral makeup.

"You look beautiful, even for a mourner," Nanami tells you as he takes your hand in his as he is to escort you per the request of the elders.

"Must you come with me?"

"Mr Iji is bringing the car around the corner," Nanami checks his phone. "And yes, if I don't, then your family might have its curse clinging to you."

Last night, after his shift on your second night with him, he walks into the kitchen to see you reading a few debriefings. Some were inscribed with the year of your second year and you meet his eyes when you finish reading about the Haibara-case.

"You're crying," Nanami states this easily as he dries your cheeks with a kerchief.

"Why didn't you tell me? Is this what you didn't want me to see?" You hold his wrist. "Min, please answer me."

He sighs, nodding with a head bowed in some form of shame. You move to the bedroom where he chooses to open up to you and tell you what you need to know.

"Just the facts?" you try to plead, but even your pout is enough to make anyone cave, but he doesn't budge although he did think about how your line of work in the medical examiner's office at the morgue could use some of the details to be familiarized.

Both of you stay up all night, crying together, laughing at Gojo's antics and how it had affected Nanami's ways as a sorcerer, but you stay true. You're not afraid of him nor his talents. To the outside world, he is Nanami Kento, director of sales from 9am-5pm, but only after six on the weekends, does he dabble in sorcery.

"Your family is experiencing tremendous amounts of grief," Nanami is pragmatic for sticking close to you. "Curses feed on raw negative human emotions. I'm going with you to the service tomorrow night."

Currently, Mr Iji's car is seen around the curb as you step in like before. Your family has no idea you were going to bring Nanami with you, yet when you are dropped off by him at the memorial service hall, he extends his arm to you. You greet your elders together and you bow to your godmother who's freshly widowed. As you console her, Nanami waves a hand in the air with such finesse you think he was a tea servant trainer in another life. Regardless, you chalk it up to his spectacles that help with seeing the other wordly parasites.

"...and you brought Nanami?" your godmother asks.

You nod. "He wanted to come. Mentioned he stopped by uncle's tie shop before the incident with the break in."

You motion for Nanami to come over and your godmother hugs him after he gives her a slight bow and condolence greeting.

"You were the only person who loved that pattern," she states, chuckling. "My husband fought very hard to keep that least selling item in stock because of you, and for that, I thank you."

She bows to him and cups your face.

“You remind me of us: a worrier and a warrior, praying for the the other to be kept safe.”

“Auntie, it’s—”

Nanami kisses your hairline and your words escape you.

“Exactly as you say, ma’am. C’mon, your mom’s looking over here…”

It’s unbelievably effortless as she hugs you and him. Her brother’s photo is on the offering table, lookin at you three. Your father is outside smoking with a few work friends from his gallery.

“How is dad? He was close to uncle Rob, wasn’t he?” You ask.

Nanami stands a little off to the side between you and your mother as he eyes your father’s boys club. Some of them make obscene hand signs admiring your curves as you had filled in while abroad. You’re not paying attention until Nanami snakes his arms around your back to whisper a, “behave. I’ll be right back.”

“Huh? Oh,” your eyes follow his and see your father and uncle’s shared friend group eying you disrespectfully. “Thank you.”

Nanami walks outside and he has a stern face while your mom nudges your arm.

“He’s a good one, I can tell ever since you told me about him,” she laughs.

“Mother,” you rolls your eyes and she ushers you to the offering table where you pick a plum & leave it at the alter for your uncle.

Meanwhile, Nanami puts the respect back on your name as the fools your father would have allowed to fuck you if you so wish were getting an earful from your friend.

“What makes you think you could ‘ave a go, huh?” Your father’s cigarette hangs low. “Y’know that kid of mine stems from a Yakuza-driven family on both sides.”

“And I hunt devils for a living, curses black an smoky,” Nanami coughs before covering his nostrils with his handkerchief. He smirks, your father can tell before insulting the young man further. You nearly drop your plate of food you were going to being over to Nanami as you heard your father call him a derogatory nickname for a half-blood person.

“Nanami, call Mr Iji. We’re leaving," you reach out to hold his hand. Your father chuckles as he hurls one more insulting dig in your direction and you pause your steps.

Marching up to your father, you rudely withdraw the cigarette from his lips, and put it out on his eye. He yells at you bellowing a hit order and banning summons, standing tall, you are so close to punching him in the jaw, but you did get his henchmen in the nose.

"Do not dare insult him again," you are filled with iron and vinegar. "Lest you forget who is the true seat holder to your puppet king. Nanami, let's go. We're done here."

In the heat of the moment, Nanami kisses you with finality, murming a, "Yes ma'am."

So here you were, hours later, three orgasms deep with the blonde man. You're breathing unevenly, panting, praises in feeling full and satisfied. Nanami's hips matches yours, you feel him tensing as he shyly hides in the crook of your neck and he tells you the story of his latest injuries.

"It's ok," you whisper, hotly into his mouth. "You're with me now, we're here...balls deep in this cavernous pussy which was always going to be here...ngh!~that's the spot, baby."

Nanami glistens in the sunlight peeking through his blinds. It's dawn and he cums with a little more encouragement; he slumps forward, clutching you to his chest. You too are a dewy mess, your ear turns to his bare chest and you listen to his heartbeat.

Hours later, you yawn before climbing into his bed again with the new sheets spread out, Nanami finishes his pre-sleep routine. He took the initiative to change the soiled sheets while you were in the shower, washing yourself clean from the rousing bedroom activities. You were joined a few minutes later with a bare Nanami. He remains a silent protector, a man of few words, but he is gentle and caring like you were made of fine porcelain- his hands were lightly scrubbing you, kneeling down to wash your front clean, both with his tongue and loofa. He made you believe heaven can be found within the tiles with him worshipping you like a slave moth to its sacred fire. Impossible to even try to focus to return the favor, he forgives you because you did the most basic of things to warrant this type of love: "You gave your father an order and made an example of his asshole crew."

Nanami Kento emerges from the shower room, steam rising from his nude body. Your eyes rake his body low to high, head to toe, as he dresses himself in his pajamas post dragging the boxer briefs over his thighs higher to his waist.

"I can hear you undressing me again," he muses when he pulls an undershirt over his body.

"You caught me," you chuckle back.

"Are we going to talk about this?"

The blonde lays in a relaxed position before you leaned into him, starting the ministrations of tracing his scars with your fingertips lightly. Nanami hums prompting you to answer.

"We always used to have sleepovers as children, why would it be weird now?"

"Because," Nanami tilts your head up to look at him. "You've had my heart packed in your suitcase since you left almost a decade ago. "

"You finally caught up to me, huh?"

You smile when Nanami leans forward to kiss you-it's simple and passionate. The curtains block this part of the universe where a humble doctor and a sorcerer melt into each other creating another realm of possibilities as their relationship blooms fresh.

Months later, you arrive to your new flat a few minutes away from the hospital that hired you. You sit down with a new case file handed in to you by a colleague. Nanami has yet to come home from a surveillance mission with one of Gojo’s students, yet you spoke too soon into the air when Nanami knocks on your door. You open it as he slumps forward saying his days might be numbered because of a patch-faced curse.

“Mahito’s alive?”

You escort him to your couch right away to administer first aid as necessary. A stitch or three were needed when you peeled his bloodied shirt off him.

“You knew him?” Nanami winces when he breathes between your hands sewing him shut. Again for the second time in four days.

“Mahito was one of the old hit men my great grandparents hired. They didn’t know he was a curse at all, maybe a misguided youth, but yeah…he’s clearly had work done and had become stronger.”

You nod saying you’re done with the stitching as Nanami holds your hand delicately in his.

“You should have told me,” he half smiles, weak from the day’s battle.

“I have a case file that you might be interested in reading with me. This body was exhumed around the turn of the century. Look familiar?”

The corpse on the slab from back then looked eerily similar to Mahito’s playfully long nose and long silvery hair.

“He died with a smile on his face after razing his town to the ground…” Nanami reads the report. “He was sealed and then unsealed?”

Nodding you out the first aid kit aside and sit on Nanami’s lap for a few moments, putting the sealing cream on a gauze strip and taping over the stitches.

“He was, yes. But this is why,” you pause to cup his face when you were done. “I tell you to be careful.”

Nanami kisses your inner palms.

“I’ll come home to you a little shaken.”

“Not stirred?”

“You’re so quick witted…,” he nips your jaw playfully flirtatious.

“I’m the sitting leader of a branch of the mafia thanks to my uncle passing who, by the way, left me in charge because I knew a sorcerer…”

My uncle’s will is next to his photo. Right next to it? There is a small vase of forget-me-nots that Nanami gifted me with. We stay on the couch for a little longer, talking about the future, the present, and a little about the past: we feel invincible when we’re this close to each other. What we do not know is how long we have left especially when there are plenty of curses who have their eyes on us around this part of the city.

#🌻— flying around collecting pollen—queue #sora after hours

[soranihimawari]

Hope in an Office Crush

A short story featuring Nanami Kento

Pairing: (salaryman!)Nanami x (data entry!)reader

Word Count: 2.02K

Rating: NKF (nanami kento fluff)//

Warning: none except an ex of the reader is mentioned as being physically abusive & reader fought back; and although Haruka is a more supportive role, I might do a focus feature on her in another short for JJK…

Conversations among the lunch crowd at the facility you work in was well within its normal level, yet on the floor of your department, you’re surrounded by your fellow deskmate. Apparently, coming into work you had a weary expression. Perhaps something had happened in your home life which caused you to be a little more peeved than normal. Was it the stress of the upcoming proposal project or was it something else? Whatever it was, your friend’s willing to get to the bottom of it. Chairs side by side, hot cup noodles and a few rice balls shared between you two has their voice in your ear:

“What’s wrong? C’mon spill, you’re totally withdrawing into yourself or you’re spacing out. So, spill. Who did it?”

You sigh before bringing the can of cold coffee to your lips. You close your eyes for a moment as you formulate the words that would entreat your friend to seeing a new side of you.

“Y’know that blonde in accounting?” your voice takes on a curious tone.

Your friend glances between you and the cold can of coffee you placed back on the table and the gears in their head start turning.

“Oh my gods,” your friend elbows you in the rib. “You have a work-crush on–”

“Shh Haruka! It’s already bad enough as it is,” you are quick to silence your friend. “There are ears everywhere here and you know I don’t like to be pulled into workplace gossip.”

You lean back in your chair and fold your arms over your chest.

“Yeah, I know, but let’s be real y/n,” Haruka takes another bite of her cup of instant noodles. “You aren’t the type to have crushes on anyone since university. And this is coming from me, your roommate during those years.”

You make several attempts to change the subject of this lunch break talk, but considering your history with your now coworker and ex-university roommate, your friend invites you over to the bar a few city blocks away for a much needed dinner:

“My treat,” Haruka confidently says.

You lean forward this time, nodding in acceptance of the invitation. At the very least, you choose to hold off on any and all details as to how or why you developed a crush on the ‘anonymous blonde from accounting’ (or ABfA). 

Work stays the same for the most part after lunch; you and Haruka head back to your side of the office building in this business skyscraper. You return to your desk where a new pile of data entries needs to be completed after your pile from this morning was nearly two-thirds done. Meanwhile, Haruka types away on her side of the desk before sending you a personal message from a third party instant messaging app. You are amused at her use of guesswork as to the name of the blonde in accounting. Luckily, there are many blondes in the company, yet unluckily for you, Haruka spells out the name of your crush because he seems to be the only ‘natural’ blonde in that department. 

Haru-chan (16:36): It’s Namami, isn’t it? 

What makes you say that? There are plenty of other blondes that work here. :(16:38)y/n-san

Haru-chan (16:40): Not all of them are natural blondes, six feet tall, and looks great in a fucking suit, y/n.

You scoff and Haruka gives you a series of emojis teasing you saying how she was right the entire time, however, you whisper harshly across the cubicle divider:

“If you really want to know how or why this happened to me at dinner, I suggest you work faster, Haru-chan.”

***

Two empty pints of beer sit askew across Haruka whereas your three empty highball glasses sit neatly across from you. There are several plates stacked for your server at the side of the table nearest the aisle where you chose to sit. Haruka seems to have a bit of a wild imagination yet throughout this dinner between you two, she seems to have picked up on a few things since you both had left the office around six:

“First, you know that man doesn’t believe in working overtime, so when six o’clock comes, he is the first one out the door. Second, you are also typically the first one of us to exit our department in hopes of maybe catching the same elevator as him. Third,” Haruka leans in toward you for this one. “I noticed you went to the same bakery as he did last Tuesday when you told me you were stepping out to grab some coffee for yourself.”

“That was purely out of his recommendation aside from the killer croissants they make there,” you pout. 

The alcohol you drank made your cheeks flush a bit. Haruka, for better or worse, is a good friend, and an excellent judge of character. Then again, between the two of you, she is the one with the most ‘relationship’ experience. Sure you’ve each had your own sets of crushes, but only one of you had successful and healthy relationships, the other wasn’t so lucky.

“I can’t get out the voice of this ex of mine,” you frown when you swirl the ice in the third highball glass. “And sure, you’re here to encourage me in talking to this crush of mine, but all I can see are the signs of warning before I fall ass over tea kettle for another person.”

The cold fear and reality in your voice shook Haruka to her core because she remembers the time you desperately called her to come pick you up in a hotel in Osaka (a full day’s trip away from Tokyo). A younger version of yourself in the clothes you had packed for an anniversary weekend trip, torn a bit and the black eye on your face said enough to Haruka when she hugged you at the lobby. Your knuckles were bruised and bloodied all because you chose to fight back someone who thought loved you dearly. 

It’s why having developed this crush on a practical stranger scares you. 

“Nanami’s not your ex, y’know that, right?” Haruka’s comment comes paired with a small taut smile. 

“I know,” you reach out and pat the back of her hand. “Maybe if I see him again at work and we share an elevator, I’ll tell him his eyes remind me of Sunflowers by VanGogh.”

“You really should have taken that gallery job instead, y/n,” Haruka sighs when she leans back in her chair.

“Hah, I know, but then again, you’d have someone else show you the ropes in that office and not have them be me.”

Haruka laughs as do you before the server stops by with the final check; Haruka pays the bill a few moments later as you gather your things. You thank her for dinner outside the restaurant right before she heads into her taxi for the night. The last thing she says to you is a piece of advice:

“If you ever get stuck in the elevator with Nana-er, your crush-just ask him out.”

You make a perplexed face before shaking your head. “What makes you so sure he’d accept?”

“I don’t, but you should have a chance at happiness, right?”

Haruka’s eyes dart over your left shoulder while the street lamp out on the curb makes her eyes shine with hope before closing the door of her taxi.

***

Nearly two weeks later, you’re already clocked out and waiting in the hallway for the next elevator to come to your floor. Haruka was stuck in a presentation meeting for the remainder of her shift, so you had planned like always to walk back to your home after picking up some light groceries. Tonight you were thinking about making some toast with orange marmalade and butter. It was a small appetizer and although you did have left overs, you were also thinking of stopping by the Italian restaurant near you to place a to-go order. The elevator dings a few seconds later and as you board it, you stand side by side with another passenger. As the floors come and go, the car fills and empties a few other people at a time until finally you both remain. Your crush, for the last fifteen or twenty odd seconds studies you, you who has this dark, murky color surrounding your body, before reaching out to tap your shoulder, you flinch.

“Sorry,” you say in a soft voice. “I didn’t mean to flinch, umm…”

“Nanami, accounting,” he introduces himself, lowering his hand instead to shake yours.

“Y/N, data entry,” you shake his hand.

“LOBBY,” the robotic voice of the elevator announces. 

Both of you step out of the elevator together, he holds his suitcase, and your messenger bag is slung over your shoulder. Right before you both reach the doors of the lobby in your work building, you take a deep breath and fully embrace your friend’s advice:

“Would you like to accompany me to Toto’s Bakery? It’s near Via Napoli, an Italian restaurant I frequent.”

He chuckles at the rushed way you invite him, but nonetheless, when he sees you adjust your bag, you shake your head.

“If you have prior engagements elsewhere, you don’t have to,” you sounded a bit sad, but pragmatic. You only introduced yourself to him today.

“Toto’s Bakery, huh?” he asks before walking ahead of you. “I’ve been meaning to pick up a loaf of sourdough bread this week.”

You glance up at this sharply dressed, albeit scary-looking, salaryman (whom for reasons beyond your control, you formed a crush on) who seemed to have a coy smile on his face when he motions for you to lead the way to the bakery.

#sora after hours #🌻— flying around collecting pollen—queue #🎋jjk shorts🎋 #nanami kento x reader #sora scribbles 2023