prompt: mother says to be wary of people you meet on the internet, especially since you never know who’s on the other side of the screen.
pairing: atsumu x reader
the unpaid extras: osamu, suna
general taglist: @graykageyama
Osamu liked to mess with his brother and lately he’s been planning the largest prank. It originally wasn’t supposed become a huge thing, but then Suna just kept edging him on; adding more things one by one and it just spiraled. Osamu was catfishing Atsumu with your pictures.
Now, Osamu knows that it sounds bad but technically you were in on the prank. You had never met nor even knew Atsumu, heck, you didn’t even know who Osamu was. You had been part of the prank merely through text messages and the occasional meet up with Suna.
To put it simply, Suna met you through one of his teammates; coincidentally you ended up in one of his classes and the two of you built a tiny friendship. Which was why, when Suna was thinking of the perfect person to catfish Atsumu with; your face lit up in his head.
You were the perfect candidate, exactly Atsumu’s type literally to a tee. When Suna pulled up your contact, the first thing he did was offer to pay you. Every picture you sent used for the prank, he’ll send you cash through an app and as a broke college student who needed cash fast, you agreed as long as the photos weren’t used for anything weird or sexual. He made sure to send you proof of each photo in use.
This brings it all back to dear Osamu catfishing his brother. He had created an entirely new Instagram for you, complete using your name and a cute description that him and Suna had spent two hours thinking of. They decided to even spend a few days perfecting it, posting pictures a few days apart with captions, following random groups, liking posts, essentially creating a whole new personality using your photos. Osamu had even developed a fake occupation for you; a foodie blogger to which some posts were dedicated to food reviews for restaurants Osamu deemed worthy of a post.
And when Osamu says that the prank spiraled; it fucking spiraled. Originally it started with Suna and Osamu following the account, suddenly Suna’s teammates began following the account. Osamu made the mistake of tagging Onigirl Miya in one of your photos, ultimately adding a few random people to follow the account. Suddenly after two weeks of having the account, you gained over two thousand follows.
It was no worries though, because Osamu can quickly catfish Atsumu, take down the account, and call it all good.
Safe to say, Atsumu accepted the friend request rather quickly. Osamu and Suna snicker to themselves, it took Atsumu less than five minutes to accept and he was already liking all of your photos. Not even ten minutes pass and he’s sliding into the DM’s.
✉️: daishō is one of the many men i can’t get outta my head… please do me a favor and request more for him i’m begging you
“i don’t know what you’re talking about… let me go.”
your attempts of shooing the three boys away from you are futile, your spoken words not even quite reaching them as you feel like you’re talking to a wall. and it does seem like you’re talking to three walls because of how intimidating and big they are. you were minding your own business and heading home after grocery shopping, only to be dragged to an alleyway by them. they’re total strangers to you, so it’s hard to figure out what their deal is.
“you see, that snake bastard caused us too much trouble”, the tallest one scoffs while the other two make sure to check the surroundings and hold you close to them by your wrist. it’s already aching, and their strength tells you that they must be athletes. you try not to, but you inevitably freeze at the nickname.
daishō? what had he done and why are you being dragged into this? you’re nothing but his friend… he occasionally hooks up with.
sure, he has a scary face. the frown forever etched on his lips is a tad bit intimidating. the crease in his brow a little bit unnerving. the tense in his jaw a smidge frightening.
but you see him when all that’s melted away, and he is undoubtedly, wholly precious.
he’s precious in the way he wraps his arms around you from behind as you brush your teeth in the morning, burying his face in your neck and grumbling when you tell him he needs to get ready too. precious in the way he tangles your feet together as you sit on opposites ends of the couch, rubbing your ankle with his socked toes. precious in the way he keeps one of his hoodies in your car because he knows you always forget yours and he doesn’t want you to get cold—plus he just likes seeing you in his clothes.
and he’s precious now, as he comes home from a long practice, hair damp from the shower he took in the locker room, hardly slipping his shoes off before he’s going to find you.
you’re in the bedroom, standing in front of your dresser. you’re just putting away clothes, but the second he sees you, wearing one of his old shirts no less, it’s like a switch flips in him.
“baby,” he mumbles, crossing the room to you in just a few strides, arms already reaching out. you look up just in time for him to grab your face, thumbs brushing over your cheekbones and breathing through the small smile that twitches the edges of his lips. “baby.”
“ken,” you grin, placing one hand on top of his and the other on his chest. “rough day?”
you don’t get a verbal answer—but what you do get is kentaro leaning in to kiss you, humming against your lips, and only pulling away to trail his kisses from the corner of your mouth and down your jaw. you can feel his smile against your neck as you giggle, the kisses tickling all the way down.
then, some unfamiliar laughs fill the air, and kyotani freezes in place.
slowly, he untucks his face from your neck, pulls his lips away, and looks to his right where the giggles came from. unbeknownst to him, you had been on facetime with some of your friends when he’d walked in, and they just got their first sight of your boyfriend being a molten, soft mess for you.
“yn,” he frowns, crease returning to his brow, hand flexing against your cheek, and you know that’s your cue to end the call.
you rush a quick goodbye to your friends and hang up the facetime, dropping your phone back onto the dresser. this time, it’s your turn to cup kentaro’s face in your hands, smiling at him as he pouts at you, tips of his ears and apples of his cheeks red. even now, he’s precious.
“aw, ken. you’re so cute, all embarrassed,” you coo, grin widening as you see his blush get deeper. he drops his head back down to your neck, keeping it there and refuses to look back up.
it takes the rest of the night—and many, many kisses and head rubs—for him to forgive you for embarrassing him so.
AN: The number of people that have wanted to hear more about one sharkyboi and his human mate is substantial. I’ve had offers of souls and broken knees to write more, so I'm here with a sequel!
This part is told from the reader's perspective, cus I felt like I couldn't write the final part without a significant amount of stuff leading into it. The last part should come shortly, and will yield all manner of fish-fuckery <3
Pairing: Shark!mer!Osamu x F!reader.
Genre/Tags: the fish-fuckery led to feelings and babies, angst, lots of pining.
Warnings: 18+, refers to merfucking, refers to noncon, refers to rough sex, blood/injuries, Please note that this part of the fic contains several triggering topics, despite having no actual smut; there is lots about pregnancy, abortion is mentioned, and the rape/non-con from the OG fic is refered to several times. Just like, be careful.
Words: 4.5K
[Part 1]
4 weeks post-conception
A month had passed since you’d come home.
Water pounded against your scalp, cascaded over closed eyelids and streamed down to your feet. Droplets hit the shower floor and drummed against the white plastic. The sound echoed, drowning out the rest of the world. You tipped your head downwards, staring into the drain’s swirling abyss.
A month of existence, a whole thirty-one days, had slipped through your fingers and you were no better off than you had been before. You wanted to scream. There was something wrong with you. Things should’ve gone back to the way they were. Surely it had been long enough.
Your wet fingers tightened against your arms, nails squeezing into slick flesh, grounding yourself.
On the surface, things had returned to normal. After your holiday, you’d gone back to work, back to the nine-to-five grind. You’d caught up with your friends, paid your bills, washed your clothes, gone fucking grocery shopping. Everything was as it had been before, except for you. Amid familiar faces and well-known routines, all you felt was lost and hollow.
Maybe it was because you hadn’t told anyone what had happened. Not about the assault. And not about Osamu.
It wouldn’t have done any good to tell your friends, you’d told yourself over and over.
In the first instance, the man was long dead, mauled and drowned, half of his body rotting at the bottom of the ocean. Revenge had already been exacted on your behalf, violent and bloody. You weren’t looking for pity or sympathy, and you certainly didn’t want to revisit the experience, so you’d kept it to yourself. That man had gotten what he’d deserved and his demise didn’t weigh on you too heavily.
But Osamu... You would’ve liked to talk about him. To someone. Anyone.
It was your avenging merman who kept you awake at nights; who stayed in your thoughts, haunting you, day in, day out. He was in the smiles of your overly-friendly coworkers, eager but respectful. He was there at the grocery store when you wondered what to eat, what he would eat, whether he’d be curious about your diet, whether he’d want a taste straight from your lips. He was there when you touched yourself at night; the memory of him was on you, inside you, trailing his clawed hands up and down your body in wonderment.
Every single day you forced yourself to get on with life, and every single day, you’d remember Osamu and know there was something missing.
It would have been nice to get your feelings off your chest, instead of stewing in them, but it wasn’t that easy. Osamu wasn’t just ‘some guy’ you’d hooked up with on holiday. He was a creature ripped from fairytale-fiction and you didn’t dare say a word, not even to your closest friends. No matter how strongly you felt about him. No matter that your feelings were eating away at you.
Who amongst your peers would believe a word of your story- who could possibly relate?
By this point, your toes were completely pruned, and you decided that enough hot water had been wasted on rumination. You turned the shower off, and steam swirled around your body in tentative wisps as you stepped from the cubicle. The curling mist that followed in your wake left the room hazy. Moisture dripped from your hair in rivulets down your shoulders and back, beading on damp skin.
You pulled a towel from a hook, absentmindedly wrapping it around yourself- but you stopped when you saw the opaque mirror. You froze. Hesitated before it. Shy fingers lingered over the clouded surface for several long moments, before you sighed and gave in. You let your towel fall to the floor, as you swiped away condensation. And as you gazed over your freshly revealed reflection, your cheeks burned at the sight of your own naked body.
Enough time had passed to heal most of the wounds Osamu had left; The bruises had faded. The cuts at your hips and breasts had long since scabbed over and flaked away, leaving only faint red imprints. The thin cut on your ankle was now slim and silvery.
But no such thing could be said for the bite mark on your shoulder. It caught your eye, red, angry and vivid. It refused to fade and you were glad for it. It was your permanent reminder of him. Of your shark. It never failed to bring a wry smile to your lips, or stoke a twist of heat in your abdomen. Unable to be hidden by any type of straps, it made every-day clothing choices challenging.
You caught yourself tracing the sensitive, semi-circular bite fondly, and flinched.
It was safe to say you hadn’t thrown yourself back into the dating scene- How could you think about moving forward when Osamu’s marks were still printed into your skin, when you could still vividly remember the feel of his tail wrapped around you, and his desperate heat filling your guts. More than that, you didn’t particularly want to move on. Just the thought of ‘being’ with someone else made you feel physically ill.
You hated it. You had chosen to leave. You had left Osamu- had spent one night with him, and left without an explanation- you didn’t get to be so hung up.
Your eyes squeezed shut, as guilt twisted in the pit of your stomach. You ripped your hand away from your shoulder, fisting your hands tight enough to cut red welts into your palms to match the ones on your arms. When you opened your eyes again, your reflection was gone. Lost in the steam.
Uneasy and discontented, you went to bed feeling too hot. Too warm.
Uncomfortable and feverish.
And the next morning you threw yourself out of bed in your hurry to hack up the meagre contents of your stomach.
---x---
5 weeks post-conception
The fast tapping of your foot against the bathroom tiles had a slight ring to it, as you waited for the second pregnancy test to develop. You grabbed the box and scanned it for the upteenth time, in a state of denial and disbelief, nails chewed down to ragged edges.
After a week of violent and unexplainable nausea, you’d bit the bullet and bought a home pregnancy test kit on a whim. You hadn’t expected a positive test result- you’d been trying to rule out possible causes for your sudden bout of sickness for an ‘official’ diagnosis- and yet the double lines displayed on the first test you’d taken, taunted you with their ruling. Positive. Pregnant.
It was, understandably, a difficult thing to believe. So here you were; waiting for the second test to develop- waiting for it to confirm that the first test had been a fluke. A mistake. A fake and false positive.
After several more anxious seconds, you steeled yourself and stared down at the second test. You paused, blinking at it slowly as if that would change the result. But no, there the white contraption sat, stationary and innocent, despite it's life-changing result.
Two lines.
The second test matched the first. Corroborated it. Confirmed it.
Your legs were shaky, as the rug of denial that you'd been clinging to was swept out from beneath you. In a daze, you sank to the bathroom floor, landing on your ass with a gentle thump. You stayed there for a while, with some irrational part of you wondering whether you should attempt a third test.
The knowledge of your condition didn’t scare you. There was relief in certainty. You knew the cause of your symptoms, and the most rational part of your brain had kicked in, supplying statements of undeniable truth.
You were pregnant. Your body was going to change. In eight months time, you were going to have a baby. You were going to be a mother.
A sudden, crazed laughter inexplicably bubbled up from your chest. You clasped your hands to your mouth trying to contain it, as a slew of seemingly random emotions flickered through your mind. You felt crazy and drunk, overwhelmed by the possibilities of what this would mean for you.
You thought of Osamu and wondered if he would feel as happy as you did when he found out- not if, but when. When you went back to see him. He was half a world away but of course you had to go back to tell him, to show him. Back to the immense stretches of clear water and heated sand. Back to sea winds and golden sunsets and-
-A nasty thought occurred to you, and your manic giggles slowly subsided. The silence of the bathroom was deafening, as fear replaced your elation.
Because what if the father wasn’t Osamu. What if the child was… his.
The memory of your deceased attacker was sharp and venomous. The idea that you might be carrying a dead man’s child- a rapist’s child- inside of you, was horrifying. It filled your stomach with a fresh bout of nausea, and you hurled yourself over to the open toilet, retching bile into the bowl.
Eventually, your stomach stopped heaving. You sat back on your heels, wiping at your chin, and forced yourself to think calmly.
Your memories of the assault were hazy, and you didn’t trust them completely. But when you cast your mind back, you were sure that man had been wearing protection- you were sure he had made a passing comment over how he didn’t think a ‘slut like you’ would be ‘clean’. There hadn’t been any evidence of his DNA on you, which was partially why your claim at the police station had been dismissed. Bastards, all of them.
And better still, you had taken the morning after pill- that much, at least, you were certain of. It had been an ordeal to make yourself understood at the local pharmacy, using a mix of poor mime and google translate. You could remember the relief that had come with the tiny pill- itching it’s way down your throat, as you’d swallowed it dry. Therefore it couldn’t be his. There was no way.
You flushed the toilet and just as your displaced stomach acids spiraled out of view, so too did your fears about your child’s paternity.
However, if the only possible father was Osamu, and the fetus inside you was his- which you were certain it was- then that presented other problems. You were human and he was decidedly not.
Anxiously, you imagined the features that your child might share with his father- pictured the midwife’s look of horror as your child came out legless. More worryingly, was that Osamu was significantly bigger than you. Any normal pregnancy would cause your body to change and swell, but just how big would you get carrying his offspring? And if it was unfeasible to carry the child to term, could you handle going through an abortion? Alone?
You didn’t know.
Blankly, you stood and rinsed the acrid taste of vomit from your mouth. Then, you started clearing away the plastic strips, shuffling everything into the bin.
---x---
6 weeks post-conception
You kept your condition a secret.
It wasn’t exactly something to advertise to the world: Single women, knocked up, with no partner in the picture. Besides, people tended to ask questions when they found out their acquaintances were pregnant, and ‘Who’s the father?’ was one you had regular nightmares about.
Day by day, you went about unfocused and zombie-like, unsure of what to do with yourself. There was just so much to think about, so much to consider- and the tiny being in your stomach wasn’t making things any easier. You were ill every morning and resigned to the fact that your evening meals were going to end up in the toilet, far earlier than they should. On multiple days, you were sent home early, due to your co-worker’s concerns for your health as you let responsibilities slip through the cracks.
Whilst doing an exceptionally poor job of juggling the other commitments in your life, you spent your time in contemplation, and several things became clear.
You think you might love him. Osamu, that is. The merman.
Which is... Unexpected.
You’d had boyfriends in the past, but love? You’re not sure you’re ever loved anyone. You’d always thought you needed to know more about someone before you could decide on whether affection was love; interests, hobbies, favourite colours, number of siblings- that kind of thing. You didn’t really know a thing about Osamu… Except that he had watched you swim for a month. That he’d cared about you enough to kill somebody for you and make it look like an accident, only by the slimmest of margins. That his kisses were salt-tinged and bruising, but heartachingly sweet.
The realisation comes to you in bits and pieces, but as you curl up in bed after a long week of doubts and what-ifs; as you wrap your arms protectively around your stomach, wishing for it to be Osamu’s arms around you instead; as you imagine the life and family you could have with him, suddenly your mind is made up.
Your life was going to look very different with children, let alone Osamu’s children, but it didn’t matter. If there was any scenario where you could have a life with him in it, then you sure as hell wanted to try. You wanted to see him again. You wanted to keep the baby.
Your dreams that night were filled with hope rather than longing. And the next morning, you awoke with purpose, with determination.
Immediately, you grabbed your phone, and called in sick.
You’d have felt guilty about it, if you hadn’t felt so genuinely awful. Besides, you spent the time off productively- hunched over your laptop, and several tabs deep in research.
Calendar in hand, you calculated due dates and trimester timings, noting down each milestone you could expect in stark, black ink. It was quite incredible how quickly fetuses developed. Your first scan would be two months down the line, when the baby was the size of a plum. You searched up anything and everything related to pregnancy; Suggested lists of food, meal plans, remedies for morning sickness, beneficial yoga, highly reviewed books for expecting mums. You bookmarked everything useful, and wrote down anything essential.
It was during a hasty shopping trip to rectify the dire lack of fresh vegetables in your fridge, as you stared between prices on organic and non-organic produce, that you considered your finances.
You glared between fruits, wondering how you could afford to raise a newborn if you were hesitating over spending a few extra coins on an organic avocado.
Simply put, you couldn’t afford it- not if you were a single mother living in the city.
You’d have to move- quit your job, sell your flat, find somewhere cheaper. You weren’t too worried about finding work- as long as you had a laptop and an internet connection, you’d get by on your savings and freelance jobs... But you weren’t sure where to go.
For all your eagerness to return and see Osamu, you didn’t know how involved your merman would want to be with child-raising. And as much as your kid should know their father, you were pretty sure that sharks didn’t take a hands-on approach to raising their young. Maybe he wouldn’t want anything to do with them, only being half of him. Maybe he wouldn’t even care about you anymore...
“Excuse me, miss,” a shop assistant asked, nervously, interrupting the downward spiral of your thoughts.
“Is there a problem with those?” He pointed at the stacked display of avocados, watching you carefully. “Can I do anything to help?” The shop assistant was young, barely out of his acne-ridden teenage years, and he seemed worried.
It was no wonder- when you raised your hands to your face, you found that your cheeks were wet, and your eyes itched. How embarrassing. Pregnancy hormones were no joke.
“No, no. Th- there’s no problem at all,” you sniffled, quickly thrusting random items into your basket and marching towards the tills, mortified.
Only once you returned home to your flat, where there was no one to see you cry, did you allow yourself to touch that line of thought again. There was a good chance that Osamu wouldn’t feel the same way you did, you concluded. But you would never know unless you took the chance.
---x---
11 weeks post-conception
You decided to take things one step at a time. Before you made any hard decisions, you needed the scan.
So, when your child was steadily making itself known in your belly as the merest bump, you sat down to tea with a friend of yours- an obstetrician- and broke the news for the first time.
“I’m pregnant,” you whispered across the table, grinning as you finally divulged your secret. The words were a weight off your shoulders, and her reaction didn’t disappoint.
“You’re what?!” She gasped, very nearly knocking over her drink, as her hand flew to her mouth.
You couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m pregnant,” you repeated between giggles, for her benefit.
“Oh my god! How far along?!”
“Mmm, eleven weeks… Actually, I was wondering if you could do my scans?”
Much squealing and cooing ensued, and you let yourself relax. She was excited for you, and extremely flattered. It was nice to be excited about your pregnancy. It was nice to complain about morning sickness. It was nice just to talk about what you’d been going through. And though it was a little uncomfortable, you managed to neatly sidestep her questions about the father;
“He’s not around. I can’t contact him,” you told her, and it wasn’t a lie, not really. “But I still want to keep the baby.”
“Oh,” she said. “I see.”
She was worried for you. You could see it in her face, and you didn’t blame her- being a single mother was hard. But she agreed to help you out, nonetheless.
“And one more thing,” you started, forcing a nonchalant smile onto your face. “Could you- I mean- Can we keep the scans confidential, just between you and me? I don’t want anyone else to see them.”
She raised a neat brow. “So secretive? Gotten yourself involved with some crazy celebrity or something, huh?”
You shrugged your shoulders, sipping at decaf tea, inscrutable and silent. Your friend narrowed her eyes, but gave up the line of questioning before it really began. You’d always been a private person. If you wanted to keep your cards close to your chest, then that was your business.
“Well, I guess it should be fine,” she said, unphased. “I’ll make sure everything stays off the record and book you in for next week. That sound good?”
---x---
12 weeks post-conception
Twins. You’re having twins. There’s going to be two of them.
When your friend shows you the pictures you want to cry, because there they are! They’re healthy and they each have two little legs and two little arms. You’re so relieved. You had been worried that they would take after their father a little too much- and having to explain two identical tails would have been difficult, to say the least.
It seemed that the twins were developing at the same rate as a normal fetus- physically, they would be the right size when you were ready to have them in six months’ time.
But even so, you’re still worried. The scans aren’t detailed enough for you to feel safe about giving birth in the hospital. What if they come out with scales, or webbed fingers and toes, or fins, or gills- maybe you’d seen too many sci-fi and horror films, but you can’t shake the fear of scientific experimentation on your babies.
Worst-case scenario, you would need to be prepared to do things on your own. It’s a scary prospect, but you’re not sure what else can be done.
You can’t believe how fiercely protective you feel over them- over your two little plums. If you’d had any lingering doubts about your pregnancy, then the black and white photos of your children eradicate them completely.
Even if you had to raise the two yourself, then so be it. You were prepared to do so.
---x---
18 weeks post-conception
Uprooting your whole life was a lot easier than you had thought it would be.
The paperwork had been challenging to complete, but it was done and dusted. You’d informed your bank, phone company, quit your job and booked the plane tickets. Temporary accommodation at the other end had already been arranged, with the help of a few locals you’d befriended previously.
Your clothes and belongings had all been ruthlessly condensed to the bare minimum. Everything that you owned in the world fitted into a couple of large suitcases, and a rucksack. The rest you sold, along with your tiny apartment, and put all the money into a single savings account. It was more money than you’d ever seen in your life. You hoped it would be enough.
Already estranged from your family, the only people you wanted to inform about the big move were your friends and colleagues, which you did in a series of outlandish half-truths and white lies. You told them that after your lengthy holiday, you’d been inspired to live life differently- that your vision for the future was elsewhere- that you were going to move abroad, permanently.
They’re all shocked, but no one is unsupportive. They wish you the best and if they notice you’re not drinking at your goodbye party, then they don’t comment.
And so, four and a half months pregnant, you leave your whole life behind for a man without legs to stand on. You get on a plane, with a smile on your face and a hand on your stomach, and you don’t look back.
---x---
It was in a whirlwind of jet-lag-induced delirium that you found yourself walking the same route to the beach, mere hours after you’d landed. Your body buzzed with energy, while your tired brain worked overtime to process the huge, potentially life-ruining decisions you’d been making. Both were in agreement that this was the one place you needed to be.
The sun was setting on the horizon, but the night air was still warm.
You sauntered down the sand with mixed emotions. This was the part you hadn’t let yourself think about in all your months of planning. You didn’t know if Osamu would be here, and if he was, you had no idea how he would react to you and your swelling stomach...
But you couldn’t second guess yourself, not after you’d come this far.
The sky was dappled with orange and purple, as you dropped your bag onto the soft ground, and stripped down to swimwear. It would’ve been almost nostalgic, if you weren’t so jittery.
You stepped past the point where sand met ocean, and walked forwards into the water. There was a scab on your finger from a papercut- you’d gotten it accidentally, but it would serve your purposes now. Wincing, you picked it away, and squeezed at the half-healed wound, letting blood well up, and drip into the water.
And then, you waited.
You waited for a long time- long enough to get cold and decide to swim out to the buoy, for old times sake. It didn’t escape your notice that the swim took longer than it normally would, and that you’d gained some extra insulation since the last time you attempted it. You weren’t too bothered- you enjoyed the experience nonetheless, and you welcomed the additional warmth that the pregnancy fat provided.
When you returned to shallow water, you continued to wait, floating with your arms and legs splayed outwards, like a starfish.
“He’ll come,” you murmured, patting your stomach affectionately.
It was too early to be discouraged. You’d thought about it a lot, but this was the only way you could think to contact him. It wasn’t the most reliable method of communication, but if he didn’t come tonight, then you’d just keep trying, hopefully not losing too much blood in the process.
A few more minutes later, and you reluctantly left the water again to grab something to drink- you had guessed that you were going to be here a while, so you’d prepared accordingly.
On the trek up the beach, you wiggled your toes in the sand, happily, remembering all the good times you’d had- all the late nights spent swimming away your worries, not quite as alone as you’d thought. You found that the weight of those fond memories were not outweighed by the singular bad one- had it not been for that awful night, you might’ve never met Osamu. And then you wouldn’t be here now. Life was weird like that.
Taking a swig from the plastic bottle, you quickly gulped fresh water down. You took a moment to centre yourself, reminding yourself to stay optimistic, before marching back to the white horses, ready to wait for as long as it took-
But before you’d gotten very far, you saw a familiar fin racing through the water, and a line of foamy bubbles snaking towards you.
Osamu rose from the sea and your breath caught. It felt like no time had passed at all. He was as handsome as you remembered. Better even, in the glow of the setting sun. But best of all, he was smiling, and you matched his grin so widely that your cheeks ached.
You were stumbling towards him before you’d told your feet to move, and when you were only a few metres away, you leapt for him, throwing your arms around his neck. Seawater splashed up as he caught you, wrapping you in his arms. And when your mouths finally met, the slide of his lips felt like the most natural thing in the world. He kissed you hard, forcing all your worst-case-scenarios out of the window.
For the first time in a long time, it felt like everything was going to be okay.
When you eventually separated for air, you stayed close, pressed up against the firm planes of his chest. He seemed unwilling to let you go, and you were just as unwilling to move. You rested his forehead against his, hardly able to believe he was here in front of you.
“Hi,” you whispered. "I missed you."
His slitted eyes were crinkled at the edges as he ran his hands along the length of your back.
Me too.
He let you down to stand on your own and pulled back, letting his hands fall to your stomach.
“Mine,” he said.
It was a statement and you weren’t sure how he already knew, but you nodded happily.
“Yes, they are.”
“They?” He smirked, looking rather pleased with himself, but his expression quickly faltered into uncertainty.
His hands trailed slowly up your body, away from your stomach, and along the soft curves of your arms. He lingered at the bite on your shoulder, skirting around the edge of it, without touching it. His careful exploration ended as he cupped your face, stroking his thumbs over your cheeks, so gently. You couldn’t help but lean into his touch.
“Mine?” he asked, hopefully.
You thought your heart might explode with happiness. Tears started to blur your vision as you nodded furiously.
“Yes, of course, yes!”
And then you were kissing him again, and again, and again. You didn’t ever want to stop.
✫ ft. kuroo , akaashi , atsumu , suna , sakusa x gn! reader
a/n: some quick hcs to get back into the swing of writing !
✫ KUROO when you ask him for a hug, he smiles gently, taking ahold of your waist to pull you into a tight hug. in moments like these, it feels like time has frozen and it's just you and him. he rubs your back and whispers "i'm always here if you want a hug, you know. you never have to ask". he makes sure to hug you more often, swaying from side to side until he hears a sigh of satisfaction from you.
✫ AKAASHI he's sitting at his desk when you wrap your arms around his shoulders, tucking your face into his neck — he knows exactly what you want. he turns around and pecks your cheek before pulling you onto his lap. his hands fall to your waist, rubbing small circles into your skin. "missed me, angel?" he says into your hair. his voice is low and laced with exhaustion. and when you murmur a yes, he pulls you even closer. with your arms around his neck and your head sitting gently on his shoulder, he rubs your back and keeps his arms loosely around you as he types away at his computer, placing kisses at your cheek every couple minutes.
✫ ATSUMU a huge smile erupts on his face when you ask him for a hug out of the blue. "of course, angel! anything for ya!" he says with nothing but love in his eyes. he pulls you in, picks you up, and swings you around. you're both laughing at his behavior, and he's reveling in the sound of your giggles. he puts you down, but doesn't let go. "just a bit longer, yeah? i missed ya, too." the rest of the day is filled with random kisses, cheek squishes, and a very clingy atsumu.
✫ SUNA "hmm? someone's needy today" he jokes while placing his hands on your waist, slowly bending down to kiss your lips. he pulls away and looks at you with a soft smile, making sure to stay at your eye level. he kisses you again and again until you're both smiley. and he's blushing slightly, but you don't mention it. moving his hand to the top of your head, he strokes your hair and hides his face into your neck. "i missed your lips, cutie. i'm all yours, you don't have to ask, okay?"
✫ SAKUSA he's a bit taken-aback by your request. when you ask him for a kiss, he starts wondering if he's been neglecting you. he bends down to place a kiss to your nose, cheeks, forehead, and finally, your lips. "are you okay?" he'd ask. when you hum a yes, he blushes, knowing that you just missed him. he can't lie — he's just as touch-starved as you are. so, he pulls you into him and snuggles his face into your hair. "let's take a nap. practice was too long and i need to recharge."
content warning: making out, hurt/comfort kinda? makki is insecure :(
a/n: i’m trying to get myself back into writing so i can finish my matchups, so i decided to write a little something for takahiro. he’s really easy for me to write i think. reblogs help hehe <3
“You’re not the best at hiding it, y’know,” Makki comments from beside you on the couch.
He stops copying down the notes for tomorrow’s lecture and sets his pen down onto the table in front of you. You can feel the shift of his long limbs turning to face you, and now the weight of his gaze.
You gulp, “what are you talking about?”
At your feigned oblivion, he laughs, snatching the pen out of your hand and chucking it across the room dramatically until it hits the wall.
“Makki!” You growl, turning to face him properly now, “I was using that!”
“Not anymore. Now, why the hell are you staring at me so much? It’s like you’re trying to set me on fire or something,” he jokes, but the realization that he’s figured you out is no joking matter.
You flounder a little, stuck at how you should approach this.
Or whether you should approach it at all.
“You—” you start, “you’re just—”
He raises a concerned eyebrow; you decide to look at everything in the room other than him.
“I’m just…?” He prompts, moving his hands in a rolling motion, as if to say ‘move it along.’
You take a deep breath, pondering the outcome of the situation if you decide to just blurt it out right then and there.
On one hand, it could go over smoothly. If the slightly flirtatious looks and quips he’d given you these past few weeks are anything to go by, then he’d likely receive your comment well.
On the other, he could think you’re a total weirdo and a creep and never want to speak to you again.
To hell with it.
“You’re pretty.” You blurt out, finally, with little to no ceremony. Your eyes are squeezed shut and your fists are clenched on top of your knees, and you’re flinching back like he’s going to hit you.
A pregnant pause, then he’s laughing.
Annoyed, your eyes jerk open to get a good look at his face before you fight the urge to punch it in, only to see a bright shade of pink sitting atop the apples of his cheeks and the tips of his ears.
Through laughter, Makki speaks, “you—you think I’m pretty? That’s why you’ve been staring at me? I thought I pissed you off or something!”
“Stop laughing,” you half-grumble, half-whine as you throw your head back in embarrassment. “This is no laughing matter!”
“Sorry, sorry,” he throws his hands up in surrender once he finally stops, “you’re right, this is serious.”
“You... you’re not mad?” You ask tentatively.
Technically, no one should be mad about being told that they’re pretty, but you’ve let your apprehension get the best of you.
“Why would I be mad that you called me pretty?” The question is genuine. You can practically feel the insecurity injected into the words he chose to emphasize, and it breaks your heart a little.
“I—well—I don’t know... and why’d you ask it like that?”
“Like what?” He feigns ignorance, turning his body away slightly so he won’t have to meet your eyes. He picks at the fabric of his sweatpants. They’ve gotten a little small, and they’re riding up his ankles more than they did in the past. Well, he did get them in high school, so it’s probably time for a new pair anyways. He suddenly remembers the new store the two of you passed coming back a different route from the library one afternoon. Maybe he’ll stop by tomorrow and—
“Like you’re not pretty,” you explain honestly, “and like you think you’re not worthy of being called that.”
“You’re makin’ me sound like I’m Thor or something,” he jokes. Normally he’d laugh at himself, but he isn’t joking around for the goal of laughter this time.
“You’re pretty, Makki,” you say firmly, confidently, so sure of yourself that it makes Makki’s eyebrows furrow and his eyes squeeze shut. He doesn’t believe it, but it’s obvious you do.
“It’s just hard to believe that the prettiest person I’ve ever met just called me pretty.”
His tone is dripping in self-loathing, disguised as flattery towards you. You recognize this, yet you still can’t help the butterflies that erupt deep inside your core.
“Makki—“ you stutter, eyes widening when he jerks his gaze towards yours, “can—can I kiss you?”
It’s deafening silence for a couple seconds, and you can feel your heartbeat in your ears the longer it drags on. Makki’s eyes widen in surprise, before disbelief escapes him in the form of a breathless chuckle.
“Well—yeah. Yes. Please,” he breathes, scooting closer to you until his knee bumps against your own. He’s warm, you can already tell, and it’s then you’re reaching to cup his face in your hands.
Your eyes flutter closed when you feel a puff of his breath hit your lips, before you’re pressing your mouth to his own.
You thought your first kiss with Makki would’ve been fun, lighthearted, maybe even a little teasing. But as it turns out, it barely even feels like a kiss. Your lips are barely pressed against his, but you still feel your body grow warmer and subconsciously scooting even closer to his own.
The two of you break away from the kiss of ghosts, and your eyes flutter open to meet his own, the void of his pupils dwarfing the steel gray you’ve always been enamored with.
“Again?” He breathes against your lips, knocking his nose against yours, “can I—can I kiss you again?”
You don’t answer him verbally, instead opting to press your lips against his again, more firm this time. He sighs a contented little sound into your mouth, moving one hand to the back of your knee, bringing your leg over his own, and moving the other to cup the nape of your neck, tilting your head so he can press his lips against yours more intensely.
Your hands move from his cheeks down to his warm shoulders, covered by the crewneck you borrowed from him just last week. You tug a little, wanting him closer to you and his chest pressed up against yours.
Instead of yielding to you like you thought he would, like he usually always does, Makki just drags your thigh further atop his own, hoping you’ll get the memo to crawl into his lap.
And you do, thank God. You swing your other thigh around his hips without breaking away from the kiss. Further into his hold you slip, moving a hand to play with the thin strands on the back of his head. Those slim and shaky hands of his shift to your waist, feeling across your ribs and tummy covered by another thing of his that you’ve borrowed; the air conditioning unit in Makki’s apartment works exceptionally, and you forgot your own sweatshirt at home.
(‘Will you ever learn?’ Came his fond response to you shivering on his couch, getting up and grabbing the sweatshirt he left on the chair at the dinner table.)
His lips leave yours, and you let out a noise of disappointment as you try to chase them. They eventually move to the corner of your mouth, across your cheek, along your jaw, and eventually down the side of your neck.
These kisses aren’t intense like the very long one before, instead they’re soft. They’re the kisses of ghosts.
It’s then you figure you wouldn’t mind becoming one with him.
synopsis: as if goodbyes aren’t hard enough already, you leave without properly saying goodbye to your boyfriend after breaking up. a month later, you see each other again.
genres: angst with a fluffy ending
requested by: @adoring-obi-wan
oh yeesss i live for angst 😫 thanks for the request, i really enjoyed writing this one and hope that you’ll like it <3 i’m a hardcore simp for oikawa so i chose him!
you never wanted things to go wrong like that. you would have never guessed to be having an argument with him especially now of all times.
it could have been avoided. you shouldn’t have let your emotions get the best of you.
could you maybe write a hcs or scenario where tendō’s gf nearly gets hit by a car and it’s like a traumatic experience for both of them but like really cute bc tendō swoops in and save’s her ass? it’s really specific😭i’m sorry, i really love him.
honestly the more specific the better for me because i have never met the woman named ‘creativity’. I also adore Tendou and hope i did him justice for you
I actually got hit by a car like 3 months ago so this dragged up some shit... lets just say this is written from experience?
Tendou Satori
So you two were walking back to his house at the end of the school term, obviously laughing and joking about anything and everything... as you always ended up doing when Tendou was around.
and you came to where you would have to cross the road
no crossing lights were there so you’d just have to run over and hope you didn’t get hit, this was normally all fine and dandy...
Normally
Unfortunately, you weren’t looking out into the road to check for cars and such very attentively and missed the white car speeding towards you.
you heard the loud beeps of the horn and see a flash of white
‘this is it’ was all you could really think as you braced for impact.
The impact never came though
Tendou had pulled you back by your wrist and straight into his chest.
you felt your head become wet with his tears
“are you okay sunshine?” you asked looking up at him
“I should be the one asking you that” he managed to laugh through the tears.
this sent both of you into a fit of giggles, because if you didn’t laugh then you’d break down...
“thanks for saving, my hero” you whispered pressing light kisses to his now tear stained cheeks.
“fuck that was scary” he was shouting now, just trying to get all the emotions out as he held you close to him, feeling your shoulders shaking against his chest.
You both decided to walk the extra five minutes to the crossing lights from then on
tags: fluff, bit of angst maybe. born out of the thought that a clingy omi is a very cute omi.
-
there is one surprising fact you learned about sakusa kiyoomi during your relationship.
it’s not that he hates carrots, but will eat carrot cake. it’s not that he tried ballet before getting into volleyball, and secretly wants to try it again. it’s not even that he actually doesn’t enjoy cleaning, he just feels compelled to do it.
i know i talk about it all the time but i just want to talk about miya atsumu + his first love one more time.
atsumu who’s hotheaded and stubborn but cries after your arguments because he can’t forget the look of sadness on your face, especially when he always promised to make you happy. returning to pull you into his arms and babble out apologises as he kisses away your tears.
the atsumu who cries the first time you say you love him + he’s a little snotty when he babbles it back but he looks so happy, cheeks flushed and eyes watery but he’s smiling so wide, and you realise that maybe you do glow different when you’re in love.
the atsumu who loves you with everything he’s got because you are his everything. the one who panic calls osamu when he’s trying to make your favourite food for you because he wants you to be impressed, and he wants you to be proud of him.
your atsumu who always lets his darker roots grow in longer because he prefers the way he gets to hold you close while you fix them. who can’t pepper your face with kisses without obnoxious kissy noises, because he likes the way you giggle after. who always falls asleep in minutes when you play with his hair. who claims he can’t sleep without you, so he always calls when he’s away for games because he needs the last thing he hears before bed to be your voice.
your atsumu who smiles into the camera during a game because he knows you’re smiling back. who always has to beg hinata to let him squeeze some hoodies into his suitcase because he filled his with too many gifts for you.
your atsumu who follows you to the bathroom and pouts when you kick him out, and you still smile when he slides a note under the door with an “a miss ya.” signed with so many wobbly hearts as he waits outside. your atsumu who spins you around the kitchen as he sings off-key along to your favourite song, pretending he hadn’t been memorising the lyrics all night.
your atsumu who whispers bad jokes between sloppy kisses and always whines if you stop cuddling him. who knows your favourite hoodies of his and always messily tucks you in before he leaves for practice in the morning. your atsumu who cries with you at sad movies + screams with you at the scarier ones even though he’ll always say he’d protect you anyway.
your atsumu who teases you because his heart still races when you tease him back. your atsumu who brushes his teeth with his chest pressed against your back every morning because he wants to be close to you. your atsumu who carries you to bed with a more tender smile when you fall asleep with him on the couch when he’s up late analysing plays.
your atsumu, who always made you feel like you were enough, because he always made you feel loved.
i’m not that kinda guy. atsumu had told himself that. and a lot more so recently.
all of this shit was his brother, wasn’t it? showing up for a first date with flowers, meeting your parents at the door and introducing himself like he was worth something, holding your hand as though you wouldn’t let him crash and burn the second you got whatever it was you wanted from him.
he also says he’s not the type to be insecure. that may be a lie as well.
“atsumu?” you asked.
his eyes snapped up to meet yours. you tilted your head a little, confusion written on your face and in your eyes. atsumu was never this nervous looking, not unless he has a reason.
“whats wrong with you? you’ve been weird since yesterday.”
then his eyes broke away from yours and returned to the floor. he didn’t respond right away. for a moment, you wondered if you shouldn’t have asked him, but then he sighed and answered you.
“aren’t you done yet?”
“...what are you taking about, tsumu?”
“our... our relationship. no one stays this long.” he was content with living out a day dream for a while, letting himself believe he’d gotten something good.
but there’s a point when he knows he’ll he ripped apart if you leave, and he fears (rather, he knows) he’s long since passed that point. the only thing he could do now was cut the rope before it got any tighter.
“oh.” you mumble, slouching a little. he can hear the sadness in the one word and he finally looks up at you again. “if you don’t want me t-”
“hey, hey, no. never said that. but aren’t you... i don’t know, haven’t you gotten what you need from me by now?”
so thats what this is about, you thought. osamu had mentioned it before, that he was worried about you leaving.
“yes.” you say simply. you swear you can see his heart stop in his chest, see the world crash down around him just from the fear in his eyes. “but i still need it, always will. no one else is gonna love me like you do.”
you watched his eyes soften. he moved to crawl across the couch, his arms wrapping around you and his head resting on your tummy.
“i don’t think anyone can love you more than i do.”
it had been a long day. after hours of being yelled at by coworkers and your superiors you wanted nothing more than to be back in bed with a warm drink and a dumb film to laugh at; the addition of your boyfriend was a plus too, of course, and anything you did with him was enough to lift a sour mood.
and it had been a long day for him too, with deadlines fast approaching and the unfortunate fact he’d had to reschedule interviews constantly; he’s in the same situation as you. all he wants is to hold you and sleep: he knows you’ll be able to talk him out of a foul mood with only a few words. it goes without a doubt that he was always most relaxed with you in his arms so, as he’s making his way home that evening, he’s thinking about how he’ll get home to you in all your beauty; hoping you’ve come home and opted to change into one of his shirts or hoodies.
he’s not disappointed when he calls out an ‘i’m home’ and sees you come around the corner to embrace him, wearing one of his (and your) favourite shirts.
“hi.” you mumble quietly into his neck as you hold him tight, smiling wide as the hug fizzles out any unwanted feelings you have leftover from your day. kuroo sighs, letting the feeling in his chest dissipate whilst holding you equally as tight in return just enjoying your warmth. you squeeze him once more before loosening your grip and look at him with the smile still plastered on your face.
“hi.” he eventually whispered back, kissing your forehead softly before he takes a step back in order to take off his shoes. he’s quick about it–kicking them aside–before he’s dragging you upstairs, grinning at the way you’re laughing as he pulls you through your shared home.
he doesn’t care that he’s still in his suit when he reaches your bedroom, falling onto the bed with a loud thud that has you laughing louder; reminding him that your bed’s already close to breaking; this wasn’t helping.
your comment is ignored and pushed aside as he’s pulling you to lay next to him; an arm around your waist and the other gently holding your hand that lay on his chest. his thumb strokes it softly and no words are exchanged: you can both tell your days haven’t been ideal. so you’ll wait. you’ll enjoy each other’s company in silence, and simply cheer up, before either of you mention the hell you went through that day.
kuroo’s asleep after a few minutes; shortly after you are too. it’s an unspoken comfort you give each other but it’s perfect. no matter what worries you have at work, they’re not there the second you’re with kuroo.
ushijima wakatoshi
the apartment is seemingly empty when he opens the door. usually, you’d be waiting for him but he’s not met with your happy greeting; a hug or even a shout from another room. the lights are off and it’s completely silent.
he doesn’t like it.
ushijima was never one for loud noises and hectic homes; more so after the start of his professional career. but you, you were the noise he always wanted to hear, he came home every day wanting to hear your voice; for you to tell him about your day without sparing an inch of detail.
so where were you? he drops his bag at his feet, stopping only to take his shoes off and leave them neatly at the side of the entranceway beside yours. he knows you’re home, but there’s no response when he announces his return.
it doesn’t take him long to realise where you’ll be: it’s a one bedroom apartment, there’s only one more place that you can be. so he makes his way to the room you shared, only to find you curled on your side, back to the door and a blanket tightly wrapped around you.
“y/n?” he calls your name softly; frowning when you’re silent in response. he’s uncertain if you’re sleeping or ignoring him so he approaches you slowly, sitting on the bed beside you and gently resting his hand on your arm.
he doesn’t say anything else, especially not when you turn around to wrap your arms around his waist. head resting in his lap, he’s stroking your hair gently. at some point, he’s lifting you from his lap and eases your quiet protests with a chuckle before he’s climbing into bed beside you, wrapping both his arms around you tightly and pulling you to his chest. “you’re okay.” he whispers into your hair. and you are, especially now.
akaashi keiji
“and then she had the audacity to tell me, me, that i was out of line because i didn’t want an event i’ve been planning for months hijacked by some random intern that doesn’t even care about their job.”
you’ve been ranting to him for what feels like hours; every thought that comes to your mind about your coworkers, the awful interns that have been hired and the little things in life that you’d been bottling up. it’s all exploding to your sweet boyfriend, whos more than happy to let you talk.
he knows you don’t want his advice; there’s nothing he can say that will make the situation better. so he sits and he listens, pouring you a warm drink to help calm you whilst you’re leaning back in your chair. holding a cushion to your lap, you’re playing with the tassels on the corners while you let out a sigh–one big enough for the both of you in the room as akaashi reaches to take hold of your hand.
“it’s just–everything i do feels so unappreciated.” your eyes are watering and you’re looking at him with the expression he hates to see. he frowns as he pulls at your hand forcin gyou to stand and move to the empty space beside him.
“i appreciate you.” he reminds you, pulling you into his side and letting you rest your head on his shoulder. “they’re awful; and they’ll regret this when you’re running the place.” you laugh, closing your eyes and leaning as close to him as possible.
“sorr–”
“no apologies.” he stopped you before you could even finish the word. “i love you, okay? i’m here for you whenever.” you nod, a weight falling off your shoulder as you stay in his arms until you’re feeling better–and a bit longer
IT'S YOUR FUNERAL — your assaulter believes you're fucking around when you say you'll go get your boyfriend. It's his funeral.
𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. k. bakugo x reader
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. assault, reader kinda fits in the damsel in distress role, katsuki knocking them out, gender-neutral, not proof-read, re-uploaded
When you shouted to the man who was currently attempting to squeeze your waist, the loud music drowned out your voice. Your words only became apparent when you pushed his hands away and salacity-filled eyes connected to those of your more adamant ones.
"Hm? What d'ya say, baby?" You shivered upon hearing the nickname he gave you.
"I said to leave me alone," you yelled again.
"Uh-huh?" he grins, finding your discomfort extremely amusing, "you want me to leave you alone?"
Firstly, you responded by asserting yes, but after some consideration, you decide that including, or else, is necessary.
When his head falls to his shoulder, he says, "or else what, baby? Whatchu gonna do if I don't?"
Frumpily, you reply, "I'll get my boyfriend."
"You'll go get your boyfriend?" He smirks, "where is he then?"
You point behind yourself at your golden-headed brute, decked in his finest. That would be some baseball cap and jeans adorned with a red wives-beater showcasing his enlarged biceps. "See him? He's got blonde hair. You can't miss it."
Unfortunately to your attacker, he does. He views you as pointing at the smaller, scrawnier blonde boy, with latte eyes rather than the much larger, bulkier, and crimson-eyed one he's talking to. The grin on his face only beams from knowing he would win if a fight broke loose because of his size and strength.
"Go ahead and get 'em, babe," He licks his lips as he anticipates victory, "I wanna talk."
Rolling your eyes at him, you contemplate how dumb and wacky he must be, but you keep that to yourself. Under the tinted lights, you see the aggressor's eyes watching you squeeze past sweaty bodies that flashed purple to blue and settles on pink before it shortly resets the rotation again.
As you catch how his eyes appear to magnify with uneasiness and how he clenches his jaw tight as you steer towards the larger blondie, you observe how he displays skepticism. Despite this, he holds firm.
From the corner of his eye, Kasuki notices you shakily emerging from the dancing bodies with a grimace glued on your profile. With a scowl on his face, he stares at you. "What's wrong?"
"Katsuki, some dude keeps trying to touch me," you whine, pointing to the guy who remains awkward in the middle of the dance floor. His stance reminds you of the stand you would take in front of your asleep parents to alarm them that you had vomited just moments ago. "He wanted to talk to you when I told him to leave me alone."
In response, Kaminari, the assailant assumed to be your boyfriend, whistles before smoothly vacating to bother Kirishima, as he does not want to be caught in Katsuki's wrath which occasionally tends to end up affecting everyone's day.
As Katsuki's eyes follow those of the guy who suddenly turns his attention to the people around him, he deepens his scowl even more. Your arm wraps around the arm of the man who kicks his feet off the wall, moving toward your aggressor. Contrary to you, he has an easy time crossing the dance floor, simply shuffling anybody off with a fuck off who tries to disrupt him.
As Katsuki approaches him further, it's hard not to assume the man is pissing his pants. Despite their similar height, he recognizes that he is standing in front of a fanatical hero who has doomed villains to the slammer half-dead with melted faces. The hero then asks, "Why are you bothering them?" But the man know it's bait to give him a story to fuck him up.
And as you expected, he turns into a little bitch. Although his mouth opens, closes, and opens again, he doesn't say anything. Rather than his randy stare that used to flit from your eyes to your waist, he now looks at you straight in the eye with fear as if he was begging for redemption. You don't grant him that kind of safety.
In the realization that he dug himself into this dilemma and only he can effort to dig himself out, he finally chokes out with his hands raised in the air, "L-Look, I didn't mean— It was a joke! I-I didn't realize they would take it—" before his words are cut short.
Katsuki's glare is venomous, "so you never took a hint after they told you to fuck off multiple times?"
It wasn't until the cold breeze that swept under your hair that you realized Katsuki was directing the man outside the club. Away from onlookers.
You could hear the man's heart drop before eventually, he is. Nevertheless, before that, he spewed out a topsy-turvy mess of "I-I— the music, it was— I couldn't—" before ultimately being clocked out by a fist that linked with his head. He falls backward onto the packs of stuffed garbage bags that end up ripping upon impact.
"Thanks, Katsuki," you say, depositing a stained, red kiss on his cheek.
In the end, Katsuki is content with the fact that the slimeball is sure to leave you alone, despite his irritation with the lack of brawl that the man seemed to be seeking before and was so confident about.
can u make another iwaizumi angst with happy ending pls? where iwaizumi has been going through some shit and s/o tries to take care of him but being the clusmy ass, s/o ends up pissing him off big time and it turn to a huge fight? make me cryyyyyy and then mend me with a fluffy ending! thanks!
Phattest of the bets- here we go Hajime>:)
Outburst. (Iwaizumi Hajime x Reader)
Warning(s): angst to fluff kinda fic, slight cursing, oop if you’re heart hurted I hope I mended it :), timeskip! Iwaizumi, slight blood due to light injury
You let out a breathy laugh when Iwaizumi stumbles through the front door, bag brimmed with important papers hitting the floor with a slight thud before he collapses on top of you, arms wrapping around your waist tightly. More laughs bubble out of your throat as you struggle to support him, ignoring the heavy weight of the boy before lifting a hand to stroke his hair lightly.
“Tough day at the university?”
“You have no idea.” The spiker huffs against the juncture between your shoulder and neck, and you hum, pushing him slightly to examine Iwaizumi’s sharp features, smile growing when he leans into your touch.
“Can we just go straight to bed?”
“You have to eat first.” You reply softly, helping him shrug his jacket off before kissing him on the cheek, frowning when you see just how dark the circles under his eyes were. “Are you sleeping okay?”
“Don’t worry about it.” Iwaizumi’s reply is short as he brushes past you, voice strained as your frown deepens with worry. “Let’s just get dinner over with so I can get the hell to sleep.”
You blink at his tone, contrasting from before you told him he couldn’t have what he wanted. Almost like a child, in this situation.
“I can bring it to you-?”
“Y/N. I said let’s get it over with.”
Your eyes widen a fraction, retort almost slipping off your tongue like venom before you bite it. Like your loving boyfriend, you had a slight temper- but today you decided to make an exception, seeing how exhausted he was after working the overtime shift. Pressing your lips together, you nod before entering the kitchen with him on your tail.
“I made agedashi tofu!” You try to lighten your voice, glancing behind you to see his reaction to his favorite food, hoping to see that same grateful smile pass his face-
but it doesn’t.
“Thanks.” Iwaizumi’s tone is dismissive as he continues to scroll on his phone through emails for school, and you wilt slightly-wishing he could see the flash of hurt that passed your face.
Wordlessly, you prepare the dish on a plate before walking over to him and begin to set it in front of him, catching a glimpse of his phone screen in the process.
“Is that for the sports science exam coming up-?”
“Jesus, fuck-”
Iwaizumi flinches away from you, annoyance filling his features at the fact that you were looking at his phone screen,
not noticing that he wasn’t the only one startled in the process.
Your jaw slackens when Iwaizumi’s broad shoulder collides with your arm holding the platter, the food falling onto his thigh as you lift a hand to your mouth-
the dish was still piping hot.
Your breath gets caugh in your throat as you rush around to soak a towel, filling a glass with ice as soon as it happens to aid the redness growing on Iwa’s thigh- your boyfriend falling scarily quiet.
Iwaizumi stares at the burning food on his thigh, something in him finally snapping.
“Here-!”
“Why the fuck can’t you do anything right?”
Huh?
Your grip loosens on both items as you freeze with a doe-eyed expression on your features. Iwa’s voice was scarily soft as he chuckled humorlessly, dark eyes looking at you with a piercing look that read danger.
And then his voice rises, the coil inside of him lit.
“Are you usually this goddamn clumsy?! Jesus fucking christ, Y/N! Do I need to give you a visual example of how to place a shitty plate on the table?! Because here-!” You flinch when Iwaizumi grabs the glass from your hand, slamming it on the table afterwards as the glass breaks into shards, a gasp slipping your throat.
“Did you get it through that pretty, empty little head of yours?!”
Iwa softly gasps when a choked sob leaves your throat, the burning on his thigh and his now-bloodied hand suddenly unnoticeable as he realizes how far he had escalated a small situation. You swallow back the lump in your throat, slowly falling to your knees to try and pick up some of the shards.
“Ow-!”
“Y/N don’t-” Iwa reaches out for the fingers you had pricked, tone suddenly soft.
“Don’t touch me!” You hiss, eyes blurring with unshed heat as you retract your hand back in a flinching motion, Iwa’s eyes widening a fraction as you slowly raise to your feet, blood trickling down your fingers as you let the venom slip.
“I go to school too. I get home half an hour earlier than you do, and I’m tired as hell- but I still went out of my way to make you your favorite food because I know you had exams today!”
Iwaizumi flinches as your tone raises, wanting you to yell some more because he deserved it-
but you don’t.
“I do it because I love you, you dickhead.” Your voice cracks, Iwa’s chest brimming with guilt as he looks at all the prepared food behind you, ready to pack his lunches for the next week. “But you don’t get to do that. You don’t get to pretend like you’re the only one who’s tired and has shitty days and use it as an excuse to treat me like that. Get over yourself because I’m pretty damn tired too, and I don’t deserve this shit.”
The tears are streaming freely now, Iwa going to stroke some away- heart sinking when you flinch back as if you were afraid of him.
“I-I’m sorry I burned you.”
Iwaizumi’s expression remains stoic as you rush past him into your shared bedroom, hearing the slam of the door echo throughout the apartment. Only when he hears the lock turn is when he covers his mouth tightly with his palm, his own set of tears dribbling over his knuckles as he muffles his sobs into his hand.
You were afraid of him.
Iwa takes in deep breaths through the nose, hope sparking in his heart when he hears the door open only to shut tightly a few seconds after. Stepping over the shards, he goes to investigate with a heavy heart-
only for more drops to fall off his knuckles and onto the floor as he picks up the burn ointment, bandages, and disinfectant. Slowly, regret and guilt brimmed in his chest, he slides his back against the door until he’s sitting, hanging his head between his knees as one hand loosely holds the bottle of burn ointment.
Even in a fight, you cared about him.
The one good thing in his life right now, and he let his temper win.
“Y/N.” His voice croaks, grip tightening on the ointment. “God, I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry that I’m an idiot. I don’t care about the burn or my cuts anymore, what about your hand?”
Iwaizumi feels a small sense of relief when he hears your own back against the door, sliding until you’re on the floor with your knees tucked into your chest. His voice softens even more, wanting to selfishly see you.
“Y/N? Tell me you’re okay.”
You stay silent, examining the scarlet on your finger as a few more stray tears slip your eyes, wanting nothing more than to hold him.
“Tell me you’re okay, Y/N. Please-”
“To be honest, I’m kind of scared.” Your voice falls to a whisper as Iwaizumi clenches his fist in anger at himself, hanging his head even lower as he wonders if what was done was the slightest bit reparable.
“I get it if you don’t want to be with me. Just say the word and I’ll-”
Your legs are moving before you can think, and suddenly your hand is on the lock twisting it and throwing the door open. Iwaizumi’s eyes widen as his jaw slacks, tackling him into a hug from behind, standing on your knees as you hug him tightly in his sitting position. Iwa curses, loving the feel of you holding him as heat begins to flood his eyes again, the fear of losing you becoming too much to bear.
“Don’t say even more idiotic things.” You whisper, hugging him even tighter as you feel Iwaizumi- solid, strong, stone-hard Iwaizumi- quiver as he wonders what he did to deserve someone like you.
He sniffs, wiping his eyes with his sleeve harshly and turning to you with puffy eyes before handling you with a gentleness that you rarely got to see, sitting in front of you silently as he fiddles with the bandages and disinfectant.
“Let me see.”
“Hajime, yours are worse-”
“Don’t care.” He mutters, gently taking your wrist as if you were porcelain, before opening some disinfectant and eyeing you.
“Hold on to my arm. It’s gonna sting.”
You bite your lip, clenching Iwa’s muscle as the sting of the disinfectant seems less painful than usual, not being able to hold back your soft smile when he takes the utmost care in wrapping the kitten bandage around your finger.
“You next.” You go to grab the disinfectant, frowning when Iwa shakes his head.
“I don’t deserve it.”
“Why so sad?” You attempt a joke, pulling Iwa’s hand back and beginning to give him the same treatment as Iwa tries to keep a straight face, eyeing you as if you were some beautiful discovery before pulling you tightly into his embrace as his chin rests on your shoulder.
“Hajime I’m not done-”
“I love you.”
You smile into his shoulder, pretending not to notice the tears that were wetting the back of your shirt.
“Don’t be afraid of me. Don’t flinch away from me. I’m so goddamn sorry-”
“Hajime.”
“What?” He furrows his brows as if you were challenging him when you pull back, wondering if you would tease him for his heartfelt words before you kiss him fully, smiling into it when Iwa sighs as if he was releasing pent up emotion. His hand holds you there for a minute before he pulls back to rest his forehead against yours, thumb stroking your cheek distractedly.
“We’ll get through this.”
Iwa’s lips quirk up in a half smile before he kisses your temple, using both hands to cup your face.
“I don’t deserve you.”
“You’re right, you don’t.”
Iwa rolls his eyes at your cheeky grin, still finding you perfect despite the red eyes and tear-stained cheeks.
“Brat.”
“Dickhead.”
“Can we...go eat dinner after we clean up?” Iwa looks off to the side, suddenly embarrassed as you gape at how unbelievably cute he was being, before holding his hand out to you.
You smile softly, eyes suddenly dry before standing and wrapping your bandage-wrapped finger around his.
“Yeah. I made your favorite.”
---------------------------------------------
General works: @takemetovalhalla @kasandrafaye @dreebbles @savemesteeb @yams046
Heyy! Can you do one where Osamu, kuroo, akaashi and Tsukishima, say something mean to their s/o and their s/o avoids them for days? When they finally get ahold of their s/o, their s/o just sorta cries because it hit their insecure spot? Fluff in the end🥺
Listen, I can’t not write this.
Irrevocable Words.
- the one in which they accidentally make you give them the silent treatment because of their lashing out. -
~ Osamu Miya, Kuroo Tetsurou, Akaashi Keiji, and Tsukishima Kei~
TW: Cursing, angst to fluff, timeskip! for Osamu,
------------------
Osamu Miya
“Those are important files, ya know?”
“Samu, I’m sorry. You should’ve told me you needed last month’s earnings and I would’ve looked for them before we came this morning.” The hand you tried to settle onto Osamu’s bicep was shaken off as your movements faltered.
Your voice wobbled at the sight of your stoic fiance, an annoyed glint in his eye as he rummages through his files. Osamu felt a flare in his stomach, a lack of sleep contributing to his impatient state. The day had been a busy one, Osamu deciding that he needed this particular file for his business call tomorrow before the two of you headed home for the night.
“I told ya not to move anything back to the place.”
“I didn’t.” You bit the inside of your cheek. “Here, just let me help-”
“Don’t touch a goddamn thing, I’ll do it myself.” There it was. The lashing out that was bound to happen occurred with a pointed tongue as he refused to look at you, rummaging through his file cabinets. “As I do everything else.”
He closes the cabinet sharply. “The least ya could do is try your best not to be a nuisance-”
Osamu flinches at the slam of one of the office desk drawers, chest sinking when he sees the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. The paper he needed is thrown on the desk carelessly as you shove your jacket on, wetness slipping down your cheeks.
“And I’m not your goddamn secretary. I’m heading home first.”
“Y/N-”
“And don’t worry, I promise I’ll manage to do this by myself somehow.” Your voice cracks bitterly, the bell by the door jingling mockingly in Osamu’s ears as you exit, the chef hanging his head with a sigh and regret tinging his chest.
He was wrong to pray this would blow over, not expecting to wake without your warmth by his side. You avoided him on the way to the restaurant, cleaning quietly while giving vague answers to his questions, shifting out of his attempts to embrace you with apologies.
Deciding to give you space, he softly tells you to take the next few days off, unprepared for the tired look you had given him, simply nodding in response as you slipped into your side of the bed with your back turned to him.
“Where’s your pretty girlfriend?”
“Fiance.” Osamu forces a smile at his two elderly regulars two days later, the wife’s smile widening at his correction.
“Oho! Cherish each other while you youths still can, she really does brighten this place up, doesn’t she?”
You do.
Osamu’s eyes feel hot as he does a messy job of cleaning up the restaurant, closing up shop early and stopping by your favorite bakery to pick up the ridiculously expensive cake he only ever buys for your birthday.
Throwing the door open to your shared apartment hastily, you gasp at the gray-haired man’s sudden entry, dropping the spoon you were about to use to taste the dish you were making on the stove.
“Samu, y-you’re home early-”
“What’s all this?” He tries to steady his breaths at the sight of a nicely prepared table, something you hardly ever got to share ever since the night shifts overtook your lives and caused a rift between the two of you.
You’re silent for a second, looking away from his warm stare as you shift under his gaze.
“...I miss you.” Dark eyes widen when you begin to hiccup over your words, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. “But I didn’t wanna be a nusciance-”
“Oh god, darlin’ no.” You’re pulled tightly into his chest as you cry, whole body shaking with tremors as Osamu’s inner turmoil merely increases.
If Osamu could go back in time and punch himself he would, unknowing of the torment he caused you over the past few days, thinking you just needed space.
“I want to marry ya Y/N, I’m so sorry.”
“I love you so much Samu.” You sniffle into his chest, causing him to smile softly, a hand sifting through your hair to hold you tighter to him.
“I brought cake.”
You laugh through the onslaught of tears.
“And I made dinner.”
“Then what are we waitin’ for?”
“Just hold me like this for awhile?”
“Y/N.” He kisses the top of your head, finally feeling at ease with your figure in his arms. Osamu whispers a confession he hardly shared with you, wanting those words in particular to be special as he bridged the gap between the two of you.
“I love ya so much more, don’t you go forgettin’ it.”
Kuroo Tetsurou
“I said I was sorry!”
“Is sorry supposed to just fix everything, Tetsurou?”
“Tetsurou? Are you seriously withholding me from my nickname privileges?”
You cross your arms at his attempt to make you laugh, thoroughly angry with the mess your boyfriend made of things as his smile fades at your peeved stare.
“Look, what was I supposed to do?”
“How about not leaving my parents waiting for you at the restaurant that you invited them to for another one of your spontaneous volleyball practices?”
“I texted you I had to cancel!”
“That was a half hour before we were supposed to meet, Kuroo! They were so excited to meet you they got there early. God, why can’t you ever take things seriously?”
“You’re right.” A bitter chuckle slips Kuroo’s lips as you falter at the sudden tone change, the volleyball gym seeming bigger than ever as his next sentence makes your lips tremble.
“Since I can’t ever take things seriously, then I must not need my serious girlfriend then, right?” Your eyes widen. “I can just find somebody else who won’t fucking hound me all the time.”
His cat-like eyes widen as the words slip his tongue, unintentionally coming out crueler than he intended. To make it worse, you simply stayed silent, your body physically backing down and away from him as you turned on your heel.
“Wait, I didn’t-”
“Do it then.” His chest just about shatters as your shoulders tremble, refusing to turn back around as your voice takes on an uncharasterically defeated tone. “I hope they make you fucking happy.”
Kuroo runs a hand through his raven hair frustratedly at the way you rushed out of the gym, throwing a stray ball so hard at the wall before his vision becomes skewed with heat.
He should have expected the next week to be utter hell. You left class before he could catch you by escaping to the bathroom with all your things, leaving school another way instead of the exit you always took together before he had to start club activities.
“Kenma, what are you doing?”
“You can’t come in here.”
“I’m missing class for this. Let me through.”
“She doesn’t want to see you.” Kenma shrugged, eyes on his handheld. “I told her I’d watch the door so you can’t surprise her during our breaktime.”
“I’m her boyfriend. And you’re not her guarddog.”
“No, I’m her friend.” Kenma’s eyes narrow at his childhood friend. “And last time I checked, you’re on the search for someone who isn’t her.”
“So she told you.”
“Dick move, by the way.”
Kuroo’s calls go straight to voicemail, his emotions affecting his playing with each passing day. He leaves little notes in your shoe locker to meet him, heart sinking more and more with every time you stood him up.
And it wasn’t until he saw you smiling again at a joke Yaku made that he truly felt like he was losing you.
“Go home.”
The sight wasn’t one you were expecting to see, Kuroo sitting on the steps to your house with his hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets, the dark bags under his eyes sparking worry within you.
“It’s probably better if my parents don’t see you-”
“I’m sorry.” His eyes seem to have lost a little of their glint, regret swimming in the tall boy’s pupils as your guard softens. “I’m so goddamn sorry I ran my mouth and said shit I didn’t even mean-”
“Tetsurou-”
“And I hurt you in the process. I hurt the one thing that matters to me the most, and I’m sitting here playing the creepy ex that stalks the girl he loves-”
“You love me?”
“Doesn’t matter, does it? You’re done with me, and I deserve it-”
He’s cut off with the sight of tears hitting the wood in front of him, lifting his head to see tears streaking down your cheeks. On instinct, he reaches out softly, rising to his feet to cup your cheek, astonished when you curl into his touch.
“I’m so fucking mad at you right now.”
“Noted.” Kuroo laughs somberly, a wave of emotion hitting him as you do something you hadn’t done in days.
You look him in the eye, tugging him closer by the sides of his jacket.
“But I love you too, you absolute idiot.”
Kuroo grins into the kiss you press onto his lips, heart lifting in weight as he pulls you closer.
“Does this mean we can go back to Tetsu?”
“I’m going back to ignoring you-”
“No.” Kuroo’s tone turns serious as he holds you a little tighter. “I can’t do that again.”
You smile as he presses a kiss to your temple lovingly.
“Being away from you was complete and utter hell, sweetheart.”
Akaashi Keiji
“Tell me how to make this right.”
“Right, Y/N.” Akaashi refused to meet your eyes as he loosens his school tie, not slowing his pace for you to catch up with as he throws the doors open to the volleyball club. The usually put-together setter had an angry glint in his eye that silenced his awaiting teammates. “Let’s just go back in time before you agreed to be his partner.”
“Hey hey, what’s going on you two?” Bokuto jogs up, his worried tone making your lips tremble even more at the sight of Akaashi’s turned back.
“I came to you as soon as he made a move! I didn’t let him-”
“There shouldn’t have been an opportunity for him to make a move in the first place.” Akaashi’s jaw clenched as you shuffle in place.
“I didn’t do anything wrong, you think I wanted him to try to kiss me?!” You fight the waver in your voice, standing your ground. “It was a project for class. I didn’t know his intentions-“
“I told you what his intentions were, but you never listen.” Akaashi turns hastily, startling you and causing you to stumble slightly backwards into Bokuto.
“Akaashi-“
“Stop defending her. She never listens to me, and then comes crying to me when it turns out I’m right.” Akaashi snips at his best friend, ignoring the silent stares from his quiet teammates. “Why can’t you get it through your head, Y/N? I’m not your goddamn babysitter-“
“You’re right.” You interrupt, fingernails biting into your palms as you choke back a sob. “You’re not, you’re my boyfriend. I just wanted to respect you by coming to you with something like this, but it turns out I’m just a hinderance.”
Akaashi falters for a second, blue eyes widening a fraction at the angry heat that fills your eyes as regret begins to bubble in his stomach at his harsh words.
“Y/N-“
“Give me some space, Keiji.” You say softly, patting Bokuto’s arm to let you through as your shoulders sink in a defeated manner. “I promise I won’t come crying to you about anything else.”
Your steps echo as you walk out of the gym, Konoha breaking the silence first when the door shuts behind you.
“Hate to say it, but that was well-deserved, man.”
Akaashi closes his eyes, head falling back towards the ceiling as he tries to steady his breathing, pretending like he wasn’t scared of you slipping through his fingers. He willed himself to not allow himself to chase after you, his anger directed towards you fading as he forces himself to respect your wishes.
It was obvious you were avoiding him. Akaashi had blinked when Bokuto had self-proclaimed that he needed you as his “study buddy” during breaks when you weren’t even in the same year as the owlish boy. It got worse when you seemed to panic when Akaashi willed you to talk to him, eyes refusing to meet his watery blue ones as you pushed him further away.
So he gave you your space, wilting with each passing day. It wasn’t until he accidentally bumped into you a week later, the setter turning hastily on his heel to walk in the opposite direction before a soft tug on the back of his school shirt wills him to stop.
“Keiji.” Your wobbly voice makes him turn back around immediately, a soft palm already cupping your cheek gently. “I’m s-”
“I’m sorry for being cruel.” The words are whispered against your forehead, Akaashi’s heartstrings tugging in the worst way possible. “I was angry at the situation, my love. And that sorry excuse you call a classmate. Please,”
His grip tightens just a little more as he feels wet warmth drip into the palm that was cupping your face.
“Forgive me.”
“I told you I wouldn’t come crying to you-”
“I want it all, Y/N.” Akaashi pulls back slightly, voice cracking slightly as blue stares intensely into your irises. “I want all of you. Tears included.”
You swat his chest playfully as Akaashi manages a soft smile, hand threaded through your hair as he presses you against his chest.
“Do you still need space?” He murmurs, and you smile at the sound of his hearbeat picking up as he awaited your answer fearfully.
“Nope. The exact opposite, please hold me?”
His embrace relaxes immediately, and your heart skips a beat at the sound of his relieved sigh, his slight nod making the weight lift off your chest.
“Good, now I can take care of your classmate-”
“Keiji-”
“Nope, my love.” He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, Akaashi’s eyes swirling with devotion.
“No one gets to try anything with you so long as you’re safe with me.”
Tsukishima Kei
“So I’m the bad guy again.”
“Do you want the honest answer, Kei?” You exhaustedly run a hand through your hair as Tsukishima’s scowl deepens, his long legs easily catching up with you in stride as he tugs on your wrist as the rambunctious court gets further and further away.
“It’s not my fault you’re insecure.”
You flinch. “Well maybe you shouldn’t let the girls in the stands cling to you after your matches. They were all over you, Tsukki! And you didn’t seem to mind it one bit.”
“What?” Annoyance brims the blonde’s voice as he takes another step forward, clenching his jaw when he sees the quiver in your lip, distrust filling the atmosphere between the two of you.
“Afraid that they’re prettier or better than you’ll ever be?”
You feel as if the wind was knocked out of your lungs, breath catching in your throat at his insinuation. His guard slackens almost immediately, clicking his tongue before turning away, too proud to apologize for the words he regretted as soon as they slipped his tongue like venom.
“Yeah.” You laugh humorlessly, making brown eyes dart over to your expression immediately. “You’re 100% correct. I am afraid you’ll find someone better than me in all aspects. Because I love you, you absolute asshole. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
The silence that befalls the two of you in the deserted hall is broken when you flinch away when Tsukishima tries to take a step towards you.
“I didn’t-”
“You never mean to do anything, Kei.” You say in a hushed tone, turning your back on him in an attempt to shield the hot tears slipping down your cheeks. “But you somehow always manage to.”
The win for Karasuno didn’t mean much to the blonde that night, hoping that this would just go away and things would be back to normal. However, it was anything but. You didn’t look his way once in class, disappearing when it was over. Your voice trembled as you had avoided his seemingly stoic eyes through his frames, simply stating that you wished for some time away from him.
He was fine. Or at least pretending to be on the outside. In truth, he would never find better, because you were it for him, words that you would never catch slipping his mouth. So he put on a front, pretending that your absence had zero effect on him whatsoever. Pretending the brush of your body against him in the hall as you pass each other didn’t make the blonde want to cave.
It was the smile you shot at Hinata during one of your breaks that caused him to. The first glint in your eye in awhile, and it had been caused by him of all people, prompting the tall middle blocker to tug you by the forearm into the corridor.
“Tsukishima-”
“I hate this.”
You falter for a second, guard back up in a flash as your back touches the wall. “What did I do?”
“You didn’t do anything, and it’s pissing me off.”
“I don’t follow-”
“I was wrong.” His forehead touches your shoulder as you stiffen before relaxing against his familiar touch. “I don’t care how many times I have to apologize. You win, okay? I’m sorry.”
“This is a rather aggressive apology-”
“Y/N.” Tsukishima lifts his head so it’s level with your height, unprepared for the way tears brimmed your eyes at the proximity, your guard diminishing.
“What if you do find someone better one day, Tsukki?” Your voice cracks, inner fears trickling to the surface. “Do I need to prepare myself to lose you-?”
You gasp as Tsukishima’s jaw ticks before kissing you intensely, his hand touching your lower back to pull you closer.
“No. You don’t need to do something stupid like that.” His eyes were slightly glaring at you, a flush across both his cheeks. “Because there is no one better than you, okay?”
It was your turn for heat to flood your cheeks as your eyes widen a fraction, his breath tickling your ear as you stutter. “Kei-”
“I love you too. I said it, are you satisfied now?”
noya has a jar that he uses to collect sand from every beach, desert (and that weird spot in maine) that you've been to together. he remembers which layer is which and have a story to tell your friends for each ine
yes!! and along with each memory there’s a candid photo that he took of you in each spot
it’s tanaka who notices first. his eyes are casually roaming around noya and your shared apartment when he spots the little jar of sand that sits on the coffee table in the living room.
“oh, that’s from our travel trips!” he explains excitedly, handing each of his old teammates a bottle of beer for their night together. “i make it a point to collect some sand from every spot we visit and keep them here with us.”
“ohh,” asahi hums thoughtfully. “i remember you saying that when we went to egypt together.” he thinks it’s an endearing sentiment, that his friend had been collecting little mementos of your journeys across the globe. he takes a sip of his beer, enjoying the taste of the lime that noya had added for him. “what about the pictures?”
noya’s grin turns just the slightest bit bashful when he sits between daichi and suga. “well,” he chuckles with tinges of red on his cheeks and across his nose. “they don’t know about them yet.”
“you wanna surprise them?”
he nods to answer suga’s question, his eyes shining with an innocent and pure kind of giddiness that fills him up and causes his heart to sing in devotion to you. “i’m gonna use them when I propose to them!”
each one of those pictures, he’d taken without you knowing, and in every single one of them is a precious memory that he managed to capture in its stillness. for the white sands of jamaica, there’s a photo of you standing beneath the cold waters dunn’s river falls. you were laughing with the squeals that left your trembling body for the force of the water hitting your skin as you called out to him to hurry and join you so that you could join the next group to climb up the falls. for the pink sands of greece, there’s a memory of your image glowing under the setting sun, the orange light of it kissing your skin and lighting up your eyes like a warm bonfire, and the smile you wore as you admired the scenery would forever sing melodies of love and admiration for you in noya’s heart. and for the golden sands of egypt, noya’s taken picture of your wide-eyed stare as you gazed up at the giant pyramids. if he tries, he can remember the way your voice excitedly rambled on to him about facts you’d learned from your geographical history class in college, and that day was when he decided that he wanted nothing more than to hear you talk like that for as long as he lived.
there’s an undeniable tenderness in his eyes that everyone recognizes as noya recounts to them the stories of your travels, how his voice would fall into loving whispers as he tells them of the times he’d showed to you how to catch your first fish or how the both of you went cliff diving — how scared you had been and had practically glued yourself to him before you had the courage to take the leap with his fingers locked around your own. each of them knew the fact: nishinoya yu is madly in love with you, and they know you feel the same way for him. it’s just a matter of time until noya would finally propose to you, and they know that no one would be more excited than the man himself.
a few years later, there are two new layers of sand added to his jar — one for the day he got down on his knee for you in fiji, and another for your wedding in jamaica.
Author’s Note: This is sort of a prequel to my first fic? It’s a lot longer though and uh, tw disordered eating maybe
For as long as Issei had worked this job, he had been an early riser. He rose before the sun, sitting down on the edge of the bed while you lay fast asleep. He stretched and popped and cracked instinctively before getting up to brush his teeth. He’d walk, eyes still half closed, to his ‘home gym,’ or the space in the guest bedroom he had converted, knowing full well you wanted it in the garage. ‘It’s too spooky in there in the morning,’ he’d laugh, both of you knowing he just wanted to work out in the air conditioned room.
He’d finish off with yoga and meditation, centering his mind, body, and spirit, before hopping into the warm shower. He’d always leave the bathroom door open in case you woke up, ready to goofily tease you before you even remembered where you were.
“You like what you see, baby?” He’d wink, holding his Discobolus pose as you shook your head.
“Put some clothes on, Zeus,” you rolled back over but soon heard footsteps approaching.
“I’m offended that you’d compare me to the most promiscuous man on Mt. Olympus,” he kneeled next to the bed, grabbing your chin in his hand. “I’d prefer to be Perseus, and have my Andromeda ruling at my side.”
“It’s too early,” you dragged out the syllables as Issei rested his hand on your hip beneath the covers.
“What do you want for breakfast, sweetie? I can make pancakes,” he pressed a kiss to your hand resting on the pillow. You nodded, pulling the blanket back over your shoulders.
“I’m sure Perseus wore pants.” He rose, grabbing a pair of cobalt blue boxer briefs from the shared dresser.
“I’m sure Andromeda made the pancakes.”
Your arms found their way around Issei’s firm torso while he flipped each finished pancake on either of the two plates on the counter. He had a system, every other pancake was chocolate chip, “maybe you’ll be sweeter to me if I give you sugar,” he’d always say. The plain ones were for him, though he would spread peanut butter over them anyway. He’d learned that from you the first time he had made you pancakes, the first time you had spent the night in his arms.
“Do you want anything else, angel?” You shook your head against his back. He carefully turned around, handing you your plate. “I’m surprised you’re up so early,” he laughed.
“It was cold last night, had you brought out the winter blankets like I asked, I probably wouldn’t be.” You had made your way to the stool at the counter by now, cutting into your pancakes eagerly. It was his turn to hold you now, nuzzling his face into your neck after leaving a soft kiss on your jaw.
“Just say you missed me, baby. That’s okay, too.”
“Do you want to meet at that ramen place for lunch?” Issei was getting ready for his break, awaiting your text response. He was going to go anyway, he hadn’t packed any food. He just wouldn’t mind picking you up on his way.
“I can’t, I have a lunch meeting.” He frowned, those usually meant the worst for you.
“Do you want me to drop something off for you?”
“I’m not hungry,” he rolled his eyes before putting his phone back in his pocket, walking calmly down the street.
He had been battling your loss of appetite due to stress for the entirety of your relationship without much luck. He had never been one to push, but sometimes the only food he could assure you ate was breakfast. He had only gotten you to eat breakfast by making dinner early, leaving you starving by morning. It was only on bad days, it’s like your body would forget. Sometimes you noticed, but were afraid of getting sick if you ate something when you had already felt “full.”
He ate his ramen, debating bringing some back for dinner. There had been weeks where you ate the equivalent of one large meal a day. Every ‘not hungry’ made him fear a week like that, making food that you’d barely touch and praying you’d take it to work with you tomorrow so you wouldn’t wither away. His only solution up to this point was eating, and reminding you that normally this is when you’d eat too. Using your love for routine against you was his only hope, and it hadn’t been working as well as he wanted.
He could tell you felt bad about not eating, that you felt bad about worrying him. What else were you supposed to do if you simply weren’t hungry? Force feeding only made you feel inadequate, you felt full after half a sandwich or a few bites of pasta. The thought of eating a full protein made you sick. At your lowest points you’d start crying while watching tv with him, watching him snack on something you couldn’t bare the thought of consuming. ‘Issei, what’s wrong with me?’ He never knew what to say. When you got stressed your body simply refused fuel, and that worried him.
“How was work, angel?” His job had given him the ability to appear entirely composed regardless of the environment. You could never tell if he was stressed unless he dropped the facade and told you. When it was about you, he’d never tell you. When it was about you, though, you could tell. Issei was always caring. If he could tell you were in distress he’d pull out all the stops. He’d light lavender candles, he’d cook, he’d clean the counter. He wouldn’t complain if you wanted to watch something he didn’t, he wasn’t planning on taking his attention off of your subtle emotional responses.
“It was okay,” you lied. He already knew it wasn’t, but you didn’t want to talk about it. He always got home before you did, he didn’t have nearly as many responsibilities as you did. His work didn’t change, yours did. New projects meant new worries and new responsibilities.
“I’m almost done making dinner,” you had dropped your things by the door as soon as you stepped inside, making your way towards the man slaving over a pot of chicken soup. “I took the winter blankets out, I thought this might help warm you up.” You snaked your arms around his waist, hiding your face into his back as it warmed up, holding the tears welling up in your eyes. You could eat a little bit of soup, just a little bit, if it would make him feel better.
“Thank you,” you let out a deep sigh into his back. “I’m gonna shower.” He was already in his ‘pajamas.’ Issei ran too hot to sleep in anything but underwear, but enjoyed lounging around the house in your oversized Batman pants. You’d offered to buy him his own so you could match, but he said it wouldn’t be the same.
You both sunk onto the couch, searching for something comforting to watch. Maybe a disney movie, or something else you’d seen a million times. “You know how I played volleyball in high school?”
“Yeah, why?” You hadn’t forgotten. He even taught you how to play so your beach trips would be more fun.
“After practice Makki and I would compete to see who could make the better protein shake. I always won.” You laughed, probably way too much.
“You’re bragging to me about protein shakes you made 10 years ago?”
“What? They were good! Have some faith in me,” the movie kept playing, he tightened his grip around your waist. “I have no clue how I’d drink one everyday, though. If I had one now I’d probably puke. Oh, the joys of youth,” he laughed.
“Are you still hungry or something?” He wasn’t, his teenage athlete appetite had gone away as he aged.
“I was thinking about dessert.”
“I’ve had your protein shakes, I wouldn’t consider them a sweet treat.” He gasped, feigning offense.
“You know how much I hate protein powder, you think I was downing that everyday in high school?” You looked at him confused. His current protein shakes weren’t bad, for a protein shake at least. “It’s an acquired taste, and I still hold my nose and chug it.”You laughed at one of your favorite Matsukawa quirks.
“So why'd you stop making them taste good?”
“I was too broke in college to buy all that ice cream.”
“Ice cream? For protein shakes?” He rolled his eyes before pausing the movie.
“I’m gonna make you one, you’re underestimating my 17 year old metabolism.” He stood up, gesturing that you stay put. Issei was having another chaotic urge, apparently.
You turned on the couch, facing the kitchen instead of the tv. He began pulling every sugary food out of the pantry and fridge. Every flavor of ice cream, cookies, granola bars, peanut butter, anything and everything sweet. “You’re using all of that?” He nodded, haphazardly throwing everything in the blender followed by some milk, chocolate syrup, and two scoops of his protein powder. This really was a chaotic recipe, straight from the mind of a gross teenaged boy.
He came back to the couch with glasses for each of them, they looked like they had been filled with a child’s birthday cake puke. “Drink it, I promise it’s good! It’s so you can’t taste the protein powder.” It probably just tastes like chocolate and peanut butter, but you were still hesitant to drink it. “I promise, the team always liked mine better than Makki's.”
You held the glass up to your mouth, slowly drinking it, widening your eyes when you realized how good it actually was. You understood now. Your 26 year old bodies would cease to function if you had these everyday. You couldn’t pull the glass away until you were done.
“Yeah, I definitely didn’t think it’d be that good.” You laughed, wiping your upper lip.
“You couldn’t taste the protein powder right?” You nodded, watching him sip slowly on his, as his face suddenly scrunched up. “You know, I ate a lot at dinner. I probably shouldn’t drink the rest of this. You want it?” You shrugged, taking the glass out of his hand, drinking the rest like you hadn’t eaten anything all day. Oh wait, he thought. You haven’t for 14 hours. Oh wait, he thought, this is it. This was the solution to his biggest worry. A hidden reset button, your sweet tooth.
