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yuyu-writes · 7 months

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all yours [18+]

[ kinktober 2023 ] day 2 - cockwarming

⟡ kuramochi youichi x reader

⟡ wc: 1,528

⟡ working from @/darling--core's kinktober list! NSFW, 18+ only!

⟡ summary:

Youichi and you spend a free day together.

Sure, his video games are fun, but having you clenching around his cock is even better.

Archive of Our Own

It’s rare for both you and Kuramochi to have a day off.

While you’re busy with your part-time research gig at your university’s psych lab, Kuramochi juggles classes with baseball, knee-deep into the season as a regular player. It doesn’t take a genius to know that you both don’t have much time together except for the bits in between, spending lunches together, or stopping by each other’s classes, practices, or work right before it begins.

The weekend when you just finished most of your exams and Kuramochi’s home games are canceled by the other team, the two of you find yourself at his place just blocks away from main campus.

Your head is on his lap, eyes trained on your phone as you swipe through your social media, vaguely listening to the dialogue of the video game that Kuramochi plays on the TV. One hand holds onto his controller, clicking the button to continue while the other runs through your hair gently, playing with the ends absentmindedly as his eyes are glued onto the screen.

You lay like that for awhile until it becomes a bit uncomfy, so you wriggle around and Kuramochi lets go, waiting for you to get comfy again as you lay your head against his thigh. Minutes tick by, and you realize the game dialogue has progressed slower than before, so you look up, only to meet Kuramochi’s gaze.

“Hey… c’mere,” Kuramochi says, leaning over to set the controller on top of the coffee table as he nudges you softly with his knee. You groan in response, digging your cheek into his thigh and you look up at him, scrunching your nose before you give in—you can’t say no to his smile, no matter how lazy you are. Slowly, you sit up with the help of Kuramochi’s hand at your back, gently pushing you until you're seated on the empty side of the couch, legs tangled with the blanket that covers you.

Kuramochi grabs your hand, tugging you towards him and he maneuvers your legs so you're straddling his lap, his face centimeters away from yours.

“You’re so cute,” he comments, and he cups the back of your neck and leans up to slot his lips with yours. You melt into them, tasting the potato chips he was just munching away at, your hands grasping the front of his shirt as you let out a content noise.

His tongue swipes at your upper lip, and you lean down more, letting him in to his heart’s content, teeth nearly clashing as he rolls his hips up. The sudden friction makes you keen, mind fuzzy as his flavor overwhelms you and you feel yourself grow wet under your shorts.

“Fuck,” Youichi curses, hands going to grab your waist as he pulls you down to meet his thrusts. “You’re so fucking pretty, all for me.”

You try to match his pace, grinding down on his hips and feeling his hardening cock under the fabric of his sweatpants. He pats your thigh, and you move to the side, letting him pull down the waistband of his pants just enough to free his length.

Immediately, you reach down for it, settling down on the floor in between his thighs to stroke his length, your other hand nestled deep into your shorts as you rub at your already soaked folds. His hands brush along your scalp, pulling your hair back as you lick at the head of his cock, watching him shiver and moan at the gesture before you take him whole into your mouth.

A stuttered noise escapes from the back of his throat as he looks down at you, watching you take his cock as if it’s the best thing in the world. Your tongue swirls around his length, tasting him entirely before you bob your head, letting him take control of your pace as he puts his hands through your hair.

His thighs tremble, and you know he’s trying his best to keep his hips still and not thrust into your throat. Moans escape him openly, and he brushes your cheek with his calloused fingers, spreading the spit from the corner of your lips across your cheek. He curses under his breath, and tugs at your hair–fuck, it makes your eyes roll back at the sudden pain.

“N-no more, don’t wanna cum in your mouth,” Kuramochi says, a bit breathlessly after you pull away. His eyes are glazed and hooded as he pulls you up from the floor and seats you back on his lap. He leans back against the couch, staring up at you before his eyes flicker to where your folds envelop his cock, smearing it in your juices.

“You… please put it in,” you beg him, looking up at him with such pretty eyes, lip jutting out in a small pout.

“Of course, anything for you,” he whispers, digging his hands into the fat of your thighs as you stand up a little taller for him to line up his cock with your entrance. You sink down on him, eliciting moans from both of you as you take him inch by inch.

Once you’re fully seated, you're lying down against his chest, catching your breath against his shoulder, hyper-aware of the feeling of his cock filling you up so well, how your tits rub against the fabric of his shirt and how Youichi’s hot breaths against your ear make you shiver.

“Hey, just…let’s just stay like this for a little,” he sighs, shifting his legs a bit and you have to bite back a moan as his cock nudges deeper into you. Kuramochi reaches over to grab the forgotten controller, and you whine. “Warm me up for a bit, and then I’ll make you feel good, ok?”

You pout, staring up at him with pleading eyes, but giving up soon after and barely managing a nod. The feeling of warmth pools steadily in your gut as you listen to his game start up again. You lean your head against his chest, letting out a shuddered breath.

Patience, then you can feel good later.

You’re drunk off of Youichi—his warmth, his scent, his taste, everything envelops you making your mind hazy. The game dialogue goes above your head as you lean down, licking at a spot on Youichi’s collarbone and nipping at it, peppering kisses along his chest and neck as he lets you. It distracts you from moving against his cock on your own accord, but not for long.

You don’t know how much longer you can wait. You really can’t help it as you clench around Youichi’s cock, the building warmth that edges you continuously as you trail your fingers along his abs, desperate to touch yourself.

“God—whatever you’re doing with your cunt—fuck,” Kuramochi grunts, holding your hips steady with his free hand. “You’re so fucking tight, I don’t know how much longer I can hold back.”

“Please, You,” you shake your hips, needy for more, pussy pulsing around his cock so desperately. “I need more—I need you so badly, please.”

“You’ve been such a good girl, warming me up. I’ll give you what you want, baby.” He tosses the controller aside, attention all on you as he brings his hands to your hips again. Your cunt clenches desperately, and Kuramochi finally heeds to its wishes, hips thrusting up into you and reaching the spots that he knows will make you come undone. It surprises you, a yelp leaving your lips before it melts into loud moans, mind blank as the pleasure that pooled in your gut increases tenfold. Your nails dig into his biceps as you try to ground yourself onto him, sloppily matching his thrusts as he ruts into you without abandon.

“You—Youichi, feels good, mmh!” His lips latch onto your nipple and you throw your head back. It’s too much, especially after all of his teasing—the coil in your gut has been waiting to become undone. His hand squeezes at your thigh before trailing down to place his thumb over your clit ignoring your gasp as he rubs little circles over it. “C-Cum—gonna cum—!”

“Yeah, me too—fuck! Cum for me,” he gasps, your name rolling off his tongue, voice strangled as he loses the last bit of composure. His thumb presses against your clit lightly, making your hips jolt as you convulse around him, and he thrusts into you hard, hips snapping up that reach just right for you to tip over the edge. With a groan, he cums, your pussy milking him of every drop as it fills you to the brim.

The two of you take a moment to catch your breaths. You lean down to rest your forehead against Kuramochi’s shoulder, and he puts a hand on the back of your head to pull you in closer.

It leaks out of you as he pulls out, and you keen, the noise muffled against his shoulder as you rest your head.

He eyes your cunt, watching his cum drip down, and his finger swipes at it, making you shiver.

“Round two? I’ll carry you to the bedroom.”

#daiya no ace #ace of diamond #kuramochi youichi #kuramochi youichi reader #kuramochi youichi imagine #ace of diamond reader #daiya no ace reader #daiya imagines #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #kinktober day 2

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kunikame · 5 months

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like planets in orbit. - k. youichi

warnings : fem!reader, cussing, more astral references guys i cant stop., violence mention, lmk if i forgot anything, tooth rotting fluff, miyuki and ryou are presidents of kuramochi bully club (eijun is a honorary member), if the fandom is dead i will cry

w/c : 3.6k

kuramochi youichi has witnessed the ever changing inconsistencies life brings with it.

he's seen many people cry over jobs lost, family members gone, or friends who have left; he likes to think he's pretty observant and can tell when something is wrong with people, or get a clear read on their feelings before they know them themselves.

that skill, however, does not apply to himself. when it comes to his own emotions, he is, for lack of a better word, clueless. this, he comes to realize in his 2nd year of high school, after the devastating loss in the finals.

life brings with it many inconsistencies, junior high youichi notes.

most of the friends he had in his younger days he doesn't talk to anymore, some of his grades aren't as good as they used to be, and he himself has also changed over the years.

the one constant in his life– other than his family, however, were you (and his atrocious (your words, not his) yellow hair).

the young girl he met at the playground at the age of 4, when he accidentally ruined your sandcastle with a stray ball.

you didn't cry or scream, like any child would, instead you accepted his apology and got to work on rebuilding it all the while smiling softly. he couldn't deny he felt bad (it looked like it took a while to build, the castle was more of a palace with a town to accompany it), so he stuck around to help you instead.

that started the lifelong friendship between kuramochi youichi and [name].

you accompanied each other to 80% of the places you went, people started thinking of you as the "constantly bought in pair, do not separate" type of oddity around town. if youichi was in one place, there was a high possibility you were somewhere near, and likewise.

dating rumors started spreading at some point, but they were quickly shut down by both of you.

and yet.

when youichi started going around doing his 'punk stuff' and getting into fights, you were there to patch him up. who else would he go to? even though you tried stopping him, very nearly bashing his skull in with your words (stars forbid there be any weapons nearby lest you actually do it), he continued ignoring your efforts. if you were as worried as you said, you'd cry for him, wouldn't you? shed a tear or two? but you never did.

then he got scouted for seidou and you joined shortly after him, through the entrance exams. it's not that you were simply following him– seidou was actually one of your choices even before youichi got scouted, it was a lucky coincidence that you ended up together even in high school; but it was comforting knowing even in a different place with new faces and surroundings, there was still something that resembled home.

he joined the baseball team, and here, you admit, you followed after him– as a manager.

it wasn’t too hard to adjust to the managerial duties or the daily practice sessions, you’ve been helping youichi practice since the day you met him, and the way of the scorebooks was properly explained to you by your fellow managers– thank the universe for them, seriously. the only thing you were having slight trouble with was the fact youichi didn’t seem to be doing too well at the start.

with what was left of his previously-bad-reputation in his system, you were afraid he would pick fights he couldn’t possibly win. all of the 2nd years are so tall and strong– with the exception of kominato– and youichi was.. well, for lack of a better word, a twig. yeah, he picked fights in junior high, and he actually won most of them, but junior high kids are still just that. these are middle schoolers who’ve been on an extremely strict baseball training regimen, which youichi has just started. with his aching muscles and exhaustion, he really would get his ass beat.

so you continued watching over him, from the sidelines this time.

(and, yes, watching over him entailed taking care of him also. it was like second nature– to listen to him complain about minor setbacks, to study up on massage techniques so he can get some relief from his aching muscles because he's youichi and you’re you, to patch up his wounds. all of it was like second nature. you cared for him and in turn, he cared for you.)

wherever youichi went, so did you. wherever you went, so did youichi.

those were facts– laws known by almost everyone the pair of you acquainted yourselves with, mostly the baseball club and your families, but those 2 are almost the same thing, if you were being honest.

the facts you were well aware were true continued to be proven time and time again, even more so when neither of you went to nationals.

which you think would be obvious with how you were the team's manager, so if the team didn’t go, neither did you– not as anyone important, anyway.

at the first lost chance, you didn’t cry. you didn’t just shrug and move on either, you simply took a deep breath and with the words, “maybe next year” you smiled at your seniors and friends and left the stands.

that night you headed out to the seidou baseball grounds alone.

in the lone serenity under the stars, you sat on the mound and cried.

not for the loss that could’ve been a win, not for losing the chance to go to nationals and experience the thrill, but for the 3rd years who lost their final chance.

but wherever you go, youichi goes– and on that cloudless night where he first saw you cry, he promised you he would take you to nationals.

you, in turn, promised to tell him a secret when he does.

he thinks if you smile at him like that again, he might just do anything you ever ask him to.

it is in his (and your) second year of high school when kuramochi youichi has a realization, one he can’t simply shrug off.

mundane things concerning you and him that used to be normal and done without a second thought now had his hands shaking ever so slightly, his heart rate spiking, and his cheeks feeling just a tad warmer.

which would all be okay and simply shrugged off, had it not been for sawamura and miyuki, the bastard duo (and ryousuke, purely because he enjoys bullying youchi).

“so, have you finally admitted your crush to yourself? or are you, perhaps, still in denial?”

for how much miyuki claims to hate having people in his business, he himself sure loves to poke into others. youichi feels his eye twitch.

“what–”

“what crush are you talking about, miyuki kazuya?!”

great. now the other one’s here too. and you seem to have noticed the commotion, since you’re turning his way (he wouldn’t have noticed, had he not been staring at you this entire time) with an eyebrow raised in question. youichi does an exaggerated eye roll while tilting his head towards both annoyances at his sides, and with a giggle you turn back to furuya.

“why, didn’t you know? our dear kuramochi has a–”

“aaand that’s where i’ll cut ya off,” youichi said, slapping his hand on the brunet's mouth, “i don’t have a crush on anyone.”

“but, kuramochi-senpai, you’ve been staring at [name]-senpai for the past 5 minutes. i’m pretty sure you didn’t even blink!”

now his other eye is twitching. he thinks he can actually feel the vein in his forehead bulging the more sawamoron continues speaking.

“i was not!”

“were too, we all saw,” his pink haired senior said, appearing seemingly out of nowhere, his intentions written all over his face clear as day.

“i wa– okay, since you’re not gonna listen to me anyway, i’ll just prove there’s nothing between us. on either side. never was, never will be,” said youichi, getting up from his spot on the bench, which had sawamura falling over as he was leaning all his body weight on the green haired shortstop.

he makes his way over to you with an easy goal in mind: have a calm and collected conversation, without triggering his (seemingly) symptoms of illness so he doesn’t worry you, turn around and leave.

question is, what is he gonna talk to you about? conversations with you usually flow naturally, but for the first time ever, youichi finds himself nervous at the prospect of talking to you. his frustrated fast paced steps gradually slow down the closer he gets to you, contrary to his thoughts which are speeding up– he finds himself unable to keep up with his thought process for the first time ever in your presence.

and he doesn’t know why.

for the first time since he befriended you, he realizes the mere thought of you renders him unable to think properly.

sensing his presence you turn his way and his thoughts come to an abrupt stop. all he hears is white noise– like his brain got unplugged and it’s showing one of those black and white static screens– until you utter his name.

“youichi! i was just about to go over there to check what the commotion was about. I’m pretty sure i heard eijun ask about a crush or something. does he like someone?”

why do you want to know whether the first year moron has a crush or not? “him? nah. i don’t think he has the brain capacity to pull someone,” he says offhandedly, a little late to realize you took a liking to his roommate.

“youichi!” you repeat, though angrier than when you greeted him, “don’t say that! he’s just a guy. i think he could be a good boyfriend to someone. he’s nice.”

he finds his frustration growing at that, and still, he doesn’t know why. then you seem to notice something behind him because suddenly you’re grinning and waving. when he turns his head he finds it’s the previously mentioned first year and tanuki bastard and his blood boils– he tries, really, he does, to not let his thoughts bleed through his expression, but with the way miyukis smirk widens a tad, he believes he might have fucked up.

“anyway, what did you need?”

“huh– oh, i was just wondering if you needed help with anything, since you were just standing around here,” he internally apologizes for lying through his teeth, but he can’t have you finding out the real reason.

“mm, not really. jun-san did most of the heavy lifting we needed done already, so unless you wanna stay late to help us collect the balls, nothing much.”

“ah, alright. i’ll stay to help, then. i’d hate it if our poor managers did all the hard work.”

“now you’re just making fun of me.”

“me? why, i would never, who do you take me for? miyuki?”

“you’re even worse than kazuya.”

this is okay, youichi thinks. this is how it’s been for the past 13 years, this is how it should be. friendly banter. you bully him, he bullies you, you take care of him, he takes care of you. that’s how it’s always been.

he chooses to ignore the slight shake in his hands and the sudden warmth on his cheeks.

the next day you’re not in class and his only conversation partner (read: professional bother) is miyuki kazuya. which isn’t necessarily unusual, but usually it’d be the three of you engaged in conversations initiated by you, and now that he’s alone youichi misses you more than ever before.

“are you gonna answer my question or not? are you, perhaps, too shy~”

“if you don’t shut your damn mouth soon i will literally take this pen and stab you with it.”

“how scary~” the tanuki bastard let out his very tanuki like giggle and youichi nearly snapped his pen in half, “come on, you can tell me! i’m your best friend after all!”

“the absolute audacity you have to call yourself that. you know very well my best friends are ryou-san and [name],” though, he can’t particularly deny he has began considering miyuki a close friend as well.

“i believe i’m still a better person to talk about this than either of them. unless you’d prefer to discuss it with sawamura?”

the shortstop lets out a deep, heartfelt sigh of pure annoyance, and miyuki celebrates his victory. only in the depths of his twisted little soul, of course, but celebrates nonetheless.

kuramochi turns in his chair to stare at his friends desk, and with a frown so deep it genuinely concerns miyuki, finally speaks what’s on his heart, “.. i’ve been wondering about this for a while, but what makes you guys think i like [name]? i personally don’t think we’ve done anything to make it seem that way, we’ve always been like this, so–”

“you haven’t,” kuramochi looks up then, only to see the brunet more serious than he’s ever seen him be outside of baseball, “you haven’t always been like that, don’t lie to yourself. had you said that to me last year i wouldn’t have questioned you– granted, i hadn’t known either of you for long back then, but this year you both started acting differently towards each other. it’s not much noticeable to people who don’t know you, but since i spend nearly every waking moment around you guys, it’s about as clear as sawamura wanting the ace number.”

“different?”

“you.. really haven’t noticed? kuramochi, you can’t be serious.”

he slowly shakes his head in denial, thoroughly confused on not knowing what it is he should have noticed. he thought he was supposed to be observant, what happened to that?

miyuki, with his mouth hanging open in disbelief for mere seconds, decided he was nice enough to lead his one (and only) friend in the right direction, at least. if even that fails he might just have to straight up out kuramochi to kuramochi himself.

“you became more.. nervous? flustered, should i say? around her this year. you get fidgety and your hands shake after physical contact sometimes– yes, i noticed, stop staring at me like that. sometimes– actually, pretty often you just stare at her with hearts in your eyes.”

“i do not–”

“oh you do. you stare at her like she hung the stars in the night sky, like she’s what makes the sun shine. you look at her like a man in love would.”

that was kuramochi youichis final straw, he thinks.

a week after kuramochis one-on-one eye-opening talk with his friend, he starts to notice that maybe, perhaps, theoretically, the tanuki bastard might have been right.

the keywords being the verbs expressing his uncertainty.

each passing minute he spends with you, however, he finds himself running out of verbs.

he’s caught himself staring at you very often these past few days. which would be good and all, were you not quite literally staring at him also.

these new occurrences end with both of you looking away with cheeks that are just slightly more tinted than they are naturally, and (usually) miyuki rubbing his forehead in annoyance.

if his newfound realization gets in the way of his practice, coach kataoka will have him sit out the fall tournament for sure. he can’t have that happening, so he shrugs off whatever awkwardness this caused between you to focus on getting to nationals.

he did promise you he would take you there, after all.

with that thought in his mind, he feels his lips curl into a smile, and his fielding starts to look less half-assed than before.

okay, so maybe the tanuki bastard was right, youichi thinks, so what.

it’s normal to have an eeny weeny crush on someone you know better than you know yourself at some point in your life, is it not?

which would be all shits and giggles, were it an ‘eeny weeny’ crush, rather than a ‘oh my god she’s in the same room with me how do i breathe why is she so beautiful oh my god call an ambulance oh my god?’ crush.

he slams his head against his desk, lamenting whatever it is he’s done that got him here. why can’t he just see you the way he’s seen you before?

wait. how exactly did he see you before?

sure, you were always beautiful and nice, helpful to a fault, generous and extremely smart, but have you always sparkled like you do now?

yes. yes you have.

to kuramochi youichi you’ve always sparkled and shone brighter than the lights in rooms you occupied, brighter than the full moon in the night skies and the sun during daytime.

you entered the classroom and upon hearing you greet him his head snaps up and– is that a fucking halo?! (it is a figment of his imagination fueled by the many shojo mangas jun made him read) why are you glowing?

miyuki can only sit back and observe from his seat behind kuramochi as the shortstop looks at his life-long friend as if she herself hung the stars, brightened the days and nights– as if she put the planets in orbit.

and if the planets in the question were kuramochi youichi and [name] was the sun, then perhaps you have. youichi somehow finds himself sucked into your atmosphere, somehow always orbiting you, always in your presence or not far from it. you are always in his thoughts and in his heart, a part of you is always in his conscience and he can do nothing but accept it, embrace it. he is kuramochi, but he is not youichi without you. similarly you are [l/name], but never [f/name] without him. if only he would’ve known sooner that neptune’s slow departure from the solar system symbolized his common sense leaving when he’s around you.

in your second year of high school, with a lot of hard work, you make it to nationals.

during the victory announcement, youichi could’ve sworn he saw a tear stream down your cheek, but it could have just been a trick of the light.

that night you once again meet under the tranquility of the stars on the diamond, but this time, it’s on a more positive note than last year.

“so, what’s the secret i was promised?”

you freeze for a mere moment, as if you yourself have forgotten you ever made him such a promise, then the shock clears out of your eyes and you turn to look at him.

“can’t we push the due date a bit?”

“wha– no! what was it all for?!” he’s waving his arms around to exaggerate his point, “i’ve waited a year for this, wondering each day what could possibly be so special, and now you tell me to wait more?! man..”

you watch his lips curl into a pout and his brows furrow and you know.

“.. not that i wouldn’t, i’d wait however long it takes, if it’s you..” you know.

you feel your face heat up slightly, even though it’s exactly what you predicted he would say. you reach out and your fingers tap against his cheek first, then you place your palm against the warm skin (it continues to grow warmer under your touch, you note).

“thank you for fulfilling your promise, youichi. i love you.”

he can physically feel his heart skip a beat and his neck very nearly break with the abnormal speed he turns his head at. blood is rushing to his head and all he hears is white noise (or perhaps that’s just the cicadas) and your words on a loop in his already you-filled brain. stars, what have you done to him? he thinks he might short-circuit.

but, then again, this could just be a normal, friendly ‘i love you’, as you usually say. he shouldn’t get his hopes up, nor be weird about it, lest you catch on and start distancing yourself from him (not that you would do that, since you didn’t after he threw lizards at you when you were 7).

“you’re welcome,” he smiles, “love ya too, stupid.”

you shake your head and he pauses, “no, youichi. i love you. always have. that’s the secret.”

“.. i’ve always loved you, too..? what do you mean,” he shakes his head to mimic you, then raises an eyebrow in question, as if not agreeing he loves you was a crime (at this point, it might even be).

“i’m in love with you, idiot,” you resist the urge to just smack him at this point, “have been for the past 10 years.”

he’s struck by lightning. hit by a truck. squashed by a rock, even. he can’t even properly describe the bolt he feels striking him upon realizing he is, in fact, an idiot. and so are you, apparently.

idiots in love, as ryousuke once said. now he knows why.

the shortstop grabs you by your shoulders and shakes you back and forth with an almost crazed look in his eyes, “oh my god. i’m in love with you, too! oh my god!”

there’s a sudden sparkle in your eyes and you grab onto his arms, “oh my god! i thought i was going insane whenever i saw you acting like a schoolgirl with a crush!”

he momentarily wonders how much money miyuki will rack up for the bets placed on who will confess first, but that’s an issue for tomorrow.

for now, youichi thinks, the only issue is finding out if your lips are as soft as they look.

(they are.)

ੈ✩₊˚TAGLIST : @gabirii @heroesfan101 @celandinee @wizardclown @solxima // ask/comment to be added/removed! (if you're in bold i can't tag you)

#🖋 「txt」#ace of diamond x reader #ace of diamond x you #ace of diamond x y/n #daiya no ace x reader #daiya no ace x you #daiya no ace x y/n #kuramochi youichi x reader #kuramochi youichi x you #kuramochi youichi x y/n #daiya no ace imagines

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diamonddropscans · 6 months

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Doujinshi release! Daiya no ace - KuraMiyu

Happy birthday, Miyuki!

May you have a wonderful day with Kuramochi <3

To read Miyuki is Present in Your Handy 01, please click here.

Artist: Ikura

Please buy the Japanese book to support the artist!

#daiya no ace #doujinshi #kuramiyu

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celandinee · 1 year

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.0* ..

…ABDITORY

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ n. a place into which you can disappear.

—

word count - 900

featured - miyuki

warnings - none

note - the effort really just disappeared by the end😭 anyways miyuki is a fav so i just had to write about him

—

Lunch was chaos. The headache-inducing chatter of your classmates was enough to make you avoid the cafeteria all together; finding comfort in the abode you called the school roof.

Overlooking the entirety of the school grounds and watching those that strolled by was a pastime of yours. You would lean against the brick railing that prohibited you from tumbling over, eyes following each person who walked the pathways.

You found comfort in the simplicity. The way every student that walked by acted without inhibition, acting their natural selves.

One person chased a fallen leaf that was caught in the wind; another holding hands with her boyfriend, idly chatting with a grin plastered on her face. It was them in their own world, and you were the omniscient viewer.

It was nice to think solitude was your friend at times like this; that this rooftop was your domain alone to people-watch and eat your lunch in peace. You humored the idea— until the sound of a door swinging open totally stomped it out.

Now Miyuki Kazuya’s pastime was terrorizing you. His intrusion during lunch was one of the many ways he went about it, interrupting the silence you enjoyed with that cocky laugh and a snarky comment.

“What a surprise seeing you here,” Miyuki hummed while he took the place by your side. A lopsided smirk curled on his lips.

The boy had his white sleeves rolled to his elbows as he mimicked you, leaning against the railing casually. One of his hands tugged at the maroon tie around his neck and loosened the material until he felt like he could breath again.

The tilt of tone that hung in his words forced you to look him in the eye— his deep, amber gaze making you feel small as you retorted.

“Very funny, Miyuki. As if you don’t come up here and bother me every day,” your brows furrowed and lips pursed.

What was once your secret haven was now forsaken to the wrath of the second-year.

You couldn’t even remember when he first started sneaking out onto the rooftop; you simply remembered having the place to yourself one day, then Miyuki being there the next. You remembered there being silence once, then nonstop talking in your ear next.

“Do you really have nothing better to do?” you grumbled.

Miyuki stared past his glasses and down at you. The black rimmed specs always failed to hide the way his gaze shone with a gleam you couldn’t quite place, the dancing of gold and brown flecks in his pupils.

He leaned his side closer towards your own, tipping his chin down to be at your eye level, “Not really.”

You found it impossible to look away from him, to break the eye contact. Why were you frozen? You looked like a fool staring at him with wide eyes and parted lips, air resisting to enter your lungs.

Your hands balled into fists, still resting atop the cement, scraping slightly as you turned towards the inconvenience.

“You surely have something to do. Why don’t you eat with your teammates? Aren’t you in the same class as Kuramochi?”

Miyuki remained silent for a moment, merely staring down at you with a relaxed air to him— a more genuine smile growing on his face. Before he spoke, he turned away from you and bent down, hands digging through the backpack that he had tossed at his feet earlier.

Returning back to his normal stance, he revealed what was hidden away in his bag. Two strawberry milk cartons.

Miyuki placed one of them on the railing in front of you, and the other in front of him. The act was so simple, yet so sincere.

“Kuramochi is too loud, my team is too loud,” he answered in a subdued tone. His hands fiddled with the top of the carton, bending the thick layer.

His mood hadn’t totally changed, per se, it seemed to have shifted. The cheeky grin and confident aura moved to a tender smile and comfortable sense.

Only now did you observe the specimen in front of you. The sun caught on his glasses—the gentle breeze played with his thick, ruffled hair. Tanned skin from baseball tried to hide the mild blush that dusted his cheeks.

You snapped out of your musing to grab the milk he gave you. “So you assumed I like strawberry?” you playfully nudged his shoulder with your own.

Maybe you shouldn’t be too hard on Miyuki. Yes, his presence often made you bite your tongue, but he also made little efforts that had you second-guessing your opinion on him.

“I saw you drinking this the other day,” he opened his own drink, tearing the miniature straw’s packaging.

Miyuki Kazuya, the ever observant, calculated catcher he was, of course saw you drinking this.

Perhaps lunches wouldn’t be that terrible with the second-year at your side. Sharing your rooftop wouldn’t be too difficult.

You rolled your eyes as you felt your face heat up, opening the milk as well.

“You’re such a stalker.”

A smooth laugh escaped his lips. His shoulders shook with amusement and leaned down to prod your own as you had done before.

“Maybe.”

—

126 notes · View notes

koushuwu · 4 months

Text

it’s the festive season. it’s time for joy, love, and presents! so let’s open up the gift bag and see what’s in store.

i’ve met and connected with a lot of wonderful people through tumblr, that i would love to show my appreciation for somehow. therefore i decided to make gifts for as many of these lovely people as possible. originally i started with the lovely people of the house of daiya server, but since expanded to embrace as many of these special people as time would allow.

to keep it short:

for each person i’ve made a little gift in the form of gifs/mangacaps/the likes.

each gift is based of a favorite character. for the HOD members, i picked based on the favorites stated in your introduction, while also trying to avoid duplicates. for the rest, i went by memory or simply asked.

each gift has a little piece of lyrics attached, which either reminds me of you, the way i picture the way you love, or “simply just” serves as me, wanting to show you my love and affection for you, the friends i’ve made along the way.

the gifts will be posted over three days leading up to christmas eve, as there are quite a few, and i don't want to clog the dash too much.

now, let’s dive into the gift bag!

gift list (links and specifics will be added as they're posted):

» furuya satoru for @chibishae34 » gojo satoru for @ushiwhacka » harada masatoshi for @tyga-lily » hongou masamune for @prettyiwa » isashiki jun for @poursomesunaonme » kominato haruichi for @miyukiissofine » kuramochi youichi for @icythot-bakubitch » midoriya izuku for @vampgloss » miyuki kazuya for @ceenthesis » miyuki kazuya for @rorronoa » noé archiviste for @mx-sinisters » sanada shunpei for @giogama08 » sawamura eijun for @apparently-artless » suehiro tetchou for @feitanporter » takigawa chris yuu for @heroesfan101 » todoroki raichi for @haikyooot » tsukishima kei for @peskyfirefly » yuki masashi for @auslanderka » yuki tetsuya for @no1frogfan

#mica’s holiday special #<- please do filter that tag if you don’t want to see the posts

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prettyiwa · 11 months

Text

I do not authorize the translation or reposting of my work.

(previous) Relationship: Miyuki Kazuya x F!Reader Rating: SFW Content Tags: Primarily POV Miyuki Kazuya, Childhood Best Friends to Lovers, Soulmates (if you squint), Minor Character Death, Descriptions of Grief & Mourning, Descriptions of Anxiety, Mentions of Alcoholism (not Miyuki & not reader), Mentions of a Less-Than Stellar Home Life (not as bad as it sounds), Hints of Light Insecurity, Reader Smokes, Profanity, Undefined Something More, Miyuki Toku!! Summary: Caught in transition, waiting between graduation and starting with the Yomiuri Giants, Kazuya didn't expect for it to feel like everything's been shifted two inches to the left, you included. Word Count: 7270

A/N: I honestly don't know why it took this long to get this chapter out. HUGE thank you to Lily for beta-ing. Dunno where I'd be without you, but certainly not here. Lemme know if you wish to be tagged for future updates because I am no good with schedules!

@tyga-lily, @no1frogfan, @miyukiissofine, @princesskazuya, @ceenthesis

Roughly ninety minutes after it happened, you were both pulled from class. The counselors tried explaining to you and Kazuya what happened while the principal stood behind them. Neither you nor Kazuya could comprehend the truth of it, but you both felt the irrevocable shifting of your worlds nonetheless. Your father arrived for you both, picking up two seven-year-olds without acknowledging the crumbling of your foundation until you were both left without the ground beneath your feet.

Afterward, Kazuya was angry at everything while you couldn’t find your voice. Your dad started drinking and his dad didn’t know what to do. For a while, you hoped you would stay with the Miyukis. There’d be food and you’d have Kazuya. It seemed that way, until your dad got his shit together just enough for you to go back and for you both to avoid the guidance office.

The counselors at school didn’t help—their patience was tested when you wouldn’t speak and their nerves were frayed after meeting with Kazuya. The teachers tried helping, but they never quite understood. Another two months before you spoke again, only ever to Kazuya, only ever after school, and only ever when it was just you two.

You think it may have been that underlying constant in your life, one that remains to this day: you only feel safe and comfortable around him. And for him? Well, who knows. You think he may have appreciated that you already understood. Whatever it was, things got easier when you two started leaning on each other.

Even if you couldn’t put it to words then, you promised you’d always listen to whatever it was he had to say.

Age 18 | March 15

His phone buzzes again on the counter, flashing with the notification of yet another message. Before he can internally chastise himself for having brought it, he receives another two, one interrupting the other. If his hands weren’t busy washing dishes, he’d turn off the device, but since he can’t, he’s left bemoaning whoever’s on the other end.

Kuramochi and Zono might still be irritated that he’s not going to their hastily thrown-together celebration tomorrow, organized at the last minute. It could reasonably be any of the other third years, roped into this campaign by his two vice-captains, though none have been successful in their attempts to guilt-trip him. It could just as easily be Sawamura, though Kazuya hopes that Okumura’s keeping him busy.

Honestly, it’s not like any of them can be surprised by his reluctance. They never let him live down his attempts to avoid his surprise party after his seventeenth, and they weren’t any more forgiving when he tried to make himself scarce for his eighteenth. He even told them he was looking forward to coming back when they asked. It’s unrealistic for them to expect he’d jump at the chance to head back to Kokubunji when he’s only just returned.

A final message comes through as he’s drying the final dish and, beyond handling his phone to turn off vibrations, he ignores it in favor of being back. Dad’s chuckle barely carries over the sound of the talk show on TV, guest starring Chris’ dad. Looking over his shoulder, he spots Dad still watching through his yawn, arms crossed with his half-drunk beer in front of him, exhaustion radiating off of him.

Has business remained slow, forcing him to continue working extra hours by himself? Does he take on extra shifts because it’s just him at the house now? It’d be easier if Dad didn’t dodge Kazuya’s questions when asked, but that might be asking too much.

This sinking feeling persists in his chest as he turns, churning as it lowers, settling behind his navel as it leaves him with the sour taste of loss in his mouth. Leaning back on the countertop, he glosses over the room, barely taking in the state of everything as he does. There’s this twisted sort of familiarity to everything—this remains the house he grew up in, but it’s different.

The table and chairs remain the same, hosting the same indents and nicks that have accumulated over the years. The TV stand is new, providing more storage space, and there’s a new stand beneath the window. On it sits the same plant you had once picked out for Kazuya to gift his dad some Father’s Day ago, barely (miraculously) alive. Overall, everything is much tidier than when he last visited, but it’s all still here.

Glancing at the fridge, something pink catches his eye and he finally puts two and two together. Why he didn’t think of it sooner, he doesn’t know. Stepping closer, he looks at your newest addition to their collection once more, proof that you were here and that you’re ultimately the reason why it’s so orderly.

It’s a sketch of him, drawn in pen from the perspective you had on the bus in January. Your commentary (Miyuki Kazuya, spotted in the wild) still makes him chuckle despite how many times he’s looked at it upon returning. The page is still clean and crisp, unlike the others beside it.

He’s still unsure whether it was your doing or Dad’s, but most of the notes that once littered the door are now gathered beneath a single magnet. The pages have aged with wrinkles having smoothed over and he has to check his fingertips when he notices that the pencil has become faded and smudged, but that doesn’t stop him from flipping through the rest.

The note on top has a date from last summer, around when they would’ve been in Hyogo, a thank you and a reminder of when the vegetables were going bad. The one beneath it is a doodle of the factory from across the street. Ignoring a couple of notes in his own hand, he finds the one you wrote for Kazuya nearly three years ago to the date.

March 2010

I’ll be looking for you at Koshien! Can’t wait to hear all about it when you come home.

The air in his lungs grows cold before he decides against reading the rest. He’s memorized them all anyway.

It isn’t as neat as before, but the magnet still pins the notes with ease, allowing him to step away. Sighing, he runs his fingers through his hair, disliking the sensation he’s left with. His eyes scan the room once more, but he knows nothing will have changed in the last ten minutes.

It’s the same house it’s ever been, but this feeling reminds him of when he looked out at the Seidou practice grounds following graduation yesterday—a little lost in his body and in the space that used to be his, caught somewhere in transition.

Before he knows it, he’s reaching for his phone, flipping it open despite his earlier refusal to acknowledge the team’s combined dedication to proving their persistence isn’t exclusive to the field. Any hesitation he has disappears because it’s better than dealing with whatever this is.

Ten messages from his vice-captains, though it’s a dramatic decrease from what they spammed him with this afternoon. One from Nabe, accepting his absence and wishing him a good weekend. Thirteen from Sawamura, originally talking about his excitement for a return to Koshien, though the most recent ones are about the party. Chris sent a congratulatory text with a question about Kazuya’s next move. As he continues to scroll, that discomfort from earlier becomes impossible to ignore, searching for a name that’s not there.

Maybe a new phone still hasn’t been a priority? Or maybe one message wasn’t enough. Should he have sent you another? He thought—

It doesn’t matter what he thought. He’ll figure this out tomorrow. Thanks to Dad, he knows where you work, and he should be able to avoid Akari this time around.

In the meantime, he should cherish tonight while he has it. Honestly, this visit won’t be much different than his winter ones. A bit more time, but in two weeks, he’ll be moving into team dorms. It’ll be closer to Edogawa than Seidou was, but it still leaves Kazuya with nowhere near enough time. He’ll take whatever he can.

“Hey, Dad? Thanks— oh.”

Dad’s head is drooping where he’s otherwise upright, arms still crossed, beer still relatively untouched. His breathing is steady and shallow, and Kazuya wonders again just how tired he is. It’s always taken a lot for him to fall asleep at the table, and that’s with him taking the day off.

Just as well. Dad’s worked plenty for the last eleven years. It won’t be much longer till he can repay him.

Slipping his phone into his pocket, he’s unsure whether he should wake Dad to get him to bed or leave him to rest just a bit longer, hitting the light switch as he passes. The ceiling light turns off, leaving the room illuminated by the flickering of the television and the cheap standing lamp in the corner. When he reaches for the remote, his finger hesitates, hovering over the power button before turning down the volume instead.

Kazuya’s not too sure what he’s feeling, but he’s not ready to confront sleep with this sitting on his chest, and the prospect of an otherwise dead house makes it worse. It’s been a while since he’s felt like this. The feeling isn’t productive, so he doesn’t wish to waste any time on it. Dad’ll be fine if he leaves him like this for a minute while he steps outside.

The rubber seal of the sliding door protests for a moment before the door slides, the soft squeal of old wheels on the track sounding louder than Kazuya knows them to be. Looking over his shoulder, he breathes easier that his dad remains undisturbed.

Cool night air is the first thing to hit him, followed by the lingering scent of petrichor and the heaviness of the atmosphere, despite no further forecasts of rain. The chill comforts him, reminding him of winter camp and private practices, of years spent trying to hide the effort he put forth to maintain his skill. It reminds him of when he relinquished the pressure of “genius catcher” in favor of “Seidou’s captain.” His fingers twitch with the impulse to reach for the bat that remains put away inside his room.

If not for how this part of the city quiets following the sunset, he might have missed the sound of someone talking around the corner or of heels against the pavement, announcing their approach. He doesn’t even know why he’s straining to listen, but—

“Shit. He probably isn’t even home. If he is, he’s probably asleep… Screw it. I’ll try again tomorrow.”

It… is. Isn’t it?

Time slows and his heart pounds until he’s overwhelmed by the sound of it beating in his ear. A woman comes into view and his excitement bursts in his chest while he tries to rationalize that it’s probably not you. Her head is bent and her hands are busy, one shielding the other as she tries to light her cigarette. Every cell in his being screams at him in recognition the moment she looks up.

Your name sounds, louder than is appropriate for the time, and he recognizes the voice as his, but he doesn’t remember using it. You start, turning slightly, and he watches your surprise grow into something more when your eyes meet his. Brows stitching together, your mouth falls open and you look as you do when genuinely surprised. His smile is quick to grow at the familiarity of it all and it only takes a second more before your lips are stretching into a wide grin. As he looks at you, he’s caught between what he knows and what he doesn’t.

In you, he still sees the girl who’d wait for him to catch up after classes and who’d steal the book he was reading and who’d always end up making his kitchen smell like fire when left alone for more than twenty minutes. The way you hold yourself, shifting your weight from one foot to the next, swinging your bag so it’s at your side instead of behind you, allowing you to slip your free hand inside—he’s seen it hundreds of times before. Your cheeks lift with your smile and that’s something he’s seen even more. The growing silence and the way you look at him? Yeah, that’s all familiar, too.

But there’s just enough that’s new and unexplored that has him calling out, “Stay where you are. Don’t move a muscle.”

You dip your head like you used to and your smile shifts before you meet his eyes again. “Ten seconds in and you’re already asking for the impossible?”

Halfway to opening the door, he falters, watching you scratch your forehead with your thumb, eyes getting stuck on the cigarette secured between your index and middle fingers. You come onto the property, standing near the factory, and it feels like if he doesn’t leave to meet you right now, you’ll slip away.

His heart drops in his chest when you bring the cigarette to your lips, but it doesn’t matter as much as the fact that you’re here and waiting and he has time to figure out what the hell that is.

The care he had previously taken to avoid disturbing his dad is now largely forgotten, eager in his quest to see you again. Not exactly loud, but not exactly quiet either, he closes the distance to the front door as quickly as possible. Bumping the side table as he slips on his shoe, he wakes his dad with a knock against the wall.

Before he can turn and apologize, he hears his dad say, “It’s good to have you home kid.”

Glancing back, Kazuya smiles to himself before grabbing his jacket from the side table and stepping into the night.

There’s a quiet warmth that builds somewhere beneath his heart, spreading to his fingertips in a wave of anticipation. His heart quickens as he hastens down the steps, nearly tripping as he goes. Despite that hope, despite how he almost feels that kind of satisfaction of when a pitch lands perfectly in his mitt as he’s asked for it, he still can’t shake the feeling that the longer you’re out of sight, the greater the chance is that you’ll have vanished.

But there you are, leaning against the factory doors beneath the light, smoking as though it’s natural when it’s one of the most unnatural things he’s ever seen. As if you know where his mind’s gone, you glance at your fingers, taking another drag before pushing yourself upright and stepping away.

“Heya, stranger. Welcome home.”

That warmth blossoms from where it settled beneath his heart and he can’t stop his answering grin—neither can you, by the looks of it. A cool breeze pushes past you both but that doesn’t stop heat from spreading. As he steps forward, seeking to close the distance, you take a step back, stepping into partial darkness as you shoot him a half-guilty look.

Is it that you changed? Or that he has? Or is it your cigarette?

Whatever it is, he feels like the change he’s struggled to accept all evening is staring him in the face. It’s enough for him to come to terms with it. Perhaps home is a little different than he remembers, and maybe he is, too, but he’ll still take it. It’s still his.

“Stranger? You’re one to talk.”

“Yeah? You’re the one who left first.”

A snicker punctuates your light tease, but your words make it a little difficult to swallow. Scratching the back of his neck, he tries to come up with some sort of response, something that won’t let you know how your presence has wiped his mind. “How does that make sense? Well, going by that logic, I was the first to return.”

“That’s such a lame response. Did Seidou steal all your witticisms?”

“Your response was lame in the first place.”

This laugh is light and airy, not quite coming from the heart. “Maybe so.” He watches as you bring your cigarette to your lips again, watches as your lips shape into a soft ‘o’ to release smoke with your exhale. “I’m glad you came back. I was hoping I’d find you tonight.”

“I heard you earlier,” he says, a little slow to respond, eyes slow to leave the path your cigarette takes. “What, were you nervous or something?”

“I can leave and come back if you mind. My smoking, I mean.”

Of course, he minds, but where would you go? What if someone wants to be an ass about you wandering with a cigarette? And that’s not even considering the sneaking suspicion he has that if you leave now, you won’t actually come back.

“No, just stay here.”

“You… don’t mind?” Skepticism weaves throughout your words, settling on your tongue in a way that’s always annoyed him.

He laughs, voice once again louder than it should be, but with the sound leaves some of that tension you were holding. “No. You said you were hoping you found me, and you did. What, was this supposed to be some catch-and-release nonsense?”

“Alright, alright, Kazuya.” Dipping your head, he catches the unmistakable lift of your cheeks, something that still has the power to make time stop for just a second. “Yeah. Yeah, I was nervous. I thought you might have a party or something with your friends. It’s the whole reason I accepted my friends’ invitation. Thought maybe if I went out with them, I’d come back and you’d actually be here.”

“It sounded like you were gonna try to leave again. Did you give up or something?”

“Shut it. No, I, uh. I guess I psyched myself out into thinking I’d end up getting your dad telling me you weren’t back yet. Again.”

There’s anger in your voice. Not a lot. He doubts anyone else would be able to hear it, but after knowing you longer than almost anyone else, he can’t not hear it. It’s the kind that used to make you hesitate in middle school, the kind that would last weeks.

“That happen a lot?”

“More than I told you about.”

Shit. “Sorry.”

Shrugging, you take another step back until you’re pressed against the concrete half-wall that delineates the property. When he looks a little closer, he finds your exhaustion to be inescapable. Your weariness blends with something sad that he can’t stand, evident in the corners of your eyes and the way you move—slow, measured, as if you’ve already given away most of your energy and you have to conserve the rest. Beyond that, there’s something intangible about you, like trying to hold a shadow.

“Well, I’m back now. I looked for you when I was back during winter break. It almost felt like fate was laughing at me when I saw you on the bus after spending the day looking for you.”

When you smile, it holds none of that anger, but he knows it’s still there. “Is that what happened? I only had the privilege of hearing Akari’s complaints when school started again.”

“What would she have to complain about? She got a good laugh out of it.”

“Ah, just the usual. I’m sorry you had to go through her. Didn’t you ask your dad?”

Now that he thinks about it, asking Dad is one of the first things he should’ve done. Kazuya knew you liked to visit, so it makes sense Dad would know. Could he have saved himself that uncomfortable trip?

… Dammit.

“Your dad was there when I dropped my phone and it broke. I thought he would have told you. It was a little before you played against Mei.”

Back then, he didn’t talk to his dad until well after, worried about Nori and Sawamura, and the conversation was almost entirely about Koshien. Jeez, he really doesn’t like that twisting sensation that’s starting to become familiar.

“Unless… Please tell me that you guys still talk regularly.”

“He’s so busy, I let him call when he can. I don’t want to interrupt him.”

Silence grows as you deadpan, only breaking when you give him a humorless snort. “You know he says the same thing, right?”

“Shut up, will you?”

Your laugh helps loosen the knot that’s forming and he finds himself unable to look away from your cigarette again as you put it out and stash it in a pocket ashtray. Glancing up, you catch him staring, rolling your eyes when he smirks in response.

“You mind, don’t you? I knew it.”

“It’s too late for that, don’t you think?”

“I wish you told me. I would’ve rather stepped away than irritate you.”

Yeah, well, it’s been so long he’d rather have you here. Smoking or not. It’s not like he was never around Coach when he smoked. “Why’s it matter? It’s already done.”

“Kazuya, if you—you know what? Never mind. It’s fine. Like you said, it’s already done.”

“No, say it.”

“No, it’s fine. I’m not trying to fight you right now. It’s just been so long since we were together I must’ve forgotten that this is just you.”

“Oi.”

This time when you laugh, it’s full. This time when you look him in the eyes, it’s softer, more welcoming.

“There’s the sore pout I know.”

It’s been a minute since you two have been together, so he could be wrong, but he’s pretty certain you’re saying something completely different. He feels a low heat start to spread from his nose, not quite reaching his cheeks just yet.

“So? Did you get a new phone yet, or will I have to drag you around with me to make up for lost time?”

“What’s this? Is Kazuya feeling needy? Did you miss me?”

“Shut up.” That heat ignites, spreading across his cheeks like wildfire at your teasing, warming the tips of his ears and making his skin itch as it rushes down his neck. Your smile changes, uninhibited for the first time tonight. “Like you didn’t miss me.”

“Aha, yeah, I missed you a lot.”

Easy. Simple. Wholly you, the girl he’s spent his entire life getting to know. Why your confession makes that heat tingle, ensuring it lingers on his face, he doesn’t know. This is silly. It’s you and it’s always been you and none of this is new.

“So?”

“Yeah, I got a new phone today, actually.”

“No kidding?”

“No kidding,” you say, looking away to grab, presumably, your new phone from your bag. Your hand comes out, holding a flip phone that looks like the same model as his. “One of my coworkers got tired of me borrowing her phone, so she got me a new one. Gotta find time to activate it.”

You hand it to him and, yeah, it’s the same kind, just black where his is silver. He rotates it in his hand before flipping it open, unsurprised when it remains off. “Why not tomorrow?” There’s a shop not too far that’ll do it for cheap.

“Tomorrow? Eager, are you?”

“Oi.” Though he offers the phone for you to grab, he’s reluctant to let it go, enjoying the slight way you pull at it. “You’ll still be around, right?”

Why not tomorrow, unless you’re planning on being gone? He’ll go with you, whether that means finding something to do near the restaurant and doing it after or picking you up from your house tomorrow morning.

“You mean you’d wanna waste time with me like that?”

“You’re not being for real, right? I was prepared to spend all of tomorrow searching for you again.” Waste time?

“You weren’t.”

“Don’t try to tell me what I’m thinking.”

“How can I not when you won’t even admit you missed me?”

Hasn’t he? Do you think he doesn’t? “I don’t need to say it for it to be true and you know that.” Maybe he needs to remind you. “Yeah, I want to hang out with you like that. How long are you gonna be in the neighborhood this time?”

“I dunno. I came by to pack and to try to see you, so just a coupla days. No more than Tuesday, I hope.”

“Pack? For what?” You’re leaving?

Your eyes light up, smile slow to follow. “I haven’t gotten the chance to tell you, but do you remember that art school I always talked about?”

Not the high school, right? You were supposed to go, but then your dad’s drinking problem got worse and you stopped talking about it years ago.

“... That university, right? Close to Seidou?” Excitement starts to build in his chest, unmistakable as he watches your lips stretch into a wide smile.

“Yep.”

“You got in?”

“I got in. Not just that, but they offered a full ride.”

“No way! That’s fantastic!” For a second, he thinks about how it felt, learning after the fact that you had to stay behind. “It’s not going to end up like—”

“No.”

Oops. He shouldn’t have entertained that memory of high school.

“It won’t be like before. The old man can build himself a new house with empty beer cans for all I care. I’m not giving up another opportunity for him.”

That’s new. Not unwelcome, but… new. What happened to push you like that?

“Will you be moving into the dorms?”

“They actually don’t have dorms.”

“Oh. Then where—?”

“My coworker hooked me up with her sister,” you answer, taking another step away from the half-wall and rubbing your hands together. “She’s a year older and needs a new roommate. She’s attending one of the Meijin campuses.”

“That’s pretty cool, I guess.” Your coworker. Again. Huh. “Are you cold? I can—here. Take my jacket.”

“I’m fine, Kazuya,” you say, pushing away the offered garment. “You don’t seem enthused.”

“I am.”

“Don’t tell me it’s been so long that you think you can lie to me.”

“I am happy for you.”

“But?”

“But nothing. I’m happy for you. Does this mean you’ll be getting a new job? And you’ll be moving? When? Tuesday?”

He should be feeling uncomfortable with the way you’re scrutinizing him, but he doesn’t. He feels at home. Your eyes narrow and he sees the second you decide to give up calling him out.

“Yeah. I’ll be starting a new job. Same place that my roommate works at, so I won’t have to commute far. My last shift with the restaurant was today and the new job starts two days before the term does. She said she’d be ready for me on Tuesday.”

“Jeez. That soon?”

It’s not lost on him that, had he missed you today, his knowledge of where you worked would’ve been outdated.

“Well, yeah. What’d you expect?”

“Some more time. More than the weekend, at least.”

“Now that you’re back, I wouldn’t mind staying longer, but I don’t want to be at the house longer than necessary.”

That’s an easy enough fix, but he has to know. “Okay, are you going to tell me what happened?”

Rocking back and forth from the heel of your boot to your toe, you chew on the inside of your cheek, turning your attention elsewhere. He snickers at the familiar display of annoyance, barely earning him an irritated glance before you return to staring at the office door. “Can’t you just accept that I’ve had enough? It was more of the same.”

“I know you. You have inhuman patience.”

“I have to. I grew up alongside you, didn’t I?” This time, you look at him with just a glimmer of half-hearted exasperation dancing in your eyes.

“Yeah, but your patience doesn’t begin and end with me. Not unless you’re trying to say that I’ve become so important in your life that it does.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Stepping forward, you lightly push his shoulder, not knowing that your touch sends a spark traveling down his arm.

“What’d your dad do to make you not want to be here?”

“Can’t deduce it on your own, genius pretty boy?”

“Jeez, can’t you just—wait. ‘Genius pretty boy?’ I don’t think I’ve heard that combination before.”

“Really? Cause I can guarantee I’m not the only person to use it. Didn’t realize you paid attention to things like that.”

He cackles and the full weight of how much he missed you crashes into him, stealing his breath for a moment. “Obviously I don’t or I would’ve known, wouldn’t I?”

“Please. We both know you kinda like hearing it or you wouldn’t bother listening at all.”

“I don’t! You’re the only person allowed to call me whatever you want—”

“Oho, those are big words, Genius Pretty Boy.”

“—and that’s only because I can’t stop you.”

He feels warm, despite the cold. Your smile is cheeky and teasing, annoyance no longer there, reminding him of all the times that came before. Stepping forward again, it looks like you might close the distance, but you don’t. Even if you don’t, he—

“Is that all? Cause I think you like when I say it. Or it’s cause you missed me that much. One of those two for sure.”

Fluttering erupts in his abdomen and it leaves him feeling light like he used to. Hadn’t this gone away? Or has three years of separation brought it all back? “Only one?”

His heart hammers at the acknowledgment that he wants you to come and close the distance as you had before. You don’t step forward, instead shifting your weight to your other foot, hovering just outside of the light of the lamp.

“You’ve changed a lot, you know.”

“How so?” So have you. Is that a good thing or a bad thing?

“I don’t know how to describe it, but you’re… more. More you.”

You smile when he laughs, pausing when he takes a step forward. “That makes no sense. I’ve always been me.”

“You’d see it if I drew you.” Your hand moves to your bag and he knows you still have a sketchbook in there. He’d like to look through it if you’ll give him the chance.

“You sticking around to draw me?”

“You’d sit still for me?”

“Yeah.”

How many times have you two done this little routine, said these same words?

Pursing your lips together, you look like you’re trying to suppress your smile, and when that fails, you duck your head. Bashful, if ever you were bashful with him. Cute.

“Mm. I’ll stick around for you. I’ll need to get a purple pen, though.”

“Still with that?”

“As long as you’re purple.”

Kazuya’s attention drops to the hand fiddling with your bag, wondering whether you’ll bust out your sketchbook now since the temptation to draw is written all over your face. Your fingers tap against the opening, index and middle fingers fluttering for a moment before closing your hand around the strap.

“How much longer do you plan on being in the neighborhood? You’re moving soon, too, right?”

“Yeah, uh—you know about that?”

The second it leaves his mouth, he knows it’s a stupid thing to ask, but, man, it’s great watching your expression change so quickly. It’s stupid of him to even consider that you wouldn’t have paid attention.

“Oh, no. Of course not. I wouldn’t know about my best friend being drafted by the Yomiuri Giants of all teams. How could I possibly know anything like that?”

“Alright, alright—”

“It’s not like I came over to hang out with your dad while the draft was ongoing or anything. We totally didn’t complain when they won the rights to you.”

“Very funny. I get it.”

“No. Why would we? We haven’t been Swallows fans since forever. Not at all.”

“You done?”

Instead of answering him, you stick out your tongue, though that’s answer enough.

“Yep. I’m some kind of traitor.”

“I think it’s ridiculous that the Giants got so lucky this year. You and Mei? The draft has to be broken for that to happen.”

“It was probably just the number of talented players this year. They didn’t know how to break us up. Next year will be interesting to watch, too.”

“I’m sure Mei’s excited. He’s wanted you to catch for him as long as you two have known each other. Ugh. I can’t believe I have to cheer for his team now. The Giants and Mei?”

Your guys’ joined laughter echoes in the quiet streets and he feels fifteen again, talking about how you’d have to cheer for Chris and Seidou, not that you had a problem with the school. When his laughter dies down, his mind wanders to the upcoming week, to the reality that Tuesday is closer than he’d like. He wants far more than the next couple of days if he’s about to be half a city away again.

“To answer your question, rookies have to be moved in by the 29th. I missed so much time here that I’m gonna drag it out as long as possible.”

“Ah, I think I understand. Do you have anything planned, or are you just gonna hang out with your dad when you can?”

“I wanted to hang out with you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he answers, listening as wind passes through the trees down the street. It travels closer, causing you to shiver again, turning in on yourself as you do. “Take my jacket.” Another gust, stronger than the last, causes another shiver to rip through you and he’s opening up the jacket and draping it around your shoulders anyway.

“Really?” you say, though you waste no time slipping your arms through the sleeves of his Seidou windbreaker. “This isn’t even all that thick.”

“It’s better than the sweater you’re wearing now. You better not catch a cold.”

“How ever could I possibly catch a cold when I have your jacket to protect me?”

“I think a ‘thank you’ would suffice.”

“I think you shouldn’t expect to get this jacket back.”

“We’ve barely gotten back and already you’re trying to steal my clothes?”

“This one’s on you. Besides, I don’t think any of those old shirts are gonna fit you now. Your old beanie definitely won’t fit your big head anymore.”

“My—?” He was wondering where that went. “You stole my black beanie?”

“You’re the one who left it behind last winter,” you say with faux innocence and a smile that confirms you took it.

This is easier. This feels like it was only yesterday since you two were last together. The air around you both is lighter, not weighed down by all of the accumulated changes that have occurred over the years. At the core of it, you two are both still you. You’re still friends and you’re still—

“So, tomorrow…”

“What about tomorrow?”

“What are you trying to do tomorrow? Watch me pack?”

“Does it matter?”

“A little. If I didn’t have to pack, what would you have us do? Play catch? Would you be my model while talking about nothing but Seidou and Koshien?”

“Well, since you’re the one who offered, wanna pitch to me tomorrow? After you pack, of course.”

“Oh, ‘of course,’” you repeat, laugh bubbling past your lips.

All it takes is a single attempt to cease your laughter before it becomes louder, harder to control. He watches as your brows and nose scrunch together and your hand comes up to try to hide your face and it’s not much longer before a laugh spills past his lips, too. You choke on your laugh, doubling over as he leans forward, offering his hand in support, gladly grasping yours when you take it. The harder you laugh, the more laughter you pull from him until he’s holding onto you, too.

This is—this is so dumb and yet he can’t stop. Your fingers tighten around his palm and he squeezes in response, so glad that it’s you. Giving another squeeze, you try to straighten yourself, letting him see the tears that have started streaming down your cheeks from laughing. When he blinks, he can feel a stray tear pulling at the outside of his eye, too.

“You oughtta warn me if you’re gonna joke like that, Kazuya.” Your voice is wispy, altered by your laughter as you wipe away your tears with the knuckle of your free hand. Glancing at him, you pause, lips parted, reminding him of the last day you two properly spent together. You step forward and reach for his face and he hesitates, only for you to gently wipe away the tears that have gathered, moving around his glasses. “Ah, I don’t know if I’ll be any good, pitching to you.”

“We can find out tomorrow.”

It’s the first time since he’s come down that you’re properly under the light with him and that distance feels smaller. There’s no attempt on your end to remove your hand from his and it’s the first time that you feel almost tangible, like he’s not desperately grasping at smoke.

“Tomorrow? Oh, jeez. I forgot how relentless you are. Next you’re gonna tell me it’s ‘just gonna be for ten minutes,’ or something.”

“No, I wouldn’t say that. I’d want you to pitch for at least thirty now.”

“Oh? Seidou made you greedy.”

“I was already greedy. C’mon. Throw for me.”

“I don’t know. I need to pack and make sure I’m good to leave.”

“You don’t have that much stuff. I’ll even help you.”

“You’d help me just so I’d play catch with you? I didn’t even say yes.”

“I’d help you regardless. And you didn’t say no.” Not in any way that truly matters when it comes to you. You’ll throw to him at least once in between now and Tuesday.

“You’ll help regardless? Is this what being captain did to you? Alright. Come by tomorrow and we’ll tackle my stuff together. I expect to hear everything about Seidou, though, alright?”

“Between packing and activating your phone, that doesn’t sound like there’ll be room to play catch tomorrow.”

“Hey,” you say, pulling at his hand, though he’s reluctant to let go. Even after he does, you follow his hand with yours, fingers tapping on the back of his. “You said ‘regardless.’ You also said that you’d want to waste time with me, right?”

“You’re being so particular about my words now.”

“I think I have a right to be.”

Ouch. “I came back.”

“That you did.” It comes on the back of a sigh and he feels that distance increase again. “You always said you would. But I want to hear all about Seidou and Koshien, alright? You’ll tell me tomorrow.”

Because you promised you would. Because you want to hear about what he’s been doing. Because you want to know why he didn’t come back. None of it’s lost on him.

“Yeah, I’ll tell you tomorrow. You’ll be there to answer the door when I come, right?”

“Of course.” You say it so simply like it’s the most obvious thing in the world and maybe it was, once. But to pretend that he still feels uncertain would be to deny that the way you prepare to say goodbye right now doesn’t put him on edge. “I should get going. It’s been a long day.”

As you take a step back again, his hand reflexively wraps around yours. Glancing back at him, you pause, raising a brow as a playful smile forms. His mouth goes dry and his heart climbs into his throat, not ready to let you go.

“Did you eat tonight? I’m sure Dad wouldn’t mind—”

“Kazuya. I worked at a restaurant. They never let me leave hungry. I’m fine.” As if you can tell where his mind’s going, you add, “You’ll see me tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You only just got here. He has tomorrow, and the next day, too, but that’s not enough time. Searching your face for any indication that you might feel the same, that you might share the burden of some of this anxiety, his eyes get stuck on the shape of your lips, on the questioning smile that remains.

“No, Kazuya.”

“No? I didn’t say anything.”

“I know that look.”

He clears his throat and meets your eyes only to find that sadness from before. You might be here in front of him, but you still feel out of reach. His grip around your hand tightens, just a bit, and you respond by turning your hand in his, fingers briefly ghosting over his palm. You’re the one who breaks eye contact, focusing wholly on your joined hands, trying to distract him from what he wants.

You used to do this, hold his hand open in one of yours while tracing the lines and callouses with the fingers of the other. Just as three years ago, your touch is soft, no less familiar, even if everything else feels so radically jarring.

“You don’t want to kiss me.”

“I don’t?” He dips his head, trying to grab your attention without pulling his hand from yours only to receive half a glance in turn.

“I taste like smoke.”

Of course, you do. He hadn’t thought about that, but does it really matter?

“Are you sure that isn’t an excuse?”

“An excuse?” You look up again, fingers pausing where they sit, tickling the heel of his palm.

“Not to kiss me.”

Another breeze passes through, distracting you for a moment before his words hit you. Even though you’re the one who brought it up, even though you’re the one who denied him before he had a chance to ask, your eyes still widen in surprise like you weren’t expecting him to push the topic. Biting your bottom lip, you look down again, pretending to be busy with his hand, though he knows you’re not since your fingers still don’t move.

If anything, it’s nice to know that he still affects you like this even if you feel a world away.

“Oh, no. The old captain of the Tokyo Representatives and the soon-to-be rookie catcher for the Giants deserves better than a cigarette-flavored kiss.”

“Shouldn’t I decide what I deserve?”

He steps forward, hoping that he’ll be able to convince you, that it’ll stop feeling like he’s losing you, but all it gets him is you, pulling your hands back before stuffing them in the pockets of his jacket and taking a step away. It’s your turn to clear your throat, to square your shoulders and look at him, half as the girl who’d always talk back, half as the woman he’d like to know.

“Perhaps,” you say, taking another step away, this time toward the street. “But I think you of all people know that you can’t always get what you want when you want it.”

When you smile, it’s teasing, a little sharper than he’s used to, but he’ll get used to it. Yeah, that’s fine that you turned his old words against him, and yeah, you have a point that he can’t always get what he wants, but it’s you and he’s never given up that when it comes to you.

Turning on your heel, you start walking in the direction of your father’s house, looking over your shoulder as you do. “Alright, I’m gonna get going, for real this time. Come by whenever you want and I’ll make sure I’m the one to answer the door, okay?”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

He watches as you make it across the street, suppressing the urge to follow after you, heart stuttering when you turn around and call out to him.

“It’s good to have you home, Kazuya.”

Promises We Exchanged Fic Page | Daiya no Ace Masterlist

#miyuki kazuya x reader #miyuki x reader #daiya no ace x reader #ace of diamond x reader #daiya x reader #✒.ix writes #✒.promises we exchanged #pwe #end part one #the boy

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