smol bee stories

I know my pfp isn't a bee, but I tried for hours and I cannot for the life of me draw bees so if you can draw cute bees please send help

[smol-bee-stories]

Masterlist

H A I K Y U U 

[ Iwaizumi Hajime x Oikawa Tooru ] 

In the Quiet of the Night

[ Bokuto Koutarou x Akaashi Keiji ]

At the End of Our Lives

[ Sawamura Daichi x Sugawara Koushi ] 

Sounds of the Morning 

J U J U T S U   K A I S E N   ( J J K )

[ Getou Suguru x Gojo Satoru ] 

To Be Selfish

[smol-bee-stories]

To Be Selfish

"Let me be selfish just this one time," Satoru thinks. Because he knows that this is a lie, but he can't help himself when the lie is all he's ever wanted.

Notes: My first JJK fic! SatoSugu is my heart, please join me in loving SatoSugu.

“Ah,” Satoru thinks, “I must’ve died and gone to heaven.” Because as he opens his eyes to the sunlight filtering in through old wooden panes, the only thing he can think about is how familiar everything is - more familiar than he has felt in years, warmer than he’s felt since *he* left, and more guilt free than he’s allowed himself the liberty to feel since the incident.

But there’s no way he could be in heaven, Satoru tells himself. Not someone like him, who lacks the compassion and kindness of a good man, who acts recklessly and without a care for the consequences. Not someone like him, who has made so many mistakes and hurt so many people. Because no matter how much he has tried to make up for the mistakes of his past, Satoru just never believed that he would be allowed to feel this happiness again.

Because as he opens his eyes to the sunlight filtering in through old wooden panes, he also wakes to the one person he never thought he would be able to see again, to love again. He wakes to the face of familiarity, of home when he’s never had one to return to, of teenage love and promises of forever. He wakes to the face of the man he’s wanted to hold again for the last 10 years, of the man who he’d hoped he’d be holding for the rest of his life, of the person who holds his entire existence in his strong hands. And in this moment, he thinks to himself, “I must’ve died and gone to heaven, because that is where the Suguru I know is.”

But he knows. He knows he isn’t dead. And he knows that the person laying in bed with him is just a mirage, a puppet playing the part of Suguru. He knows in his mind that this is all a trick because he saw Suguru die with his own two eyes a year ago. His mind remembers desperately holding onto the last bits of warmth as life left Suguru’s body, of his own futile begs for Suguru to stay with him just a little longer. His mind knows that Suguru is long gone, that the Suguru he knew left his world for good a year ago. But his heart pretends. Because as Satoru lays in the arms of this imposter, of this man who he knows is not Suguru but an enemy, his heart says to him, “let me be selfish just this one time.”

He could take him out right now. Satoru’s been freed from the prison realm, albeit briefly, and his captor is sound asleep. Satoru knows he can take him, kill him with the flick of a wrist and all the problems the jujutsu world is faced with would be gone in an instant. He could free himself from the inevitable sealing within the prison realm once this fake awakens, free himself from the emotional torment that he has been faced ever since the man wearing Suguru’s face showed up. He could save everyone with the snap of his fingers.

The man who pretends to be Suguru stirs, wrapping his arm ever tighter around Satoru’s waist as Satoru breathes in the familiar scent of a foreign man. And as he basks in the warmth of this familiar stranger, Satoru decides to let his heart take over as he closes his eyes once more.

[smol-bee-stories]

Sounds of the Morning

Sawamura Daichi loves Sugawara Koushi, and it’s in moments like these that he realizes it more than ever. 

Notes: Please let me know if you like, and if you’d like more of my terrible writings :P 

You can also find me on Ao3 at https://archiveofourown.org/users/smol_bee_stories/pseuds/smol_bee_stories

Sawamura Daichi’s favorite time of day is the morning. 

He loves the soft illumination of his apartment by sunlight filtering in through cream colored blinds. He loves the smell of freshly slept in bed sheets mixed with the slight musk of a recent shower. But most of all, he loves the sounds that he wakes up to each and every morning. 

Daichi wakes slowly, stretching the sleep out of his well muscled arms before reaching down to rub at crusted eyes. He gets out of bed, one leg at a time, ready to follow his morning routine. He stretches, showers, tidies up the room, and makes his way into the sitting area. He does things quickly and efficiently, a force of habit due to his occupation as a police officer. But he also does things quickly and efficiently so he could make his way to his favorite part of the day. 

When he enters the sitting area, the first things he notices are always the sounds that greet him. The sizzling of food cooking on the stove, the light tinkling of the windchimes by the kitchen window, and the humming coming from the chef himself. 

“Aha! Good morning, Captain! Finally awake, are we?” Koushi says with a grin. 

Sugawara Koushi, despite initial appearances, is neither a quiet nor soft man. He is a cheery man - full of joy, full of life, full of sound. He leaves traces of himself behind everywhere he goes, even if he isn’t doing so intentionally. That’s just the kind of man he is, and he fills the hearts of every person he meets without even trying. So when Daichi hears Koushi cooking their meals, humming in the kitchen, greeting him in the morning - he knows it’s the start of another wonderful day. He knows that no matter what comes his way that day, everything will be okay. Because he will have started his day hearing Koushi’s voice, and when he comes home after a long day he’ll be greeted by Koushi’s voice once again. 

“Smells delicious, Koushi.” Daichi fondly smiles at the man who is still preparing both breakfast and lunch, “What are you making today?”

“Since we had your favorite yesterday, today we’re having mine. Super spicy mapo tofu with a side of green beans, Captain!” Koushi says all this with a grin. 

Daichi shakes his head disapprovingly, yet he can’t help but grin back. “It’s been 10 years already, you really should stop calling me Captain. It’s a little embarrassing.”

“Absolutely not! It’s cute, and all our precious kouhai think so too. You should cherish the title, Captain. Now stop lounging around, I haven’t started the coffee yet.” 

“Hai hai, Sensei.” 

The smile hasn’t left Daichi’s face all morning, but it usually doesn’t when he starts a morning like this. 

The apartment is quiet save for the low sizzling of the food on the pan and the slow drip of brewing coffee. The occasional wind will leave a quiet chime ringing through the apartment while Koushi hums quietly, slowly plating breakfast and putting their lunches into neat little bento boxes. 

After knowing Koushi for so many years, Daichi never thought that the two of them would end up here like this. Koushi’s presence in his life has always been a constant, and Daichi finds that he often forgets how deeply embedded they are into each other’s lives until they are separated. Even days feel like years when they are apart, but when they are together Daichi finds himself often forgetting that Koushi is even there. He’s the very air that Daichi breathes, the very blood that flows through his veins. They exist with one another, and they cannot exist without one another. And Daichi finds himself, particularly in the calm moments of the everyday like these, so incredibly grateful for the path of life that has brought him - no, both of them - here, together. It’s in moments like these that Daichi can’t help but remember how much Sugawara means to him, and how incomplete his life would be without him.

“What's on your mind?” Koushi breaks the silence as he’s setting the plates onto the table, “You were staring off into space.” 

Daichi smiles, soft and tender, a love worth a thousand lifetimes in his eyes. 

“Just about how lucky I am.”

“HuH?? What are you going on about? It’s too early for whatever strange thoughts run through your head. Just come over and eat breakfast, you sappy fool.” Is Koushi’s response, but there’s a sappy grin on his face as well. 

Breakfast goes on as usual, the pair sitting quietly and enjoying the peace of the morning before a hectic day. But today felt just right to Daichi. The weather was perfect, breakfast was perfect, waking up to Koushi every morning was perfect. And without thinking the words just left his mouth. 

“Will you marry me?”

[smol-bee-stories]

At the End of Our Lives

Akaashi Keiji sits alone on the engawa overlooking Osaka. It's an awfully quiet day, nothing like the life he's grown used to over the last 70 years. He misses him. After all, Bokuto Koutaro is a man who knows how to leave a mark.

Notes: my second fic! Please leave constructive criticism and comments~

You can also find me on Ao3 at https://archiveofourown.org/users/smol_bee_stories/pseuds/smol_bee_stories

Summers in Osaka are quite warm. They always have been - in the many years that Akaashi Keiji has spent there, there has never been a cool summer. Summers are always warm and humid, filled with the hums of cicadas and grasshoppers alongside the slow trickle of the river. And for the last 70 years, it had been filled with the booming voice of Bokuto Koutaro. But for the first summer in 70 years, that sound was missing.

Bokuto Koutaro died earlier that year. After a well blossomed professional volleyball career and colorful life filled with joy and laughter, he died as all men oneday will. He died in the winter, at the ripe old age of 91 - a peaceful natural death, hand gently placed in Akaashi’s and a smile on his face. Even as Akaashi’s heart shattered in that moment, he couldn’t help but mirror Bokuto’s smile. Spring came late that year.

For the first few months after Bokuto’s passing, Akaashi hadn’t felt too lonely. He supposed it just hadn’t hit him yet, the true weight of being alone. He hadn’t really thought that Bokuto was gone - after all, throughout Bokuto’s career as a star volleyball player turned renowned coach, he was often away from home for months at a time. But now, as Akaashi sat on the engawa, facing towards the lush bloom of his first summer alone, Bokuto’s passing hit him harder than it had yet in all those months since he’s been gone. It was too quiet. The crickets sounded too lonely. His heart felt a little too empty. He missed him.

Bokuto and Akaashi’s lives together had been a rambunctious one. How could it not have been, with a personality like Bokuto’s? Despite Akaashi’s placid nature, there was never a moment of silence. Like all couples, they had their ups and downs. When Bokuto first moved all the way from Tokyo to Osaka to play for the MSBY Jackals, Akaashi thought that that would be the end to his chances with the energetic man. But Bokuto called every night precisely at 10 o’clock - for a whole year and a half he didn’t miss a single call, up until the night Akaashi finally confessed. Bokuto cried (and whined about how long it took) for about an hour that call. Akaashi couldn’t stand to hear him whine then, but only thought fondly of it now. When Akaashi first made the move to Osaka, he was appalled at the state of decay Bokuto’s apartment was in - he knew the man was messy, but the level of mess that Bokuto was living in truly was beyond human comprehension. Akaashi almost left that moment. But they made it through (well, he made it through), and they got married the year after, moving into a home of their own that Akaashi had put quite a bit of effort (and for years to come, continued to put quite a bit of effort) into keeping tidy. The next 60 years were just like the last 10, their relationship like the rivers of Osaka that their home overlooked - full of push and pulls, but constant and steady. They spent their lives loving each other through the storms, holding onto each other even as other constants disappeared. And now that Akaashi was without the one constant that’s anchored him for the last 70 years of his life, for the first time in decades, he didn’t know what to do.

For the first time, as Akaashi’s old and aging body looked out into the warm summer fields of Osaka that he had grown so familiar with, he didn’t feel any joy. He felt an ache in his chest that was quiet, yet it raged through him without any end in sight. He missed Bokuto stomping through the house with their grandchildren on his back. He missed Bokuto asking him to play volleyball with him, despite the fact that neither of them could move very well anymore. He missed Bokuto spilling the tea in little droplets on their guests as he served it to them. He missed Bokuto’s loud snores as Akaashi sat on the engawa and read. He missed Bokuto so much it felt as though he were being swept away, no longer anchored to the blissful reality he had grown so used to and instead drifting in a sea of anguish. He wished so badly to hold Bokuto once more, to see him once more - even if just to whisper one last “I love you.” Akaashi was hurting.

But even as he sat on the engawa, visibly alone and heart aching, all around him Akaashi could still see Bokuto. Along the length of the engawa, he could see multiple stains left by the various spills Bokuto often made. In the yard, he could see the tree where Bokuto had carved their names and the names of their children. Just past the tree, he could see the river where Bokuto almost drowned their former Fukurodani teammates on a disastrous fishing trip. Love is not perfect, and almost everyday Akaashi was reminded of this. Even now with Bokuto gone. But love is good, and it is constant. Bokuto had been his constant, and Akaashi knew that he would always be his constant. Love is a fickle creature, and it refuses to be forgotten.

He would remember Bokuto in the starlit sunset and cool summer nights. He would remember him in tempura dinners that he now ate alone and loud conversations by the dinner table. He would remember him in the gleaming eyes of their grandchildren and the volleyball courts that they passed down to them. He would remember him as strong arms holding him through the storm and quiet breaths of “I love you.” And there was no way he could ever forget him - Bokuto made sure of that when he engraved himself into every piece of Akaashi’s soul. Bokuto was and is every part of Akaashi’s being, and even if he were somewhere far away Akaashi knew they would find their way to one another again. They always did.

“I always knew I would go first. Always wanted to be first at everything, used up all my energy instead of saving it like you told me to.” “And yet you continue to waste the last of your energy making stupid jokes.” “Akaaaaaaaashi, c’mon, I’m literally on my deathbed, say somethin’ sweet.” “Koutarou, we’ve been married for years now, stop calling me Akaashi.” “But it’s the name I called you when we first met! Remember how you promised to set for me? Haha, look at us now. To me, you’ll always be Akaashi.” “Koutarou…” Akaashi hadn’t meant to, he had been trying really hard to fight it, but his voice cracked before he could stop it. “C’mon Keiji, don’t be sad, it happens to the best of us, obviously, seeing as *I’m* dying.” “Stop speaking so loudly, you’ll wear yourself out faster.” “But there’s still so much I wanna say…” "There's always something you want to say, Kou." Silence falls between them for a moment as Bokuto’s spirit falters. He’s fading away, going somewhere Akaashi can’t reach yet. “Hey Keiji..” “Yes Koutarou?” “I don’t know what’s waiting after this life. Heaven, reincarnation, whatever - I don’t really care… but promise me.” A shaky breath. “Promise me that no matter where we end up, you’ll find me again. Cuz this may be the end of my life, but it sure as hell ain’t the end of ours.” Akaashi was sobbing now. Of all times for Bokuto to suddenly become eloquent. “I promise. I promise, Koutarou.” Silence fell on them as Bokuto’s breaths shallowed. “What a shame. We almost made it to 71.” A grin. “70’s a pretty good number.” A soft smile littered in tears. “I love you, Koutarou.” “Love you too, Keiji. See you soon.” And with that, Bokuto was gone with a smile on his face. And despite the tears falling from Akaashi’s eyes, he couldn’t help but smile back.

When they made their vows at the altar that day - no, even before that day, long before they made their vows - when they were just two high school boys playing volleyball together, they had known that their lives would be inexplicably intertwined. From the moment his name left Bokuto’s lips, Akaashi’s life was Bokuto’s just as Bokuto’s was his. Even now, as Akaashi sat alone on the engawa without Bokuto’s booming presence, he knew through the aching pain that he would never be truly alone. The ring on his finger was proof of that much, and the world that they had built in the last 70 years spent together was its testament. His life was no longer his alone - it hadn’t been for a long time now, and he wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Akaashi gathered up the book that was sitting on his lap, heaving through old bones as he got up from his spot on the engawa, making his way inside. After all, it was almost time to go watch their granddaughter’s volleyball game.

Notes:

[smol-bee-stories]

In the Quiet of the Night

Oikawa Tooru looks up at the ceiling, surrounded by the quiet of the night and his occupied by his thoughts. There's no one around to keep up the facade of the Great King for here, and he feels so very small.

But Iwaizumi Hajime will always be right there to remind him just how wonderful he is.

Notes: this is my first fic ever, please send constructive criticisms my way~ 

You can also find me on Ao3 at https://archiveofourown.org/users/smol_bee_stories/pseuds/smol_bee_stories

Oikawa Tooru is drowning. He doesn’t know it yet, but he can definitely feel it. In the quiet of the night, under the judgement of the stars, there’s only him and the failure he has taken upon himself left to contemplate their place in the world. And it’s now, as he lays awake in the quiet of the night, that there's no one left around to keep up the facade of the Grand King for. There’s no one watching him and he’s no longer a showman, only Tooru. Because while Oikawa is flamboyant and confident and snarky, Tooru is no Grand King. He’s just a small boy with too many thoughts in his head, wondering if the stars are mocking him for his inability to reach them.

Tooru is like the sand, infinite and boundless, but a single wave could crush the sandcastle that he has so carefully constructed himself to be. He doesn’t know it in his mind yet, but he can definitely feel it in his heart - and he feels himself being taken somewhere far away by the waves. Somewhere from which he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to return if he goes. Oikawa Tooru is drowning, and the stars are his only company. But the stars only blink at him as the waves pull him further and further into their depths.

Some people care a great deal about the stars. They want to be amongst them, they yearn to reach beyond galaxies and shine for all eternity. And they would do anything to get there. Others couldn’t care less for the stars. If the world willed them to be a star, then so be it. But for now, the world is their playground and they are content looking up at the beauty of the stars. And while Oikawa Tooru yearned desperately to be a star, Iwaizumi Hajime couldn’t care less.

It never ceases to amaze Hajime the depth that Tooru’s eyes can hold. He can’t count the number of times where he has had to stop himself from getting lost in them. Because Tooru is beautiful and magnificent, amazing without trying, and yet he believes himself to be but a grain of sand lost in the great expanse of the ocean. Hajime could never understand it - how Tooru can love anyone and anything so effortlessly and so fully, but never himself. How he could never have a shred of doubt in anyone around him yet loses faith in himself at even the smallest of failures. And most of all, he could never understand why Tooru wanted so badly to be a star when he was already the brightest thing in Hajime’s world.

Iwaizumi Hajime is a man who lives in the moment - he doesn’t have the beauty or grace of a star, nor does he care to have. He fancies himself a man who lives in absolute certainty not only in himself but also the people around him. He plays volleyball because he loves it, he eats agedashi tofu because he loves it, and he puts no further thought into it. That is not to say that Hajime is a man without ambitions. No - he has dreams and aspirations for himself, but he is certain that he doesn't need to be a star to be happy, not when he already has someone like Tooru who shines brightly enough for everyone in his life. He is a stable foundation, a rock in the sea that refuses the push of the waves, a man who refuses the judgement of others when he knows who he is. So despite the countless nags from Tooru to fix his snoring habit, Hajime ignores him. And for this Tooru is glad. Because it is always that very snoring that keeps Tooru from being pulled too far away by his own thoughts, the only comfort in the darkness that plagues Tooru’s mind.

Hajime is a deep sleeper, but this changes when he is sleeping next to Oikawa Tooru. Because Oikawa Tooru is a light sleeper who lets his thoughts get the best of him too often in the quiet of the night and when that happens, he watches Hajime and listens to the sounds of his snoring until he awakens from the weight of Tooru’s stares. So when Hajime wakes in the quiet of the night and sees Tooru’s beautiful brown eyes quivering at him through the darkness, he already knows. He knows from the faraway look in his eyes that Tooru is drowning, as he so often does when there’s no one around. He knows that Tooru’s thinking about the stars and straining too hard to reach them yet again. But he’s here. He was here, he is here, and he always will be. Because if the waves are drowning him, Hajime will suck the oceans dry. If the stars are mocking Tooru, Hajime will personally pluck every star out of the sky. And when Tooru is killing himself trying to jump to heights he shouldn’t yet, Hajime will gently pull him down and remind him that the world is theirs and no one else's; he will quiet the waves with hushed whispers of his truth and remind Tooru of just how brilliant he is and how the stars don’t even deserve him.

Iwa takes a quick glance at the clock before a grumble leaves his throat. “It’s 4 AM. Why are you awake, Shittykawa.” Oikawa’s voice is small and a little distant, nothing like the voice his teammates are used to, but a sound that Iwaizumi has heard many times. “I don’t know.”

“Then shut your eyes and sleep, you idiot. I’m not gonna be late for morning practice because you’re sleepy, trashykawa.” Iwa’s words are harsh, but there’s nothing but adoration in his voice. Hajime pulls Tooru’s slender form into his arms, basking in his smell and feeling his soft hair through his fingers. Despite being taller than Iwa, Tooru feels so small in Iwa’s arms. He feels fragile, and Iwa knows it’s because his heart is made of glass. Whenever Tooru is drowning, he trembles slightly, as though he is letting all his doubts shake the very core of his being. So when Iwa holds him, he holds him gently. His hold is gentle but tight, rubbing reassuring circles into the small of Tooru’s back as a promise that he’ll always be there, pulling him out of the waves and blocking out the stars. Even in the dark, Hajime can see the small quiver of a smile onto Tooru’s lips. It only takes a few minutes before Tooru is fast asleep in Hajime’s strong arms.

Oikawa Tooru is drowning. There are times when he’s aware of it, and other times when it just happens. It’s always in the quiet of the night when he doubts himself and questions his worth, when he lets the stars mock him and the sea drag him away. But it’s always in the quiet of the night that Hajime wipes the stars from the sky and pulls Tooru out of the sea, quietly reminding him that there’s nothing worth doubting and that he’ll always be a star to Hajime. And every night, it’s in the hold of Hajime’s arms that Oikawa Tooru is content not being a star, because the stars will never know what it’s like to be held in Hajime’s arms in the quiet of the night.