#haikyuu longfic

[sashimiyas]

Sweet and Sour (alternatively titled: The Way A Pendulum Swings)

Summary: You’re convinced your roommate, Miya Osamu, hates you. His brother, Miya Atsumu, is not. And he’s willing to bet 5,000 yen on it. 

Genre: Miya Osamu x reader; fluff; roommates to lovers; one drunken love confession from Atsumu to Osamu but in a brotherly love kind of way; another drunken love confession but from Osamu; 85% dialogue; Osamu and reader have a height difference; Atsumu is sponsored by Adidas so if you hate them, don’t read; and Osamu and reader have a brief conversation of bowel movements once; 50% unedited; I think that's it.

Word count: 7.3k

A/n: atsumu and osamu both talk too much and me being the writer, does too. honestly? you won’t gain anything from reading this. this is purely self-indulgent because i love writing about the brothers.

Osamu’s avoiding you. At least, that's what you convince yourself anyways when your phone call goes straight to voicemail for the umpteenth time this week. Not wanting to be a clingy roommate, you’ve allowed him his space. You know he’s a busy man after all. He comes home ragged, leaning against the doorframe as he kicks off his shoes, and he likes to hog the couch after dinner with a sliver of his happy trail showing at the way his shirt lifts up while he obsessively checks Yelp reviews of his restaurant only for him to do it all over again in less than ten hours.

Yes, he is a busy man, but never so consumed by work that he leaves your phone calls forgotten. You’re at least warranted a call back a couple of hours later or even a text asking what’s up. Now, you’re lucky to get a sticky note on the fridge that tells you not to worry about buying soy milk and that he’ll get it on his way home tonight. If he even comes home.

It hardly feels like living with him at all lately. The only evidence of a roommate is a blanket he kindly decides to lay over you when you accidentally fall asleep on the couch and an open jar of red bean paste that he likes to leave on the counter no matter how many times you yell at him.

So, in need of a specialist, you end up outside of Onigiri Miya right before closing with Miya Atsumu by your side.

“He’s not going to be happy when he sees us,” you mutter under your breath after an older woman walks past, staring at the store front. The scent of powdery perfume tickles your nose that you scrunch it up to abate its sting. Lanterns keep the outside bright with large banners swaying effortlessly in the evening breeze. It's cozy, inviting, and according to the menu boards outside displaying prices and pictures of the wide array of items Osamu offers, very affordable.

You weren’t there when this building had been an old and ominously boarded up shack. Actually, Osamu was a vague idea that Atsumu would only mention in passing; but a job transfer from Osaka to Hyogo, Atsumu’s nosy nature who decides to offer his twin brother’s home without even asking, and Osamu’s unrivaled hospitality that extends beyond the restaurant, your whole life changed in a quick train trip and a blink of an eye. Recollections from both twins talk of the tenacity and sweat that it took to make Osamu’s dreams come true and there’s a photo album on one of your shelves that documents the whole process (a gift from Suna) so nothing fills you with more joy than seeing the tangible success of Osamu’s hard work.

“Damn guy better be happy seeing his brother.” Atsumu huffs. “He ain't seen my face in weeks.”

“He sees your face every time he looks in the mirror.” You joke by throwing one of his favorite phrases at him. You don’t believe it at all. Having known Atsumu first and becoming Osamu’s roommate second, you’re well familiar with the idiosyncrasies they bear that make them different, but a petty scowl from Atsumu is always worth laughing at. “I’ll bet you five hundred yen he tells us to fuck off.”

Atsumu laughs like it’s an inside joke, shaking his head. “No way. He’ll tell me to fuck off, but never ya. Not when it comes to ya.”

“That's not true. If he didn’t hate me, he’d actually pick up and come home every once in a while.”

“You’re dramatic.”

“That's rich coming from you.”

Atsumu gives a goodhearted chuckle at that one, catching your eye in the warm lantern light. When he does, he suddenly becomes serious. He takes the sleeve of his sweater and wipes the grin off his face, clearing his throat at the same time.

“Tell ya what.” Atsumu starts, “I’ll bet ya five thousand yen that Osamu will not tell ya to fuck off. In fact, I bet he’ll actually even be happy seeing ya.”

“Someone’s been making money,” You murmur, impressed with the higher wager.

Atsumu gives a cocky rub of the shoulder, looking close to a peacock spreading its tail feathers, “Oh, ya know. Just got some new sponsorships in. No big deal.”

Then he obnoxiously coughs under his breath, “Adidas.”

Yes, you roll your eyes but nothing can stop the proud smile that makes its way across your face.

“So ya know, I’m willing to throw down a couple thousand yen for something like this.”

There’s no way you can back down from an opportunity to prove Atsumu wrong. “You’re on then, Miya.”

“Alright,” Atsumu gives a cocky shrug, shaking his head in the process, ever so confident. Your resolve falters only slightly until you remember that Osamu truly is avoiding you. You must have done something (did you leave your laundry in the dryer for too long? Was it because you liked to let your dishes soak in the sink sometimes?) to have him peeved and he’s too courteous to be upfront about it.

Atsumu opens the door for you. A rush of vinegar and the briny smell of seaweed wafts under your nose, “Get ready to pay for my tab the whole night.”

“If he doesn’t tell you to fuck off, I will,” you snip only for Atsumu to become increasingly entertained.

One twin annoys you. the other avoids you. Is it bad to say that you’d rather have it the other way around? At least then, you could have Osamu’s attention. The question stands though, why do you want it so bad anyways?

The answer punches you right in the gut, as heavy as the rice sacks Osamu carries, when he ducks through the black, cloth partition that divides the eating area with the back of house. A sense of longing whirls in your stomach that manifests into anxiousness when his gaze quickly pans on yours, an unfiltered look of shock that becomes distracted by Atsumu's smug grin.

“What are ya doing here?” There's a hostility in his voice that is contradicted by his actions. He sounds irritated only for him to walk right past the register and pull his brother into a deep hug that always ends with a hearty slap on the back, i.e. the universal bro hug. Osamu only nods at you awkwardly. You return the gesture just as clumsily. Aaand it’s definitive. He hates you.

Atsumu keeps a lazy arm around his brother’s shoulder and pats the man on his chest. “Holiday coming up. Got the whole week off for it.”

“Shit,” Osamu curses under his breath. “That's right. Need to staff extra next week.” Then he looks at his brother, sizing him up carefully. “Ya mind helping out?”

“I’m here for vacation, not to work.”

“I’ll pay ya in onigiri.”

“Well,” Fool, you want to snort when Atsumu debates the idea in his head. He takes a step back so that he can ponder the thought, tapping his chin lightly. You can only roll your eyes at how easy he is to bribe, a trait that Osamu likes to exploit. “A day won’t hurt, I guess. But that means ya owe me.”

Osamu glares at the prospect. “Owe ya how? I'm already paying ya.”

Hardly, you want to add but considering you’re already on his bad side, you keep your mouth shut.

“Ya gotta go out with us.” An arm around your shoulder from one twin deepens the frown on the other.

“Ain’t no way I got time for that.” Osamu immediately dismisses with little thought as he crosses his arms. “I'll make do without ya.”

“Ahhh, come on.” Atsumu whines and pulls you flush against him. You’re used to Atsumu’s relaxed nature. His words sometimes may cut harsh, but you can always deduce how he truly feels in how he holds himself, and others with how touchy he is.  “We came all the way out here. It's my first night back in Hyogo. Ya really gonna turn me down like that?”

Osamu gives a hard yes, staring his twin down before taking a quick glance at you. His firm gaze hardens, then travels to the right, beyond your shoulder. The intensity makes you gulp, almost makes you want to look back and see what he sees, only for Atsumu to cut through it breezily.

“You’re heartless.”

“Well ya mug’s ugly.”

“We’ve got the same face!” There it is, the one liner that always shows up in any conversation concerning the Miya twins.

At the sound of your laughter, Atsumu conceives a brilliant plan. “Wouldn’t ya be sad if Samu doesn’t tag along?”

You know he’s insinuating your conversation outside. There’s a piece of you that’s afraid, the one who doesn’t want to find out it’s not true- that he can actually say no to you. But there’s another part of you that wants to test his theory, because what would it mean if he can’t?

You look up at your estranged roommate inquisitively, his attention all on Atsumu. He looks paler than you remember and his hair is a little more unkempt, like he’s been restless. Immediately, you know what you want to do.

“Will you come with us Osamu?” You ask sweetly and fold your hands over each other in nervousness. “We really want you to. And you deserve it, don’t you think?”

“Well,” and just the sound of him considering, even if it’s not a yes, makes your heart swell in rapid bursts. Atsumu shares the giddiness with you, a naughty smirk caught between his lips as he looks down at you. You hardly process Atsumu’s smug I told you so grin.

“I don’t got a change of clothes.”

“Got ya covered.” Atsumu fishes into the athletic bag on his shoulder and throws a shirt at him.

Osamu analyzes it in mild disgust.

“It ain’t never been used, ya jerk. Ya think I’d do that to ya?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Not today. I'm actually feeling very generous today.”

Peaks of silver shine as Osamu glares, “That’s even more suspicious.”

“Ya ever think how all of this will affect my self-esteem?” Atsumu places a palm against his chest in mock hurt, “with all of ya making fun of me and what not?”

“No.” You and Osamu say in tandem.

Sneaky giggles turn awkward when he catches your gaze and then quickly looks away. It’s irritating and heartbreaking at the same time. He gives you the smallest bit of attention, a glimpse of normalcy, and then runs away like a skittish pup found on the road.

“Will ya go and get changed?” Atsumu pushes his brother off with a groan, “I’m tired of being a target.”

Once his brother is out of sight, Atsumu can’t help but poke you in the ribs with his stupid, pointy fingers. Your small yelp is swatted away when he places an open palm in front of you.

“Chuck it up. I want my money.” He opens and closes his palm to further his point while you roll your eyes. “Ya saw that, didn’t ya? Said no to me, but agreed when ya piped in.”

“He didn’t really agree.” You hum the final vowel, tipping the word clumsily out of your mouth.

“Will ya shut up?”Atsumu bonks you on the head. “He’s in the bathroom changing. He’s going to the bar with us. He agreed.”

“I mean, but like, he didn’t say it.”

“Ya know what? Keep ya money but I want a drink right when we get to the bar. Whiskey sour. Two! You’re giving me a headache, ya really are.” He shakes his head, muttering under his breath the final words.

“You’re making me question my existence if you of all people are telling me that I’m giving you a headache.”

Atsumu doesn’t respond because something else has caught his attention.

“What the fuck?” Atsumu looks at his brother in disgust. You turn your head swiftly to catch what he’s seeing only to find Osamu walking towards the both of you. He looks normal.

“What?”

Atsumu punches Osamu's chest. The natural haired twin cocks his head, slightly miffed,  questioning what he’d done to warrant his brother’s reaction.

“What the fuck, Samu?” Atsumu steps back and crosses his arms. “How do ya look better in my shirt than I do?”

Osamu puffs his chest out in pride, smirking at the other twin’s admission. “I’m just built different.”

“We’re twins!” Atsumu flails his hands at the outrageous remark.

Your giggle is a calling card. Delight forms in Osamu's chest, warming his skin like the sun in an inescapable summer. For the first time that night, he looks at you, truly looks at you, and despite all the things people say about looking at the sun, he holds his gaze.

Atsumu’s up to something, you’re finally able to deduce when he’s pushing you into the front seat of Osamu’s truck with excuses that he has to pick Suna up so you can’t ride with him. You should have known that his earlier offer of a ride before heading to Onigiri Miya was far too generous to not be laced with hidden motives.

Now, without the affable Atsumu charm as a buffer, the two of you sit in rickety silence. Dust has settled into the secondhand truck’s bones, creaking at every rotation of the wheel and Osamu’s radio fades in and out depending on the signal. He’s lucky enough to have an aux cord that you’d usually link to your phone even before buckling your seatbelt.

But boundaries have been drawn and he hasn’t offered. So, intermittent silence it is.

You’d joke about the crumbs your feet gloss over on the floor, play a little guessing game of what he ate. With the green flakes and a crumpled napkin, you’re guessing a matcha cream roll from 7/11.

Now, unfortunately, it feels just as comfortable as a cab. You squish into yourself, trying to take the least amount of space possible.

“Hot?” Osamu asks, but is already turning the air down. He shifts the vents to the right, one pointing down towards your lap and the other upward towards your head.

Your palms are sweating, rubbing against your legs, but you deny, feeling too much of a nuisance already. “No, I’m fine.”

“Change it if ya need to.”

“Okay.”

He doesn’t say anything after that, but just that bit of conversation, no matter how difficult it was, has unplugged the feelings you’ve been trying hard to repress.

“I watered the plants.” Apparently proper horticulture is what you’ve been tamping down in your chest. Cringing into yourself immediately, you turn to face the window to hide the palpable embarrassment.

“Oh. Thanks.”

Goosebumps rise to your skin. The small hairs on your arm sway with the airflow of the a/c and gives you this manic feel that a stray hair is stuck to your arm. You contemplate simply throwing yourself out the window. He can’t be going more than 75 kilometers per hour. You doubt it’d be lethal, because this here is unbearable. Maybe a STOP sign could knock you out and stop these stupid feelings!!

“Are ya constipated or something?” Osamu eyes you warily from the driver’s seat. His question is so out of pocket, you look at him in horror.

“No.”

“Ya look like ya need to take a shit.”

Furiously shaking your head, “Absolutely not.”

The topic of bodily functions usually isn’t as unnerving as it is now. Being roommates and all, he’s been your unsung hero when the bathroom runs out of toilet paper and Osamu might have eaten something a little too spicy once or twice, leaking slobber over your sink while you laughed at his pain. But now, you don’t even feel quite like roommates, or even friends for that matter. It hurts more than you expected, but you shouldn’t be surprised with the big part he plays in your life.

You’d never been a morning person, but for him, you’re willing to wake up an extra ten minutes earlier so you can get his coffee going. And he makes grocery shopping fun, like an adventure when before you’d always thought it to be a tedious chore. Sometimes he loses his things and leaves imprints of his existence in his wake, (a throw blanket unfolded on the couch, his open jar of adzuki paste on the counter, labeled sauces in the fridge from Onigiri Miya, one lone sock that got lost in the journey from the dryer to his room) but they’re every part of him that you’ve learned to openly accept – just as he did when Atsumu had tricked him into opening his door for you. 

“I was only asking. Geez, no need to get so defensive.”

“I’m not defensive. I’m just–” You stumble over exactly what you feel. Hurt, yearning, abandoned, but none of those are really acceptable answers for when someone asks if you’re constipated. “Okay, whatever. I’m defensive.”

Dreadful silence slips back into the car. A radio host cuts in and out while reading a love confession a listener had sent in and you’re back gazing out the window, watching streaks of lights form lines in your vision.

You don’t know what Atsumu was hoping to get out of this car ride, but you can confidently say that his plan has failed. There is little hope to salvage yours and Osamu’s relationship when he hates you so much he can hardly even have a conversation with you, about plants and plugged up bowels no less. You think you’d have an easier exchange in the waiting room of a doctor’s office.

“I, uh,” Osamu reaches into the backseat, searching for his bag. A tongue slips out in concentration, darting to the right corner of his mouth as he tries to maintain his eyes on the road while searching for whatever it is he’s looking for.

“Do you–?

He cuts you off, “I got it. Hang on.”

You slump into your seat. Osamu doesn’t even notice.

“I had to pick up a delivery from Kita today since his truck’s out for repair and passed by ya favorite coffeeshop on the – here it is.” Osamu plucks a pastry bag, crinkled and poorly squished, and places it into your lap.  “Passed by the place on the way back. They didn’t have the peach tarts that ya like, but I saw an almond croissant. Ya like those too don’t ya?”

“Yeah, I do.” Your voice comes out in a whisper, overwhelmed by the gesture that you’re afraid if you speak too loudly, the illusion might break.

“There’s a surprise in there for ya. Open it.”

Osamu doesn’t even address the condition the pastry is in which you can’t help but smile at. Food, no matter what shape or form, has always been food for Osamu. When you open the bag, you find a keychain. It’s a lemon with a wry smile and two rosy cheeks. Underneath it says, sweet and sour in a cursive-esque font and pink colors. It’s cute adorable immediately makes you think of the pouty onigiri keychain that Osamu keeps on his ring next to his home key.

“It’s so cute! Were they giving these out for free?”

“What? No, I bought that for ya.” Osamu sounds offended and doesn't even hide it on his face.

“You bought this for me?”

“Yeah.”

“How come?”

He stumbles over his words. “I don’t know. I saw it and I thought of ya. Remember when ya asked me if ya were a fruit, what fruit would ya be?”

Your cheeks start to hurt from trying so hard to suppress the grin that wants to etch itself into your face. “Yeah?”

“And I said ya were a lemon because you’re sweet and sour or something stupid like that.”

A giggle breaches your lips that you gracefully accept. Osamu smiles too, biting his bottom lip as if trying so hard to suppress it.

“Yeah. And then I said you’re a peach because that ass always looks so juicy.”

The car continues creaking, the love confession continues fading, but you don’t notice – not over the sound of him laughing. 

Atsumu and Suna arrive no less than five minutes after you and Osamu. His irritation with Osamu’s appearance in his fitted, black button down is nonexistent with the sight of two whiskey sours in your hands. He eagerly begins double-fisting the drinks, drinking them in tandem. Warnings to calm down are brushed away at the fact that he hasn’t had a vacation and an opportunity to let loose in weeks. It doesn’t take long for Atsumu to get the party started, ordering shots for the table and saying that the next two rounds are on him.

That Adidas deal must be a really good one, you can’t help but think when you clink glasses with the group. Atsumu is already donning flushed cheeks and a candid grin with Suna and his sentimental smirk next to him. Turning to your left, the tender burn of alcohol slips down your chest. Osamu looks happy. Eyes closed and a shy smile, you quickly hide your face behind your napkin. If anyone at the table caught you staring like a love drunk (read: not alcoholic) fool, you’d never hear the end of it.

“I saw that.” Atsumu’s smarmy face is way too close to you that you can smell the scent of his car freshener: black ice. “Ya ain’t sneaky at all.”

“Get off me. What happened to personal space.”

“What’s he talking about?” Suna peers over and it looks like you’ve got Osamu’s attention too. Man, you forgot how wild Atsumu gets with alcohol in his system. He hardly has any inhibitions sober that intoxicated, he drops them completely and assumes everyone does so too. He knocks his forehead against your temple, purpose or not, you’re unsure.

“My shot,” You lift the glass up. A small amount of liquid splashes the sides when you wiggle the cup around and use your other hand to push Atsumu away. He’s adamant and dead weighting himself onto you. “I didn’t finish it and he’s calling me out on it.”

“Ya liar! That ain’t it.” Atsumu pokes your nose to the point it stings. You’re gritting your teeth at this point. Fed up with his pesky ways, you’re about to push him away when you see Osamu reach across the table and pull him off you so hard his heavy body nicks Suna’s shoulder.

“Will ya sit in your chair correctly?” Osamu snaps you a quick glance as if to check you’re okay then diverts his attention back to his twin. Jaw taut, you didn’t expect him to be so angry. “Ma taught ya better than that.”

“I didn’t do anything.” Atsumu pouts and the twins ensue their usual brotherly tiffs. Suna leans his palm in his hands, thoroughly entertained by his friends’ behavior while you can only be glad that the attention is no longer on you.

You decide you’ve had enough to drink after Atsumu’s second round of shots not even thirty minutes into being at the bar. The twins continue pouring, inadvertently celebrating each other’s presence (you know they’ll never admit it but there’s always been festivities when the two boys reunite) while you continue nursing your water. Even Suna had tapped out an hour ago and bought the table karaage and fries to help absorb the alcohol in their stomachs.

“I’m gonna say something that I don’t say enough,” Atsumu slurs with a shot glass in his hand, cutting the pleasant silence that befell the table. He points it at his brother, “Ya better listen.”

“I’m listening!” Osamu insists.

“I think about ya.” He pauses. “A lot. And sometimes I get mad at ya because I wish ya were there right next to me when I got my fourth service ace in a row or something. Sometimes I worry about ya, especially when your roommate over here—“ he nudges your shoulder with his, “—tells me that you’ve barely been home and you’ve been overworking yourself.”

“Snitch,” Osamu playfully interrupts, sticking his tongue out at you. You flip him off immediately.

“But most of the time,” Atsumu, who held his brother’s gaze, now glances down into his empty shot glass with a solemn smile. He shies away from the vulnerability even when his drunken thoughts pour through. “Most of the time, I miss ya. Ya crumbs in your bed and ya stupid scented body wash.

“But then I visit ya and — and when I see Onigiri Miya, I know ya made the right choice. And I don’t say it enough because I don’t want ya head to get too big—“

“You’re worried about his head getting too big?” Suna quips quickly, effortlessly amused.

“Shut up. What I was saying was, are ya listening?”

“I am!”

Although it’s huffed in annoyance, when you glance at Osamu, you’re in awe. He sits patiently in his chair, chest leaned forward and pressed against the varnished tabletop. Before you is a sight you never thought you’d see. Atsumu’s back is straight and proud while Osamu slinks forward respectably, almost innocently in semblance of a bow, hanging onto his brother’s every word. Their relationship might be confusing and sometimes they’re never outright with their affection, but right now, what you see before you are not twins, but an older brother and his younger.

“I’m proud of ya, alright?” The sentence comes out with too much effort but indubitably earnest. Atsumu, sober, wears his heart on his sleeve like an ironed patch. Atsumu, drunk, rips his heart from the fabric of his being and forces it onto you. He is so full of love that if he doesn’t share it, he’ll burst.

“Ain’t gonna say it again.”

“I heard ya!” Suna and you are far too engrossed in the interaction to even muster any comment.

The brothers hold each other’s gaze across the table until Osamu clears his chest. “Well yeah. I’m proud of ya too. Never expected anything less.”

Atsumu’s lips wobble, a choked out sound spurting past his lips as he tries his best to keep his emotions in. You doubt the alcohol makes it any easier.

“Okay, we’re done for the night.” Suna decides. He lifts Atsumu up, arm around his shoulder and pats the blonde on the back before turning to you. “I’ll take this twin home.”

“That means I’ve got this twin.” You say breezily only for Osamu to immediately stiffen in his chair.

Osamu’s back to being his grumpy, stubborn self. It’s like something switches inside him when the two of you are left alone. Suna lucked out with Atsumu being the easier to handle twin for once. You had to pull him away from a lamppost, adamant that he was okay to walk on his own before almost face planting on the floor. You’re handling Osamu like a leaning sack of rice, using your shoulder to push him into his truck and then quickly slamming the car door before he falls out. You can hear his head thump against the window as you lean over with your hands on your knees, gasping for breath. Goodness, Osamu is far above your PR weight you hardly recognize how you managed that.

“Are you feeling alright?” The ignition turns in time with Osamu’s head, acknowledging your query.

The muscles in his neck are too lax from the alcohol and his head falls into his chest, “Ain’t no bitch.”

He’s ridiculous. You cannot help but be amused. He groans when you use your hand to gingerly lift his head against the headrest while you keep your eyes on the road.

“Thanks for coming out with us, Osamu. I had fun.”

“Me too.”

“Of course you did. You just got confessed to tonight.”

A hum in his throat, he asks you to rephrase, not quite understanding what you mean.

“Atsumu professed his undying love to you, remember? I think Rin even recorded it.”

He gives a tired grumble of a laugh. You know it’s the genuine kind because he likes to soften its blow, keep it quiet and contained in his chest. It’s your favorite of all Osamu laughs, and when you pull them, your heart feels weightless in your chest like a hummingbird catching nectar. “That’s never been seen before footage, ya know? Ya better take care of it because it might be worth something.”

“I’ve got to show Kita though. He’d love to see you two getting along so well together.”

“Don’t do that.”

“But you looked so cute. I’ve never seen you so innocent and adorable. I wanted to pinch your cheeks!”

The tumble of your words, fueled by an amiable atmosphere that feels exactly like how it did before when you two would hang out, is immediately shattered.

“Shut up.” Osamu declares. He shifts in his seat to turn closer to the window, effectively blocking you out like he’s done for the past few weeks. You can only purse your lips and focus on the road. Dread leadens the blood in your veins, you feel like you could fall right through the seat at the heavy weight. The music that you turned down just so you could hear the sound of Osamu’s voice clearer is suddenly not loud enough to.

“I just mean– ya too honest, ya know?”

No, you don’t know. It’s that very fact that has made these past couple of weeks so difficult. What has changed? What did you do? Will he ever forgive you?

There is little in you to formulate a response to that. Tonight hadn’t gone without issue, but you thought that the easy conversation had been a sign for better weather between you too. You were wrong. Turning up the heater, you slow down and make a quick u-turn.

Osamu’s brakes are a little more sensitive than you're used to, lurching the car forward and waking up your passenger in the process as you park. You don’t look up from your lap as he gathers his surroundings.

“What are we doing here?” He asks, looking at his storefront in confusion. “This ain't home.”

“I didn’t know if you want to go back ho–” You clear your chest while your face heats over the mistake. “ – to the apartment since you barely sleep there. I didn’t want to assume.”

“So ya assumed I’d rather sleep on my work couch instead of my bed?” His words cut through your throat and it makes you stammer out the response.

“I– well, yeah. You’re barely at the apartment anymore.”

“It’s our home.”

At this point, you can hardly take Osamu’s contradicting nature. He’s unpredictable and unreasonable, and every slightest misstep has you overthinking everything. It’s exhausting and you just want this night to end.

“Do you want me to take you back there? Just tell me what you want, Osamu.”

“I want ya to say it.”

“Say what?”

The obstinate gleam in his eyes refuses to acknowledge your deflection. He enunciates the words even further. “Say it.”

“It’s an apartment, Osamu.” You sigh. His gaze is too much for you to handle so you settle on plucking fake dust from his cup holders. “It hasn’t felt like home in a while. Not since, I don’t know. Not since you started hating me.”

“Ya think I hate ya?”

You give a wry laugh. “Well, you haven’t been very discrete, Osamu. I barely see you anymore, and we used to hang out and watch movies but all you’ve been doing is avoiding me. You could have just been honest with me, you know that right? I have no idea what I did wrong, but I promise I didn’t do it on purpose.”

Uncomfortable silence settles into the conversation, weaving its way into your throat and puppeting your fingertips. You can’t stay still as one hand taps your thigh as the other traces patterns in his cupholder. There it is, all out in the open. Now Osamu can finally be honest with you and tell you how he really feels.

He breathes out something a mix of a scoff and a laugh, your lesser favorite of laughs. “You’re an idiot.”

“Sure,” You shrug, “but that’s nothing you should hate me for.”

“I definitely hate ya. Hate how much I think about ya.” Osamu stares you dead in the eye with an unbreaking contact that shouldn’t be possible for how drunk he is. Your heart trembles like a pin balancing on a marble’s edge. “And how since ya moved in, our house has a thing called cup cozies. Ya don’t even know how much Suna roasted me when he came over one time.”

“Sometimes your drink–”

“ –gets a little too hot. I know. I told him. He doesn’t care. But I do. And I hate it. Hate how ya make my coffee for me every morning. How do ya make it better for me than I can? How do ya know what I like better than me? And when Atsumu decided for me that ya were moving in, and I asked him what the fuck he was talking about, he told me I shouldn’t worry because I’ll barely notice ya.

“And I hate how he’s such a fucking liar because you’re all I can think about. And when I feel like I’ve distracted myself enough, I’ll hear a customer accidentally drop their chopsticks and I’m suddenly thinking about the time ya hit your head on the table when ya tried catching them.

“Everything leads back to ya. All I wanna do is think about ya. My eyes look for ya, my hand does too. And whenever I’m closing down the restaurant, all I’m thinking about is going home to ya. And then you’re there, ya say welcome home, and I hate the fact that all I wanna do is kiss ya.”

The ferocity of Osamu’s words has drawn you closer. You can feel the huff of his rapid breath falling over your face like a tsunami. Right now is the longest he’s held your gaze, and you hope he never finds a reason to look away. Has this been how he’s felt this whole time?

“Kiss ya right there,” He whispers the sentence softly, containing it in his chest just like that favorite laugh of yours, “and tell ya I’m home.”

“You’re talking nonsense.” The reasonable part of you wants to silence the eager beating of your heart. It’s too good to be true. You’ve spent nights unwillingly dreaming confessions of this, that there is no way this sort of reality exists. “You’re so drunk right now.”

Osamu’s eyes fall onto your lips. He looks at them, vexed and hungry before he sighs and slumps his head onto your shoulder.

“Yeah, hate that too. Can’t believe I spent all this time struggling with how I feel and this is how I confess to ya. Now it don’t sound sincere.”

“Atsumu was pretty drunk earlier but he sounded sincere.” A tug in your chest pulls your hands to his arms, rubbing them up and down just the way Osamu does for you after a horrible day. “You seemed convinced.”

He gives a small chuckle just to appease you. “Guess so.” He pauses for a moment before going on. “It was the couch, ya know? We had dinner pretty late but ya weren’t tired so we watched that zombie movie. Next thing I knew, the birds were chirping and the sun was a little too bright, and then I realized I woke up with ya in my arms. All I could think was, oh fuck.” 

The giggle that escapes from you is hard to hide.

“You’re the worst. I knew I was done for after that.”

“Let’s go home, Osamu.”

Post confession Osamu is much easier to handle than pre. He keenly braces an arm around your shoulder, yours around his waist as the other presses against his belly. Going up the steps to your apartment is a little trickier than just walking thanks to the height difference and there’s a burned out bulb right at the bottom of the stairs. It’s so difficult to see that Osamu trips over the first step. He falls onto you as you do your best holding the both of you up so you don’t slip to the ground.

“Geez, Osamu.” You grunt your way up to your apartment. “You’re so heavy.”

He whines childishly and decides to lean even more weight on you. “Ya never complained when Tsumu had his arm around your shoulder. And he had it there for most of the night.”

“Jealous?”

“Ya don’t even know.”

You have to turn your head away at that, desperately trying to hide the enthusiastic smile trying to creep in. It is hard to decide which one is easier to handle: the Osamu who avoids you and his feelings or the honest one that’s a little too charming when earnest.

“Ease up a little then,” You knock your shoulder into his rib, forcing to put more of his weight on his own legs than yours. “Atsumu wasn’t putting his whole body weight on me.”

“Can’t. Ya feel so comfortable.”

You roll your eyes and basically drag him up the stairs. There’s a piece of you wondering if any of this bit is being dramatized. By the time you make it to the entrance of your apartment, you’re catching your breath. The key unlocks your door and finally, the sweet scent of home, a mild mix of Osamu and you, hits your nose. It’s been a while since you’ve been able to enter your apartment with relief, but walking through with Osamu by your side loosens the muscles you’ve exerted.

“Welcome home, Osamu.” Demure, you murmur shyly.

He stiffens only for a moment before he wraps you closer to his side, pressing a kiss to your temple. He whispers, “I’m home.”

Osamu's upper body is sprawled against the top of the kotatsu with his neck turned at a hard ninety degree angle. He must have fallen asleep when you left him to make a batch of tea before sleep. 

“Osamu,” your hand digs into the meat of his shoulder as you try to tap him back into consciousness. “You need to go to bed.”

He groans softly, digging the corner of his lip against his knuckles to catch any stray saliva that may have fallen from his mouth. His head, albeit droopily, finally turns to you.

For a moment there, he thought he had been dreaming, but it was all real. He confessed to you and you might not have said anything explicitly back, but Osamu knows he didn’t imagine the way your gaze held his lips, the phantom touch parting them open. There’s a decadence in your voice that hadn’t been there all night and you don’t shy away from his touch. More, he wants more so much so he can’t help it.

“Don’t suppose you’d say yes if I asked ya to come with me, huh?”

There's a moment of pause before you let out a heavy sigh. Osamu looks away, gathering his attention on the curtains to your balcony over the weary look you’re probably donning. He told you he hated the drapes when you brought them home. Weeping blue florals over a sheer, white background, he’d never owned such a thing in his bachelor pad. You had laughed away his comment in jest, jabbing back with a dumb quip about he shouldn’t worry. The drapes hate him too. He’d always liked that about you. Everything slipped into place - easy. 

“I don't think that’s a good idea with how drunk you are.”

“I know.”

It’s silent for a while, neither of you knowing what to say, but finally being home, here with you, he feels content. Rather than feeling tension, or upset because you won’t entertain his bad intentions, all he can say is he’s happy. It falls more simply into his chest than he expected. It kind of makes him feel stupid. He’d spent days agonizing over the thought of you and how he shouldn’t be thinking about you at all. Guilt tripping himself in more ways than one, Osamu spent too much time running away from feelings when in reality, it had already planted itself into his chest. Flowing with the wave has always been easier than fighting against it, right?

“I'll stay here then.”

“Osamu,” You begin to admonish with an exasperated breath. “That won’t be comfortable. You’ll get a kink in your neck.”

Your roommate ignores you. He takes a large breath and exhales, molding himself along the tabletop and into his arms. Slowly, in shy movements, his right hand reaches across the table, searches for you but stops short when it brushes your fingertips. Warm. Foreign.

At that connection you’ve been trying to reach, curiosity gets the best of you. Before you can even acknowledge the thought, you’re tracing over his nails, absolutely infatuated by the feel of his skin against yours. Osamu has always been magnetic, pulling you in despite the simplest of movements. He never has to beckon you over. A simple smile will do, or a plate of carefully prepared dishes can have you turning off the TV and providing him your undivided attention.

Osamu was on the cusp of sleep at one point, but now he can’t rest with the hammering of his heart. You play with the edge of his hand in tentative steps. He flips a thought over in his head, roasting it like a suckling pig, until the anticipation is no longer something he can bear.

Starting with an index finger, he lifts it up and catches the space between your digits. The rest of his hand follows until yours is loosely twined with his - the hand that knocked on his door, the hand that has always welcomed him home, and the hand that passes him an extra bowl of rice when he finishes the first. It is now held in his - you holding him and him holding you.

The power you have in simple, fleeting touches are the reason why he ran away. Having ventured into the unknown by opening Onigiri Miya, he thought he was an expert on the idea of risk and reward. Though he doesn’t want to say you’re not worth it, he thinks of you far too precious.

What you have now works and if he tried to pursue anything further, and you didn’t reciprocate, he’d lose more than he’d be willing to give. But now that it is in his grasp, he has no idea how he could ever let this go. It might not be firm enough to his liking, but this feeling of comfort puts him at ease. He can be patient with what you give and when he wakes up tomorrow, sober, he knows what choices he’ll make.

The beating of his heart descends into metronomic hum like the sound of a running fridge.

“I’ll be comfortable wherever ya are.” Osamu pushes further and presses the palms of your hands together. He lifts his head slightly to catch your reaction, finding you looking at where you two are connected with an affectionate smile. His heart thrums again at the sight, quietly cursing it for being so reactive to your existence. “That’s okay, right? Ya’ll stay with me?”

“You won’t run away again?” The teasing lilt in your voice causes no harm.

“No,” Osamu confirms. “Wherever ya are.”

He closes his eyes, ready to dream. “That’s where I wanna be.”

“Me too.”

#reina.writeshaikyuu!! #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu fic #miya osamu #osamu x reader #miya osamu fluff #haikyuu longfic #miya osamu x reader #haikyuu oneshot

[martellprincess-writes]

0NE NATI0N UNDER BL00D AND H0NEY

SERIES MASTERLIST: HAIKYUU FULL-LENGTH FIC

synopsis. At an all-women's college, soldiers take siege during martial law.

aesthetics. psychological thriller, 80's/90's japan. haikyuu!! soldiers vs. female students, martial law, hostages, war-torn society, dark academia, stockholm syndrome, military AU, tragedy, loss, angst

warnings. EXTREMELY DARK CONTENT // 20+ // minors + under-20s DO NOT INTERACT please // NONCON // GRAPHIC CONTENT // PHYSICAL VIOLENCE // nsfw, abuse, twisted and toxic relationships, stockholm syndrome

pairing. various haikyuu boys x multiple f! characters

authors note. this is my attempt to bring more full-length fics to this fandom and to explore more depth with original female characters instead of x readers. one-shot x readers … i’m tired

auth. note 2. links go to ao3 because i’m not putting myself through the hell of posting a full fic on this site

status: ongoing

CHAPTER LIST  ━━ ━━ ━━ ━━ ━━ ━━ ━━

01 ━━ WIND BEFORE THE STORM: AKAASHI, BOKUTO

02 ━━ WE'LL SAVE YOU: MATSUKAWA, IWAIZUMI

03 ━━ CALL US LUCKY: IWAIZUMI, MATSUKAWA, AKAASHI, DAICHI, MEIAN, ENNOSHITA

04 ━━ CAN'T SAVE YOU NOW: ENNOSHITA, OSAMU, KAGEYAMA, IWAIZUMI

05 ━━ NOWHERE TO CALL HOME: IWAIZUMI, OIKAWA, AKAASHI, DAICHI, AONE

06 ━━ SO MUCH INNOCENCE: ENNOSHITA, MATSUKAWA, BOKUTO, TANAKA, AKAASHI, ATSUMU

07 ━━ NIGHT HAS COME: BOKUTO, AKAASHI, TANAKA, ATSUMU, MEIAN, MATSUKAWA, OIKAWA

08 ━━ tbd

09 ━━ tbd

10 ━━

11 ━━

#haikyuu #hq #haikyuu longfic #haikyuu x oc #hq x reader #iwaizumi hajime #matsukawa issei #daichi sawamura #oikawa tooru #tanaka ryuunosuke #osamu miya #hq smut #akaashi keiji #bokuto koutarou #meian shuugo #ennoshita chikara #miya atsumu #tw noncon #yandere haikyuu

[kodaiki]

sucker for you.

summary: you’re dramatic, there’s no doubt about it. so when you get annoyed at your vampire boyfriend, what do you do? wear all the things that would cause his suffering, of course.

pairing: kuroo tetsuro x fem!reader

genre: vampire!kuroo, human!reader, fluff//humor, established relationship, (flashback) meet cute, (mentioned) college!au, v domestic, reader is dramatic <3 

word count: 5.6k

a/n: repost!

“y/n! i’m … oh no.”

kuroo stands at the door of your shared apartment, face falling at the sight of your figure on the couch with stubbornly crossed arms. but it wasn’t your crossed arms and furrowed brows that caught his eye first, but what was hanging around your neck.

you were wearing a string of garlic around your neck.

freaking garlic.

kuroo walks into the apartment a bit, freezing when the stench of garlic reaches his nostrils, making him turn his face away with teary eyes. 

“how was your day, tetsu?” you greet your boyfriend, voice laced in a sickly sweet tone kuroo hears straight through. he can’t help but twist his face into a sour expression, both in discomfort and slight confusion.

“’was fine,” kuroo mumbles, eyeing the garlic warily, too worried to say anything else.

“did’ya happen to forget anything, hm?” you ask absentmindedly, attention turning back to your cellphone. after a beat of silence, your eyes flit up to meet his fearful ones. “like, i don’t know…our lunch plans?”

kuroo’s jaw drops and he smacks his forehead. shutting his eyes tightly, he curses. “dammit, y/n. i’m so sorry, i forgot.”

“this is the second time this month,” you deadpan with a frown, looking back to your phone where the restaurant-you-were-supposed-to-attend’s yelp page was, shining its five stars in your face. 

you understand that your boyfriend doesn’t exactly have the same…appetite as you do but kuroo’s usually prompt for your planned dates; he adores showing the two of you off just like any guy should their girlfriend and even his craving can’t stop him from doing that.

“i decided to stay at the office late to get some more paperwork done,” kuroo frowns solemnly, wanting nothing more than to reach out and cradle your face in his hands, hoping you’d understand how sorry he was. “it slipped my mind.”

you let out a loud sigh. you’re well aware kuroo’s been stumped at work - this current job has been kicking his ass since he’s still being considered a newbie and he’s been running all around, off on errands and coffee runs you know he shouldn’t be doing. you sigh at the image of your boyfriend running around his office, tie out of place slightly - a habit from pulling it when he’s feeling frustrated - and hair in more disarray than usual. then, you imagine what his boss and supervisor must look like, glowering down (well, most likely up since kuroo’s a pretty tall individual) at him with an evil glint in their eyes.

to make things clear, you aren’t actually mad at him. sure, you’re bothered that you haven’t had much romantic time with your boyfriend in a while, so your dismay of that happens to be directed at him.

not to mention, you have a habit of blowing things a little out of proportion (it’s all in good fun, although, kuroo seems to be terrified of it, nonetheless).

“what’s next, hm? you gonna forget my birthday? an anniversary?” you let out a gasp for effect. “national pancake day?”

“y/n,” kuroo whines, finally dropping the briefcase, formerly clutched in his hand, to the ground. “i’m sorry!”

“hm,” you hum, looking off into the distance, trying your best to look nonchalant.

“i promise, promise, that i won’t forget again!” his words are stern and his eyes pleading. it’s adorable. he really thinks you’re angry with him. “or… i’ll at least send you a text or call ‘ya if i can’t, and not make you wait around for me.” 

you could never be angry at kuroo; not when he’s giving you that pout that nearly fools you into think he can’t hurt a fly.

well, except for those times that he leaves those gaping holes in your neck when he said he’d just ‘give ‘ya a light hickey! that’s all!’

“fine.” you let your phone drop to your lap and you shrug. “you’re forgiven.”

the tone of finality in your voice makes kuroo stand straighter, smile returning, making him look all the more handsome. stupid handsome.

“really?” his face lights like a child’s on christmas and you have to avert eye contact with him to avoid smiling yourself. not that it matters, but when you’re genuinely annoyed or irritated by your boyfriend, you give him - or try to - the silent treatment for some time (you really make this man shake in his boots) before you simply become too lazy to keep quiet. hearing your voice and an accepted apology so quickly was somewhat odd, but kuroo’s far too relieved to think anything of it.

“mhm,” you suck in your lips, attempting to mask the mischievous grin threatening to break loose on your own features. your attention rests on the view of the sunset from outside your window, a beautiful peachy-pink shining through the blinds and onto the floorboards of your apartment.

you don’t say anything after that and kuroo furrows his eyebrows. his eyes flick every now and then to the garlic still hanging from your neck, but you make no move to take it off. 

kuroo grows worried again.

“so…” he begins, shuffling on his feet and reaching a hand up to lightly tug at the hair behind his ear - a nervous habit of his. “you gonna take off the garlic now?”

“no.”

“y/n,” kuroo whines, pouting like a child. “i wanna kiss you hello and cuddle. ‘s been a long day.”

“well, i wanted lunch,” you huff, making kuroo roll his eyes. of course you wouldn’t let it go that easily, even if you weren’t mad anymore. “’guess neither one of us is getting what we want today, hm?”

“baby~”

“tetsuro~” you repeat in the same whiny tone he used, arching an eyebrow at him.

kuroo taps his foot on the floor a few times, cupping his chin in thought. “how about i make dinner? will that get you to take off the damn garlic?”

“hm, no,” you shake your head. “besides, i already ordered dinner.”

“did you?” kuroo’s eyes widen slightly. “whatcha get?”

“italian.”

kuroo crosses his arms over his chest defensively. “now you’re just being mean.” 

in a sing-song voice, your voice lilts, “there’s some blood bags in the fridge if you’re hungry.” then, you gesture over to the fridge across from the living room. “you don’t need dinner, do you?” 

“but…” he trails off, looking over at the fridge. even if all he needed was blood to survive, kuroo was craving some dinner with you just about then. “i wanna eat with you and you hate seeing me drink those.”

standing up from the couch, you walk over to the kitchen, kuroo stumbling away from you - you have the courtesy of murmuring an apology - and scrunching his nose up in distaste as he felt the burn of the garlic from a few feet away.

“this is ridiculous. would you please take off the garlic?” kuroo pleads, jutting out his lower lip with sad eyes. you almost coo at how cute he looks. deadly vampire, my ass.

“uh-h,” you drawl, tapping your chin, “no.”

“where did you even get the garlic?”

“i went to the grocery store and bought garlic,” you say simply, only to laugh at the baffled look on your boyfriend’s face. “kidding,” you roll your eyes. “the neighbors, superstitious as they are, offered me some in the lobby today.” with a cheeky grin, you add, “just had to seize the opportunity to torment you.”

kuroo shake his head in amusement. “of course you did.”

leaning down slightly, you open the fridge and push away some of the blood bags kuroo stole got from the hospital and grab a water bottle. twisting the cap off, you turn to kuroo who’s followed you into the kitchen but is now standing a reasonable distance away.

“so, you’ve been sitting on the couch wearing garlic around your neck since this afternoon?” kuroo furrows his eyebrows with a weird look.

“basically, is that a problem?”

“hate to break it to you then, babe, but you must stink to not only me, but everyone else-”

“jerk!”

“brat,” he grins devilishly. he takes a cautious step forward and reaches a long arm over for your hand which is just in his reach - “ouch!” he seethes, holding his palm. “really, y/n? silver rings?”

your grin widens at that and you wiggle your brows.

“what, the neighbors had a yard sale or something?” he asks, sighing at the sight of his skin healing itself. “is it really torture your vampire boyfriend day?”

“that should be a thing,” you muse with a dreamy smile. “it’d make up for your forgetful brain.”

“it’s not forgetful. there’s dozens of years of memories in this damn brain, you think i can squeeze every little thing?”

after a moment of silence, you nod. “yep.”

“well, i’m certainly not going to forget someone as dramatic as you.”

“you better not,” you raise a stern finger at him. “or i’ll just reincarnate and torture you some more.” that is, unless you become a vampire yourself, but that’s a serious conversation saved for another day.

“i believe that,” kuroo chuckles, shaking his head. “i guess i should just be used to the torture then, hm? to save me in the future?”

“i am much more than that, tetsuro,” you say knowingly - he knows it, too. out of all his years, he’s quite sure you’re the love of his life - “what have i been other than an adoring, loving girlfriend to you?”

kuroo raises his eyebrow at you as if saying, i can name some other things. he settles on the easiest and least counter-arguable, “a dramatic brat.”

“ah, yes,” you wave him off in agreement. “but you’ve known that since we met.”

it’s true. your first encounter with the vampire was probably one of his favorites, due to how random it and you had been. it was during your third year at college, kuroo sitting a few rows ahead of you in your lecture hall. your professor couldn’t bother to make an effort in sounding interesting, letting his voice drone on and on, so it was just inevitable that your attention would shift to something else.

that’s when you noticed kuroo. he’d been twirling a pen aimlessly, as he stared rather bored at the professor writing something on the chalkboard. he was a handsome fellow, you initially thought, taking in his height and appearance. from what you could tell, his skin was clear (sculpted by gods) and his hair looked like it was silky smooth to the touch, regardless of how messy it seemed to be styled.

so you, of course, being your creepy little self, went on to observing kuroo during class - you’d think it was the vampire watching the human sort of stereotype like portrayed in the media, but no - and grew sort of infatuated with him that way.

and you honestly thought that’s all it was going to be: infatuation. just a tiny crush on a guy in your class; something to make the hour and a half all the more bearable. but fate had other plans for you.

COLLEGE, JUNIOR YEAR . . .

it’s a rainy day, much like all the other days throughout the month. not that you mind, though. the summer was too hot for your liking so with the cool air and dewey smell, you enjoy the rainy season. 

however, even though the rain doesn’t put a downer on your mind, the sight of kuroo’s empty seat does. you frown at that, pulling your top lip under your bottom one. obviously, the reason you attended class wasn’t to see your crush, but it did brighten your mood and make the time go faster.

you don’t frown for much longer, though, because kuroo walks in, frustratedly shaking a broken umbrella in his hand. you sigh in relief, glad to know your entertainment of the day arrived, and smile at the rapid thumping of your heartbeat. you watch as kuroo shuffles over to his usual seat, only to find it occupied by another student, resorting him to glance around the room for another one.

looking to your left, you freeze at the sight of an empty desk.

please don’t sit here, please don’t sit here, please don’t-

“is this seat taken?”

his voice is deeper than you expected, but not as cold as you thought it’d be. it was warm in a way, bordering a charming sort of tone. 

you squeak at his question regardless. “yeah… no! i mean, yes, by… you… just sit down.” you hide your head in your notes by the end of your ramble, too embarrassed to face what sort of reaction he has.

he must think you’re crazy.

“thanks.” you miss the way he smiles at you as he slips into the seat.

from the corner of your eye, you watch him do just like you’ve seen him do in his normal seat a few rows ahead of you; he twirls his pen between his fingertips.

you spend the majority of the lecture slyly looking through the corner of your eye, just to get a glimpse at the attractive man up close. you’d only ever seen the back of his head and a slight side profile but here sitting beside you, you could see the golden flecks in his eyes, clear as day.

he had a long, chiseled face, eyes somewhat feline but all the more entrancing. his hair, tousled into a messy style was shiny and well kempt and - oh my, he smells delicious, doesn’t he?

following class, as you’re packing up, you realize he hasn’t left yet.

“hey,” kuroo greets softly, probably expecting you to squeak again if he startled you.

“hm?” you hum absentmindedly, your attention still focused on the books your piling into your bag.

“i mean, i can get you don’t think i notice you staring when you’re sitting a few rows behind me but right next to me? you bold, bold then, huh?”

his statement makes your freeze. slowly looking up, eyes widened in horror, you gape at him. he knew?

“i… uh, i…” you stammer, attempting to find your words. you had nothing to say, though, since you had no excuse.

“don’t worry about it though. it’s cute, just thought i should let you know in case you believed you were really good at observing people without them knowing.” there was a teasing lilt to his voice and when you meet his eyes, he’s grinning down at you.

cheeks burning in embarrassment, you look away. “i’m so sorry, i really don’t mean to, it’s just…”

“it’s just…?” he asks when you trail off. you don’t realize the smile on his face has become a smirk, obviously pleased with the reaction he’s getting from you.

hm, what can you say to this.

it’s just… you’re so handsome?

it’s just… i have a huge crush on you?

“it’s just… your skin is amazing and i wanna know what products you use!” you blurt before covering your mouth with your hand.

okay, well, there’s that.

it’s not the sole reason you stare at him, but sure, the thought of his good complexion had you wondering what his skin care routine was.

“you stare at me because i have nice skin…” kuroo repeats slowly, as if to make sure he heard you correctly the first time.

“now i must seem even stranger,” you groan, reaching to grab to your bag and swing it over your shoulder to quickly leave the lecture room to avoid embarrassing yourself further.

out of all the things to say, y/n, really?

“no wait!” you hear him laugh from behind you. you turn your head to see him swiftly move in between the folding seats to catch up with you. “i’m just surprised! i definitely wasn’t expecting that answer.”

the two of you walk out of the lecture hall in silence - you’re busy avoiding all eye contact with the man as he smiles at you, grinning like the cheshire cat - and upon leaving the building, you scrunch your nose up at the sight of the rain pouring even harder than it was earlier.

“damn this rain,” kuroo mutters with an eye roll, staring down at his beat up umbrella. 

instinctually, you pull out your umbrella and after opening it, holding it over his head, offering him to take it. wordlessly, kuroo does without much hesitation. it was odd, almost as if it was a routine thing you’d always done with each other.

“what were you expecting then?” you ask over the pitter-patter sounds on your umbrella of the rain. 

“hm?” he looks over at you with furrowed brows.

“what were you expecting me to say earlier?”

“oh,” kuroo nods, remembering your prior question, lips twitching up into another smile. “i dunno,” he shrugs. “the response i usually get is that i’m attractive and then they proceed to ask me out.”

“yeah well,” you mutter with a frown, “i don’t have enough balls for that.”

“hm, what was that?” kuroo asks, turning his head to bring his ear closer to you. obviously with his vampire hearing (that you didn’t know about yet), the little shit kuroo had heard you but he just wanted to hear your confession again.

“nothing!” you pipe, scratching the back of your neck awkwardly.

kuroo walks you to the bus stop, conveniently where he was on his way to, too. you’d learned that both of you lived off campus, him living a farther distance than you did, making you feel guilty about complaining every day about the inconvenience of traveling to campus.

you exchange small talk, learning about his major and such, just the basics. he’s easy to talk to… well, after you got over that flustered barrier of knowing you’d been caught staring at the guy for the past couple months.

to be honest, you thought that’s all it’d be; just you meeting him briefly and then going your separate ways.

but your friends - bless them, really - quickly shut that idea down and practically begged you to keep talking to him. isn’t this the same man you gush about looking fine as hell? if you don’t befriend him, i swear…

so following that day, you found more reasons (and courage) to speak to him after class, to the point where kuroo became used to your presence. hell, eventually his seat changed from his usual one to the one beside yours! what you first thought would’ve just been a blooming friendship with someone you found attractive, suddenly became something deeper than a crush as you got to know him.

and kuroo noticed…

he noticed your watery smiles, flustered expressions, and most especially, those eyes that look at him like he held the world in his palms. he noticed all of that and he was petrified.

it wasn’t news that kuroo’s a mysterious guy. he didn’t have any roommates nor had many friends at college - he did mention an old friend named kenma living somewhere in europe once, though. even before you befriended the man, you noticed how he kept to himself for the most part, slipping in and out of class without making much small talk with anyone.

that’s why it was slightly surprising that he humored you with conversations before and after class, even if you were the one to initiate them each time.

take away the crush on kuroo, you genuinely enjoyed spending time with him. he was beyond smart, gushing about subjects you hadn’t known he was passionate about and he was funny, too. it’s tough finding someone that’s funny, smart and attractive so knowing kuroo felt like hitting a jackpot if you’re being honest.

kuroo, on the other hand though, was terrified at the slightest bit of connection to anyone. he’s immortal for god’s sake! one emotional attachment and poof, there goes his heart for the next lifetime until they’re inevitably ripped from his life.

but you? man, you were hard to escape. oftentimes, he saw you on campus, minding your own business, whether it be going to class or sipping coffee as you studied on a bench, and all he felt was his stomach swirling with those dangerous feelings and his heart pounding against his ribcage.

rumors went around the university and you had random girls coming up to you, asking how you had managed to slither your way under kuroo’s cold exterior. obviously you were confused since you didn’t really do anything to slide into his life besides asking how his day was or how he felt about an upcoming assignment. 

kuroo had grown too fond of you. it’d worry him just how close he’d get to you before he fled the university to find a new home but even the thought made his heart ache. was he really just going to leave you like that?

it was the only safe option for you….unless he told you.

now that thought scared kuroo even more than he was already. telling you he was a freaking vampire? he was sure he’d gone insane by then.

but then there he is at your apartment a few days later, on a cold winter evening, shaking from nerves at what he was going to tell you and inevitably change your life.

“kuroo, you alright?” you ask, beckoning him inside when you noticed how he couldn’t meet your gaze. his eyes remain downcast as he fiddled his hand in the pocket of his jacket, but he wordlessly walks inside, slipping off his shoes. you notice that he cautiously steps inside, looking around your apartment building that he’d been in multiple times

“coffee? tea?” you offer, on your way to the kitchen. 

“i’m alright,” kuroo finally speaks but his voice is hoarse. at your arched brow, he clears his throat. “water, please.”

you nod, taking a glass from your cupboard and filling it with some water from the pitcher on your kitchen counter. you walk back to the living area where kuroo’s taken a seat on your couch. 

you recall the amounts of movie nights you’ve had with the man, whining and complaining to one another about your different taste in movies. though, when you finally agreed on one, the living room went silent, with an exception to some snorts and scoffs in response from the both of you to the movie itself. more times than not, you fell asleep during your movie nights, kuroo ending up placing your throw blanket over you before sticking a note to your fridge as a form of goodbye for when you woke up. 

you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t blush at the thought of him doing such a thoughtful action.

passing him the glass, you sit beside him and turn your body in a way so you’re facing him, in a criss-cross apple-sauce position. “d’you wanna talk about something?”

you watch him nod, and then shake his head. with a sigh, he drops his head, “it’s complicated.”

you nod silently, chewing on your lip as you ponder how to help. “is it something bad?”

a humorless smile spreads across his lips. “that depends.”

“depends on…?” you trail off, furrowing your brows.

“depends on how you take it.”

you blink at that, the line between your eyebrows deepening further. “huh?”

kuroo chuckles at your reaction, reaching a hand up to rub the back of his neck. “it’s just… complicated.”

you open and close your mouth a few times but ultimately don’t say a thing, letting possibilities of what he could say fester your mind.

kuroo seems rather uncomfortable about what he has to say and you can’t tell if it’s because he simple doesn’t know how to open up or if the topic itself is an uncomfortable matter. from what you’ve noticed, the man has been somewhat distant as of late.

he hasn’t been responding much to texts,

wait a minute, it’s adding up now…

obviously, he’s figured out i like him and he’s uncomfortable! 

you’re far too embarrassed to be sad at the moment and your cheeks flush in humiliation.

before you have a chance to speak, kuroo beats you to it. “can i trust you?”

your head tilts to the side in confusion, your mind still racing with the idea that kuroo does indeed know you like him. “yeah, of course.”

a beat passes. “ok,” he breathes out, cracking his knuckles and nodding his head from side to side. “ok,” he repeats, more to himself than to you.

“kuroo, what-”

“i’m telling you this because i care about you,” he starts and your heart drops to your stomach. 

this is it. this is happening. he’s about to confront me and then reject me. 

“this may change everything about our friendship but i don’t care because it’s something you should know.”

here we go…

“i’m sick of secrets and above all, secrets between us, so i’m coming clean.”

i guess i am, too.

“what i need to tell you is that-”

“-i’m a vampire.”

“-you’re rejecting me.”

there’s a long silence between the two of you and you stare owlishly at each other.

“huh?”

“what?” you ask, leaning in slightly, as if to hear him better.

“what did you say?” kuroo asks, furrowing his brows. 

“no, no,” you quickly wave him off, “what did you say?”

you heard him. even though you spoke at the same time as he did, you heard him. you think you misheard him but the paleness of kuroo’s face gives a hint that you must’ve heard him correctly.

“i’m uh,” he stammers, looking away from your wide eyes, “a vampire.”

you blink. a beat passes. and then another.

“kuroo, what the hell,” you sigh, lightly smacking his shoulder with your hand. “i thought you were really upset about something!”

kuroo raises his eyebrows in defense. “i am!”

“not if you’re playing jokes on me! not cool,” you huff, crossing your arms. “to think we were about to have an emotional heart to heart.”

“we are,” he empathisizes. “i’m telling you my deepest secret!”

“a vampire,” you deadpan with a dry laugh. “really?”

“you don’t believe me?”

you purse your lips together and your eyes slightly widen at the seriousness in kuroo’s tone. he isn’t exactly a bad liar but he seems especially truthful right now.

“kuroo, can’t you hear what you’re telling me right now?” did he really think you were so naive?

he nods along with your question. “right, right, i probably sound crazy-”

“-a little bit,” you quietly cut in.

“-but it’s true! i can prove it!”

sure, stories of vampires have always been around since you were younger but all you thought of them as were just myths, something to scare the kids with. in addition, there were all those mainstream movies made that just made vampires seem so made up. 

kuroo soon shut down all your doubts about what he was saying as soon as he bares his teeth for you to see. there’s no speculation needed because you saw his canines grow sharp and long right before you.

you do what any sane person would.

you shriek.

like a goddamn maniac.

you half expect to die right there on the spot, begging for your life as you kneel on the ground with your hands folded, promising to keep your close friend’s secret. to your surprise though, kuroo stands in front of you, doubled over in a laugh as he listens to your pleas. 

it’s amusing to him, really.

he wipes a tear from his eye and reaches for your arms when you stop screaming. “y/n, please,” he says in between laughs, lifting you from the floor. “i get that you’re a tad bit - okay, maybe not a tad bit - very dramatic but jeez, this is not the reaction i was expecting.”

“kuroo, you’re a vampire! what sort of reaction were you expecting? me going, ‘oh cool, wanna suck my blood?’”

he laughs at that, shaking his head at you.

“have you been a vampire this whole time?”

kuroo silently nods. “i tend to move around a lot, y’know, to avoid suspicion. i haven’t been to college in a while and i was interested in seeing the progression of it…and then i met you.”

never did you actually think of the possibilities that vampires, or any supernatural creatures for that matter, existed and knowing you’ve been friends with one for the past few months? this man has witnessed you simp over media made vampires, and now you’re absolutely embarrassed. 

“let’s backtrack to what you said though,” he smirks, tilting his head down at you. “you thought i was going to reject you?”

“huh? oh…psh, that was…that was nothing,” you stammer, attempting to seem nonchalant as you scoff and gesture a haphazard wave of your hand.

“because y/n, i told you solely for the opposite reason. i said i cared about you, didn’t i?” when you nod shyly, he continues. “i was debating on leaving…” your head shoots up at that, frown finding its way on your face. he’s quick to reassure you with a lopsided smile. “but i couldn’t leave you behind. i just couldn’t.”

“kuroo tetsuro,” you mutter, knocking your fist lightly against his chest in defeat. “you will be the death of me.” at the skeptical look on his face, you chuckle, “poor choice of words, my bad.”

“funny,” he smiles, hands finding home at your waist.

“so just to make things clear, what i’m hearing is that you trust me enough to tell your deepest, darkest secret? as in, you…you care-”

kuroo rolls his eyes in amusement at your bashful questions, deciding to cut you off by leaning down and kissing you. all your questions are answered at his action and you don’t hesitate to lean up and kiss him back.

to think you believed that your feelings weren’t reciprocated…

it took some time for the whole friend-being-a-vampire thing to fully register but realizing that your impression of kuroo hadn’t wavered - even though he drank blood bags like they were capri suns - you knew you wanted to keep him around.

thanks to kuroo, your general impression of vampires completely changed. if only you knew that one, vampires existed and two, they were just as human as well, a human. sure, they fed off of people’s blood which was still unnerving to believe but contrary to belief, vampires didn’t attempt to directly drink human blood, instead leaning more toward going to blood banks and smoothly getting blood from there. with new technology and dna testing, the secret of vampirism being real would definitely get out if the species was messy about it.

it was thoroughly enjoyable comparing apparent real life vampires to media’s versions of them. kuroo scoffed and snorted at every question you had comparing him to the twilight vampires.

then came the age question. how old was your boyfriend anyway? sure, he looked twenty-one but vampires are eternally young. to your dismay, kuroo waved you off not wanting to “scare you” as he put so you’re just sticking to the belief that he’s a thousand (that’s a bit dramatic but he can definitely act like a grandpa sometimes).

PRESENT

“i guess you’re right,” kuroo sighs to himself, shifting on his feet. then, a mischievous smile spreads on his face as if he thought of something. “then again, you hate when i’m dramatic so…” he trails off, taking a step closer to you. and then another.

“wait, what’re you doing?” you raise an eyebrow as you watch your boyfriend make his way closer to you. it wasn’t until he was right in front of you that you could see hives appearing on his skin and heard it sizzle. “tetsu, what the hell are you doing?”

“if I have to suffer in order to be happily close to my love, then so be it.” he outstretches his arms as if to hug you before you quickly dodged him by ducking underneath his arms.

“are you kidding me? you’ll fry the skin right off your arms, you maniac!”

the dumb smile on his face doesn’t falter when he begins walking over to you again. “but I want a hug.” he has you cornered at this point, so your only resort was to rip off the garlic and silver rings and just let him engulf you.

“you still smell gross so that’s a little painful,” kuroo murmurs into your hair, making you scoff. “i’m sorry, though. really. and if attempting to hug you with all your silly obstacles is how I have to show it, i will.” he squeezes you a bit tighter and placed a kiss onto your temple.

right…and you’re the dramatic one.

“god, you’re too human to be a bloodsucker. too cheesy.”

“you love it, though.”

“mm, no. i was interested when you had that dark and brooding aura.”

“oh yeah?” he arches an eyebrow, daring you to repeat yourself. 

“definitely.”

“well, damn,” he shakes his head disappointedly, “maybe you should find a dark and brooding guy to be your boyfriend then. i could use a little miss sunshine who doesn’t torture me.”

“good luck finding one,” you grin up at him, wrapping your arms around his neck, securely. “what other girl would date a dead guy?”

“you’d be surprised,” he chuckles lowly, making you smack his shoulder. “just kidding! you’re the only girl i need.”

you flush under his soft gaze and lean up to peck his jaw. “so…still up for making me dinner?” you smile cutely.

kuroo slightly leans away with a look of confusion. “i thought you said you ordered italian?”

“nah, i just wanted to piss you off a little further,” you giggle, causing him to laugh with you and shake his head. you pause and look at him seriously, “seriously though, i’m starving.”

“coming right up my dramatic little juicebox.” kuroo pinches your cheek lovingly before turning away from you to turn on the stove. what can he say? he’s a sucker for you, after all.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyu #haikyu!! #hq #hq!! #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu x fem!reader #haikyuu x female reader #hq x female reader #haikyuu fic #haikyuu longfic #haikyuu kuroo #haikyuu kuroo tetsuro #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo #kuroo tetsuro #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo fic #kuroo fluff #haikyuu au #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu oneshot #haikyuu one shot #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu imagine

[boyfhees]

𓈃 SAME OLD LOVE BEEF | t. kuroo

❝ and we'll wait for the 'it was real all along' moment. ❞

PRECIS. after getting humiliated by you on school's forum in the first year, kuroo made it his primary goal to get back at you. now, two years later, when you have seemingly forgotten about the incident, you ask him to pretend to be your boyfriend to drive away the boy who has been following you around lately.

your goal is to graduate peacefully and kuroo's new goal is to be your fake boyfriend and embarrass you so much that no one would want to date you ever again.

GENRE. enemies to lovers ! au, fake dating ! au, slight mutual pinning, humour, fluff

WARNINGS. mild profanities, kuroo makes very bad chemistry puns ( and pick up lines ) embarrassing and cringe ( i tried ) disgustingly cute at some point literally just two people experiencing love for the first time. + tba in the respective chapters

TAGLIST. comment / send an ask to join

NOTE. oh okay Okay . . . finally writing something after months, i hope my writing hasn't taken a turn for the worse. wanted to make this a oneshot but thought separate chapters would be better. this is not a smau. it consists of written chapters, which would take time so please be patient with the updates. ps im very proud of that poetry in chapter titles lol

CHAPTERS!

❝ one — yn my old friend ❝ two. — the one i lo(ath)ve the most ❝ three. — you make it hard to sleep ❝ four. — maybe we're destined to be ❝ five. — star crossed haters !!!

EXTRA!

you can request extra scenarios, or even make some if u want. anything listed below is either something i was unable to incorporate in main plot / unrelated to main plot but too good to leave out

،، one. coward and coward-er

taglist ( open ) : @awkwardaardvarkforever @is-this-a-fish-market @iwaso @hyeque @whorefornoodles @lovelytaes-blog @dani-shitting-around @luvwonies @itachislut @perqabeth @blue-peach14 @akebcshi @mysteriouslyclassyphantom @khinux

#prod. — caelin. #album. — haikyuu. #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fic #haikyuu long fic #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu kuroo #kuroo x reader #kuroo fic #kuroo long fic #kuroo fluff #haikyuu drabbles #kuroo drabble #haikyuu headcanons #kuroo headcanons #kuroo tetsuro #haikyuu longfic #hq kuroo #@ — sol !

[admiringlove]

fishes of the same pond

synopsis. a book. a boy. a shelf at the empty side of the library. and a sweet little spin of fate with romance and some pining. what could go wrong?

pairing. miya osamu x gn!reader.

genre. one-shot; fluff; angst; strangers/idiots to lovers; college au; fake-dating au.

word count. 12.5k (i know, i’m sorry)

warnings. swearing; miya dialect lmao; reader and osamu are both idiots.

author’s notes. this fic follows the japanese school year, not to be confused with an american school year! goes from april to the next year in march, with breaks in between :)

navigation. main menu, hq menu.

Your day was not going well. You overslept, the coffee shop was filled to the brim with teenagers(the barista said something about high schools taking a field trip to Tokyo), and you forgot to bring the printed copy of your essay into class for English. 

(You were lucky it was your best subject.)

And now here you were, the bell ringing as you packed up your laptop and textbook in your Economics class. You sighed, the weather was surely getting hotter. Soon you'd have to put the sweater vests you liked wearing in the depths of your closet and pull out t-shirts instead. Spring break had just finished, and here you were in your second year in college. It was April, and school had just started this month. 

You threw your backpack over your shoulder, brushing your hair away from your face with your hands as you walked down the stairs. You were going to head to the library now to finish up a few projects and get some reading done. It was usually fairly empty during this time of the day as classes just finished. People would start piling in here in an hour or two, so you think you'll have some free time before you can head to your part-time job. 

You hang your backpack by its straps on a chair before heading to a part of the library which isn't frequently visited. Your eyes dart around the section, and then you see it. You get on your tippy-toes, your hand touching the spine of the book. The glossy cobalt finishing of it feels good against your fingers. You huff as you jump a little, not being able to pull the book from its spot.

Who made these shelves? You think angrily, They're made for athletes and brutes, not for people with average height. 

You narrow your eyes, before jumping yet again. But then someone is behind you, and a larger hand is reaching for the same book you are. You turn around, confused and eyebrows furrowed. A boy with grey hair stands there, holding the book you want, as he asks, "The other one got checked out already, ya think ya can lend this to me for a bit?"

He's pretty, you ponder.

"I-um, I actually don't have much of it left to read. Only around twenty pages," you mumble, awkwardly fiddling with your fingers as you look at him. He's easy on the eyes, really. Hooded grey eyes that match his kind of disheveled grey hair, figure well-built, voice deep—

"Oh," he says, "I'll sit with ya then, you can finish up 'n I'll take it with me after. Sound good?"

You blink out of it, "U-uh yeah, sure."

Problem is, you have absolutely zero idea what he just said. He hands you the book, and you thank him before walking to your table in the corner. And he follows you. Your eyes widen when he sits on the chair in front of you. He pulls out his laptop before beginning typing, while you just sit there and watch him work. And for a second, his eyes drift from his screen to yours, "Aren't ya gonna read the book?"

(Why was he sitting here again? And why was his dialect so cute?)

You nod hesitantly, gulping on air as you pick up the book. How were you supposed to focus when a boy(who was so beautiful even the girls were probably jealous of him) sat in front of you and casually talked to you? It's not like this is your first interaction with a good-looking person, you've had plenty of them before. Hell, your best friends are some of the most attractive people you know. There was something different about this boy though, you feel like you've seen him somewhere and couldn't quite place it. You let out a shaky breath before finishing your book as hurriedly as you can.

And as you close it, he smiles at you. His flamingo pink lips curl, and he thanks you, "I'm Miya Osamu, by the way."

"[L/N] [Y/N]."

He nods, "Thanks, I'll see ya later."

You hoped not. This exchange was awkward enough already. 

The next day, you run into Miya Osamu.

Quite literally. You were afraid of being late for your English lecture because the Professor had told you that he was going to let you submit the essay you had forgotten yesterday. You were rummaging through your backpack, and then you bumped into someone's broad chest. And then you fell on your bum, in the middle of the fucking corridor. You get some stares from the people passing by. 

Why did today have to suck too? You mentally whine.

"Shit, 'm so sorry!" the person in front of you expresses, and helps you stand up. 

(Wait a minute. That voice sounds too familiar.)

"[Y/N]?" Miya Osamu stares at you, blinking every few seconds as you pant, "Hi, Osamu."

"You have English right now too?" he asks, pointing to the door. You nod, "Wait, what do you mean 'too'?" 

"I'm in this class," he says, smiling. You blink a few times, processing the information as you repeat what he just said like a parrot, "You're in this class."

"Yes," he nods, "Apparently you need English to become a business student."

He was studying business too?! You seriously wanted to slam your head into the wall. How was this boy, that you were sure you knew from somewhere, in the same classes as you and studied the same thing you did? And why was he so pretty?

The first bell rang, signaling that you had around a minute to get inside before you were officially late. You gave Osamu a tight-lipped smile as you say, "Gotta go" in a hurried yet hushed tone. He only nods, following you inside(just like how he followed you to your table yesterday). You hand the professor your five-thousand-word essay before walking to your seat in the third row. You glance back for a minute, only to find out that Osamu sits two rows behind you. 

(Maybe that's why you never noticed him.)

The professor begins talking about a big project, and you zone out for most of it. And then at the end, you manage to get a crucial detail. Your ears perk up, and your eyes widen as you hear your professor say, "I forgot to mention that this project is fifteen percent of your final grade, and you will need a partner for it as well. It's not due until the end of the year because you have around five or six very long books to sample and/or write reports for, and I will be assigning those in the following week. Make sure to get someone to partner up with you once class is over."

Crap.

Why did the English class need to have partners? Your friends aren't in this class, and even if one of them is, his lecture was the first one of the day. He's probably on the other side of campus right now. Damn it, Akaashi.

The lecture drones on for around forty-five minutes before you're dismissed. You're packing up your things again, thinking about how you're going to get a partner in this class. You don't even know anyone here. Your friends are either in different colleges or in different lectures. School just started anyway, and if everyone else partners up with someone then you'll be left alone. 

"[Y/N]," you hear a voice beside you. You blink profusely before shaking yourself out of your thoughts, "Wanna partner up with me?"

You look up, and Miya Osamu is standing right there. Besides your desk, tapping his foot, looking as ethereal as ever. You swear your breath hitches in your throat, and he continues, "I gotta warn ya though, 'm not really good at English. I just need this class for one year. You might have to tutor me or somethin'."

You nod, standing up with your backpack, "Alright, I guess... I guess we can be partners." 

Something about Miya Osamu's presence was comforting. He seemed to understand you were scared of talking to him, so he would ask you yes or no questions and then make conversations himself. Most of these topics involved food for some reason—you didn't question it, you were talking to him in broken words now, some shyness falling away when he talked about your favorite foods. You were in the library again, skimming through a few bookshelves to find a new book. Osamu followed you there, talking to you in a hushed tone to get to know you better. The two of you were going to work together for this project after all, so why not become friends, or acquaintances while you're at it? You mentally thanked him for trying more than you, even though he seemed like the quiet type. You're putting the book in your bag after checking it out as he asks, "Why are you studying business?"

"I wanna open a restaurant someday," you say, "Or some kind of coffee shop, I don't know. Like some place to make people comforted and also pleased with the environment."

"Oh," he ponders for a moment, "I'm studying so I can open a restaurant too."

(Oh come on, how many more things were you supposed to share with this guy? First, your classes. Now, your dreams too? Ugh.)

"Really?" you murmur, "Can I ask you why?"

It's not like you don't want to know. You do, really. He's pretty, and he looks like he's been on some sports team his whole life. You don't understand why someone like him would want to do anything with opening a restaurant. His eyes are like two pools of the sea in a storm. If you could look in them, stare at them, you could probably see the little white specks resemble lightning. 

"My whole life I grew up playin' volleyball. My brother loved it. It was like his whole life revolved around it too. People didn't like 'im up until high school when he started flirtin' around and colored his hair. And I guess somewhere in the middle-uv all that, I learned how to cook 'n fell in love with it. When my brother was in the gym durin' the weekends havin' no life whatsoever, I was experimentin' in the kitchen. And then I didn't wanna live in my brother's shadow anymore so I told him that, we fought 'n now 'm here. Studyin' 'cause I want my own restaurant- wait. I rambled, didn't I?" he sheepishly asks, rubbing the back of his neck. His dialect was more profound now, and it was attractive to hear him talking in it. It seems he grows more into it when he's excited or lost in thought. You smiled at him, a ghost of a giggle escaping your lips, "I guess you did."

"Sorry."

"No no, don't be," your eyes crinkle as you set the books down on the table, "It was kinda cute. I don't mind. My reason's more depressing, anyway."

"Ya don't have to tell me about it," his eyes feel gentle as they look back at yours. His stormy grey eyes are surely growing on you because you want him to keep staring at you. Sadly the split-second comes to an end as he asks, "Wait, we don't have the books for the assigned reading yet. What are we doin' here?"

"Remember when you said your English was weak?" you ask, pulling out a binder from your backpack. You open it, skipping the first few pages before you continue, "I'm good at it, maybe I can help you for a bit until we have to do the project. Because we're gonna have to split up work later and the reports need to flow together well. So, I thought I could help you, and it'll be like revising the material for me."

You genuinely don't know where this newfound confidence is coming from. Alright, maybe it wasn't newfound. You just felt at ease with Osamu. There was something about his presence that made you feel more comfortable than you have ever been. He didn't seem like the extroverted type, but he still made an effort to talk to you and keep up with the conversation even when you didn't put anything on the table. 

"R-really?" he stammers, "You'd do that?"

You nod. 

"I gotta warn ya though, I'm broke and I won't be able to pay ya for the lessons," he says, "Me and my brother live in a small one-room 'round three blocks away, 'n we both work to pay the rent."

"That won't be a problem," you laugh, "You don't have to pay me."

"You sound more and more unreal with every sentence that comes out of yer mouth."

"Let me get this straight, Miya Osamu is in your English class. And he's getting tutored by you for free. And you think he's hot."

"No, I was speaking in French and I said that I have a hot date tonight. What else do you think, dumbass?" you raised an eyebrow. Kuroo only shakes his head as he smirks at you, sipping from his beer. Akaashi sits next to you, shaking his head at the exchange. Until Bokuto speaks up, "Wait, the Miya Osamu?"

"You know him?" you ask, voice louder than before. Kuroo starts laughing, and honestly, everyone else does too. Kenma lets out a giggle, even though he continues playing Mario Kart on his Playstation. Akaashi shakes his head again, but this time with a small chuckle, "Come on, guys. It's not like I asked you the most obvious question in the world."

"You kinda did," Kenma's eyes crinkle, "Everyone knows the Miya twins."

Wait. The Miya twins?!

"No fucking way," you murmur, "No fucking way! I knew he sounded familiar!"

"Can you not scream in my ear, please?" Akaashi deadpans, "I'm pretty sure Kuroo and Bokuto know a lot about him anyway, they were usually the ones to talk to them the most. Bokuto is in the same program as Atsumu for volleyball coaching too."

"Oh yeah, Osamu stopped doing volleyball," Kuroo perks up, "Something about a restaurant, I don't know. But Atsumu's still one of the best setters I know."

"So tell us more about you finding him hot," Bokuto wiggles his eyebrows, "Are you gonna give us details?"

"Literally nothing happened between us," you narrow your eyes, "I'm tutoring him. That's all."

"Maybe you should ask him to cook you food. That's top tier romance right there," Kuroo ruffles your hair as he gets up to walk to the fridge. You reckon he's going there for more beer, but he pulls out a frozen pizza instead. 

You huff, "Maybe I will."

You hate the fact that you run into Miya Osamu in the library during lunch break the very next day.

His eyes glimmer when they land on you, and the sandwich you had taken a bite out of mere seconds before feels as dry as the Sahara desert in your mouth as soon as you spot him. 

He walks over, putting his bag on the floor next to his chair as he says, "How's yer day been so far?"

You roll your eyes at the question, "Like it always is. Crappy. The lady at the coffee shop made my drink too sweet, and then I tripped on the way to my first lecture."

He laughs—and boy is it melodic. You swear this is what heaven feels like when you enter it because no way in hell(Sorry, God.) can someone sound this beautiful while laughing. Damn you, Miya.

"Here," he hands you an onigiri. You stare at it for a second, before hesitantly taking it from him, "What about you?" 

"I finished eating my lunch already. Packed an extra for my idiot brother, but he ate from his girlfriend's lunch," Osamu's face becomes sour when he mentions his brother's girlfriend, but it only lasts a split second. He then looks over at the book in front of you, "Oh, is that Shakespeare?" 

You hum, "At least one of Shakespeare's plays are going to be in our report, might as well read through a few, right?"

"You're somethin' else," he shakes his head, giving you a shy smile, "Seriously, if I paid attention in English instead of writing down recipes in my journal, I'd probably be better off."

And that was the moment you took a bite out of Osamu's onigiri. You are so sure that you made a weird sound as you gulped, but he only winces as he asks, "Is it bad?"

"Are you kidding?" you furrow your eyebrows, "It's the opposite!"

"Really?" he perks up, "I've been tryin' out new ingredients, and I usually test 'em on 'Tsumu because I don't care if he gets an upset stomach."

"This should be your payment for my lessons, holy shit," you say, taking another bite. He chortles, and you only blink at him before he points at his nose. You tilt your head in confusion before he reaches his left hand to your face and picks something off the top of your nose, "You had a rice speck on yer nose."

Your face heats up and you can swear you want to die in a hole right about now. You also wish he fed you the rice speck, because that would've been oddly sexual. But before you could finish that thought, your mouth speaks on its own, "T-thanks."

"Y'know what?" Osamu says, "Done deal, 'm gonna bring ya lunch every day in the library. How 'bout that?"

"Sounds great, Miya," you say, a shy yet inviting smile taking over your lips.

A few weeks pass. Now that your professor has assigned you the said books and plays, you spend an awful lot of your time with Osamu. He brings you your lunch at the library every day, and you find everything he makes delicious. Seriously, if this boy ends up becoming a chef, his restaurant's going to be filled with the entire city. If not, the entire country.

And every woman—and man, to be honest. He's too pretty for just women to fall for him—that walks through the doors of his restaurant is probably going to ogle at him the entire time she's there. Your spine shuddered at the thought. 

Not to mention, Osamu doesn't just spend his lunch-time with you. No, he also spends after-school hours with you(whenever you're free, that is) learning English and reading Shakespeare. Sometimes you study in the library, or in the coffee shop that apparently both of you visited in the mornings. The only difference was that he ordered a chai and you liked coffee more. 

"Okay, okay," Osamu laughs, "Lemme read the part. 'But that I love the gentle Desdemona, I would not my unhousèd free condition put into circumscription and confine for the sea’s worth. But look, what lights come yond?'. Did I say that right?"

"Good job!" you clap, "Your next pastry's on me, okay?"

"Might do my work more seriously if ya start buyin' me pastries for every time I pronounce somethin' right," he jokes. You throw him a playful glare before you say, "Okay wait, I'm gonna send you some audio files for practice so you can listen to them and multi-task, okay? It'll make it easier, so you don't have to carry around the whole script for Othello around all the time."

"Yer sayin' 'm supposed ta listen ta this crap instead of music while cookin' or runnin'?" he raises an eyebrow. You nod, "Or, save some time before sleeping and practice in front of a mirror. This is more awkward and cringy, though."

"Cookin’ and runnin’ it is!" he exclaims.

Another week passes. You're on your shift at the local bakery when Osamu walks in. 

He doesn't notice you just yet, and you take the chance to swiftly attempt to walk into the kitchen. There's another person on the other side of the counter, so even if Osamu wants to place an order, they'll probably step in for you. You glance behind you, and just as you're about to turn the corner, you hear your name. 

"[Y/N]?" 

Shit. He saw you. 

"H-hey," you mutter, turning slowly. Your lips hold a wobbly smile, and your hand raises and hangs in the air awkwardly. You walk up to the register, and a small smirk falls on the younger Miya's lips. He quirks an eyebrow at you, "So you work here, huh?"

"Place your order," you ignore his statement and grit your teeth, "What would you like to order today?"

"Never been here before, recommend me somethin'," he chuckles, "I try out random bakeries and coffee shops once in a while."

You hum, a small grin falling on your face, "Well, we did just finish freezing a fresh batch of cheesecakes. Pick one and I'll serve it for you."

"Ya got strawberry?" he smiles. You nod, clicking the option on the register, "When's your shift end?"

You ponder for a moment, thinking whether or not you want to answer the question. Who are you even kidding? Of course, you do. You check your wristwatch, "Um, ten minutes."

"'Kay so make that two slices, and bring it ta me in ten minutes. Along with yerself," he says. Your face heats up as random erotic thoughts fill your brain; Osamu and you, right here in front of everyone, and his lips nibbling on your—

"Are ya okay?"

You cough, covering your face with one hand to hide your embarrassment. He gives you a cheeky smile before seating himself in a window seat, and waves at you from his spot once he's settled. You shake your head. 

God, he's going to be the death of you. 

A few more people walk in, and you place their orders as Osamu watches you fondly from his seat. His face is resting on his palm, that's supported by his elbow on the table. His backpack is hanging off the chair, and he pretends to stare at his phone whenever you look back. 

You could've sworn he was looking at you, though. It felt like his eyes were drilling holes through you, and you were sweating more than usual due to all the built-up nervousness. That asshole.

The alarm on your digital watch rings, and you quickly turn it off before walking inside the kitchen. A heavy sigh comes out of your lips as you remove your apron, and pick up the two plates on the table before walking outside. Osamu shifts in his seat as you approach the table and sit in front of him, "Stop smiling like that, idiot."

"Like what?" he sheepishly asks, "Is smilin’ illegal now?"

You shake your head as you tell him to eat his cheesecake, "So."

You had never really been alone with him for anything other than your stupid project. And lunch was usually spent talking about the project or practicing English together, so this felt new. 

"I forgot to tell ya, I finished learnin' all the recordings," he says, taking a spoonful of cheesecake in his mouth, "Also, this is really good."

"This bakery's pretty authentic, you know. And sometimes if stuff gets left over, they let us take it home for free. There's been times when me and my roommate, Mika, had cakes for dinner and breakfast," you shrug. Osamu looks at you in awe, and you're sure that if you paused this moment he'd start drooling any time now, "Maybe I should quit my job at the garage 'n just come work here instead."

"You work with cars?" you ask. He nods, "Yep, 'n this one time we got an old one that was really screwed up. My boss said that if any one of us fixed it, we'd get to keep it."

"Did you get it?" you ask, a little glimmer in your eyes. Osamu smiles, looking outside the window. You follow his line of sight to find an old yellow car standing in the lot—it was really small, and it genuinely looked like some old lady from the fifties drove it. You try to stop yourself from laughing, but you fail. Osamu narrows his eyes at you, a tiny blush covering his cheeks, "Shut up."

"That car is- oh my god," you snicker, "'Samu, it looks like a ninety-year-old woman owns that car."

"Yeah, it's old but it gets me places 'n I got it for free," he justifies, grumpily taking a bite of his cheesecake as he continues, "I even got some other stuff installed in it from my salary!"

"Like what?" you ask, teasingly. He huffs, "Well, for starters, a music system! Doesn't have bluetooth, but I installed an aux. A sun-roof 'n better tires too."

"It's cute," you giggle. He scoffs, "'M startin' ta think that's more of an insult than a compliment."

You were in a hurry today. 

Summer break started from tomorrow. Which meant you had three weeks off of school, extra shifts at the bakery, and homework from every class to complete. Sometimes you would try to find time to go out with your friends—Mika would kill you if you didn't spend at least a few days of break with her, and you wanted to see Osamu. Your heart felt giddier, thinking about how you'd try to go and try some coffee shops with him(he'd insisted you come along next time after he visited your bakery), or ask him to make you some food. The two of you hadn't talked about how your breaks would go, and you're pretty sure you wouldn't get to see him today. He wasn't in English, and you didn't see him during recess either. 

You were growing worried. What if you don't get to see him during the holidays at all? It's not like your summer would be ruined if you didn't see him, it would just... not be how you imagined it. You had daydreamed about sitting home and having Disney marathons with Mika without having to worry about classes, going outside with Osamu and ordering things you didn't know how to pronounce(random french words had become popular on coffee shop menus these days)—mostly, you had only thought about how you'd ogle him whenever he wasn't paying attention to you. Now that you thought about it, you felt a little guilty about that.

(And kind of like a creep. Yikes.)

Classes were over for the day, and you were hurrying home. Mika had said she was going to bring her boyfriend home tonight so he could meet you. And you remembered Kuroo telling you how much he hated the Nohebi Captain for saying the exact things that tended to piss him off. You couldn't wait, mostly because now you'd have a new friend who liked to irritate Kuroo as much as you did. 

"Crap," you mumbled, checking your phone. 

Your eyes crinkle as you hold back a chuckle, pushing the key into the lock of your apartment. You leave your shoes in the rack, opting for your bunny slippers as you begin to change into comfortable pajamas.

It's almost four, and there's a knock at your door. You've barely walked out of your room. You furrow your eyebrows. Mika shouldn't be here this early, you were just texting her half an hour ago.

You don't expect Miya Osamu to be standing at your door, with a thick textbook in hand as he gives you a small grin, "Hey, you forgot this at yer desk. Came ta see ya before ya left but, you were gone. Professor gave me this and told me ta give it to ya."

"'Samu," you tilt your head and say his name breathily, heart fluttering as you continue, "Thank you."

"No problem," he says. For a second there, the two of you stop. The whole world fades away somehow, and you're staring into his eyes. He's looking in yours, and the smile on his lips doesn't wipe off for even a split second. But then the moment ends.

"I-uh," he pauses, "I should go."

He turns, beginning to walk away but your voice speaks his name before you even have a chance to think, "Osamu, wait!"

He does. He stops and turns to look at you. You try to smile as you say, "Wanna stay over until after dinner? My roommate's bringing her boyfriend and extra takeout."

And you hope he says yes. You close your eyes shut, and you hope he says okay. You can hear your heartbeat fasten, and your mind running at the speed of Usain Bolt.

"Sure."

It feels like a thousand pounds have been taken off of your shoulders, you audibly let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, and you open the door wide open as you let Miya Osamu in.

And that's when you realize, this is the first time he's actually inside your apartment. He has given you a ride home after work a couple of times, so that's how he knows where you live, but he's never really been inside. The nervousness in your stomach builds up again as you ask, "Wanna watch a movie?"

He gives you a toothy grin in return.

Sometime later, Mika and her boyfriend come home and the hours pass by within a blink. You didn't mind most of it, except when Mika tried to tease you about Osamu when he was grabbing something from the kitchen with Daishо̄. You slapped your hand over her mouth, face as red as a tomato then. It's a little past midnight now as Daishо̄ gets ready to leave, and you decide to walk Osamu to his car. 

The city sounds muffled, almost, as the two of you giggle against each other's warmth. You say something and Osamu laughs, and it just so happens that in this moment, you don't want the crinkle of his eyes and the upturn of his lips to disappear. You say something again, he hides his face by looking the other way as he continues laughing. 

It feels so perfect. So comfortable. You want this one instant to last an eternity. He looks over at you, his grey eyes inquisitive as he says, "Ya look a little sad. Somethin' wrong?"

"Um, no," you shake your head, chuckling, "Nothing's wrong."

"Yer makin' that face when ya feel sad but ya don't wanna show it," he stands against his car, "But keep yer secrets."

You smile almost bitterly, as you take a step forward and stand next to him, placing your back against his car. He looks at you, his head slightly tilted in the most innocently caring way as you lean yours against his shoulder. You feel him stiffen underneath at first, but then, he calms down. And he leans against your touch, barely whispering, "What's wrong?"

"Today was really fun," you mumble, "And I don't want it to end."

He lets out a small breath, "Oh."

"Yeah."

It feels peaceful like this, against his warmth. There’s an unsaid understanding and the night air feels like a blanket on a wintery morning, holding the two of you close. There are muted city sounds in the background, and there's slight tension in the air until he interrupts the silence. 

"Y'know," he pauses, "Whenever I used to play volleyball with my brother back in high school, it felt exactly like this. ‘Twas exhilarating. We practiced every day, we went home 'n we played volleyball in the backyard at night, doin' sets 'n receives till we could barely keep our eyes open. When I told him I didn't wanna do it anymore, he got mad. I understood why—anyone would be mad if the person that's been there for their whole lives just up and leaves 'em one day. But now, he has way better people by him, people who are just as hardworkin' as him. And I couldn't be happier for him. He's where he belongs."

After a long pause, you whisper, "But I belong here, ‘Samu. I don't want better people. I want you."

You find him blushing, and maybe it's the liquid courage in your system that caused you to say what you just did. Oh God, you were so stupid. How could you say something like that? You panic, "Well, and my friends. You're my friend too. Th-That's why I said what I said."

He laughs, eyes crinkling as they reflect the moonlight back at you. You laugh too—it feels like this moment could last forever as the two of you hold onto your stomachs because of how much it hurts, holding onto the top of his car for support. 

Sometime after a small conversation about a topic you can't remember anymore, he opens the door of his car. You stand there, hands fidding with the hem of your jacket as a blush overtakes your cheeks. Just as he's about to sit inside, he turns and looks back at you and says what's easily the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to you. 

"Just so ya know," he pauses, "I don't want a better person either. I want you.”

Months pass. 

After that night, you ended up spending most of your summer at work or with your friends. Osamu made guest appearances every now and then—you were always doing something that grounded you when you were with him, it was prosaic but somehow you loved it. Sometimes you'd catch yourself imagining something more with him. And you liked how mundane it sounded. How everything would be simple, and how you wouldn't have to fight to keep your relationship interesting because you would have some place or food to talk about. When the daydreaming reached a certain limit, you would mentally scold yourself before continuing with whatever you were doing before. 

Fall passes too, but this time you spent more time with Osamu than anyone else. Even though you usually spend your autumn seasons with your friend group; cuddled up watching movies, playing video games in Kenma's apartment, or reading books with Akaashi at the library. This time, you spent your fall evenings with Osamu at the coffee shop. A cup of chai at your disposal as you and the boy you were hopelessly in love with talked about anything and nothing at the same time—wait. 

It's December 22 today, and it's also six-twenty-five in the morning when you realize your crush on Miya Osamu isn't just a simple crush. He's been on your mind ever since you caught sight of him, and there's not one day that goes by where he isn't running around in your brain. It wasn't a completely sudden thought, the realization was moreso an 'oh' moment. You stopped in your tracks, you thought "oh", and then you continued getting ready for class. 

You bump into him before English, and he gives you a quick smile before walking inside. He seems like he's thinking about something really deeply—he appears troubled, honestly. Like he's trying to find a solution to something but he just can't seem to think of an answer. Your eyes try to find him in the coffee shop after classes. You don't have work today because the owner of the bakery needed to go to Osaka for some business so the shop is closed until tomorrow.

(You reckon you'll be swamped until Christmas day. Ugh.)

The boy your eyes were aching to see walks inside, looking around quizzically until he spots you. He waves before walking over and placing his backpack beside him at the booth, "One more day until Winter Break, got anythin’ planned?"

"Nope, not really. I'll probably go to my parents' house on Christmas Eve to give them gifts and have dinner. They'll do the same thing as they always do, ask me about college and if I have a partner. And then I'll come back to the apartment in the morning or at night, depending on what I feel like doing."

He hums half-mindedly, and you furrow your eyebrows. He looks lost in thought, and you snap him out of his trance when you ask, "Something on your mind?"

He shakes his head before he notices the waiter coming over with two drinks. She places them on the table and leaves, and Osamu sends you a smile and mumbles "thank you" before sipping on the hot chocolate almost immediately. 

"'Samu, I know you well enough to understand when something's bothering you. Come on, tell me what's wrong," you say, narrowing your eyes, "Did your brother do something stupid?"

You'd had the courtesy of meeting Miya Atsumu during summer break. You were at Osamu's apartment, helping him cook the new recipe he'd thought of. Atsumu had burst into the apartment brashly, loud as ever, as another boy followed him. You looked over at them, offering a small smile as Osamu greeted them and introduced you. You found out that the kids from Inarizaki were very much like your friends. There was a chaotic side and a quieter side. You could easily guess who took up the seats on the chaotic side. During autumn, you'd ended up introducing Bokuto to Atsumu when you bumped into the setter at the mall. You were shopping for a scarf because somehow, Bokuto wanted to dress like Akaashi more. The two apparently knew each other from their volleyball program already so they hit it off as if they’ve been friends for ages. And then somewhere along the way, your friends became friends with Osamu's friends. 

"Actually yeah, he did," Osamu nods, putting his cup down as he groans, "He's had a girlfriend for about six months now. Yesterday when ma video-called us from Hyogo, Atsumu kept showin’ ‘er photos of him and his girlfriend. It was stupid of me to feel criticized, but I ended up blurting out that I had a partner too."

You choke on your drink, and when you stop coughing, you start laughing. Osamu's expression switches from a concerned one to an offended one in milliseconds, and that only makes you laugh more, "You're so stupid."

"No, my brother is stupid. I hate 'im with everything I have," he groans as he takes his head in his hands, "Why did I have to get all competitive?"

"It's kind of who you are when it comes to your brother," you giggle. Before you can continue, his phone rings. The shop is quiet today, there are only around seven or eight people here in total. And although Osamu didn't put his phone on speaker, you could still make out a few words the other person is saying. It's his mother—you pretended that you couldn't listen to what she was saying, even though you probably didn't need to. 

"Ya called me earlier than ya usually do, what'd you need?" he asks, his voice is gentle and it makes you smile that he keeps in touch with his parents so often. It was an adorable trait to have. His mom says something about Christmas dinner, and he mumbles that he'll be on time this time and that he fell asleep on the train last time and ended up getting off three stations late. You chuckle at that, taking another sip as you wait for his mother's next words. 

You're not entirely sure what she said, but you did hear the words "bring", "partner", and "home". You try to hide your gaze, pulling out your phone as you check the English assignment. The two of you had one last play to complete the report for, you'd already submitted every other one. You'd forgotten for a moment that Osamu was talking to his mom, and you called his name to ask him a question. 

Osamu says your name back. And then, his eyes widen. He places his other hand on his mouth. 

His mother's next words are clearly heard by you, "Is [Y/N] your partner? Can you please bring them home for Christmas?"

Shit, shit, shit, you widen your eyes. 

"Ma, hold on-"

But she keeps talking, "Osamu, I don't wanna hear it, alright? Bring 'em home. Atsumu's bringin' his girl home, and I wanna see how yer doin' for yerself."

You wish you hadn't heard that. Osamu panics, says okay, ends the call as quickly as he can, and looks at you with the most worrisome expression you have ever seen in your entire life. You sputter, "W-what?"

"I fucked up," he says, his voice quieter than usual. It's barely a whisper. 

"How?" you knew. But you still had to ask to make sure it was all real. He hides his face behind his hands, whispering again, "Oh, I fucked up."

"What did you do?"

"My ma heard me say yer name and now she thinks we're dating," he mumbles, "Wants me to bring ya home."

You blink. This was very real. You didn't think it through but it was so, so real. Your lips were slightly parted and before your brain could burst, you grabbed your mug and chugged it as if it was your last day on planet Earth.

(You shouldn’t be feeling glad though. Why were you happy? Why was your heart beating four time faster? You don’t even know if he feels the same way yet.)

The table becomes quiet for a few minutes. But then, Osamu breaks the silence, "Can I ask ya a favor?"

"Um, sure," you nod. You didn't know what he was going to ask. You were pretty sure it would be something bizarre, but you didn't want to question it until the time actually came. 

"Couldja come to meet my ma? I mean, it would be a one time thing. Please?" he asks. His eyes are big, brows raised and he almost seems desperate. How were you supposed to say no to this face?

"'Samu-"

"Nah, forget it. This was stupid to even ask of someone. ‘M sorry, I should probably go-”

“‘Samu,” you smile, grabbing his hand, “It’s okay, I’ll do it.”

“Wait- fuck, seriously?” he asks. He looks at you as if you just made the impossible happen. There’s a ghost of a smile on his lips, looking back at you in disbelief. 

You hum, "Mmhmm. Besides, it's only a one-time thing like you said. We'll manage."

"You're a lifesaver," he says breathily, "I dunno what I'd do without ya."

"You'd be embarrassed, that's what," you chuckle solemnly, "And also, you'd be bad at English."

He laughs—and God, is it melodic. You think about what it would be like if you were really his partner. Meeting his mother for Christmas sounds like something a real partner would do. If only you were confident enough to tell him how you really felt.

(You weren’t. So you’d have to stick to fake-dating instead.)

"Hey," he smiles at you. You wave back as you walk up to him. His breath fogs up as it comes out of his mouth, and you ask, "So we're gonna have lunch and dinner with your mom and then take the train back home?" 

"That's the plan," he nods, "Okay, sweetheart, c'mon. Let's go."

You laugh at the nickname. Even though there's assumably a very prominent blush coating your cheeks, you decide to blame it on the cold weather if he ever asks you about it. The train station is quite empty—you're sure most people are at home spending the holiday with their families like Osamu was about to in a few hours. And you were scared of this whole fake relationship thing. What if his mother somehow found out that all of this was a front because Osamu chose to remain single, unlike his brother? 

It sent chills down your spine. 

Once you sat on the train, Osamu says, "Alright let's practice."

"Ugh," you groan, "Not this again."

"What are we gonna say if she asks how we met?" he raises an eyebrow at you. You roll your eyes, taking his backpack and pulling out the bento from it as you answer, "We tell her the truth but we add some spice to it. Y'know, cheesy romantic things."

"Good," he nods, "And what if she asks how we began dating?"

You take a bite out of the first onigiri, humming at the taste as you reply, "Uh... You came to the bakery where I worked and asked me out on a date instead of giving me your order?"

"Good enough," he chuckles. And then his eyes stop at your lips. You blink a few times before asking, "What's wrong?"

He doesn't say anything for a second. He just continues staring at your lips. Osamu's hand then cups your chin, his thumb swiping against your lip. He then removes his hand from there as if nothing happened and says, "You had rice on your face."

Fuck, you panic. You’re blushing. Why did he have to make your heart race like that at the most random times? Why is he so dense about it, too? 

(And why can’t you ever eat an onigiri properly? Is the rice made of glue or something?)

Time passes by. The two of you arrive sooner than you'd expected. And you're standing outside Miya Osamu's childhood home in Hyogo when you suddenly feel sick to your stomach. This felt wrong and right at the same time. You wanted it to be real, but you felt like a liar. The bouquet you held in your hand felt hollow.

"You don't look too good," you hear Osamu say, "What's wrong?"

"Don't you think that maybe we shouldn't... lie to your mother?" you mumble, looking up. He nods, walking over to you. His eyes are sincere, and he gives you a small smile, "You're right. But I'd rather lie to her than disappoint her again this year."

You pause before breaking out a small laugh, "Screw you, that's kind of adorable."

"What can I say? ‘M a good son."

He then knocks on the front door and stands there with you. And just as he hears the turn of the knob, he intertwines his fingers with yours.

"’Samu?" his mother appears, hugging him tightly as soon as she sees him, "Oh, it's so good to see ya."

Her eyes land on you as she pulls away from him, and she gives you a warm smile before hugging you. You hand her the bouquet, and she hugs you again before pulling you inside. Osamu pouts, "Ya know yer my ma, right?"

"It's the first time you've brought someone home. Play nice, 'Samu."

His mother walks you inside after the two of you take your shoes off at the genkan. You sit in the living room, and his mom tells you to wait on the couch as she goes into the kitchen to fetch you something to drink. "Okay so," Osamu chuckles as he sits down next to you, "-ya can't back out now even if you wanted to. Ya haven't even talked to her properly and she loves ya more than me."

You laugh, cheeks turning a rosy pink. What his mother said struck something inside of you. Even if you weren't Osamu's partner, this was still the first time he'd brought someone home. You look away from his gaze, "Where's your brother?" 

"He'll probably be here in an hour or something," Osamu checks his phone, "He's near Kyoto right now, so he'll be here just before lunch."

You hum. His mother comes back into the room holding a tray with three glasses of water and some snacks before setting them up on the coffee table. She sits down next to you, and gushes as she asks, "Now dear, tell me how the two of you met." 

You share a glance with Osamu, and he gives you a small nod. You muster up the warmest grin you can, "I think it was the first week of this year. I was in the library, looking for this English book. And I'm reaching to grab it, but it's on the top shelf. 'Samu grabs it from next to me, and that's how we began talking."

"That sounds like a romance television show I've been watching recently," she squeals, "Absolutely adorable!"

You blush, "Thank you, Miya-san."

"You can consider me yer mother whenever yer comfortable, by the way. I blame ‘Samu for never bringing anyone home ta meet me. He's so picky with people, 'n he's closed off, too," she narrows her eyes at her son, who only hides by facepalming, "Again, you're supposed ta be my mother. Not [Y/N]'s."

"Oh, hush now."

Lunch passed quite smoothly. The only thing that didn't go according to plan was the fact that Atsumu had come alone. And that ticked your pretend boyfriend off more than it was supposed to.

(He kept grumbling about it under his breath. It was kind of cute, to be honest.)

You managed to get through the meal without a fight breaking out between them, except for a few snarky remarks here and there. Miya-san made sure they behaved throughout the afternoon, grabbing one of them by the ear whenever they said something remotely rude.

"Oh!" their mother exclaims, "I found somethin' when I was cleaning the other day, 'n I was saving it to show you three today."

She gets up from the kitchen table, walking over to a shelf near the corner of the room. Her eyes skim through the cookbooks there, and she picks one with a brown spine and brings it over to the table. Atsumu immediately groans when he sees the cover.

It's a family photo album.

(Your heart skips a beat, because now you really want to know what Osamu looked like as a child.)

You grin excitedly as she opens the first page. There's a photo of the twins as toddlers—wearing matching sweaters and playing with a red ball. You gush at how cute they are. When you look toward Osamu, you find him hiding his face in embarrassment. You giggle, flipping the page.

"This is when these two were six or seven, they got in an argument 'bout somethin' stupid 'n then came down for dinner. Stopped fightin' as soon as they sat down and saw that there was ramen and tuna," Mrs. Miya laughs slightly, pointing to the two boys smiling at the dinner table. A certain warmth spreads across your face as your fingers trace Osamu's face on the photo. He looks adorable, even without the signature grey hair. His eyes are closed in the photo, his smile reaching ear-to-ear as he holds his chopsticks. A small chuckle escapes your lips as his mother flips the page. They're in high school now, and it's one of their national matches where they're standing side by side. Atsumu's arm is over his brother's shoulder, and they're both smiling in victory.

"I'll mail this album to you if ya want," she says to you, "I have plenty others sitting in my room upstairs."

"That would be very nice," you give her a cordial smile.

It's around six o'clock in the evening when Osamu takes you upstairs to show you his childhood room. He opens the door, revealing a bunk bed and two desks—along with walls filled with posters of different kinds. There's a shelf with books on it on one side of the room, and the other side has a shelf filled with volleyball trophies and equipment. It smells like cheap deodorant and room freshener, and Osamu says, "Well, here it is."

"You were a Spice Girls fan?" you laugh, pointing to a poster on the wall. Osamu groans in disgust, "That's 'Tsumu's, he used ta think they were hot so he kept a poster of them in our room. Idiot never dated around in high school but he was a major simp."

You laugh. Your eyes land on a photo frame on the volleyball shelf. It's them and their father. It looks like the photo was taken after they won a game in high school, and he's hugging the two of them in joy. You beam at it, until Osamu speaks up, "That's my pops."

"I could tell," your voice is soft, barely above a whisper. He nods, "He passed away in my Senior year of high school."

Your eyes widen at the confession, "Osamu, I'm so sorry-"

"Nah," he shakes his head, "Don't worry 'bout it. 'Tsumu took it worse than me, anyway."

"That doesn't mean it hurt any less for you," you mumble, caressing his shoulder. He looks down at you, letting out a small breath as he smiles, "Thank you."

"You don't thank friends, dummy," you grin, wrapping your arms around him, "C'mere."

He hugs you back hesitantly at first, but as soon as you've completely wrapped yourself with him, he calms down. His breathing is shallow and deep at the same time and he wonders what he'd do without you. You've got his head spinning with how you speak to him. He doesn't know what hit him today.

“Y’know,” he says, pausing, “My old man taught me how ta cook fish properly. We went on a camping trip with ‘im once, and we went fishin’. I caught a big fish that day so he said he’d teach me how ta cook it on a grill. It’s one of my fondest memories of ‘im.”

“That’s touching,” you whisper against his chest, “And now you’re gonna open a restaurant and make him proud.”

“Ya think?”

“Yeah,” you say, “He would be proud of how far you’ve come. You’re kinda amazing, you know.”

He laughs, and it echoes through the room. It’s like the two of you are in your own personal bubble. The outside world doesn’t exist in here, and it gives off a bucolic feeling. 

You speak up again, "You don't have to tell me anything you don't feel comfortable with. But I'm always here, okay?"

"You start sayin' things like that and maybe we don't gotta lie to my ma about us anymore," he jokes, "Shit, sorry."

"No, it was funny," you nod, even though you wish he'd meant it. Damn him for saying things like that.

"Hey guys, Ma's callin' us down for dinner- crap, did I interrupt somethin'?" Atsumu stops by the door. You get startled, flinching away from Osamu as you face the door. You shake your head no, walking towards the stairs and leaving the twins behind. You can hear their chatter behind you—it's muffled and it sounds like Atsumu apologizing to his brother but then the two argue about something. Your eyes search for their mother, and you spot her setting the table. You shuffle towards her, letting out a small sigh.

"Somethin' wrong?" she asks softly. You shake your head as you help her place the silverware next to the plates. She continues, "'Samu likes ya very much, y'know."

You raise an eyebrow at the statement, gesturing for her to continue, "He calls me every other day. And half the time, the boy only talks about you. He's head over heels for ya, by the way. Don't tell ‘im I said that."

"Miya-san," you pause, "I don't think-"

"What are you two talkin' about?" Atsumu enters the room, Osamu following shortly after. He throws you a small smile, which you return. The two of you sit next to each other, the air suddenly filling up with tension.

“You feelin’ okay?” he whispers. You give him a reassuring smile in return, putting your hand over his as you nod.

Dinner goes by smoothly, and then the two of you head out after saying your goodbyes. It takes another four hours to get back to Tokyo—that you spend sleeping. When you wake up, you realize Osamu’s sleeping too. 

“Osamu,” you nudge him slightly, “Wake up, we’re gonna be home any minute now.”

And now, you’re in front of your apartment building as Osamu stands before you. He smiles, the moon breaking through his hair. It’s almost midnight, which means Christmas will be over in a few minutes. 

“Oh,” he exclaims, “Forgot ta give ya somethin’.”

He reaches into his bag, pulling out a small card as he begins saying, “Since we both want ta open a restaurant later on after college,” he pauses, licking his lips as he makes eye contact, “-why don’t we do it together?”

You gasp, looking at the card in his hands. There’s a small onigiri in the middle of it, and not much else, honestly. The card doesn’t even have a name on it. It’s just a small logo, and at the two bottom corners are your names. 

“’Samu,” you say, as quietly as you can, “That sounds wonderful.”

“I-I didn’t get a chance ta name it somethin’ because I wanted to ask yer opinion about it,” he chuckles, “What do ya think will be the name of our restaurant?”

You smile, thinking about today. Every single moment; from the train ride to Hyogo or when he told you about the death of his father. It all felt so special—so precious to you. Your eyes become glassy as you ponder about the question for a moment before you take a small breath, “Onigiri Miya.”

“W-what?” Osamu looks baffled when you look up at him again, “You want ta name it after me?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “I do.”

He doesn’t say much after that. He only stands there for a few seconds, processing the information before he wraps his arms around you. He thanks you, but you don’t know what he’s thanking you for. He breaks the embrace, and suddenly all the air around the two of you feels emollient. He smiles widely, and you take the chance to press a small peck on his cheek. 

“Merry Christmas, Osamu,” you whisper, “I’m sorry I couldn’t get you a gift in return.”

He laughs, “Trust me, the best gift ya could’ve given me is Onigiri Miya.”

And just then, you realize you love Miya Osamu way too much for your own good. 

"You have got to be kidding me," Kuroo yells, "One day you have a silly little high school crush on Miya Osamu, the next day you're lying to his mother about being his partner? What the actual fuck were you thinking?"

You were glad you hadn't told them about Onigiri Miya yet, because almost all of them(Kenma being the only exception) were asking you questions. Even Akaashi. 

"Hold on, how did this even happen?" Akaashi asks, placing a bookmark inside his book before closing it. You take a sip of your beer, "Uh, we were sitting at the coffee shop when his mom called him. She misunderstood something he said, and then one thing led to another."

"That- oh my god, you're an idiot," Kuroo exclaims, "That is not a valid answer for the question Akaashi asked."

"What do you mean?" you narrow your eyebrows. Kuroo facepalms, "Give us the details, you dummy."

"Oh," you mumble, "Honestly, there isn't much. We just went to his mom's house, then we ate lunch and dinner, we sat around and talked. And we came back."

"And you're sure nothing else happened?" Bokuto asks, his voice was annoyingly sweet. You sigh, giving in, "We're thinking about opening a restaurant together."

All four of them have their own colorful exclamations, and you're surprised that Kenma was even paying attention at all. They all range from "what the fuck were you thinking" to "wait, what". 

"How did this go from a romantic comedy to a Kitchen Nightmares episode?" Kuroo's hand rests on his temple as he asks the question. He pushes his glasses up, "And have you even told him about your dumb crush on him?"

"Wait," Bokuto interrupts, "Will we get free food if you open that restaurant together?"

"Bokuto-san," Akaashi articulates, with an eyebrow raised, "Can you be any less serious?"

"In my defense, it was a serious question."

"No, it wasn't."

"Was too!"

"Guys?" Kenma mumbles. You narrow your eyes in confusion at whatever's going on. 

"How are you always concerned about food? And why do you even want it for free? You're rich and you're getting drafted to the Jackals next year," Kuroo points out. 

"Guys!" Kenma yells, "Shut up and come look at this."

All three of them surround Kenma and his laptop by the couch, and you stand a few feet away as you ask, "What is it?"

"The whole university thinks you're dating Miya Osamu," Akaashi groans, "Some gossip account for our uni posted a picture of the two of you outside the train station."

"What?" you furrow your brows, rushing towards the laptop as you kneel down beside the couch to look at it, "But we're not dating! All of that was a lie to convince his mom."

"Yeah but," Kuroo sighs, "This looks pretty convincing to me. It'll probably be the same for everyone else that looks at it. You might wanna call Osamu."

"No," you shake your head firmly, "I'm gonna avoid talking to him."

"That is the most stupid thing you have come up with," Kenma rolls his eyes at you, "You should probably talk to him. And you have that project due in a few weeks."

You check your phone, and there are texts from a few classmates. And then there's a few from Osamu. You huff, "I should get going. It's getting late."

You haven't seen Miya Osamu in four days. 

Apparently, the person who took the photo outside the train station had been Suna Rintarō. He sent it to Atsumu, and that idiot sent it to everyone. And you being you, have been avoiding him. In the hallways, you tend to avoid his gaze. You even wake up fifteen minutes earlier in the morning so you don’t accidentally catch him at the coffee shop before class. Every time he looks like he’s going to approach you, you turn the other way. You don’t know what else you’re supposed to do, honestly. What if he finds out you really are in love with him and feels disgusted with the idea of it?

(Curse your mind for the paranoia, reallly.)

You're on your shift at the bakery when Osamu stumbles in. He looks at you with apologetic eyes, but you ignore his gaze as he walks up to the counter. You grit your teeth, swiping the screen in front of you as you ask, "Your order, please."

"I need ta talk to ya," his voice is hoarse, "Please."

You swallow with a bitter feeling, "Your order, Osamu."

"[Y/N]," he sounds out of breath, but you know he isn't. His eyes are exhausted yet hopeful, "It's important."

"I'm at work," you grit your teeth again, as if it's his fault, "I can't talk right now."

He straightens his posture then, nodding as he says, "Fine. I'll have a strawberry cheesecake slice to go, then. And an iced coffee too."

You type his order into the system, stealing a glance at him as you say, "Your order will be ready in a few minutes."

Osamu leaves as soon as you hand him his food, not even trying to meet your gaze. You feel bad, but you acquiesce to it. You might have to stop talking to him entirely. Or at least, that's what you kept telling yourself. It just seemed like the easiest option. 

You watch his small yellow car drive away, and you feel your eyes grow glassy. You deter your stare, focusing on the next customer instead. The next day, you don't see Osamu in the seat he's usually in. When you go to the library during recess, you don't see him there either. You end up at your usual seat at the coffee shop, but he's not there. 

(A bitter feeling sets in your throat but you try your best to ignore it anyway. This is what you wanted, right?)

Another four days pass. This time, even if you try to make eye contact with Miya Osamu in the hallways, he looks away. His eyes lack spirit, and he seems more tired. Usually, Osamu is just less enthusiastic than others. But now, he seems as if he hasn't been getting any sleep. Your lips straighten into a thin line as you sit in your usual booth at the café. Your phone rings out of nowhere, and you furrow your brows at the caller. 

Atsumu.

You pick it up, placing the phone to your ear as you sip on the iced coffee in front of you. His voice booms on the line, "Hey, [Y/N], where are ya?" 

"Um, at the coffee shop, why?" you question. He's panting, "Stay there, 'kay? 'M comin'."

"Wait, why—"

The line goes dead, and you roll your eyes. Putting the phone back down, you hazily keep sipping on your coffee. 

"[Y/N]?" you watch Atsumu walk into the café. Your eyes light up, hoping Osamu would walk in after him but to no avail. He sits in front of you, "Did 'Samu speak to ya yet?"

"I- um," you pause, "No. No, he hasn't. Why?"

"I just thought he would've by now. 'M sorry for all the twitter mess," he sheepishly places his hand on the back of his neck, "'Samu told me everything. I shouldn't've sent that photo ta my friends."

"It's okay, 'Tsumu," you croak, "But um, tell Osamu I'm sorry, 'kay?"

"Why can't ya tell 'im yerself?" he raises an eyebrow, "Did ya just decide to not talk to 'im 'cause some stupid college gossip account posted a picture of you two?" Atsumu narrows his eyes, "Yer friends, aren't ya?"

"Atsumu, it's not that simple-"

"Sometimes," he lingers, "It really is."

He continues talking, "Ya know, when 'Samu found out that I was the one that sent that photo to a bunch of my friends, he, came home real angry, started yellin' at me 'n shit. I asked 'im what was wrong 'n he said that you two weren't really datin'. Then he told me about how Ma misunderstood what he said on the phone and why he brought ya home. Idiot punched me a couple times too."

"Osamu punched you?" you stare, wide-eyed, "I don't believe that."

"My stomach is bruised. It hurts like hell," The blonde grumbles in front of you, "We haven't fought like that since high school. I hit him like once 'n he started slappin' my face so we called it off."

You laugh, eyes crinkling, "Let me guess, you started screaming like a girl and said 'not the face, 'Samu!'? Isn't that what always happens?" 

"Hey, I don't scream like a girl," he pouts, "But yes, that's what happened. 'Samu's been sad for days 'n that's why I called ya. I gotta sort out this mess I made for you two."

You sigh, "I-I don't know what to do."

"Leave it ta me," Atsumu gives you a mischievous grin, "I got this."

A few days pass, and your anxiety builds up more day by day. Atsumu had said he would do something to make Osamu talk to you again, but you hadn’t really received word of either of the twins after that. It was Friday now, and your lecture was finally ending.

"Okay everyone," your English professor turns off the presentation, "That's it for today's class. I need you all to score well on your finals, and remember that the end of the year project is due next week on friday. You can turn it in to me through a pen drive or mail it to me by 11:59 pm."

You get up from your chair, watching Osamu walk out without even sparing you a glance. A sigh escapes your lips as you head to the library for your lunch break. 

"Hey," you hear an all too familiar voice next to the library door. You turn around, and there he is. Miya Osamu, in all his glory, with his backpack slung across his shoulder as he walks towards you, "I wanted ta talk to ya."

"Oh," you mumble hazily, "Yeah. Yeah, I wanted to talk to you too."

"'Bout the project," he said, "-we should finish it, we only got a little bit left anyway. I reckon we'll be able to finish it now, it's not like we've any other classes left to attend today."

"Sure," you shrug, "I think we only have the conclusion part left for Merchant of Venice."

So here you were, sitting at your old library table working out the conclusion page of your essay as the younger Miya twin sat in front of you and analyzed his part of the work. Your eyes kept getting distracted from your work to him, though. The way his tongue ever-so-slightly peeped out of his mouth, the way his grey eyes concentrated on his laptop screen, the way he tiredly blinked every few seconds—you tell yourself to look away before it gets too weird. 

Then, you get a text. And another. They keep coming, and to the point where Osamu tilts his head and raises an eyebrow while he looks at your phone. You fumble, picking it up and checking who it was. 

Atsumu. 

You sigh, clicking on his contact and calling him. As soon as he picks up, you grit your teeth and whisper-yell, "Atsumu! I can't talk right now, I'm busy."

"Doin' what?" he asks in a condescending tone, "Quit what yer doin' n' come ta my dorm, I figured out how to get 'Samu ta talk to ya again."

"But-"

"Just c'mere, okay? Hold on, Sunarin's callin' I gotta go," the blond cuts the call immediately, and you scoff as you glare at his contact. Osamu eyes you before focusing on his screen again until you say, "I'm sorry, I have to go do this thing. But I'll be back soon, okay?"

"Alright," he responds in an almost nonchalant tone, but there's something about his voice that doesn't sit well with you. But you quickly pack your things and dust the uneasiness off your shoulder as you head to Atsumu's dorm room. 

"Why's the door open?" You raise an eyebrow as you walk inside. Atsumu smiles at you from his spot on the bed, before standing up and holding a finger up to your face, "Hold on for a minute."

"What?"

"Just. Shush."

You narrow your eyes, following his line of vision. He's staring at the doorway, slowly walking towards it until the other Miya twin is standing right in front of the two of you. 

"What are you doin' here?" Osamu asks in a  condescending tone. You tilt your head, matching your manner with his, "I don't know, why are you here?"

You blink profusely, throwing him a blunt look until the two of you hear the door close with a thud. Osamu groans, tossing his backpack on the bed before banging on the closed door with his fist, "'Tsumu, ya piece-a-shit, open this door right now!" 

"No," you can feel the smug look on the setter's face even through the closed door, "You two oughtta sort out yer problems or this door ain't openin'." 

"Atsumu, open the door!" you yell. 

"I said, door's not openin' until you figure yer shit out."

(So this was his plan. That clever asshole.)

Osamu sighs, rolling his eyes and looking back at you. You shrug, "He did say to sort out our problems. We could try that."

"Oh yeah?" Osamu looks at you with a look you don't comprehend at first, but then you quickly understand that he's agitated, "Let's start with the fact that ya ignored me as soon as ya came across the slightest inconvenience in yer life. How 'bout that?"

"I didn't ignore you!" you bite back, "I was confused! People were talking about us and I didn't like that!"

"What's so wrong about that?" he says whilst clenching his jaw. There are prominent lines between his eyebrows and he persists, "Some idiot posts somethin' on Twitter and that's all it takes for you to cut me off?"

"What about you then, huh?" you yell now, "It's not like you tried either! You knew I was scared and you stopped fighting completely!"

"I-I didn't stop, I just thought I was bein' a hindrace to you! If I had stopped, I wouldn’t’ve come to yer stupid bakery ta talk!” 

"W-well, what about all the avoiding me in the halls and changing your seat in class so you won't have to look at me, then? What was that?" you ask, temper not completely dissipating just yet, "Do you even know how lonely and scared I was without you?"

"I never would've stopped bein' around you if I didn't think you hated me!" his eyes are wide and his voice begins cracking just slightly, "If you picked up even just one call, I would still be there! You could've at least replied to the texts!" 

"I didn't reply to any of your stupid texts because I'm in love with you and I got scared that you didn't feel the same way!" you scream eyes shut and anger sputtering through your veins. The room becomes chillingly silent, and you can feel goosebumps on the back of your neck as you slowly open your eyes. Miya Osamu stands there, baffled and eyes widened, his chest rising and falling with each breath he takes. His grey eyes stare into your own, softening as his shoulders droop. He takes a small step toward you, tilting his head to ask if entering your space is okay. You nod in the slightest way possible, and within a blink, he stands mere inches away.

He says your name in a hushed tone, and you look down at his clothed chest in embarrassment. Your eyes become glassy, and you feel panic coursing through your body when he sighs and tilts your chin up with his thumb in the most tender way possible. Your eyes meet with his again, and you curse him for not saying anything. 

(This is not how you wanted this to go. Damn it.)

"Please tell me that was all true," he murmurs, "I need ta hear ya say it again."

"Osamu, don't make me embarrass myself. Please, just," you meekly attempt to look away again, but this time he cups your cheeks and presses his lips to yours. Tears finally emerge from your eyes as your hands reach his hair. The kiss is soft; fragile even, but you're trying to hold your own when your heart feels like a frog kicking off a pond's bank. You were trying to pay attention and calm your leaping heart down, but it wasn't working. Osamu's lips moved like magic—the way they did in movies when the guy finally kisses the girl and fireworks start setting off in the background. Only this time, the fireworks were getting set off in your heart, and you had no idea how to stop them. 

He pulls away gently, your foreheads touching.  You open your eyes to his voice saying, "Just makin' sure, because I love ya too."

You melt, smiling awkwardly. You're about to say something when the door opens, and Atsumu stands there with his shit-eating grin, "Okay now that yer done stinkin' up the place with yer gross lovey-dovey crap, aren't you two glad ya proved the rumors right?"

"Oh shut up, 'Tsumu."

The sounds of a quietened New Years' party are ringing in your ears as you clean up a few beer bottles and put them in the trash. The entirety of the MSBY team sits in Onigiri Miya along with your friends—their voices are a little tired and tranquil now that it's around two in the morning, the party long forgotten. Osamu walks out from the refrigerating unit, giving you a weary smile, "Hey."

"Hey," you smile. He walks toward you, closing the distance as he wraps his arms around your torso, pressing a peck on the top of your head. He sighs, "I wanna go to bed."

"I know," you laugh, "We'll walk home in a bit after everyone leaves, okay?"

He hums, "Oh, by the way, Ma called. She said the coffee powder ya gave her was amazin' and asked ya to buy 'er some more the next time we visit."

"I'm glad," you smile, pulling away from the embrace. You brush your hair away from your eyes, looking up to him and cupping his cheeks, "This last year has been quite unreal, huh?"

"By unreal if ya mean the fact that we finally moved in together, yes. That, and the JVA contract," he giggles, "I still can't believe 'Tsumu convinced them to make us the caterers for their events. Kuroo-san said Akaashi forced 'im too."

"'Samu," you whisper. He hums again, and you continue, "I love you."

He chuckles, giving you the most exhausted yet the most loving look he can possibly muster up, "I love ya more. Now come on, let's go kick 'Tsumu out so we can get some sleep."

“Oh, give him some credit. If it weren’t for him, we wouldn’t be-”

“I know, I know. Don’t say it out loud though, ‘cause it’ll only inflate his ego.”

© all works belong to admiringlove on tumblr. plagiarism is strictly prohibited.

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[nova-amor]

✧˖° — 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. welcome to my very first series! the theme is blind dating with pornstars, inspired by my favorite raunchy series on the net. each fic will be written in second perspective with fem! & afab! reader in mind. the fics will contain their own content warnings as well, so please make sure to look it over prior to interaction. minors and ageless blogs dni.

fandoms include — call of duty mwii, jujutsu kaisen, shingeki no kyojin, haikyuu, and marvel

status — ongoing. since this is an open series, fics will not be posted on any specific dates! i will try my best to post twice a week in accordance to my current writing schedule, however i will not guarantee that the fics will be posted in the order presented below. in addition, the current production lineup is subject to change at any moment without notice. there also will be no taglist.

𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐒

EPISODE ONE — ‘THE EXPERT & THE NOVICE’

performer: simon ‘ghost’ riley channel: call of duty mwii tags: age gap, pet names, teasing, mild praise kink, cunnilingus, fingering, size difference, fellatio, ball sucking, pussyjob, body worship, mask kink, neck grabbing, p-in-v penetration, cream pie

EPISODE TWO — ‘INDULGE ME’

performer: toji fushiguro channel: jujutsu kaisen tags: impact play, biting kink, manhandling, degradation, breath play, dirty talk, gagging, throat fucking, p-in-v penetration

EPISODE THREE — ‘CUTE EXCHANGE’

performer: reiner braun channel: shingeki no kyojin tags: mutual masturbation, body worship, cunnilingus, face sitting, mirror sex, praise kink, p-in-v penetration, gentle mdom

EPISODE FOUR — ‘A REAL CONNECTION’

performer: ushijima wakatoshi channel: haikyuu tags: cunnilingus, pussy spanking, neck grabbing, size difference, tit fucking, spit usage, no v penetration, dirty talk, finger sucking, mattress humping

EPISODE FIVE — ‘FANTASIES DO COME TRUE’

performer: miguel o'hara channel: marvel — across the spiderverse tags: biting kink, breath play, fingering, breeding kink, daddy kink, creampie, dacryphilia, overstimulation, spitting, spanish language, p-in-v penetration, hard mdom

EPISODE SIX — ‘JUST A LITTLE BIT MORE’

performer: könig channel: call of duty mwii tags: cunnilingus, overstimulation, manhandling, gentle mdom to rough mdom, clit stimulation, german language, dirty talk, p-in-v penetration, size kink, age gap, creampie

EPISODE SEVEN — ‘POWER TRIO’

performers: suguru geto & satoru gojo channel: jujutsu kaisen tags: double penetration, fellatio, handjob, face sitting, cum eating, cum play, squirting, snowballing, mindbreaking, creampie, cunnilingus, analingus, mdom & msub, fswitch, brat taming

EPISODE EIGHT — ‘EYES ON ME’

performer: jean kirstein channel: shingeki no kyojin tags: dry humping, thigh riding, nipple play, dirty talk, mild degradation, breast worship, p-in-v penetration, praise kink

EPISODE NINE — ‘DOUBLE TROUBLE’

performers: miya twins — atsumu & osamu channel: haikyuu tags: male masturbations, p-in-v penetration, impact play, hand jobs, fellatios, ass worship, clit stimulation

#💫.longfics #cod mwii smut #cod smut #call of duty smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #atsv smut #snk smut #aot smut #attack on titan smut #shingeki no kyojin smut #across the spiderverse smut #hq smut #haikyuu smut #simon riley x reader #jean kirschtein x reader #konig x reader #reiner braun x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #osamu miya x reader #atsumu miya x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #satoru gojo x reader #suguru geto x reader

[mysterystarz]

guys im like 8k into this fic

short synopsis its like kissing booth but college edition haikyuu with shenanigans and a lot of drama like a movie but its fluffy and like carnival and djhfsjhdfkjhs

oikawa x reader with an ambitious iwaizumi and a bsf kuroo and a friend kiyoko and yeah its dkjhfkshdkjfhsjkdhfjkshdjkf

would you read it?

#nova talks about stuff #lol I haven't written like this in so long #call it unhinged #longfics #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #hq x reader #hq fluff #hq angst #hq x you

[seishun-emergency]

kindaichi and kunimi act like kageyama's exes. it's the bitterness of seeing him after having broken up with him for things about himself that he could have changed and worked on and would have allowed the relationship to continue and realizing that in the time since you last saw him and now he's done all the work you'd hoped he would have done for you. and you sit there and you ask yourself why couldn't he have changed for me why didn't i get the kageyama that cares about his spikers and listens to the people around him and tries so hard to communicate and what about them is better and what don't i have that they so clearly do

(and then the real tragedy is that it was never a matter of being better or having some unnamed quality it was just a matter of time and circumstance and yet the bitterness and the envy still take so long to fade)

#leo composes #i'm. a little deranged about haikyuu #haikyuu #kinkunikage exes meta #<- yes it gets a whole tag ive considered writing a whole longfic about it #if u want mya ctual thoughts on what their polycule situation was and not uh #this! then its kinkunikage were a polycule during middle school #kindaichi and kunimi broke up with kageyama during the whole king business #are still dating at seijoh

[vulpeculatee]

Chapters: 2/12 Fandom: Haikyuu!!, Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Relationships: Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Kuroo Tetsurou & Sawamura Daichi, Kuroo Tetsurou & Sugawara Koushi, Kuroo Tetsurou & Oikawa Tooru, Bokuto Koutarou & Kuroo Tetsurou, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Azumane Asahi/Nishinoya Yuu, Hinata Shouyou & Kozume Kenma, Akaashi Keiji & Kuroo Tetsurou, Tsukishima Kei & Yamaguchi Tadashi Characters: Kuroo Tetsurou, Kozume Kenma, Iwaizumi Hajime, Oikawa Tooru, Sawamura Daichi, Sugawara Koushi, Bokuto Koutarou, Akaashi Keiji, Hinata Shouyou, Kageyama Tobio, Tsukishima Kei, Yamaguchi Tadashi, Azumane Asahi, Nishinoya Yuu, Nekoma Volleyball Club, Tanaka Ryuunosuke, Ukai Keishin, Shimizu Kiyoko, Other(s), Ushijima Wakatoshi Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Marvel Cinematic Universe Fusion, Alternate Universe, Angst, Team as Family, Minor Character Death, Violence, Grief/Mourning, Getting Back Together, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Childhood Friends, Tragedy, Hopeful Ending, POV Multiple, Mental Health Issues, In which I play fast and loose with Marvel storylines, Superheroes, Humor, Kuroo Tetsurou is Bad at Feelings, Sawamura Daichi is So Done, Pining Iwaizumi Hajime, Historical Inaccuracy, probably, slaps fic: this baby can fit so much healing from trauma surrounded by your found family Series: Part 1 of I'm standing guard, I'm falling apart Summary:

On May 4th, 2012, the world was made aware of the looming threat of the universe beyond its own understanding, and would have been faced with annihilation if it wasn't for a group of extraordinary individuals. 

-

In which Tetsurou Kuroo wakes up after the world's longest nap with his heart missing, Hajime Iwaizumi finds himself on an intergalactic road trip, and Daichi Sawamura is just trying to keep a super-powered boy band from imploding.

-

Second chapter is up!

#my fic #vee talks #haikyuu fic #kuroken #kuroken fic #haikyuu #iwaoi #iwaoi fic #daisuga #daisuga fic #marvel au #longfic

[mikage-rehoe]

“I’m so wet for you, Daddy… I can’t take it! I need you inside of me, please…”

“You’re such a good girl/boy, baby. Daddy loves rewarding his good girl/boy…”

For the SFW version, head over to Oh My Daddy! Collab.

Dividers c/o @/benkeibear + @/cafekitsune.

💋 This NSFW collab is open for artists and writers aged 18+ (no need to follow me); minors and ageless blogs are refrained from participating or I will automatically block you.

💋 The theme for this collab is all about hot, toe-curling, pussy-throbbing, thigh-clenching, mouth-drooling daddies/daddy-somethings. Perfect for those with a sudden case of daddy kink (like yours truly).

💋 Fandoms are the following: Haikyuu!!, Jujutsu Kaisen, Tokyo Revengers, Obey Me!, and Blue Lock. Characters should be aged-up or in their post-timeskip years in your works. Canon dads and senior-citizen-aged dads such as Daddy Toji and Coach Ukai Sr. etc are also allowed.

💋 All forms of work (art–especially moodboards, drabbles, longfics, oneshots, headcanons etc) and any genre are allowed. Dark content entries are also allowed, provided that they are properly tagged and all.

💋 FOR WRITTEN ENTRIES: The minimum word count is 500. If your work’s wc is more than 500, kindly add in a ‘read more’ to avoid dash clogging.

💋 TO JOIN: Send in via ask your daddy character of choice + if your entry will be art or writing. Please note each person/blog can only submit up to two entries. Character repetition is also allowed–each character can be used twice, but you cannot use the same character in all of your submitted entries.

Ex.g: “hiiiiii kisaaaaaa~!!! Can i join your collab with Daddy Sae from Blue Lock + art??? Ily mwah ♥️”, or, “ELLA CAN I WRITE FOR DADDY KUROO FOR YOUR COLLAB??? 🥵🥵🥵” sorry again 🙇🏻‍♀️ /gen

💋 There is no deadline to follow here (you can join in anytime), since we all have our personal stuff outside Tumblr to tend to, so take your time in doing your entries! Once done, tag me at @mikage-rehoe in your finished work/s and use the collab tag ‘#yesdaddycollab💋’ to track.

💋 If you have any questions regarding the collab, please don’t hesitate to send me an ask/DM via Tumblr or Discord (if we’re moots). Be a good girl/boy and enjoy writing/drawing! 😘

Reblogs highly appreciated! :3

💋 Haikyuu!!

@sir-kuroo - Kuroo Tetsurou

@kenslilove - Kuroo Tetsurou + Bokuto Koutarou

💋 Jujutsu Kaisen

@rinitxshi - Fushiguro Toji

@yuujispinkhair - Ryomen Sukuna

@bleach-your-panties - Kamo Noritoshi

@vemuabhi - Geto Suguru

@his-saiko - Nanami Kento

@4-20-69 - Fushiguro Toji

💋 Tokyo Revengers

@fubu18writes - Kakucho

@his-saiko - Hanma Shuji

@4-20-69 - Ryuuguji Ken

💋 Obey Me!

@cryptidtyping - Diavolo

💋 Blue Lock

@moonartemisia - Michael Kaiser 🎨

@sir-kuroo - Mikage Reo

@saenora - Itoshi Sae

@suyacho - Nagi Seishiro

#yesdaddycollab💋 #kitty☆collabs #kitty☆thirsts #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #tokyorev smut #tokyo revengers smut #tokyorev x reader smut #tokyo revengers x reader smut #obey me smut #obey me x reader smut #blue lock smut #bllk smut #blue lock x reader smut #bllk x reader smut #anime collab

[sashimiyas]

loving deku must be the most difficult burden and i'm sure he knows it. i doubt he'd ever let himself be in a relationship until well past his prime.

#reinas.inretrograde #cue a very nosey and persistent reader who doesn't take no for an answer #what if i just came back as an mha blog? #my haikyuu phase is :( #all the thoughts i have are devote to longfics that i doubt i could ever finish #i want to post this stripper! samu fic as a multi chap #but i dont trust myself to finish it #but here i am wasting time making five different versions of a banner for it #but hi hello i'm obsessed with bakugo rn #hes so :(

[martellprincess-writes]

0NE NATI0N UNDER BL00D AND H0NEY

SERIES MASTERLIST: HAIKYUU FULL-LENGTH FIC

synopsis. At an all-women's college, soldiers take siege during martial law.

aesthetics. psychological thriller, 80's/90's japan. haikyuu!! soldiers vs. female students, martial law, hostages, war-torn society, dark academia, stockholm syndrome, military AU, tragedy, loss, angst

warnings. EXTREMELY DARK CONTENT // 20+ // minors + under-20s DO NOT INTERACT please // NONCON // GRAPHIC CONTENT // PHYSICAL VIOLENCE // nsfw, abuse, twisted and toxic relationships, stockholm syndrome

pairing. various haikyuu boys x multiple f! characters

authors note. this is my attempt to bring more full-length fics to this fandom and explore more depth with multiple original female characters instead of x reader. one-shot x readers … i’m tired

auth. note 2. links go to ao3 because i’m not putting myself through the hell of posting a full fic on this site

status: ongoing

CHAPTER LIST  ━━ ━━ ━━ ━━ ━━ ━━ ━━

01 ━━ WIND BEFORE THE STORM: AKAASHI, BOKUTO

02 ━━ WE'LL SAVE YOU: MATSUKAWA, IWAIZUMI

03 ━━ CALL US LUCKY: IWAIZUMI, MATSUKAWA, AKAASHI, DAICHI, MEIAN, ENNOSHITA

04 ━━ CAN'T SAVE YOU NOW: ENNOSHITA, OSAMU, KAGEYAMA, IWAIZUMI

05 ━━ NOWHERE TO CALL HOME: IWAIZUMI, OIKAWA, AKAASHI, DAICHI, AONE

06 ━━ SO MUCH INNOCENCE: ENNOSHITA, MATSUKAWA, BOKUTO, TANAKA, AKAASHI, ATSUMU

07 ━━ NIGHT HAS COME: BOKUTO, AKAASHI, TANAKA, ATSUMU, MEIAN, MATSUKAWA, OIKAWA

08 ━━ tbd

09 ━━ tbd

10 ━━

11 ━━

#haikyuu longfic #tw noncon #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x oc #haikyuu x reader #akaashi keiji #bokuto koutarou #matsukawa issei #iwaizumi hajime #daichi sawamura #meian shuugo #ennoshita chikara #osamu miya #kageyama tobio #oikawa tooru #tanaka ryuunosuke #miya atsumu

[amethystfairy1]

"Maybe I'll just have a stroke. Maybe that would be easier." -Osamu, probably

I know most of the folks over on this blog follow me for my Hermit/Traffic/Empires content, but I've recently been trying to pick back up a longfic I've had sitting from the Haikyuu fandom for awhile! I really love the character dynamics I've written in it, it features quite a rarepair and also ABO dynamics but I really love the world and the aesthetic I've created for it, so it would mean an awful lot if some of you would give it a shot because I really want to try and finish it and I'd love to have some of you who have been so kind and supportive on this blog for my other AUs along for the ride!

Thanks so much! 💖

P.S: My PFP here on tumblr is actually a drawing of Atsumu wearing his outfit from this fic that a dear friend of mine drew for me! 💖

#fanfic #ao3 fanfic #haikyuu!! #haikyuu ships #atsuhina #osarin #atsumu miya #osamu miya #hinata shouyou #suna rintarou #sugawara koushi #worldbuilding #parallel thrones au #abo dynamics

[boyfhees]

𓈃 SAME OLD LOVE BEEF | t. kuroo

CHAPTER ONE. yn my old friend.

PRECIS. after getting humiliated by you on school's forum in the first year, kuroo made it his primary goal to get back at you. now, two years later, when you have seemingly forgotten about the incident, you ask him to pretend to be your boyfriend to drive away the boy who has been following you around lately.

your goal is to graduate peacefully and kuroo's new goal is to be your fake boyfriend and embarrass you so much that no one would want to date you ever again.

GENRE. enemies to lovers ! au, fake dating ! au, slight mutual pinning, humour, fluff

WARNINGS. none that i found ( 3.44k )

NEXT | MASTERLIST

it was a crush. 

kuroo doesn’t like admitting it, but fifteen-year-old him had a tiny crush on you in first year. he couldn’t help it— you were pretty. first day of highschool and you were already turning heads, having both boys and girls looking at you as if they’ve never seen a human before; or rather, a human this gorgeous. you probably set the record— twelve confessions on the first day of highschool, all for you. it was as if you were the ruler, and people were competing to rule the kingdom by your side. 

but kuroo isn’t like that, you see. his mind fetches far beyond the ideologies of love at first sight etcetera etcetera. instead, he had the perfect plan for this : get your attention, become your friend, make you fall in love. it’s his way of securing what he wants, his way of making sure that when he professes his undying love for you, you wouldn’t have any choice, but to give in, because you’d be in love with him too. 

well, that was the plan, and plans usually don’t go the way you expect them to. the first few steps were perfect. so perfect that kuroo has never seen anything perfect-ier. you reached him out first— even though it was to inform him about a chemistry quiz— kuroo felt like a businessman who secured all his deals. he felt as if the profit was knocking at his doors and all he needed to do was to find the key. so far, a few things were certain : you know him. you know him as kuroo tetsurou, a chemistry nerd, wants to play for the school's volleyball team, is a nice guy and can be your potential academic rival. the next step was to let you know that he is also someone who’s interested in you, and he, once again, had the perfect plan for that. 

the school’s forum. that’s the plan. you’re used to seeing your pictures on the school forum, captioned with all sorts of compliments and sugar-coated phrases. kuroo just happened to like every one of those posts, and happened to leave a comment anonymously, and once again, he just happened to comment ‘they look like my future s/o :smirking_face_emoji:’ but this time, it wasn’t anonymous. call it over confidence, but kuroo knew it was time to take bigger steps. it has been two months and if not a partner, kuroo can at least score you as his close friend. he has three years to make you fall for him. 

consequently, you just happened to open the school’s forum and come across his comment because of all the gossip spinning around, replying with ‘you look like someone i'd reject next :/’ and that, my readers in christ, was kuroo’s villain story. 

it may not sound that serious, but for the fifteen year old kuroo, it was the worst insult thrown his way. it was a wound to his dignity and image— and still is, actually. since then, kuroo has thrown aside every single goal he had for highschool, plotting a perfect revenge for all the embarrassment you have given him through that one comment. had it been a personal thing, kuroo wouldn’t have given it a second thought; but you took it to a public stage— even though he knows he initiated it first— and left him no choice but to avenge himself the same way. usually, he isn’t the type to hold grudges, but your reply to his comment— which he now calls a ‘joke’— made it hard for him to attend school. his popularity sky-rocketed for all the wrong reasons, like the ones along the lines of ‘volleyball captain rejected horribly,’ and ‘omg isn’t that the guy who confessed to yn publicly?!’ and ‘man i would kms if my crush did me like that :pensive_face_emoji:’  like no, there are two things that kuroo thinks people need to get straight. first, kuroo didn’t confess, he was dared to— even if it’s a lie— and he did, like the man he is; and second, he’d rather date bokuto than have a crush on you. ( in his opinion, dating bokuto is equivalent to child rearing. ) things turned awful, people patted him in the back and told him to stay strong, girls laughed and boys took a sigh of relief knowing the kuroo wouldn’t try dating someone for a good six months because after all, he still had his ‘mr. steal your partner’ face. if that wasn’t enough, seniors teased him too and at some point, the news reached other schools in the neighbourhood, making him consider shaving his head and changing identities for a good two months.       

now, years later, when he has finally rebuilt his reputation as the hot and smart volleyball captain, giving the ‘smart is the new sexy’ a whole new definition and view, establishing himself as the kuroo tetsurou of nekoma high who’s breaking everyone’s hearts because he’s about to graduate this year, kuroo has just one thing left undone for highschool : his revenge. and it seems like god is on his side because you just happen to be his classmate for the whole year. to sum it up, kuroo has a thousand ways to take revenge, and he also has 365 days to execute each and every one of them. 

“staring at them won’t help you with grades,” yaku mumbles, dragging kuroo out of whatever’s going inside his head. 

“i’m not staring? i’m looking at the board and their head is in the way,” and even if he’s staring at you, no one can stop him. he’s hoping for you to disappear or something if he stares at you for long enough. “besides, who would even look at yn’s ugly face.”

yaku shoots him a repulsed look as kuroo gets back to writing, muttering something under his breath. at this point, he’s a hopeless case. there’s not a day that goes without him complaining about you. you would pass by the gym without sparing him a look and he’d go feral like a rabid dog, for no reason. one glance at you looking at another boy and kuroo feels like breaking something, probably someone’s bones. yaku shakes his head in defeat. “i can’t believe you’re the same person who had a crush on th—”

“keep it low!” kuroo looks at you, and then yaku, and then back at you to make sure you didn’t hear. he acts as if having a crush on you was the most embarrassing thing ever; hint : it was. “i swear if you bring it up again, i will lock you up in a room with lev.” yaku doesn’t understand the captain’s intent with the said words but he plays along, nodding as the two of them focus back to the lesson. 

and so, the morning rolls by quicker than expected, from a coincidental meeting with you in the teacher’s office to scheduling a match with karasuno for next friday. your day has been great, really, unlike kuroo’s. you know he’s sulking over something, judging from the scowl on his face, though you’re unaware that he’s sulking over the fact that you’re paying him no mind. you don’t even look at him, pretend as if he’s invisible, as if there’s no kuroo tetsurou and if there is, then you can’t bring yourself to care. however, your day could’ve been better if you didn’t have a guy following you around for the past few days, coming up with weird and embarrassing displays of confession every other day despite facing several rejections. 

even fame has its disadvantages, and perhaps that's why you don't feel like attending school most of the days. the first few days were great. you couldn't have had a better situation to use 'being pretty is difficult' everytime someone confessed to you. things were great, now they're not, and that's how you found yourself in the infirmary with your friend. 

"you know, you can't use your stomach as an excuse every time you feel like skipping lessons." 

"the teachers seem to believe it so why not?" you chuckle, scrolling through your phone. you wonder if they actually believe you or whether they're just playing along; because you've used the same excuse over ten times and they let you get away with it. "besides, the main reason why i wanted to skip the lesson was him."

"hayato again?" your friend frowns, letting out an annoyed sigh. "did he do something again?"

"again? he throws chits at me in the middle of the class everyday, and the worst part is, they're fucking pickup lines." you don't even mind pick up lines but he downright sucks at the art of flirting. you feel a part of you descend whenever you feel a piece of paper hit your back, knowing it's another one of those 'you must be my favourite show because i like watching you.' or something along those lines.

you pick up the bottle lying stray on the table beside the bed, actively suppressing the urge to commit a murder or two one of these days. 

"how about you start dating?" you almost spit out the water at her words. "fake dating, i mean."

and you're certain that if you resort to murder, hanae is going to be your first target. it's eleven on a monday morning, your day has been ruined thanks to one of your lovers and now, your own friend, your fire brigade, the one you thought you could look upto anyday, is giving you the worst advice session. 

"i know it sounds absolutely ridiculous and probably makes you want to kill me," you're glad she's aware of the facts, actually. "but if somehow you manage to convince everyone that you're in a relationship, hayato would back off."

upon a detailed analysis, her plan doesn't sound that bad. minus the fact that you've always turned down confession and it's going to be hard for you to convince everyone in school that you're already dating, hanae's plan isn't half bad. you don’t think it’s a good plan— fake dating is never a good plan— but it’s sufficient. you can work with it, it’s okay, marginally tolerable. you're not interested in this fake dating thing, not by a long shot, but if that is all you need to make your poor loveless highschool life a little better, then you're down for it. 

"okay," you nod, slinging your bag up your shoulders. "let's tell everyone that we're dating."

a pause; you look at hanae, she looks at you, the cycle continues as a few blank stares are shared before she lets out a forced laughter. “you’re so funny, yn,” and you remember thinking what part of your statement was supposed to be a joke. “but i meant fake dating kuroo tetsurou.” 

and you’re back to step one— this isn’t a good plan. well, it never was, but now it isn’t even okay. you’ve seen people better than kuroo at nekoma, kenma for example, and yaku, misa too, actually. there are a lot of people who are a better candidate for your fake partner, not kuroo, though; never him. “you’ve got to be kidding me.” 

“i’m not!” she counters, making you sit again before looking at you as if she’s about to present a fifteen minutes long presentation that would boost her grades. “look, he’s popular and isn’t in a relationship either. i see students flocking around him everyday and trust me when i say that he’d love to get away from his ‘fans’.” she waits for your response while you shoot her a dubious gaze. “besides, it sounds like a great idea to be able to say you’re in a relationship, without actually being in one.” 

another pause. you’re not buying her words even though the whole reasoning sounds quite reliable. you sigh, grabbing your bag before giving her a look of denial. “no.”

.

.

.

so, you somehow ended up believing that asking kuroo for help would be a good option.

you spent the next lesson thinking about the what ifs and whys, finally reaching the conclusion that you wouldn’t know a thing until you try it. you know kuroo, have heard of him, have also had a certain incident that stirred up a drama in the first year, but he’s nothing more than just a classmate to you. you don’t talk to him except when it concerns grades and assignments and other academic stuff. the last time you actually had a conversation with him was in the first year. things were wonderful and the two of you were desperately happy. it was nice, kuroo’s presence didn’t bother you; but then things happened and his hostility towards you made him a stranger for yourself. 

you don’t think much— try not to— and make your way to the gym as soon as the lesson ends. your feet pick up a pace while your mind is busy brainstorming for why you choose him out of everyone else. well, you do have a reason, hanae gave one to you already, and the other reason can be that he’s good looking, even if you will never tell him that. you expect yourself to mess up this whole thing and embarrass yourself in front of good-looking volleyball boys, but that’s for another day; because as said previously, you’d never know what would happen unless you try it. what you don’t expect is for yaku to restrain you out of the gym and consider if he should let you see kuroo for a good five minutes. 

“i don’t have the whole day, you know,” you smile, managing to grab his attention yet again, looking through his concerned eyes, and not understanding the reason as to why he’s so worried. “got classes to attend. how about you just let me see him—” 

“no, no you’re—” he whines, letting a soft tsk slip off his tongue before he pulls you aside, away from the gym entrance. “you can’t— i can’t let you meet him. we have a match in a couple of minutes.” 

you frown. “and what does that have to do with me?” 

“because if he sees you, kuroo will back on his bullshit about how you don’t pay att—” he pauses, and you raise your eyebrows before yaku laughs awkwardly, shifting his gaze to a stray stone lying around. “er— i mean, he’s in his captain mindset right now. you can’t see him.”  

and you spend the next thirty minutes trying to process his logic, which is honestly beyond your comprehension. you don’t think kuroo is feeble enough to lose his composure after talking to a random person just a couple of minutes before his match. the kuroo tetsuro you’ve heard about is much more capable, actually. 

“yaku— oh,” that’s lev, and you notice yaku snickering as soon as his voice reaches his ears. “yn, are you here to see captain? should i call him for you?” 

there’s an unsolicited enthusiasm in his voice, though you fail to recognise why he sounds so excited while yaku, on the other hand, looks like he lost a very important game— which he may, actually, if kuroo actually ends up getting distracted or whatever; but you know he wouldn’t. kuroo isn’t the captain for nothing, and it’s a luxury for nekoma to have him on the team. 

you simply nod, a slight laugh escaping your lips as lev almost trips on his way inside. the beads of laughter from inside suggest that everyone is in a good mood, and yet you fail to understand why yaku looked at you like he’s going to harm someone very critically. either way, you wait, repeating the words you’re going to tell kuroo in your head to rehearse. see, there can be two outcomes— either he’s going to take up your offer, or he’s going to run his mouth around and tell everyone that you’re looking for a fake relationship for whatever may be the reason, even though kuroo doesn’t come off as someone who’d want to embarrass others. 

a minute passes, and then you notice the gym door open with a creak as your eyes settle upon kuroo. now, you haven’t seen kuroo in what feels like two years. technically, you see him everyday, he’s in the same class. but you don’t pay attention to him like you’re doing now. you don’t look at him and go, ‘oh he has grown much taller,’ or ‘his muscles look chomp-able’ okay, maybe you’re crazy for the second one; but the point still stands. you’ve been so busy with your life and you failed to notice how . . . attractive he has become, although you don’t want to admit it. 

“you’re going to say something or—?” his words pull you out of your thoughts, and then you realise that his voice has gotten much deeper. you’re not sure if you’re supposed to pay attention to these things but whatever, it’s the least of your worries right now. 

“right, so, i have a proposal.” he looks at you enigmatically, or maybe it’s more of a cryptid stare. a shallow pool of hesitation settles inside of you, but it certainly doesn’t stop you from conveying your thoughts. “date me.” 

kuroo doesn’t think he heard you correctly the first time. “what?” 

“look, you know how hayato has been pestering me around even though i’ve rejected several times and i figured he’d back off if i tell him that i’m in a relationship,” a pause, you look at him for a response and a look of disbelief is all you’re able to decipher for his expression. well of course, you don’t expect him to praise you and call you a genius for this idea. “also, i’ve heard that you’re not interested in relationships right now but students chirp around you everyday, it must be annoying. if you take my proposal, i can chase them away.” 

kuroo thinks you sound like a dog if you put it that way. he doesn’t understand why you think it’s annoying. in fact, he enjoys attention a lot, and not because he’s an attention seeker, but because he earned it himself. after you almost ruined his life, kuroo picked himself back up from the rock bottom, gathering pieces of his broken heart, and that’s why he’s standing here, in front of you, as the school’s volleyball team captain. ( according to yaku, it isn’t that deep. he’s simply being dramatic. )

besides, kuroo doesn’t think your offer is beneficial, or logical, even. since everyone knows he’s not interested in relationships at the moment because of nationals, it would seem suspicious of him to get together with someone all of a sudden, especially you, who had already rejected him in first year in front of everyone on the school’s forum. 

either way, your proposal doesn't seem half advantageous to him. 

“sorry, i’m not—” a pause, he contemplates his decisions for a second, and then it strikes him that on a second note, your offer doesn't sound half bad either. to put it simply, his only goal for the year is to take revenge, besides winning nationals; and instead of letting him approach you, you’re standing in front of him, giving him an open invitation to come into your life and flip it upside down. yeah, if he puts it that way, kuroo doesn’t think it’s a bad idea at all. “actually you're right, we should date.” 

“are you sure?” you ask, quite flabbergasted that he actually accepted your request. 

“yes, sounds like a good deal to me,” kuroo nods, you’ve never seen him that excited for anything except while doing chemistry lab experiments. in your mind, kuroo doesn’t look like someone who can be trusted; but looking at him now, you think he actually means it when he says he’ll take up your odd request and help you out. “well, i have a match so see you later, sweetheart.” 

you ignore that endearment— choose to— because rule number one of fake dating states that everything is superficial, and there’s no point wasting your time thinking about something that’s nothing but just an empty word. you take out your phone from the pocket, sending a text to hanae, telling her that things actually worked out between you and kuroo. you don’t know why you feel so elated about it, neither would you like to reflect upon that. 

kuroo, on the other hand, looks like he just won olympics. he had to help you, you're an old friend after all, and now that you’ve let him inside your life once again, he has the perfect plan to take his revenge— to be your ‘fake’ boyfriend, and embarrass you so much that no one would want to date you ever again.  

NOTE. HELLO FINALLY IT'S OUT !!!! 😭😭 this took so long i'm sorry, i kinda lost interest in this for a few days and started writing other stuff help. lol but anyway i'll continue this now and i hope u like it fr we love kuroo and yn being dorks who can't see they're in love el em ae o 😁🙌 lmk ur thoughts 😔👊

#prod. — caelin. #album. — haikyuu. #@ — sol ! #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fic #haikyuu long fic #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu kuroo #kuroo x reader #kuroo fic #kuroo long fic #kuroo fluff #haikyuu drabbles #kuroo drabble #haikyuu headcanons #kuroo headcanons #kuroo tetsuro #haikyuu longfic #hq kuroo

[snikkelerhq]

I was tagged by both @majesticartax and @majikhara, ty for the tags friends! Though I'm doing this on my fandom blog and not my main one because most folks on my main blog don't give a fuck about Haikyuu sbvlszbvgffbv

Star Sign(s): Leo, but if learning that changed your opinion of me then you're an asshole lol

Favorite Holidays: Hrmmm I don't think I actually have one

Last Meal: Burritos

Current Favorite Musician: I guess it'd be We Were Promised Jetpacks since they're what I like to listen to when I write, so I listen to them a lot

Last Music Listened To: LoFi Hip Hop Playlist haha, but before that it was Ashnikko

Last Movie Watched: Uhhhhh hmmm..... I know I watched one recently but I can't remember what it was

Last TV Show Watched: Malcolm in the Middle

Last Book/Fic Finished: The first chapter of fall like sunlight on my soul by @zapshroom! As for the last full book/fic.... I don't know..... I forgor

Last Book/Fic Abandoned: 'Abandoned' feels like a harsh term when it was simply a matter of forgetting to finish reading before my library book was due back haha, but it was "Dangerous Angels" by Francesca Lia Block

Currently Reading: "Writing Tools" by Roy Peter Clark, a few different manga (rereading Haikyuu and keeping up with JJK, Chainsaw Man, & One Piece) and like... a LOT of BL manwhas haha like,,,,, so so so many

Last Thing Researched for Art/Writing/Hyperfixation: Weird animal genitalia for inspiration for Hinata's junk in my siren AU fic aigisdg;sdfg

Favorite Online Fandom Memory: Meeting @majikhara and Leen (who isn't on Tumblr)!! I love them both :')

Favorite Old Fandom You Wish Would Drag You Back In/Have A Resurgence: I am super far removed from all of my old fandoms now and that's fine by me

Favorite Thing You Enjoy That Never Had an Active or Big "Fandom" but You Wish It Did: Hrmmmm I don't think I have one? Tbh being in one fandom is enough haha there's no space in this brain for anything other than kghn at this point

Tempting Project You're Trying to Rein In/Don't Have Time For: I don't think I have a specific Thing I'm just champing at the bit to start, but I have had several ideas I refused to start writing in the last half a year or so because I really want to finish one of my current two longfic WIPs before I start anything else Okieee, I will tag @littlegnoblin, @littleskrib, @oso-apestoso, @tired-old-writer, and @yallstar! Feel free to ignore if tagging games aren't your thing <3

#tagging game

[kenobihater]

i am this close to orphaning five of my dusty old ass star wars oneshots, and one longfic i abandoned after the 1st chapter. i've only orphaned one work in my life before, a haikyuu fic i wrote at like 14 or 15 which sucked major dick and balls and i don't regret doing so at all tbh. i'm still somewhat hesitant bc ik some ppl might still like my sw writing and want more of it?? but i'm SO goddamn tempted bc it's not like they'll be deleted and i'm absolutely 100% over a lot of these works and don't even like seeing them on my page or rlly want them connected to me. like, i'm grateful i wrote and posted them bc it helped me improve my craft and the feedback grew my confidence, but it's to the point where i cringe whenever i get an email notif in my inbox concerning kudos or comments on them bc being reminded of their very existence annoys the hell out of me when i've objectively improved over years of practice ughhh

#anyways. just a heads up for anyone who likes my shit tier older works. some of them are fine actually and i've reread some of them but the #others... WOOF. so yeah my total number of works will almost certainly go down but dw i won't delete them bc i don't think any of them are #THAT unforgivibly bad and ik ppl have bookmarked them so i don't wanna erase them if ppl still like em for whatever unknown reason #i'm SUPER tempted to not even read most of the fics in question bc girl the cringe is both real and unbearable! the summaries r bad enough #that i don't rlly WANT to subject myself to reading them!!!!! #len speaks