kiyu

sfw ! writes mostly haikyuu fandom

[kiyuhai]

✆ HIRAYA HOTLINE ✆

☎️: 123...123.... calling the Hiraya Hotline, press 3 to read more! ☎️: Requests Open, Asks Open!! ☎️: support my writing !!

📞 . . . call me kiyu <3, 19, mostly posts sfw 📞 . . . This hotline is for the Haikyuu Fandom, with special interest on Iwaizumi, Akaashi, Sugawara, and The Miya Twins,  📞 . . . Masterlist! . . . otw!

[kiyuhai]

💔 been neglecting this account because I'm in need of a job and a tablet but alas, the job market is tuff here 💔

[kiyuhai]

Comparing Hand sizes !

note. #hell yeah would want to do this to whoever i’ll end up dating pre-rs like fr. I can't flirt for shit, but you know… feat. Sugawara Koushi, Kuroo Tetsurou, Osamu Miya

Sugarawa Koushi

You were supposed to be studying. Well, you were studying. Around five minutes ago, but now you’re bored, and your attention has gone from playing with your pen to just looking around the room. Until your gaze falls on Sugawara's hands, and you find yourself staring. 

“Kou.” You tap his wrist, and he looks up from his textbook. 

“Hm?” 

“Your hand’s kinda big.” 

Sugawara blinks, then laughs—soft, breathy, a little surprised. “Is that so?”

You realize what you said, and you flush slightly, already planning to backtrack, but he’s already turning his palm upward and placing it beside yours on the table like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His fingers relax. He doesn't push or tease, —just leaves it open.

The difference is… noticeable.

And somehow that makes your face hotter than it should.

“Huh,” you say, way too quietly.

Sugawara hums like he’s considering something important. Then, gently, he shifts his hand so his fingers brush against yours—measuring without actually measuring, just feeling the comparison, then he gently takes your hand, lining up your palms. His hand is definitely bigger than yours, and your heart is in your throat.

“You’re smaller than I expected,” he says casually, like he didn’t just rearrange your entire nervous system.

Then he smiles. “It’s cute.”

You immediately regret everything.

Kuroo Tetsurou

He notices before you even say anything.

“You’re doing that thing,” Kuroo says, leaning back in his chair with that irritatingly confident grin. You pause, then look at him. “What thing?”

His eyes flickers to your hand. “The staring-at-my-hand thing.”

You scoff, but you’re already caught. “I’m not— I was just—”

“Curious?” he supplies, dragging the word out like he’s entertained by you already. Before you can escape the conversation, he leans forward, elbow on the table, and casually flips his hand palm-up between you both. “Go on then,” he says. “Compare.”

You hesitate for half a second too long.

That’s all he needs.

He shifts closer, resting his hand next to yours like he’s done this a hundred times just to mess with people. His fingers are longer, warmer, and annoyingly steady.

“You’re thinking too hard,” he says, watching your expression instead of your hands.

“I’m not thinking at all,” you lie.

“Sure,” he replies, smirking.

Then—just to make things worse—he lightly hooks his pinky around yours.

“Mine’s bigger,” he adds, smug as ever.

You immediately pull away, cheeks flushing. “I think it’s obvious enough without doing that.”

Kuroo laughs like he had just figured something out, and you already know from that grin that he really did.

Osamu Miya

It’s you who brings it up, in the middle of lunchtime, but only because the silence between you two feels too comfortable to waste.

“Let me see your hand,” you say suddenly.

Osamu pauses mid-bite of his onigiri.

He stares at you. “Why?”

“I just want to.”

That seems to be enough for him. He doesn't tease, nor comment on it. Osamu just sets his food down and holds out his hand like it’s nothing important.

You place yours beside it.

And immediately notice how small yours looks.

“…Huh,” you mutter.

Osamu glances down, then back at you. “What?”

“Nothing. Just… yours is kind of big.”

He shrugs. “I work with food all day. Prob’ly helps.”

You’re still staring when he turns his hand slightly, palm brushing yours—not dramatic, not teasing. Just aligning them properly like he’s actually trying to understand what you’re looking at.

His fingers curl once, absentminded.

Then he says, like it’s obvious: “Yours fits nice though.”

You blink. “What does that even mean?”

“It means what it means,” he replies, already reaching for his onigiri again.

But his ears are a little pink when he says it.

[lumixnouss]

akaashi keiji | it's feminine intuition .ᐟ

after watching your high school's volleyball game, a certain setter had caught your attention. what else does a bored girl supposed to do in bed but stalk through his socials?

note: this was insipired by drop dead by olivia! <3 also this is my first haikyuu work, i hope y'all like it ( ´ ▽ ` )

the screams inside the giant gymnasium felt as though they might burst your eardrums off. the game had been going on for so long, both teams on the court were locked in this seemingly endless rally that had your eyes going back and forth to both sides.

but obviously, you were rooting for your high school’s team. fukurodani academy was known for having a strong team, though guiltily, this was your first time watching any of their games. 

it was competition season, as your friends called it—they had practically dragged you out here to watch a bunch of games—mostly that of your volleyball club’s. 

at first, it took you a few games to understand the rules and what they were actually doing on court, but when you got the hang of it, you found yourself cheering along with your friends, eyes locked onto that ball.

your heart pounded inside your chest as the ball returned to fukurodani’s side. the ball was received by the libero, flying high in the air. then, your gaze locked onto that player that had stolen your attention for a while now.

number 5, the setter, as your friends called him. 

he flawlessly tossed the ball to the tall guy running up to the net. and with a powerful spike that had you sitting on the edge of your seat, the team successfully earned their victory. 

the gymnasium erupted with cheers, your friend grabbed your arm and pulled you up to jump and cheer with her.

“they’re so good!” one of your friends commented, grinning as she lifted a makeshift banner—or more like a piece of paper with the fukurodani name scribbled on it.

“i swear, that number 4 looks like he could rip arms off with his spikes!” your friends discussed the game, watching as the players approached your side of the bleachers to bow.

your eyes stayed glued onto the composed expression number 5 had on his face. he didn’t look that ruffled from the game save for the quick rise and fall of his chest—indicating just how exhausting that game was. 

the team bowed in front of the bleachers, shouting ‘thank you’ to the audience. more girls around you cheered, waving their signs around and shouting ‘good job’ across the bleachers.

you couldn’t help but wonder what number five looked like up close.

your attention is torn away when your friends grab your arm, “we should head to the cafe before going home! i could really use a drink.”

the cafe was quiet when you arrived. it was already deep into the afternoon and everyone was probably headed home by now.

you sipped from your drink as your friends passed a phone around the table. you took a peek at the screen and found a social media profile opened.

it was that guy with white-gray hair that won the game with that terrifying spike. “this guy’s in my older friend’s class, he’s a third year.” one of the girls shared.

“i think his name was bokuto. apparently, he’s like one of the top aces in the country.”

“damn, really? no wonder his spikes were so clean.” you comment, eyes skimming over his profile.

then, you see it. a post that showed that familiar number 5 jersey.

bokuto smiled up at the camera with the setter you saw earlier standing just right behind him. he wasn’t even looking at the camera but the ball in his hands as though he was deep in thought. it looks like it was captured without him knowing. 

now that you could see his face more clearly, you felt your heart skip a beat. he was cute—handsome, you couldn’t quite put the words together.

but the way he looked at the ball in his hands, eyes glimmering with determination made you lean closer to the phone, scrolling through more pictures until you found another.

it was another post, another candid shot. this time, he was sitting by the window of a classroom, chin resting on his hand. his eyes were trained onto the textbook before him, wired earphones dangling loosely.

a few other people surrounded him, casually tossing volleyballs around. yet, he seemed quite used to the ruckus with how unbothered he looked.

was this some sort of deja vu?

school had finally ended for the day, but before heading home, you’d forgotten your notebook somewhere on your table. you tell your friends to go on ahead as you ran up to the second floor. 

you stopped in your tracks when you passed by an empty classroom—except it wasn’t completely empty.

near the window, a boy sat in his seat, fingers flipping through the pages of his textbook. your eyes grazed his dark—slightly messy hair, and that composed expression on his face, like this was just another one of his routines. 

you swear you’ve seen this before. 

“akaashi!” a loud voice echoed across the corridor. you quickly moved to the other side of the hallway and away from the door.

a guy you recognized to be bokuto sauntered into the classroom, a volleyball tucked in his arm. “let’s go!” he called out.

so, his name was akaashi, huh.

as soon as your head hit the pillow, you grabbed your phone and dialed your friend. for some reason, your heart was racing—feeling a bit nervous. but god, were you just so curious.

“hey! did you find your notebook?” your friend answered.

“yeah. but i… have a question.” you hesitated, feeling warmth rise to your cheeks.

your friend chuckled on the other line, “what’s up?”

“you know that setter from the volleyball club? number 5.” you mumbled, trying to keep your voice steady. but of course, your friend has none of this and laughs from the other line.

“akaashi keiji? i’m on it!” she announces, voice filled with excitement.

not even a minute later, his username was already in your chat. 

“he’s a second year like us, and oh my god look! he’s the vice captain of the volleyball club!” she giggled over the phone, almost sounding as though she were endorsing him to you.

“and you know, i heard he’s really smart—and isn’t he cute too?!” she spoke quickly and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes while fighting a smile.

“i didn’t ask for all of that.” you mumbled, fingers already typing in his username. 

“you wanted it anyway.” she teased.

when you opened his profile, you were greeted with basically nothing. although he had a good amount of followers, he only had two posts in his feed. one being a picture of his table with a few mangas scattered about.

the other post seemed to be his volleyball team, they were at a restaurant, big smiles and drinks raised up. akaashi sat quietly beside bokuto, smiling softly. he held up a peace sign and had an onigiri on the other hand.

a small flutter in your stomach tells you everything—you need to see his smiles up close, and maybe how his voice would sound too.

it was almost as though you had manifested him. ever since you noticed him at the game, you just kept on running into him.

at first, it was at the convenience store near your school. you were buying yourself a quick drink before class and ended up grabbing the same one as akaashi. when your hands touched, you both flinched and pulled away, murmuring apologies to each other before awkwardly grabbing something else.

but that ended up with both of you standing in front of the cashier, offering the other to go on ahead. the cashier switched his gaze between the two of you, smiling to himself. 

the next time was on the train. by the time you managed to get on, the train was practically full and you had no choice but to stand somewhere off to the side. just as the doors were about to close, a person squeezed in just at the last minute.

you recognized your school’s uniform on him and slowly looked up. akaashi was already staring back at you, eyes a little wide from recognition. 

the two of you exchanged a short, awkward greeting before you pulled out your phone and stared at the screen—your mind reeling from the sudden proximity between you.

at this point, your heart was already pounding in your chest. you snuck quick glances at him and noticed how he just looked out the window, eyes tracing the view outside, completely indifferent from the world around him.

and of course, just as fate would have it, when your stop came, he also got off the train. you quietly trailed behind him, noticing how the two of you were taking the same path home.

but of course, you wouldn’t let an opportunity like this pass up. you started visiting that convenience store near school more often. who knew akaashi would go there everyday like clockwork? that he seemed to buy that drink almost habitually every morning before school?

or maybe the fact that when he didn’t have practice you’d find him sitting across from you on the train ride home.

what mattered the most was how he looked at you. first, he was curious—of how often he’d see you around when he didn’t notice before.

curiosity turned into familiarity, and whenever akaashi keiji found himself looking for you. his morning convenience store runs had become a complete staple of his day, sometimes he’d see you already heading inside and find himself walking faster to catch up.

“when did you start drinking these sweet drinks, akaashi?” bokuto asked during lunch, his finger poking the drink carton on akaashi’s desk. 

akaashi shrugged, “i like it.” 

it reminded him of you.

it’s probably feminine intuition. your fate was sealed the moment you saw him at that volleyball game. you knew it then, akaashi keiji had your whole undivided attention, without even trying.

the court was filled with loud cheers from the audience. fukurodani academy had just taken another win, advancing them further into the competition. you got up from your seat, hands clapping as a smile tugged at your lips. 

“they’re on a roll! akaashi’s doing well today too! did you see those dump shots?” your friend laughed, waving her banner around. 

but just like a routine, you slipped away from the stands and found your place near the court and in the shadows of the door. 

you clutched his favorite drink in your hand, feeling the cold seep against your skin. 

after the players were free to leave the court, akaashi’s legs were already moving towards you.

“keiji!” you smiled, waving your hand. akaashi smiled, feeling the exhaustion ebb away from him the closer he got to you.

akaashi stood in front of you and walked right into your open arms. his own automatically coming up around you.

“good job today!” you commended, feeling his arms tighten around you as he rested his chin against your shoulder.

“thank you.” he mumbled quietly. akaashi had practically melted onto you.

maybe it was really intuition. because the moment you saw him that day, a part of you had already imagined what it would feel like to be this close to him.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ 1.86k wc, @lumixnouss on ao3 and wattpad <3 ℒ ove, lumi.

© lumixnouss, reblogs, comments and likes are appreciated ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

[kiyuhai]

“When did you realize you loved me?”

Atsumu Miya

“The moment I met ya.” He lets out a yelp when you hit him, frowning. “Ow! Hey!” Rubbing at his shoulder, Atsumu pouts at you. “What was that for? It’s true!”

You raise a brow. “Really, ‘tsumu? The moment we met? C’mon!”

Tsumu grumbles, “I was tryna be romantic.”

“Yeah, well, I want a serious answer.”

Your boyfriend gives you a look, and you pout. “Cmon! I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.” 

Tsumu blinks at you, you blink back, then you giggle and nod. 

“Okay. Sure. Just tell me.” You see him grin, before a thoughtful look washes over his face. He’s serious, eyes glazing as he thinks back before he murmurs, “I realized when you showed up during one of my matches.” 

You shoot him a confused look. “I always go to your matches?” 

“No- I mean… remember when you were in Tokyo?”

“Mhm?”

“And you told me you weren't sure if you could go.”

your eyes glint with recognition, and softly you murmur, “Yeah. I remember that.”

“So when you showed up, in Argentina, wearing my jersey and holding a water bottle? Smiling and waving at me.” Atsumu smiles. It's one of the smiles that only you and his closest friends get to see. Wide smile, that softness in them? Your heart stutters. 

“I knew I loved you then.”

You stare at him for a moment. Stunned into silence. He notices the silence immediately, eyes flickering over to you. “What?” He asks, suddenly sheepish, his ears flushing a dark shade at the look in your eyes. “Why’re ya lookin’ at me like that?”

“Beacuase.” You laugh weakly, lips curling into a soft smile. “That’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Oi!”

“I’m joking– But still!”

Atsumu grumbles under his breath while you only giggle, the flush on his ears spreading to his cheeks. It only makes your chest warm even further as the memory clears in your mind. 

The trip to Argentina was awful. The airport was shit. Delayed flights, barely any sleep, and you almost missed the match entirely because your taxi driver got lost. You’d shown up breathless and exhausted, hair messy from the flight, wearing Atsumu’s MSBY jersey over your clothes with a water bottle you’d bought on the way because you remembered he always forgot to hydrate after games. 

You hadn’t even thought much about it. You just wanted to be there– because you knew it had been a while since you last saw each other and you knew how much that match meant to him.

“I remember you looked shocked,” you murmur softly.

“I was shocked,” Atsumu admits. “Yer text said ya couldn’t make it.”

“I wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, ya almost killed me.” He snorts. “I looked into the crowd before warm-ups and suddenly there ya were.”

His voice softens.

“And, well, I dunno. Everythin’ just… settled.”

You blink slowly.

“I’d been nervous all week. Big match, lot of pressure, all that crap.” He shrugs. “But seein’ you there?”

A small smile pulls onto his lips again.

“It felt like home.”

Your chest aches painfully with affection.

“Tsumu…”

“And then afterward,” he continues, “I saw ya waitin’ for me outside with that stupid little sign—”

“It was not stupid!”

“It had glitter on it!”

“Because I love you!”

He laughs loudly at that, bright and warm, before leaning forward until his forehead rests against yours.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Exactly.”

Silence settles between you, comfortable and soft.

Then Atsumu grins suddenly.

“Yer turn now.”

You narrow your eyes, a smile at the corner of your lips. “No.”

“WHAT?!”

“I shared emotional vulnerability already by listening.”

“That is NOT how this works!”

You cackle as he dramatically tackles you against the couch cushions, whining about fairness while you laugh hard enough your stomach hurts.

And somewhere between his offended rambling and the way he clings to you like you might disappear, you think maybe you knew then too.

Maybe home had always been him.

Akaashi Keiji

“When I liked you?” He repeats, eyes blinking. When you nod, Keiji tilts his head in thought. “I… don’t think there’s a specific moment.” He murmurs.

“But, I remember the night I got home. And you weren’t there.”

Your brows furrow slightly at that. “What?”

“I had a really long day,” he says quietly, fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns onto your arm. “A slow work day. Then suddenly a mountain of things to finish, so I had to stay later than usual for edits.” A small huff of amusement leaves him. “I remember unlocking my apartment and thinking about how annoying it was going to be to make dinner.”

You snort. “Wow. Romantic.”

Keiji’s lips twitch. “Let me finish.”

You gesture dramatically for him to continue, and he shakes his head fondly before going on.

“The apartment was dark. Quiet.” His voice softens. “And I remember standing there thinking that something felt… wrong.”

Your teasing smile slowly fades.

“Because by then, you’d started staying over a lot.” He glances down at you. “You’d leave your shoes by the door. Your hair ties on my sink. Half-drunk drinks on my table.”

“Hey—”

“And it annoyed me,” he says calmly.

You gasp in offense while he fights back a smile.

“But that night,” he continues, “the apartment was clean. Too clean.”

The room falls quiet except for the soft noise of the television in the background.

“And I remember thinking,” Keiji says softly, “that I missed you before I’d even been home for five minutes.”

Your chest tightens.

“I think that was the first time I realized it wasn’t just liking you anymore.” His gaze gentles, impossibly warm. “You had become part of my everyday life so naturally that being without you felt wrong.”

Your expression softens completely. “Keiji…”

He presses a kiss to your forehead, hiding the faint pink dusting his cheeks.

“Besides,” he murmurs against your skin, “you’re very hard not to love.”

Iwaizumi Hajime

Hajime raises a brow at your question. His arms are wrapped around you as you cuddle on the couch, your back to his chest. The show playing on the TV now forgotten as he hums, thinking about your question. Then a small smile grows on his lips. 

“Back in high school.” 

You blink, then laugh. “You’re lying. That's so long ago!”

“I’m serious, though.”

“Haji, thats such a young age to even realize that.”

“I know. But it’s true.” 

You turn slightly to look at him, suspicious. “Okay, now you really have to tell me.”

He just snorts, resting his chin on your shoulder. “It’s small. Simple. You remember the time you got sick during our second year?”

Your brows furrow as you think back. “The really bad flu?”

“Yeah.” Hajime nods once. “You missed school for almost a week.”

You hum. “I remember Matsukawa telling me Oikawa tried to fake being sick too so he wouldn’t have to do group work alone.”

Hajime groans immediately. “Don’t remind me. Dumbass almost got the rest of us in trouble.”

You laugh softly, and he smiles a little at the sound before continuing.

“At first, I didn’t think much of it.” He shrugs. “People get sick.”

“Mhm.”

“But then…” His arms tighten around you slightly. “Everything felt off.”

Your smile fades into something gentler.

“The classroom was quieter,” he murmurs. “Nobody laughed at my comments anymore.”

You gasp dramatically. “Excuse you, I did not laugh at all your comments.”

“You laughed at enough of them.”

“That’s because I felt bad!”

“Sure.” Hajime snorts softly. “Whatever helps you sleep.”

You elbow him lightly, earning a low chuckle from him before he continues.

“I kept looking toward your desk without thinking.” His voice grows quieter now. “Every time something happened, I’d turn to tell you about it before remembering you weren’t there.”

Your chest tightens painfully.

“And then one day,” he says, “you came back.”

You blink.

“I remember you walked into class looking exhausted. Your hair was messy, your uniform was wrinkled, and you still looked half-dead.”

“Wow. You’re so romantic.”

“Shut up.” He pinches your thigh lightly. “I also remember thinking you were the prettiest person I’d ever seen.”

Heat rushes to your face instantly.

“Hajime…”

He ignores your flustered look, though the faint pink on his ears gives him away.

“You sat down beside me and immediately complained about how much homework you missed.” He huffs a laugh. “And I remember feeling relieved. Like things were back where they were supposed to be.”

The room falls quiet for a moment.

“I think that’s when I realized it,” he admits softly. “That my day felt wrong when you weren’t around.”

Your heart melts completely.

“That’s…” You smile helplessly. “That’s actually really sweet.”

“Don’t make a big deal outta it.”

“Too late.”

Hajime sighs as you turn in his arms, grinning at the embarrassed look on his face.

“You know,” you tease softly, “for someone who acts tough, you’re kind of hopelessly in love with me.”

He rolls his eyes, but his hands settle firmly on your waist, grounding and warm.

“Yeah,” he says easily. “Guess I am.”

And somehow, hearing him say it simply makes your heart race even faster than before.

[kiyuhai]

"Rocking Your Hoodie"

summary. It's been half a year since you broke up, and you haven't stopped wearing his hoodie. feat. Akaashi Keiji, Iwaizumi Hajime, Atsumu Miya, Osamu Miya note. Angsty part two of “Stealing their Hoodie”

Akaashi Keiji

It's beginning to fade. 

The smell of Keiji on his hoodie is fading.

You realized it the moment you slipped it on again after getting home from another grueling day of work and the familiar musk of him doesn’t immediately wash over you. And while the realization would have excited you before, since it gave you a reason to see your boyfriend now ex, now, it just makes the feeling in your chest tighten even further.

Because it would mean that you’re losing the one thing that tethers you back to Akaashi Keiji other than the pictures and memories your relationship left. 

It’s been six months.

Six months- and the smell of him is fading

The realization made you hug the hoodie tighter around yourself, as you pray it would last just a few more months. 

You bury your face into the fabric anyway, trying to will the fading scent into existence. There’s still something there. Detergent, the faint trace of his cologne, and something unmistakably him still clings to the worn out clothing. 

But it’s weaker now.

Like a memory slipping through your fingers.

Your chest aches. A faint, constant thrum of hurt and longing and that thought of Keiji fills your mind again. He had always been gentle with you. Quiet, sweet, affectionate. The type to take the hoodie off his back when he noticed you shiver from the chill of the room. 

When you tried to return it, even half-heartedly apologizing for the unconscious habit of your of chewing on the hoodie string, Keiji only smiled. “Keep it.” He murmured, pulling you closer to his chest. “You look better in it anyway.”

At the time, you just laughed. Lightly swatted at his arm, while he smiled. 

Now the memory alone is enough to make your eyes sting with tears.

The sleeves of the hoodie are worn softer from how often you’ve rubbed it together like it could mimic the warmth of him. There are loose threads near the bottom, the strings have gone through a lot of your nervous, unconscious habit. You know you should probably wash it soon, but you can’t bring yourself to. 

Not when it would mean you’re washing him away further from your life.

And maybe it’s pathetic. A bit stupid, probably.

Maybe six months should have been enough to move on. 

But some nights are harder than others. Some nights you still reach for your phone before remembering there are no goodnight texts waiting for you anymore. No soft voice asking if you’ve eaten. No Keiji standing in your kitchen at midnight making tea because he noticed you looked tired.

Just silence.

You close your eyes and curl into yourself inside the oversized hoodie.

If you focus hard enough, you can almost pretend his arms are still around you.

Almost.

Iwaizumi Hajime

Usually, you would have his arms around you while you wear his hoodie. Usually, you would have Hajime’s warmth accompanying the hoodie, but now all you have is just the hoodie that he left months ago that you never had the heart to return. 

“Keep it.” He told you with a small, sweet smile. “It’s yours now anyway.”

It still falls just mid-thigh. It’s too big for you, but it has always felt right for you to wear it. The sleeves cover your hands, and the entire thing swallows you whole. You just sink deeper into it, pulling the collar up to your nose as you stifle the tears that begin to fall. It still hurts. The fact that you won’t have Hajime around now to flip the hood back over your head to mess with you. The fact that you won’t have Hajime around to hold you and press a kiss to your forehead. 

The hoodie still smells like him. It still feels like him. But it isn’t Iwaizumi Hajime.  

Your tears make their mark on the sleeves. You don’t bother with it, because there’s nobody here to gently wipe them away anymore. You drift off, tear stains on the sleeves, heart aching for the previous owner of the hoodie you wear. Hajime isn’t here to hold you closer. He isn’t here to warm you on especially cold nights.

So you would settle with just the hoodie. 

The mornings are the worst.

Because for a few blissful seconds after waking up, wrapped in something that smells like him, you forget.

You forget that the apartment is too quiet now. That there’s no sound of Hajime moving around the kitchen making breakfast while grumbling under his breath. No teasing complaints about how you steal all of his clothes. No strong arms pulling you back into bed when you try to get up too early.

Then reality settles in all over again. It's a heavy, suffocating feeling that makes you wish you didn’t open your eyes. Instead, you clutch the sleeves tighter around your hands as if you can anchor yourself with them, and keep your head buried in the fabric.

It’s embarrassing how much comfort a single hoodie still brings you. But it’s the closest thing you have left of him. The closest thing you have to home.

Some nights you swear you can still hear his laugh.Some nights you can almost feel his hand resting on the back of your neck, thumb brushing gently against your skin the way he always did when you were overwhelmed.

But when you open your eyes, there’s nothing there.

Just an empty room.

And a hoodie that still carries the ghost of someone you loved too much.

Atsumu Miya

There’s an entire section in your closet filled with Atsumu’s hoodie’s. 

He kept his word, leaving around sweaters all over the house and always telling you to wear it whenever you miss him when he’s away.

You tell him he’s being silly.

But you’re still wearing them. Even after you broke up. He did tell you to wear it when you miss him– so this counts, right? 

Because you missed him so much that you would wear them to sleep, even if it was an attempt to fill the empty gap he left in your chest. 

Some are old and faded from how often he wore them. Some still smell faintly like his cologne. Others carry traces of laundry detergent and memories— lazy mornings tangled together in bed, late-night convenience store runs, Atsumu laughing too loudly while throwing an arm around your shoulders.

You can still hear him clearly sometimes. “Yer stealing my clothes again?” He always sounded more amused than annoyed. 

You used to roll your eyes whenever he dramatically complained about how you owned more of his hoodies than he did.

Now you sit on your bedroom floor surrounded by them like they’re pieces of a life you can’t let go of.

One hangs loosely off your shoulders while another is clutched tightly in your lap.

Pathetic.

That’s what you call yourself every time you fall asleep wearing one of them.

But missing Atsumu was never something you knew how to do halfway. Because he had loved loudly. With his entire being. Recklessly, but it was sweet– and it was all him.

And somehow, even after the breakup, the evidence of it still lingers everywhere around you.

In your closet. In your drawers. In the hoodies that still smell a little like him.

You remember how he’d pull one over your head after a shower because he liked seeing you drown in his clothes. How he’d grin whenever the sleeves covered your hands, tugging you into his lap just to hear you complain.

“Cute,” he’d mumble against your hair.

Your throat tightens painfully at the memory. Because nobody has looked at you like that since.

You pull the hood over your head and curl up deeper into your bed.

For tonight, you let yourself pretend the weight beside you isn’t missing.

Osamu Miya

He refused to take it back when you offered. 

“It’s yours now.” He said, before turning to put the last of his things in the car. You protested, but Osamu waved you off, only smiling when you said that he could always come by if he wants it back. A half-hearted attempt of telling him that he could always come around. He just shrugged. “Sure. Maybe.” 

And he drove away.

The offer still stands. 

Six months, and the breakup still leaves a heavy feeling in your chest. 

The hoodie sits folded carefully on your bed most days, like something fragile. Something important.

You wear it on nights when missing him becomes unbearable— when the apartment feels too empty and dinner tastes too quiet without him sitting across from you. 

Osamu had always filled spaces so effortlessly.

With warmth. With comfort. With the smell of food cooking late into the evening while he hummed softly to himself.

Now all you have left is an oversized hoodie that still smells faintly of him and the memories stitched into every thread.

You pull it on slowly, fingers curling into the sleeves.

It still fits the same way it always did— too large, too warm, too him.

You remember the way Osamu used to tug you against his chest whenever you stole it from him. The way he’d rest his chin on top of your head while pretending to complain. “Yer never giving this back, huh?”

You never did. And maybe a part of him knew you wouldn’t.

The worst part is that the breakup wasn’t cruel. There were no slammed doors. No screaming. No shattered plates or words meant to wound.

Just two people quietly falling apart under the weight of timing and exhaustion.

That almost hurts more.

Because it means there are still moments when you catch yourself reaching for your phone to tell him something small. Something meaningless. 

There was a new cafe just a few minutes walk away. He would have wanted to try a few things out there. 

His favorite snack just restocked. (You almost bought one a day ago, hoodie on, and mindlessly grabbing the snack like you would be able to give it when you get back home. You put it back almost immediately.) 

Then reality settles in before you can press send.

You wonder if Osamu still thinks about you too.

If he notices your absence in the quiet moments of his day the same way you notice his.

The hoodie smells less like him now than it did before.

Still, you hold it close anyway.

Just in case he comes back for it someday.

[kiyuhai]

I shld make a part two the hoodie stealing but angst JQHAHAHAHAAHHA.

🎵🎵🎙️IF YOU WANT IT BACK, IF YOU WANT IT BACK IM HERE WAITING 🎵

[kiyuhai]

Hey guys 😚 gonna get back into the writing mood after I clear up my Tumblr, so I'll hopefully start posting again huhu.

[kiyuhai]

summary. Kageyama worries that he isn’t reading you correctly. You reassure him that he is,  pairing. Kageyama Tobio x reader tags. Fluff, established relationship, communication, reassurance, comfort(?) request: If your requests are open could you possibly do a cute kageyama fluff? Maybe because hes not good at communication hes struggling a lot with reader and how to read us? But we reassure him and squeeeeee notes. Hii!!! Sorry for the lateness ehehe, i was hyperfixated on other fics </3 also, Thank you for the request, sweets. I’ll try my best hahah. i'm also interpreting this also as "kags struggles in social interactions when in high school because he's awkward outside vb like that" because im out of brain cells and having no electricity for over a week is jinja killing me!

Kageyama tobio stares at you and wonders how he managed to woo you. Better yet, how he hasn’t ticked you off yet. 

He isn’t unaware of what people say about him, the serious setter of the volleyball team, a genius volleyball player, that one guy who is too blunt for his own good– hinata once told him that tobio should really learn reading other people and their moods because oftentimes, his bluntness and lack of awareness on interactions outside of volleyball lands him as a… not so pleasant person to others.

So there are things that weigh on him- especially when it comes to you.

“Babe?”

“Hm?” you look up from your phone to see tobio, staring at you, with a frown and a furrow in his brows that makes you smile at how cute he looks. But you know that look. It’s the look he has when he’s trying to say something but really doesn’t know how to approach it. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing. I- just…” he trails off, but you grab his hand, tilting your head. Tobio purses his lips, then, his voice is quiet as he asks, “do i- Am i… doing this right?” there’s a sort of hesitancy and quietness in the way tobio asks you that makes you pause. You turn to him, and you notice the nervous furrow in his brows, the small frown and the way his fingers twitch as he waits for you to answer.

“What do you mean by that?” your voice is soft, and you take the drink he got for you, placing it to your side. 

“I, well, its just… i don’t know if i’m doing this right.” he swallows. “This whole thing. I… feel like I miss a lot of things with you.”  

You stay silent, watching as a nervous look passes on his face. tobio continues, “there are parts of you I’m not catching. Subtle things.” his hands fiddle on his lap. “The way your tone shifts, or how your face changes when you're tired or upset. Other people seem to pick up on things like that without thinking.”

His voice turns quiet, “I don’t want to hurt you or throw you off by being slow on… reading you.” You blink slowly, letting the words settle. Then you squeeze his hand, leaning forward as you look at him, voice soft but firm.

“tobio, you don’t miss as much as you think.” He gives you a silent, disbelieving look before his gaze flits down towards the ground.

Tobio shakes his head, and you frown.

"tobio." he doesn't look at you, and you sigh softly. "tobio, look at me." when he looks at you, you smile.

"You're doing amazing, kay? you may not notice it, but i do. You notice the things that matter. Like how I get quiet when I’ve had a rough day. You ask if I’ve eaten when you see I haven’t touched my lunch. You check my hands when it’s cold because you know they go numb first.”

He looked down at your intertwined hands, his gaze flickering back up to you. Your name falls off his lips, and his voice is still quiet, unsure of himself. It’s different from how he carries himself, different from the way he is on the court- and you understand its a vulnerability you don’t see often. Tobio sighs, “sometimes I can’t tell what you’re feeling. Not right away.”

“That’s okay,” you murmur softly. “I don’t expect you to be a mind reader, tobio. I don’t want you to be. I want someone who listens when I speak, not someone who guesses before I do. And you— tobio, you listen.” you search his eyes, and you smile softly. “That matters more to me than perfect timing or knowing the right social cue.”

He swallows hard. “It just feels like… I’m different, behind on things that i’m supposed to know by now.”

You hum. “You’re not behind. You’re just on a different frequency. Just like when your on the court and in your element. This is just a different kind of court- and you’re in a different pace and level. And I hear you, loud and clear.”

There was a long pause. He let out a small breath, one he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“You really don’t mind?” he asked.

“No,” you say, your thumb rubbing gentle circles over his. “Because when you look at me, I know you’re really seeing me. Not just reacting to me. And that… that’s rare.”

He nods, but there’s still something in his eyes that tell you he’s still worrying, and you nudge him. “That’s not all, is it?”

Tobio shakes his head. “I just wish that I understand you quicker, in the same way i understand volleyball.” tobio tries to word it, fumbling over as he nervously looks at your reaction. “Just- well, i know how bad i am with these kinds of things  and i don’t mind how others react to me– except when it comes to you.” 

You nod, reassuring him that you are still listening. Tobio swallows, “Hinata is good at these things and Sugawara-senpai, or Daichi-senpai and I’m…”

The silence that follows is a bit heavy, and you take a moment to think, before you slowly say, “You don’t have to force yourself to be like others, y’know?” You hum. “You’re not hinata, or sugawara-senpai- you’re tobio.” 

He looks at you, and you smile. “You’re my tobio. The one who is there when I need someone, when i need someone to listen.” you continue, voice soft as you try your best to word your thoughts out. “Tobio, i’m not looking for a mind reader, or someone good at reading the room or me. You don’t have to know what I’m feeling immediately, nor fo you have to be good at it– that doesn’t matter to me.” 

You lean your head on his shoulder. “What matters to me is that you care enough to try. That you ask. That you want to understand me. That’s more than most people do.”

He exhaled, something loosening in his chest. “But I don’t want to exhaust you. Or make everything harder.”

You smile, shaking your head as you continue. “Loving you isn’t hard, Tobio. It’s quieter, maybe. Slower sometimes. But never hard.” Squeezing his hand, you watch his shoulders sag, the tension slowly being released as your eyes crinkle, sincerity seeping through your tone. “I don’t need you to read every signal. I just need you to keep showing up. And you do—every single day.”

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy this time. It was calm, steady. Like a rhythm they both understood, even if no words were spoken.

And in that quiet, tobio finally let himself believe you, his hand squeezing yours in a silent thank you.

[kiyuhai]

could you put an age indicator on your blog pls? i don't mean to be mean it's just some people are more comfortable with that

yes ofc! i just haven't gotten to it because the electricity's been out for a while ^^;;

[kiyuhai]

Hi hi!!!!

If your requests are open could you possibly do a cute kageyama fluff? Maybe because hes not good at communication hes struggling a lot with reader and how to read us? But we reassure him and squeeeeee

Ily!!!

hi sweets! im so sorry for the late answer but yes, requests are open, and i'm working on the kageyama fluff!

but just a little question,,, did you mean like, communication in general TT? i might have interpreted your rq a bit wrong HAHHA

[kiyuhai]

It’s normal for your lover to wake up earlier than you. His work required him to, so you treasure these rare moments. As a clingy sleeper, he buries his face in the crook of your neck as he holds you close to him. You move to get up but he tightens his hold on you.

“noo,“ he mumbles, burying his face deeper to your neck. “c’mon, babe, let’s sleep in…“

“day off?“ you slur in your half-asleep daze, turning to face him and he nods. You smile and wrap your arms around him. “mmkay..“ you close your eyes, nuzzling your face into his hair. 

You spend the next hours, with a smile on your face as you lay asleep next to him

note. reposted from main blog, with different tags!

[kiyuhai]

there's a damn BUG here and i don't like the wings flapping noises its making jfc

[kiyuhai]

the fuck

[kiyuhai]

ohh i hate hate hate dentist appnts the sounds that happen make me wish i could stop hearing 😭

[kiyuhai]

Stealing His Hoodie

feat. Akaashi Keiji, Iwaizumi Hajime, Atsumu Miya, Osamu Miya note. I want a bf with a hoodie to steal from </3

Akaashi Keiji

It's cold. 

The apartment is cold. Why is it cold?

Right- because your loving boyfriend is at work, has overtime and he’s not in the bed with you for cuddles. Blasphemy, betrayal at the highest level.

You grumble under your breath, and glance at the clock on the nightstand.

It’s still 7, and you really want Keiji home now. Getting up from bed, your brows furrow as you eye the room. Nothing has changed. No Keji, no sight of him, nothing, nuh uh– is that his hoodie? 

It is. It’s laid on the chair, and you smile. Well, if he isn’t here for cuddles, then he won’t mind you stealing his hoodie just for a bit, right?

He’s tired. Keiji want’s nothing more but to get into bed with you, snuggle against you and sleep. Shuffling off his shoes, he sluggishly moves around the room to change, before moving the covers so he could snuggle back into bed. He folds his glasses and puts it on the nightstand, eyes flickering over to you.

There you are, curled up on your side of the bed and… Is that his hoodie? 

A smile creeps up his face, and he lies down, moving so he could pull you to him. The movement wakes you for a moment, and you groan, opening an eye to look. “You’re late.” 

“I know, honey. I’m sorry.” He mumbles, pulling you to him. You just hum, wrapping your arms around him as you snuggle your head to his chest. “Mhm. You’re forgiven.”

Keiji chuckles, “Okay. Is that my hoodie?” 

You mumble against his chest, and he can tell that you’re already drifting off. “Mmhhmm. Missed you, stole it.”

“I can see that.” 

His answer is nothing but sleepy murmurs that make a low laugh leave his chest. “Okay, hon. I’ll let you sleep.” 

Iwaizumi Hajime 

“Haji.” 

“Hm?”

“D’ya mind grabbing something for me back in the classroom?” Your brows are furrowed, focused on the banner you were assigned to do for sport’s fest. He raises a brow and nods. “Nah. What is it?” 

“I left this paper? It has the added comments of the others, and I need it before I finish up the final sketches.”

“Got it. Be back in ten.”

“Mhm. Thanks.”

Just as he leaves, a cold breeze sweeps through the room, and you shiver. “Ugh, I should have told Hajime to bring my jacket too.” You grumble, putting down the pencil to rub your arms. You look around the room, and spot his hoodie next to his bag. 

“...Hm.” You eye it, before shrugging, moving to grab it and put it on. The moment you did, his smell wafts all over you and you smile. “Yeah. I feel a bit warmer now.” 

He comes by at the right moment, papers in hand as the door slides open, “I got the papers. Is there anything else– Is that my hoodie?”

You blink and look up at him. “Yeah. It is. I got cold.”

“Huh.” Hajime raises a brow and heads over to you. You reach for the papers, and you catch a smile on his lips. You frown. “What?”

“Nothing.” He smirks. “I was gone for five minutes, and you missed me already?” 

“What? No- I just- Ugh!” You huff and move to remove his hoodie, only for his laugh to stop you. “Relax, babe! I was kidding. You can keep it.” You narrow your eyes at him before returning your attention back to the sketches and the banner.

“Besides,” You glance up at the right time to spot the smirk on your boyfriends’ face. “It looks better on you.”

You flush. And throw the pencil at him.

Atsumu Miya

You grabbed the first thing you see in your wardrobe, threw it on, and walked around the house to do the chores for the day. It’s not like you didn’t know it was your boyfriends’. You knew it was his the moment you threw it on and it smelled like him. 

You simply opted to wear it, since you were too lazy to go through your dresser, and it was comfy. 

Also, he wasn’t around for two weeks due to a match he had scheduled so who is he to complain if he isn’t here.

You move around the kitchen, wiping down the counter, reorganizing the cabinet, and you hear the door slam open, and Atsumu calling out to you. “Babe!! I’m home!” 

You freeze, but before you could do anything to hide the fact you stole his hoodie, he appeared by the doorway. Smile wide, and definitely just came back from a two week long volleyball season. 

“Hey!” You smile. 

Then he pauses, and stares at you. You stay still, already knowing what he is staring at. 

“...Is that my hoodie?”

“Yeah.” You shrug. “Why, do you want it back?”

Atsumu stares at you, and breaks into a wide grin. “Now why would I ask ya that? It’s yours now, anyways.”

“Oh. Reall- WOAH!” He had moved around the counter and picked you up, grinning widely as he swings you back and forth while hugging you tightly. “‘Tsumu what-?” 

“Ya look so pretty in my hoodie.”

A giggle leaves your lips when he peppers kisses all over your face. “I miss you too, baby. I should steal your hoodies more if this is the reaction I get.”

He lands a kiss on your lips, and the both of you are smiling when he pulls away. “Yeah, I’ll start leaving my hoodies around for ya to take whenever you miss me or somethin’”

You grin. “Okay.”

Osamu Miya

It's laundry day. And you have nothing to wear to do laundry. 

Grumbling, you move around the room, searching for a good enough shirt and pause when you see Osamu’s hoodie hanging by the door. You glance at it, then at the full basket of laundry… 

Humming, you start laundry with Osamu’s hoodie on. 

He had left earlier for work, so you are left with laundry duty. It takes most of the morning, and during the afternoon, you lounge around the living room, scrolling through your phone. By the time 5 PM rolls around, you are fast asleep, wrapped in the familiar smell of Osamu through his very comfy hoodie.

The lights are off, so Osamu does his best to stay quiet as he moves around. But pauses when he notices your figure on the couch. Peeking over, he smiles. Soft, and absolutely in love, he notices his hoodie you are wearing and chuckles. 

He picks you up, the movement making you wake up for a bit. “Hi.” You mumble, closing your eyes and snuggling back in his arms as he takes you to your shared bedroom. “Hey,” Osamu laughs. “Got my hoodie, I see.”

“Mhm.” You shift, tapping his shoulder for him to put you down. “Laundry day. Needed to wear something.”

“Okay.” Osamu sets you down, raising a brow as you yawn. “Did you eat?” You ask him, rubbing your eyes as you pad towards the kitchen.

He shakes his head, and follows, eyeing the hoodie that nearly swallows you whole. “Mkay. I made dinner.” He watches you move around the kitchen, in his hoodie, and he smiles. A soft feeling settles in his chest at the domestic sight and a thought pops in his head as he helps you to set the table: Yeah. I’m going to marry this woman.

[kiyuhai]

iwaizumi, Osamu, and kuroo(if you write for him) with a s/o that has mochi-like (face😭) cheeks?!

note. hi!! thanks for the ask hehe<3 honestly, it would range with squishing and biting. they get cuteness aggression. tbh, me too.

Iwaizumi Hajime

It was the first thing he noticed from you. Round cheeks that remind him of…. Hajime looked at the mochi in his hands, and slowly raised it up to compare it to your cheeks, even from far away. “.... Mochi.”

Oikawa gives him a look, glances over to where he was staring, then grins. “Ah, did you mean [Name]-san?”

“Is that her name?”

“Yes?? Do you think her name was mochi or something?”

“Well, she looks like one.”

--

“So is that why you call me mochi? I thought it was just a cute nickname!!” You huff at him, shifting away from him as you pout. Hajime laughs, and scoots closer, only for you to move away. This takes only a few more scoots before you reach the end of the couch and you simply cross your arms and pout. 

He pokes your cheeks, “It is a cute nickname! Because it matches you.” 

You squint. “Are you trying to get on my good side right now, Iwaizumi?” 

“Oh no, not the last name.” Hajime rolls his eyes, but his smile only widens. You catch a glint of mischief in his eyes and freeze.

“What- hold on, what are you doing–” 

Too late. 

He has his hands on your face, squishing and kneading like there’s no tomorrow and you splutter. “Haji?!”

“Shhh, let me squish your very squishy face.”

You pout, but that makes it worse. Resign to your fate, oh, mochi-cheeked lover. 

(when you try to move away, he bites your cheek. Its the cuteness aggression talking.

Osamu Miya

It was his nickname to you, since you were friends and since you started dating. It NEVER went away. “Mochi-cheeks.”

You glare. “I have a name, y’know?!”

“Yeah,” Samu shrugs. “But mochi-cheeks match you better.”

Your cheeks puff out and he grins, pointing to them. “See? Mochi-cheeks.” 

“Ugh, ‘Samu!” 

He just laughs, and reaches over to hold your face in his hands, ultimately squishing your cheeks together. “‘Samu!!” He squishes your cheeks again, and you groan. 

“What, Mochi-cheeks?”

“Stop– Squisfhing me!” Your words come out muffled when he stretches your cheeks and he simply grins. 

“Nah.”

You narrow your eyes at him and his stupid lopsided grin, but you don’t really do a thing to stop him anyways. So that’s your fault. 

Kuroo Tetsurou

He bites you. Bite you as in, BIG chomp, teeth on your cheeks, and you screech. Loudly. “KUROO!”

Kuroo only smiles, pulling away slightly, a glint in his cat-like eyes and you lower your body, quickly maneuvering yourself away from him. You raise your hands up against him as you say, “Stay! No!"

"What? C'mon, sweets! I'm not gonna do anythin'!"

"No! You're a biiig liar, Kuroo. No! Stay- Bad Kuroo!! Bad- YAH!”

Unfortunately for you, he’s taller, and much more agile, so now he has you in his arms, keeping you in place despite your squirming and attempts to run away. 

You try again, “Kuroo-” the warning in your voice goes unnoticed- more like ignored- and he takes a big bite of your cheeks. 

You screech. 

He laughs. The stupid, hyena laugh. 

You are so gonna kill him.