here ya go ladies ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ there are 2 reqs of this in my inbox so i’ll just post it like this, thank u sm for requesting!!
no, you can’t skedaddle after confessing to inarizaki boys.
inarizaki vbc x f!reader
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
kita shinsuke
you slip the letter into his hand after practice, bow so quickly it looks like you’re glitching, and sprint out of the gym. you think he’ll just read it quietly at home. wrong. kita is already folding the paper back into his pocket like it’s a family heirloom and power-walking after you with terrifying calm.
“you don’t run from me,” he says once he catches you outside the gate, voice steady but his ears are bright red. he doesn’t pant. doesn’t sweat. he’s just there, holding your wrist so gently it feels commanding. when you stammer out an apology, kita leans in and presses a chaste but grounding kiss to your lips, eyes unblinking. “if you’ve decided to be mine, don’t take it back. i won’t allow it.” then he hugs you, warm, strong, utterly unshakable. you’re stuck. #thedream
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
ojiro aran
your letter is in his shoe locker, and when he reads it, his face goes bright red. he freezes for a good thirty seconds, then suddenly dashes out of the building yelling your name. you’re already halfway down the street but you hear heavy footsteps slamming behind you—aran chasing at full speed. when he finally corners you, his hands are on his knees, breathless, grinning like he just won the lottery.
“you—you really mean this?” he wheezes, eyes glassy. when you nod, he pulls you into a rib-crushing bear hug that lifts you straight off the ground. then, without even thinking, he kisses your forehead so hard you swear he left a dent. “i’ll never let you regret this. never.”
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
suna rintarō
he’s lounging against the wall when you hand him the folded note, smirk lazy as ever. “oh? for me?” you run before he can unfold it. suna blinks once. then he’s sprinting like his life depends on it, grin stretched wide. you don’t even realize he’s behind you until his long arms snake around your waist and you nearly fall forward.
“you think you can just drop this on me and escape?” he purrs into your ear, holding you flush against him. his heartbeat is wild, betraying his calm face. when you wriggle, suna dips his head and gives you a slow, smug kiss on the corner of your mouth before shifting to your lips—lazy but dangerous, like he’s branding you. “you’re mine now. don’t ever run again, doll.”
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
miya atsumu
you shove the letter into his chest and bolt like you’re in the olympics. atsumu stares down at it, reads the first line, and immediately short-circuits. “SHE LOVES M—?!” he shrieks, face exploding red. the entire team hears him. he sprints after you, tripping twice, yelling your name like it’s the only word in his vocabulary. when he finally tackles you into the grass, he’s shaking so hard he can’t even breathe.
he stares at you like you’re the sun, then blurts, “lemme kiss ya—please lemme kiss ya—i’ll die if ya don’t—” before smashing his lips to yours in the sloppiest, most desperate kiss of your life. afterwards, he collapses onto you, sobbing, “yer stuck with me forever now, angel.”
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
miya osamu
you slip him the note during lunch and run. osamu doesn’t chase at first. he just sits there, staring at the words like they’re written in gold. then he stands up, walks after you in calm, deliberate steps, catching up easily. “ya really thought i’d let ya go after this?” he murmurs when he corners you, trapping you against the wall. his eyes are dark, softer than atsumu’s frantic glow, but scarier in how sure he is.
he cups your face in both hands and leans in for a slow, hungry kiss that makes your knees buckle. “ya belong to me now. not him, not anyone else. me.” then he hugs you so tightly you squeak, whispering into your hair, “don’t ever run away again, sweetheart. i’ll always follow.”
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
michinari akagi
you leave the note in his hands during water break, then bolt. akagi panics—actually freezes—then screams, “WAIT—” and sprints like a man possessed. when he catches up, he nearly falls on his face, arms flailing, but manages to grab your hand with a grip so desperate it trembles.
“i-i thought you’d never like me!” he cries, tearing up so hard it’s embarrassing. you mumble reassurance, and he immediately hugs you so tightly you both stumble. then, overwhelmed, he presses a quick kiss to your cheek before pulling back with a bloody nose from his own adrenaline. “i’ll work harder! i’ll make you proud!” he’s crying, snotty, clinging. hopeless.
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
ginjima hitoshi
you slide the letter into his practice bag and book it. he notices immediately, rips it open, and reads while running full speed after you. ginjirō has zero subtlety—he’s shouting your name across the gym, laughing like a maniac, tears streaming. when he grabs your shoulders, he actually spins you around in the air, crying, “SHE LOVES ME SHE LOVES ME SHE LOVES ME!”
his voice cracks as he smothers your face in rapid kisses—cheeks, nose, chin, lips—before finally locking on your mouth in a dizzying kiss that leaves him breathless. he drops you back down but doesn’t let go, forehead pressed to yours. “you’re never leaving me, ever. i’ll carry you if i have to.”
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
ōmimi ren
you hand him the letter shyly and dash. ōmimi, towering over everyone, stares dumbly at the paper like it’s written in a foreign language. then he just… sprints. his legs are too long. he catches you in seconds, scooping you up bridal-style with zero effort. his face is scarlet, his lips trembling, but he kisses you softly, reverently, like you’re made of glass.
“i’ll protect you forever,” he whispers, hugging you so carefully yet so tightly it’s overwhelming. then his nose starts bleeding from the sheer pressure of it all, dripping onto his jersey as he holds you closer. “you don’t understand—i can’t live without you now.”
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
kosaku yūto
the second kosaku realized the letter was a confession, he almost face-planted from shock. then, without even reading past the first line, he sprinted after you like a madman.
“YOU CAN’T JUST DROP THIS AND RUN—Y/N!!” he practically tackled you, hugging you so tight your feet left the ground. his nose started bleeding mid-hug, but he didn’t care, muttering into your hair, “don’t ever run away from me, i’ll actually kill someone.” he kissed you suddenly—messy, rushed, like he couldn’t breathe without it—and then just buried his face against you, shaking.
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
riseki heisuke
riseki read two words of the letter and let out the loudest scream of his life. “I’M BEING LOVED?!!?!” before you could escape, he was already in tears, chasing you across the court like a horror movie villain.
when he caught you, he dropped to his knees, clutching your hand like you’d just saved his life. “don’t take it back, please—i’ll never recover, i swear.” he pressed a trembling kiss to your lips—quick, shaky, but so full of desperation he nearly passed out right after.
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
a/n: i forgot to arrange them by number so yes thank you, i won’t be fixing it until i’m free.
you sit on the bed after your shower, towel wrapped loosely around you, the bottle of belly oil sitting in your hands.
you’ve done this every night — smoothing it over your stretching skin, easing the tightness — but lately, the changes in your body feel… overwhelming.
your belly is bigger.
your skin feels different.
your thighs look softer, your hips wider, everything rounder.
you look down at yourself and sigh quietly.
Kita hears it from across the room.
he turns, drying his hands on a small towel, watching you with that gentle, careful attention he always gives you now.
“is it pulling today?” he asks softly.
you shrug, avoiding his eyes. “just… looking gross, I guess.”
the towel in his hands stills.
slowly, he walks toward you — steady, unhurried, honey-warm.
he kneels in front of you, taking the oil from your hands with a look so serious it makes your breath catch.
“don’t say that,” he murmurs.
you try to laugh it off. “I mean, it’s true. I’m huge, my skin’s all stretched—”
“stop.”
his voice is quiet, but it leaves no room for argument.
you blink.
he uncaps the bottle, pours a little into his palm, and rubs his hands together to warm it.
then he guides you gently to lie back against the pillows.
“Shinsuke, you don’t have to—”
“yes,” he says simply. “I do.”
his hands settle on your belly — warm, slow, reverent.
he massages the oil into your skin with deliberate care, his thumbs drawing gentle circles along the curve where you’ve been stretching fastest.
you exhale, tension easing out of you under his touch.
“your body is not gross,” he says quietly. “not one part of it.”
you swallow, looking away. “I just feel… big.”
Kita lifts his gaze to your face — soft eyes, steady voice.
“you are carrying our child. you’re meant to grow.”
your throat tightens.
he continues massaging — slow, soothing motions that feel like love made physical.
he leans down and presses a small kiss just below your navel.
“this,” he murmurs against your skin, “is beautiful.”
another kiss, higher.
“you are beautiful.”
a third kiss, lingering.
“and I won’t have you speak about yourself like you aren’t.”
your eyes sting.
his hands slide to your hips, thumbs stroking the new softness there.
“I prayed for this,” he admits softly. “for a home in your body for our baby. for this growth. for these changes.”
you breathe in shakily.
he looks up at you with a tenderness so deep it aches.
“you think I’m bothered by your body getting softer?”
he shakes his head slowly.
“no. I’m grateful. honored. and proud of you every day.”
you reach for him, and he immediately leans forward, resting his forehead against yours, one hand still cupping your belly.
“Shinsuke…” you whisper.
his voice drops to a quiet vow.
“let me care for you. let me care for all of this. don’t hide yourself from me.”
your chest swells with a warmth you can’t hold back.
his thumb traces one more slow circle over your belly.
“you’re not less,” he says. “you’re more. and you’ll never convince me otherwise.”
he returns to rubbing the oil into your skin with gentle, loving hands — and for the first time in days, you don’t feel embarrassed.
you feel cherished.
Aran Ojiro
you’ve worn his jersey to every game since you started dating.
every single one —
washed, oversized, smelling faintly like detergent and him.
it’s your ritual, your comfort, your way of grounding yourself while he plays.
so tonight, like always, you pull it out of the drawer.
you slip it over your head—
and it gets stuck.
right at your belly.
you tug.
you stretch the fabric gently.
you try again.
it won’t go past the curve of your bump.
your throat tightens immediately.
you try so hard not to react, but your eyes burn, your breath hiccups, and suddenly—
you’re sitting on the edge of the bed, hands in your lap, jersey bunched at your chest, sobbing so hard you can’t breathe.
not little tears.
not quietly.
ugly crying over a jersey.
that’s the moment Aran walks in.
“hey, sweetheart—”
he freezes.
takes in the sight:
you, with his number halfway on your body, tear-stained cheeks, shoulders shaking.
he rushes over in two long strides and drops to his knees in front of you.
“hey, hey—what’s wrong? are you hurting? is the baby hurting?”
you shake your head violently. “i-it d-doesn’t—fit—anymore—”
he blinks.
“…the jersey?”
you nod harder, which only makes you cry more.
Aran’s lips twitch.
once.
twice.
he bites down gently on the inside of his cheek like he is physically restraining himself from smiling, because this is not the moment to laugh—
but god, you’re so cute.
he cups your face with both hands, thumbs brushing your soaked cheeks.
“baby… you’re crying over my jersey?”
you sob harder. “I— I always wear it— it’s our th-thing—”
and that’s when the smile finally breaks through.
slow. warm. adoring.
he presses a soft kiss to your forehead.
“sweetheart… you’re killing me over here.”
you sniff hard. “i wanted to support you—”
“you do support me.”
his voice goes low, tender.
“every day. every minute. I don’t need you in a jersey to feel it.”
you try wiping your eyes but more tears spill over, and Aran gently pulls the jersey the rest of the way off your arms, setting it aside.
“hey,” he murmurs, guiding your chin up.
“you’re pregnant. your body’s changing because it’s growing our baby. that’s not something to cry over. that’s something I’m proud of.”
a beat.
“really proud.”
you let out a shaky breath.
he leans closer, voice going softer.
“and… if it means anything…”
his eyes flick down to your belly, then back to your face, glowing with affection.
“…you look beautiful like this. I don’t mind my jersey not fitting. means our kid is growing well.”
you blush, hiccupping through the last of your tears.
he stands, grabs his team jacket from the closet — the warm one with the stretchy fabric — and hands it to you.
“wear this instead,” he says. “I’ll like it better.”
“really?” you sniff.
he helps you into it himself, smoothing it over your belly, brushing his fingers over the zipper as if he’s memorizing the sight.
“really,” he confirms, leaning in to kiss the corner of your mouth.
“and next game? I’ll give you my warm-up hoodie too. hell, I’ll give you every top I own if it makes you smile.”
you let out a small, watery laugh.
and Aran beams — proud, relieved, hopelessly in love.
“there she is,” he whispers, hand cupping your jaw. “my girl.”
and when he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest, you tuck yourself against him easily — jersey or not — knowing he means every word.
Ginjima Hitoshi
pregnancy does strange things to your taste buds.
not always bad — just unpredictable.
sweet things suddenly taste too sweet, tart things sting your tongue, foods you loved last month make your stomach curl for no reason.
Ginjima learns this the hard way.
he walks into the living room proudly holding a bowl of fruit he just cut up for you — strawberries, pineapple, mango, the works.
he’s grinning, chest puffed out a little, acting like he just presented you with a Michelin-star dish.
“look what your favorite guy made for ya,” he says, setting the bowl in your lap.
you smile, touched, and pop a strawberry into your mouth.
you barely finish chewing before your entire expression collapses.
your face twists.
your nose scrunches.
your eyes water.
you swallow painfully and sputter, “oh my god— that’s so— that’s WAY too sour—”
Ginjima freezes.
FREEZES.
eyes wide, posture stiff, like he just witnessed you bite into a lemon soaked in battery acid.
“WHAT? SOUR? THAT STRAWBERRY?”
his voice cracks.
“no, no, no, I tasted that one! it was PERFECT! I SWEAR—”
you try to reassure him, waving your hand, “no, babe, it’s just me— pregnancy taste is weird now—”
but he’s already spiraling.
“you’re telling me I FED MY PREGNANT WOMAN SOMETHING THAT HURT HER???”
you blink. “it didn’t hurt—”
“IT LOOKED LIKE IT HURT.”
before you can blink, he snatches the bowl out of your hands like it’s a live bomb.
“I GOT THIS. DON’T EVEN MOVE.”
he marches to the kitchen, muttering aggressively under his breath.
“okay, okay, we’re finding the ONE fruit she likes today— not two, not three — the ONE.”
you’re still sitting on the couch when you hear the cutting board slam down, the fridge open, and Ginjima mumbling things like:
“watermelon? good vibes.
kiwi? risky…
banana? safe?
grapes? grapes never betray—”
you laugh into your hands.
ten minutes later, he reappears with five tiny bowls, each filled with a different fruit.
he sets them down like a science experiment.
“taste these,” he says, crossing his arms. “and don’t lie. I’ll KNOW.”
you try the first one — pineapple.
your face contorts again.
Ginjima SNAPS the bowl away like he’s shielding you from danger.
“NO MORE PINEAPPLE. SHE HATES PINEAPPLE. WRITE THAT DOWN—”
you’re giggling uncontrollably.
next: grapes.
you chew. blink. nod slowly. “actually… this one’s good.”
his entire face lights up like a stadium.
“GRAPES!! GRAPES IT IS!! WE HAVE A WINNER!!”
he pumps his fist like he just scored a point in nationals.
you wipe tears from your eyes from laughing. “babe… you really didn’t have to do all this.”
he sits beside you, pulls you into his side, and kisses your temple.
“yes,” he says simply. “I did.”
his hand drifts to your belly, thumb rubbing gentle circles.
“your tastes changed. that’s not your fault. so we change with you.”
you smile, leaning into him as he lifts a grape to your lips like he’s feeding royalty.
“see?” he says softly, pride in his voice.
“told you. I got you.”
Miya Atsumu
dates with Atsumu always start the same:
he walks too fast, talks too loud, and somehow manages to charm the barista without even trying.
today’s no different.
he carries your tray of drinks and pastries with one hand — single-handed, cocky, barely paying attention — while you finish paying with his credit card.
you’re distracted, trying to shove the card back into your wallet as you follow him toward a table.
your belly shifts forward, your balance changes a little, and the card slips right out of your fingers.
clink.
it hits the floor.
you freeze.
Atsumu turns around just in time to see you try to bend down.
once.
you get halfway down, your belly bumps your thighs, and you abort mission immediately.
twice.
same thing — another attempt, another failed reach.
you stare at the card.
then you straighten up, exhale sharply, and… walk away.
walk away.
leaving his bank card on the floor like it never meant anything to you.
Atsumu blinks, stunned for half a second, then grins so wide it lights his whole stupid handsome face.
“uh, babe?” he calls, eyes sparkling with amusement. “ya just gonna leave my card here?”
without missing a beat, without turning around, you say flatly,
“cancel it.”
he SNORTS.
full laugh, chest shaking, head thrown back.
the barista looks over. someone at a nearby table giggles.
Atsumu bends down easily — one quick swoop, like the ground is his best friend — and plucks the card off the floor.
by the time he catches up to you, you’re already sitting at the table, arms crossed, pretending like none of this ever happened.
he sets the tray down, leans over you, and kisses the top of your head with a grin you can feel.
“yer so damn stubborn,” he murmurs against your hair, voice low and warm, “you’d rather someone steal my identity than ask me to pick up a card.”
you nudge him with your shoulder.
“your identity can't be stolen if you cancel it.”
he sits beside you, still amused as hell, still shaking his head.
“could’ve just said, ‘Tsumu, can ya grab that?’”
you glare. “I tried twice"
“yeah,” he says, putting an arm around you and tugging you into his side, “and then ya rage-quit in public.”
you hide your face in his shoulder. “shut up.”
he kisses your temple, soft enough to make your stomach flutter.
“nah. not when yer this cute.”
your cheeks heat, but he doesn’t stop — he squeezes your hip gently, voice dipping into affection.
“listen, sweetheart,” he says, “if ya drop anything — anything — I’m pickin’ it up. ya don’t gotta pretend bein’ pregnant ain’t changing stuff.”
you mumble, “I don’t wanna be annoying.”
Atsumu snorts. “babe, ya married me. annoyance is part of our deal.”
you shove him weakly.
he chuckles, brushing a strand of hair from your cheek.
“lemme take care of ya, okay? even the dumb stuff. especially the dumb stuff.”
you finally nod, sinking into his side.
he grins, satisfied, presses one more kiss to your temple—
then holds up the card dramatically.
“anyway, good thing ya didn’t actually cancel it. this thing pays for all our snacks.”
“give me that.”
“nope. ya drop it again, yer grounded.”
you laugh, burying your face into his shoulder —
and Atsumu wraps an arm around you like he was made for it.
you both settle in, sipping your drinks, letting the earlier chaos fade into warm, easy quiet.
after a few minutes, he stands to grab napkins, and you stretch your legs, rubbing your belly absentmindedly.
that’s when an older couple passing by slows, giving you a kind, curious smile.
the woman beams at you. “oh honey, you look wonderful. how far along are you?”
you smile politely. “five months.”
her eyes go HUGE.
her husband’s eyebrows shoot up.
she places a hand over her heart.
“five months? my goodness, dear… you’re carrying a lot!”
before you can reply, you hear a chair scrape.
Atsumu whips around so fast he nearly knocks his coffee over, that shit-eating grin already stretching across his face.
he saunters back toward your table with all the swagger of a man who’s been WAITING to tell someone this.
“that’s ’cause—”
he points a thumb proudly at you, then your belly, then himself—
“it’s twins.”
the old woman gasps. “TWINS?”
Atsumu nods like he just hit match point in a championship game.
“yep. identical girls. little monsters already.”
you smack his arm lightly. “stop calling them monsters.”
he grins wider. “they are monsters. they kick ya every night and ya still love ’em.”
the elderly couple coos, congratulates you both, and walks off with big smiles.
once they’re out of earshot, you raise an eyebrow.
“you really had to announce it like that?”
he plops down beside you, draping an arm around your shoulders.
“babe,” he says proudly, “I’m havin’ two daughters. I’m legally required to brag.”
you roll your eyes, but your smile gives you away.
he leans down, kisses your cheek, then whispers with playful smugness:
“plus… yer belly lookin’ all big ’n round with our twins? makes me feel like the luckiest man alive.”
your face heats immediately.
Atsumu smirks, satisfied.
“see? told ya. cutest stubborn woman I know.”
Miya Osamu
Onigiri Miya smells like heaven to everyone who walks in.
except you.
ever since you got pregnant, the warm scent of simmering broth, grilled fish, even the sizzle of rice vinegar in the pan turns your stomach inside out.
you love the shop.
you love working beside him.
you love watching him cook.
but lately?
the moment he opens a new pack of bonito flakes, the smell hits you like a truck.
your throat closes.
your eyes water.
you slap a hand over your mouth and bolt for the bathroom.
Osamu’s head snaps up instantly.
“baby?”
he turns off the stove so fast the flame chokes.
he doesn’t run — he strides. purposeful. controlled. but fast.
when he finds you kneeling beside the toilet, miserable, pale, and shaking, his whole face falls.
“aw, sweetheart…”
he kneels behind you, gathering your hair in one hand, rubbing your back with the other.
this isn’t the first time.
won’t be the last.
but every time, the guilt in his eyes gets deeper.
when you finally sit back on your heels, he wipes your mouth gently with a cool towel.
“’m sorry,” you croak.
his jaw tenses. “don’t apologize for somethin’ ya can’t control.”
“but it’s your food—”
“it’s food,” he corrects softly, cupping your cheek. “and if it’s makin’ ya sick, then we change it. end of story.”
you close your eyes, breath shaking. “Samu… how are we gonna run the shop like this?”
he presses a kiss to your forehead — slow, tender, grounding.
“same way we always do. together.”
then, quieter:
“just gotta switch things around a little.”
and Osamu Miya does NOT play around.
he spends the rest of the afternoon reorganizing the entire kitchen, silently determined:
• moves all the meats to the back fridge
• puts an air purifier by your workstation
• opens windows
• swaps grilling for boiling
• tests ingredients at the farthest end of the shop
• washes his hands three extra times
• switches to foods with milder scents
• orders masks and extra ventilation fans within minutes
• tells employees they’re taking more of the cooking shifts for a while
and at home?
it’s worse.
he’s trying so, so, SO hard.
for dinner he sets a plate in front of you — steamed rice with plain cucumber and sesame. safe. mild. gentle.
you take one sniff.
your stomach flips violently.
Osamu watches your face crumble and immediately takes the plate back.
“okay. not that.”
you feel awful. “Samu—”
“nope.”
he places the plate aside, already brainstorming.
“we’ll try somethin’ else.”
“this is the third attempt tonight,” you whisper.
“then we’ll make a fourth,” he says, simple as breathing.
another ten minutes, another dish.
just clear broth this time — mild miso.
you take a spoonful.
your lips wobble.
you put it down.
your eyes fill.
Osamu freezes.
“is it bad?”
you shake your head violently — and burst into tears.
he’s at your side instantly. “hey, hey, baby, what’s wrong?”
“I feel useless,” you cry. “I can’t eat anything you make, I can’t work the shop, I can’t— I’m ruining everything you love.”
and Osamu’s face shifts.
softens.
breaks.
he pulls you straight into his chest, one hand stroking your hair, the other spanning your back, his voice low and sure.
“listen t’me.”
he tilts your chin, brushing away tears with calloused thumbs.
“you are growin’ our baby. that’s the most important job in this house.”
you sniff hard. “but your food—”
“it’ll still be here when the baby’s out.”
his smile is small, crooked, and so full of love it aches.
“and I don’t care if ya can’t stomach it for nine months. I care that yer okay.”
your breath stutters.
his voice drops even softer.
“I will make a hundred meals if one ends up workin’ for ya.”
his forehead rests against yours.
“ya think I’d ever be mad? sweetheart… I’d feed ya air if that’s all ya could keep down.”
you let out a watery laugh.
Osamu kisses your cheek.
“we’ll find what ya can eat. together.”
his hand slides to your belly, thumb stroking gently.
“and one day, when yer appetite comes back, I’ll make every dish you missed.”
you nod into his chest, letting him hold you as long as he wants.
because Osamu Miya was born to provide.
and right now?
providing means loving you through every frustration, every nausea wave, every new challenge this pregnancy throws your way.
Suna Rintarou
pregnancy exhaustion is a different beast.
one minute you’re fine — scrolling, talking, watching something with him.
the next minute?
you’re out.
and that’s exactly what happens on a quiet afternoon, both of you curled up on the couch watching some show Suna pretends he isn’t invested in.
you’re leaning against him at first — head on his shoulder, legs tucked beside his.
then you shift closer, pressing into his side.
then closer again.
your breathing slows.
your eyelids droop.
Suna glances at you from the corner of his eye.
“…you awake?”
you make a sleepy noise — somewhere between a hum and a sigh — and then slump fully against him, head on his chest, arm draped over his waist, belly resting warm and heavy across his ribs.
Suna stares at the ceiling.
“oh,” he says flatly. “she’s gone.”
he tries to reach the remote.
he can’t.
your arm, your belly, your whole body blocks his upper half like a weighted blanket he did not consent to but will absolutely die under before disturbing.
he shifts one inch.
you adjust in your sleep and press closer, your belly pinning him completely.
Suna stops moving.
slowly lowers his hand.
sighs.
“…guess I live here now.”
but he doesn’t complain again.
instead, he settles his arm around your shoulders carefully, fingertips brushing the fabric of your shirt.
his other hand rests lightly on your belly, thumb tracing absentminded circles along your side.
twenty minutes go by.
then forty.
then an hour.
you’re drooling on his shirt.
your mouth is slightly open.
you’re breathing deep, soft, warm against him.
Suna looks down at you, eyes half-lidded, face unreadable but softened around the edges.
he whispers — barely audible:
“you’re cute when you knock out like that.”
you shift a little, nestling your face into his chest.
he freezes, then relaxes immediately.
another hour passes.
when you finally wake, blinking up at him, you groan.
“Rin… I’m sorry, I wasn’t that tired—”
“you were,” he says simply.
you push yourself up a little. “you could’ve moved me.”
“nah.”
“you could’ve woken me.”
“absolutely not.”
you frown. “…Why?”
he looks away, ears pink, voice lazy but honest:
“you sleep good when you’re on me.”
your face warms.
“and,” he adds quietly, tugging you back down by the waist, “I don’t mind being stuck. kind of like it, actually.”
you melt into him, and he wraps an arm around you again — like it’s his favorite place for you to be.
atsumu ; chews on everything. its such a pet peeve to everyone else but you somehow. chews on everything like its got answer. its really dumb, but kind of endearing in a way. he always needs something in his mouth, pencaps, straw ends, hoodie strings.
osamu ; lets you have the first bite of everything. no matter how excited he is about the food, how expensive or scarce, he always lets you have the best, and the first bite. he acts like it’s no big deal, but it is. he’ll even rotate the plate to angle the best part toward you, like you wouldn’t notice.
kita ; fixing things that arent his. he quietly straightens someone’s collar, or pluck the dandruff out of their hair without asking. doesnt call attention to it, he just does it like its the natural thing to do. doesn’t call attention to it, doesn’t expect anything back. like its just the way things are.
suna ; holds back his laughs. he very rarely laughs big like either of the miya twins, and doesnt have a naturally quiet laugh like kita. he just smirks, looks down, and exhales through his nose, or lets out a breathy chuckle. covers his mouth with the back of his hand and looks away.
aran ; pacemaker. always waits for everyone to keep up, even if it means he’s a couple steps behind everyone else. doesnt want to leave anyone behind. turns his head back mid-walk just to check no one got left behind. never hurries anyone, never complains.
ginjima ; brings an extra pair of everything. extra pencils, extra snacks, extra change. never asks to be repaid, either. just wordlessly passes it to whoever needs it without any fuss. if someone needs something he doesnt have, he’ll start bringing that, too.
akagi ; remembers weirdly specific stuff. will question you if you start using a different font on instagram, or if you start holding your pencil a different way. the littlest things you never noticed, but also somehow misses if you got a haircut or got new glasses. “you used to dot your i’s with circles. when’d you stop?”
warnings. not proofread. feminine pronouns. use of (y/n) once, i think. may contain spelling and grammar mistakes. translated from spanish (my mother tongue) with google translator (don't bully me, please)
author note. i'm so sorry if any of the characters are ooc, i'm new to writing for canon and not original characters.
When you showed up to practice, just nodding your greetings and offering smiles, without any sound coming out of your mouth, the team malfunctioned and panicked.
But before they could even ask, they heard multiple sounds coming from everyone's phones.
Suna is probably the one who checks what's up, and he's hit with a message you sent to the group chat.
“Hey, so- I lost my voice for a couple of weeks, so I'll communicate like this.”
KITA SHINSUKE
“…For weeks?”
Immediately shifts into protective mode.
Tells you to rest and avoid straining yourself. Doesn't want you to show up to practice, but if you do anyway, he'll just sigh it off.
Silently worried but doesn’t show it much.
OJIRO ARAN
“Ah, damn… that’s rough.”
Feels bad for you and tries to be extra considerate.
Helps you communicate when others struggle to understand, though it took him a few days to get used to checking his phone when talking to you.
AKAGI MICHINARI
“WAIT, WEEKS?! LIKE—YOU WON’T TALK AT ALL?!”
Panics instantly.
Tries to make you laugh, realizes you can’t respond out loud. Now panicking more.
He jokes about it, but if you glare at him, he'll stop. then the next day, he starts again
OMIMI REN
"...Weeks? No talkin'?"
The silence from Omimi is deafening. His usual stoic demeanor falters slightly as the situation hits.
He tilts his head, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly. His mind seems to be calculating the implications—how he’ll communicate with you without your usual voice, how you’ll handle everything, and how long they’ll have to adjust to this.
"...I guess we’ll all have to adjust... somehow."
KOSAKU YUUTO
“So you’re tellin’ me… No teasin'? No witty remarks? No laughin' at our dumb moments?”
Looks genuinely heartbroken.
Promises to “speak double” to make up for your silence. Everyone, including you, just nod.
GINJIMA HITOSHI
“…Who do I need to fight?”
Doesn’t know how to handle it, so he just silently pats your head.
He tells you things like "you're brave for coming to school like this!", and you can't even get mad at him when he forgets you can't talk.
MIYA ATSUMU
“So yer tellin’ me I got a couple weeks without ya roastin’ me? Damn, what a loss.”
Pretends to be chill but is actually worried.
Immediately starts texting you memes just to make you feel better.
Promises to “speak double” to make up for your silence. Everyone groans, and you just shake your head.
“WHAT WAS THAT?! WHY DIDN'T YA REACT THE SAME WHEN KOSAKU SAID IT?”
MIYA OSAMU
“Hate to say it, but we’re doomed. We need subtitles now.”
Buys warm drinks for you and forces you to rest.
He may even buy you a snack, to let you know that even if you can't talk, you are appreciated.
SUNA RINTARO
“…Kinda eerie without ya talkin’.”
Texts you random things to keep you entertained.
Helps you communicate with the team subtly, but definitely teases you about it.
Him and you texting, even if you were next to each other, has always been a normal thing. So it didn't change much.
RISEKI HEISUKE
“Wait, wait, wait—so, like, not talking at all?”
Actually devastated, and slightly shy because he doesn't know what to do or say.
Spends way too much time trying to figure out hand signals for communication.
extras.
Everyone starts learning how to communicate without words.
They text you or use notes when needed.
Some try to make you laugh and immediately regret it because you can't, and you are left with a sore throat (more than before)
Atsumu still annoys you, but in written form.
Suna takes advantage and texts you things like “blink twice if you think Atsumu is an idiot.” which you do.
Kita becomes your personal health supervisor.
The entire team becomes extra soft with you.
more under the cut.
After practice, Akagi keeps texting you jokes, Ginjima texts you a small phrase for support, Kosaku continues the conversation you were having before.. All that while the Miyas are arguing. Then, you give, not only to Atsumu and Osamu, but to the whole team a deadpan-blank stare, Aran says to the twins: "See? She's yellin' at you two in her head."
"She's watchin' you too, y'know?"
Then, a message notification pops up on everyone's phones.
"Why on earth are you texting me, when I'm the one who can't talk? I'm listening to you all.”
KITA SHINSUKE, OMIMI REN
They don’t even flinch. Just nod and move on like nothing happened.
Because nothing happened, they were the only ones who realized that even if you had no voice, you could hear them.
OJIRO ARAN
“…Oh.”
Feels dumb but just laughs it off.
Apologizes but still keeps texting you out of habit.
He may even develop a new talent.
The new talent: understanding you in conversations where you only nod or blink at him.
AKAGI MICHINARI
“Wait, so we didn’t HAVE to text?”
Visibly malfunctioning.
Yells, “WHY DIDN’T YA SAY SO?—oh, wait.”
Feels a little guilty when you glare at him.
KOSAKU YUUTO
“(Y/N). YA COULD'VE TOLD US.”
Immediately regrets saying that.
Facepalms. Hard.
Akagi laughs at him, because he said the same thing. you glare at them so hard that they don't speak for the next hour.
GINJIMA HITOSHI
“…I feel so stupid.”
Laughs at himself.
Says, “But be honest—wasn’t it funny watchin' us suffer?”
When you nod, with a teasing smile, he laughs again.
MIYA ATSUMU
“…Yer tellin’ me I wasted all my good jokes in text form for nothin’?!”
Actually offended.
Probably starts talking even MORE dramatically just to make up for the silence. everyone groans collectively.
MIYA OSAMU
“…So we just did all that for no reason?”
Shakes his head and walks away.
Will never let you live it down, and makes you promise you'll buy him food later even if that promise doesn't even make sense.
SUNA RINTARO
“…You enjoyed this, didn’t you?”
Just smirks. He doesn't care, because he probably already knew.
Takes a screenshot of the text and never lets you forget it.
RISEKI HEISUKE
“Damn. We really ARE idiots..”
Actually impressed at your patience for not telling them earlier.
Probably overthinks every conversation for the next week.
extras.
Half of them feel embarrassed.
Half of them find it hilarious.
Atsumu won’t shut up about it.
Suna 100% sends the screenshot to the team group chat, even if you sent the message there.
Kita and Omimi just nod and move on, they forget about it the next day.
Akagi is still yelling about it five minutes later.
You definitely knew they would be this stupid, and you surely let them struggle on purpose.
Pairing: (all post timeskip) suna, atsumu, osamu, ginjima x gn!reader
Network: @tokyometronetwork
ꜱᴜɴᴀ ʀɪɴᴛᴀʀᴏ
Guaranteed returns. All favors are returned x1000.
Send him a partial nude and you will get a dick pic within 3 milliseconds. Send him a thirst trap and an audio capture of him moaning your name is sent back.
Suna prides himself on his ability to collect quality material, so it's no surprise he's so very enthusiastic about this nudes exchange business.
Has pretty lights set up around his room just for the sake of clicking aesthetic dick pics.
There's even a special folder on his desktop dedicated to you. All these frisky pics and videos are stored there. He even names it his 'personal pornhub'
Comes home with hundreds of nasty fantasies filled in his head. Trust me he's created a very nice simulation of all the things he'd love to do to you.
ᴍɪʏᴀ ᴀᴛꜱᴜᴍᴜ
You just know this motherfucker is choking on his spit every time you send a pic that's even closely revealing.
This one time you send him a suggestive (only to dirty minded people) picture of your newly done nails holding your glass just for fun and next day videos of Miya Atsumu, star athlete clumsily fumbling with his phone are trending on the internet.
I'm really really sorry for this one but he totally responds in Adam Levine style😭😭😭 he's embarrassing you know it but you love him and that shitty replying style is something you and him have to work on.
He comes home all needy and whiny after that. Needs all the love and affection— much much more than usual.
He might not admit it but every time his phone pings and it's a message from you he pulls in a deep breath to stabilize his heart and be ready.
Atsumu is too much of an innocent boy for that cocky front he puts up.
ᴍɪʏᴀ ᴏꜱᴀᴍᴜ
Now this guy is a totally different story. Unlike his brother, although equally cocky, he has the guts to back it up.
You once sent him a nude while on a double dinner date just to see his reaction and this mf looked at the picture and smirked, licking his lip. Never tell him how flustering you found it you'd just be digging your own grave.
He's an observant guy, he knows all your preferences– from the food to the positions, so it's not a huge surprise to you when he sends you detailed, nasty, toe-curling replies.
Lowkey think he could run his own pornblog and we would still follow him like dick hungry bitches.
Sometimes, he would send you unprompted random messages while you are at work. Like sirrrr, you get it. He knows you very well but it's none of his business to ensure you're melting in your chair at work thinking about him.
But that's not all. The real nastiness starts when you return home, or his hotel. This man is filthy. And he's gonna pull you down with him whether you like it or not.
ʜɪᴛᴏꜱʜɪ ɢɪɴᴊɪᴍᴀ
You were sorely mistaken if you thought he was an innocent baby boy who had to be introduced to the art of sending nudes gently💀💀💀
He is the devil. This man laughs at you and calls you weak when you send him a partial nude.
The insult digs deeper when he sends you a beautiful, Pinterest worthy image of his pants pulled down just enough to show his perfect v-line. The sunlight kissing his pretty skin doesn't help either.
This ensues a nudes war. Who can click the better nude.
You both give each other occasional runs for your money. But it's usually him powning you most of the time. This guy has some serious aesthetics.
But the funny thing is, although you both forget the original intention of sending nudes, you both develop a cute and adorable sort of bonding activity out of it.
Lost the taglist so i won't tag anybody and this isn't gonna be a regular writing phase anyways so🙏🙏🙏 also drop some holy water in the comments and reblogs plej i need it I've been thinking very nasty thoughts abt a certain white haired sensei from naruto
Warning: Fatphobia but not from the Inarizaki Volleyball team - Also the boys are idiots but they're teenagers so that's to be expected.
“You’re so fat. You’re like a cow. Mooo!” You duck your head at the comment, try to let it slide off you. It still hurts, even if your face doesn’t show. Crying only eggs them on.
“You wouldn’t be so fat if you actually participated in some sports.”
“Like any Club would take them in, she’s too fat to even be a manager.”
You can barely read the words in your book now, the letters blurred by unshed tears.
You don’t believe that what they’re saying is true. What they are saying is not true.
But it still hurts. Oh, does it hurt.
If only you could make them believe.
-
The idea is so bad you can’t believe you’re going through with it.
It won’t change anything.
If your classmates find out that you tried and failed, the bullying will surely get worse.
But still… what if it works out?
Your heart’s beating like a jackhammer in your chest as you approach the door of the third-year classroom. You’ve never been here before and you’re not sure how this is going to go, but you have to at least try, right?
“Can I help you?” A girl asks, her smile open and friendly.
You nod. “C-Can I… Can I talk to K-Kita-san for a… a minute?”
“Oh, sure. Stay right there… Kita-kun! There’s someone here for you.”
The decision to ask him first wasn’t made lightly. You don’t know much about Volleyball other than what you’ve seen during Gym Class. You don’t have to run around much - which you prefer - but you’re not good at jumping. But all the other Captains are way scarier than he is and when you’ve seen him around he’d always been surrounded by an air of calm indifference. If he doesn’t like you, he’ll at least be polite about it.
“Yes?” He’s tall, looming over you like an attractive shadow. You swallow thickly.
“I-I wanted to ask… if you needed… a manager? For Volleyball, I mean.”
Kita blinks.
“You’re a first-year, correct?”
You nod.
“How about we walk for a bit and talk about it?” He leads you down the hallway, away from the prying eyes of his classmates.
You’re not sure how he does it, but you find yourself talking, explaining, rambling at times about the reasons you have to ask. But when you bite your lip in panic, clearly having overshared, he just nods and urges you to go on.
“Practice is every day after school. When does your last bus leave?”
You look it up on your phone and he nods.
“It might happen that we train a little longer, especially the twins. Don’t let them rope you into staying longer. If you do have to stay longer for any reason, don’t hesitate to ask any of the boys to walk you home, okay?”
“O-okay.”
“Good. I have to get back to class now. I will see you after school. You can see if you like it and decide later.”
You nod, speechless. To say that this has gone better than expected would have been an understatement.
-
No one saw you change into your gym clothes in the bathroom and you’re thankful for that.
You’re not ready to let anyone from your class know you’re doing this, if ever.
Maybe that’s a bad idea, maybe that would make them see you differently, but with how things are going right now they might just use it as another way to bully you.
It’s so weird to approach the Gym alone. No one’s waiting outside and you panic a little.
Did you get the time wrong? But Kita said after school, right?
You rush to the door to find him in there with three other boys, all of them taller than you.
A dark-skinned boy spots you first.
“Hey!” He waves at you. “I’m Aran Ojiro. You must be the one who’s trying out for manager.”
You swallow hard. This is a try-out? Like a test? What if you fail?
As if reading your thoughts another boy steps forward, his face serious but his words kind.
“Don’t worry too much. Since you’re going to spend a lot of time with us we have to make sure you’ll feel comfortable doing so. You can try out what it would be like.”
“He’s Ōmimi, I’m Akagi,” the last one steps forward, shaking your hand eagerly, “It would be so cool to have a manager again and a cute one too!”
You shy away from his touch and step closer to Kita who simply nods in greeting.
“Aran will show you around and explain the basics to you. As soon as the whole team is here you will get to know them and the official training will start.”
You nod and follow Aran who explains everything thoroughly.
“Can I ask you something?” You speak up when he shows you where the water bottles are kept and how to fill them up and wash them after use.
“Of course.”
“Kita-san said you don’t have a manager yet. Why is that?”
“Well, Shiraishi graduated last year and after it became clear that Kita was going to become the Captain, he wanted to wait a bit before we got a new manager. I don’t know if you’re aware, but our setter is pretty popular with the girls and I guess Kita didn’t want us overrun with fangirls.”
“Why? Who is your setter?”
Aran stops and turns around. “You don’t know?”
You shake your head, already panicking. Should you know?
“Oh, Samu’s going to love this. Well, we’re finished here anyway, so let's go meet the rest of the team. Just a fair warning, they are a rather rowdy bunch.”
But as you step back into the Gym, the boys are sitting on the floor, quiet like mice.
Kita’s standing next to what must be the trainer and waves you over.
“I’m Kurosu Norimune, First Coach.” He shakes your hand with a smile as you whisper your name before he turns around and announces it loudly to the students.
Some of them nod and at least Aran and Akagi smile up at you.
A boy with light brown, messy hair looks up at you with wide eyes and you wonder what’s so surprising about you. Is it your height, or lack thereof, or your weight?
You swallow thickly and miss at least half of the introduction.
And after that, everything comes to life.
“Hi, I’m Ginjima,” his eyes are still wide, but he’s smiling, a light blush adorning his face. You take a step back and his brows furrow. “I didn’t want to scare you, I just wanted to ask if you want to help me get the ball cart in? That’s usually my job.”
“Oh, of course.” You nod and trod along, trying not to lose him in the bustle of boys running around, setting everything up.
A few minutes later you’re standing on the side and watching, trying to gather their names from when Coach is shouting at them.
“Stop playing around, Atsumu!” That’s the guy with blond hair.
“Osamu! That was also meant for you!” He’s got grey hair.
“You could have gotten that, Suna!” This one turns and looks over as if you’d said it instead of Coach. He looks tired, but at the same time, a little… mean?
-
Too soon it’s break time and they all gather around you, pulling water bottles from your hands.
“Hey, I know you!” You blink up at the guy but you can’t really place his face. “You’re in Class 5, right? I’m Riseki!” He holds out your hand like he wants a high five and you cautiously tap his hand, not sure if that’s what you’re supposed to do.
“You’re cute,” he says, grinning from one ear to the other. Ginjima clears his throat pointedly next to him and your eyes drop back to the floor and all the water bottles you still need to pass around. Right. Work.
As it turns out, being a manager is a lot more work than you thought it would be. But it’s also a lot less hard than your classmates made it look like. You could totally do this every day. And why shouldn’t you, if they let you? You usually don’t like the books Literature Club reads together and you’re handwriting is too awful for that Club.
“What do you think?” Kita asks as he shows you how to disinfect the Volleyball’s one after the other. “Do you want to continue?”
“If I’m allowed to?”
He smiles and you can’t help but smile back.
If you’d get to have an older brother, you’d want him to be like Kita.
- - - xxx - - -
Droplets of water run down his back. It tickles, but he cannot focus on that right now.
“Are you sure Kita said that?” Ginjima asks again, hands practically folded in front of him.
“Absolutely positive,” Akagi confirms, “As soon as she was out of sight, he told us that no one was going to be allowed to ask her out. I mean, he said that we couldn’t make her uncomfortable by any means, but you know Kita, that’s what he meant.”
“Yeah, but he didn’t say it like that.” Tsumu declares pointedly, slinging a sweaty arm around Ginjima’s shoulders. “And you’ve seen our dear Ginjima. He’s fallen for her, he’s a lost cause already.”
“Ah, shaddap.” He throws him off, but Samu’s already there. “Hi, I’m Ginjima!” he teases, voice high. They all laugh, but Ginjima can’t help that he’s blushing. Again.
-
“I want to make clear,” Kita starts the next time they’re all at the Gym, no sight of you, “That no one is going to ask our new Manager out. I am aware that this affects your private life outside of Volleyball, but we don’t want to make her uncomfortable. If you cannot focus on anything but her, you have nothing to do in this team anyway.”
Suna whistles low through his teeth. “Damn, do you want her for yourself?”
Kita stares at him instead of answering and Ginjima swallows thickly, pulling his head in. So much for a chance at love.
-
But still, he can’t help himself.
Just because he cannot ask you out doesn’t mean he can help you, right? Get to make you smile or even laugh, maybe?
“Here, let me help.” He’s got an eye out for you, making sure you don’t overdo it. “That’s too heavy for you anyway.”
“I’m stronger than I look.” You protest and he has to force himself to look away when you flex your arms. He’s a little jealous and a little thankful that he’s not seen you in your uniform yet. He’s not sure what he’ll do if he does. Probably have a spontaneous heart attack.
- - - xxx - - -
“Where are you going?” You freeze, even though you shouldn’t.
“To my Club,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.
“What Club? Who’s accepting Fatties?”
You swallow harshly, grab your bag and leave, hoping you can outrun them.
They don’t bother to follow but you know this isn’t going to be over soon.
But just for a little longer you want to have this for yourself, just be happy with how things are.
The boys are nice, Kita-san especially. He never gets mean and even when you get something wrong he just explains it calmly to you.
“We use this for disinfecting. You won’t get the same result otherwise.”
Aran’s super nice too, patting your head every time he walks past you like he’s blessing you. He doesn’t mind when you ask questions about Volleyball even though he’s probably explained most of it twice.
“Got that now? No. No problem at all. Maybe it’s easier if you picture the people. Kosaku and Riseki for example, are pinch-servers. Do you remember what that position means?”
Riseki, funnily enough, always asks you for help.
“Did you go over the math lessons already? You did? Sweet! Can you help me with them after training? We can do it here if you want. Kita doesn’t mind when we do our homework in here as long as we don’t disturb the others.”
Then there’s Ōmimi with his serious face who likes to trade books with you and Akagi who’s a bit too loud for your taste but always greets you with a joke.
“Where do the cows go to have fun? The Moovies!”
The second years, though you find the most difficult to work with.
The twins are loud and rowdy and Suna always gets this scary look on his face when he gets quiet. Ginjima always wants to talk to you and you don’t know why and Kosaku doesn’t talk at all.
You prefer to stick with the third years where you can and the first years when they call for you. No one from the Club is in your Class but just because you’ve made it one month doesn’t mean you will make it forever.
Eventually, you’ll be found out.
-
“Where are you going?”
You try to dash away but this time you’re not fast enough. You hear fabric rip, feel the rush of air around your legs as your skirt drops to the floor.
Laughter rings out in the mostly empty classroom as you gather the remnants of your uniform around you, leaving with tears streaming down your face.
You won’t be late, you promise yourself, even if you have to explain to your parents later why you need yet another expensive garment. You won’t be late, even if you have to wash your eyes with cold water in the bathroom to make sure you’re not found out.
“You okay? Your eyes are kinda red,” Ginjima points out the second you step into the Gym.
You nod and the lump in your throat makes your voice sound nasally.
“I’m fine. Just allergies.”
“Are you sure? If you’re sick you should go home and rest,” Kita had been in earshot, it seems. You shake your head. Home is the last place you want to be right now.
“It’s fine, I was just… my eyes were tearing up a lot.”
Kita doesn’t look convinced. He turns to the boys. “Start training. I’ll be back soon.”
Without another comment he grabs you by the arm and gently drags you outside.
“I’m really fine,” you insist once you’re outside and you can trust your voice again. “It’s just allergies.”
“You don’t get allergies from one day to the other. You can tell me what’s wrong. No one’s listening in.”
Fresh tears fall. “My skirt ripped.”
“Oh.” A pause. “That’s unfortunate. Can I see it?”
You freeze, shoulders pulled up. “What?”
“Can I see your skirt? I’m not that good at sewing, but Kosaku is. Maybe we can do something about it.”
He inspects the garment for a second before he tells you to wait here. When he comes back, he’s got Kosaku in tow who looks not the least bit confused.
“Oh yeah,” Kosaku inspects your skirt as well. “That’s an easy fix. I can mend this after practice if you want.”
“You can?”
“Of course.” He sounds a little displeased that you’re questioning his abilities and you bow, immediately apologizing.
“It’s fine. You can buy me some snacks as a thank you… Or not, nothing’s fine too.” He adds hurriedly but when you look up nothing’s amiss.
“Are you sure? I could bake something.”
“Only if it’s not too much trouble for you. I think all of the boys have a sweet tooth, so I wouldn’t be able to hold onto it for long.”
“They do?”
“Oh yeah. Especially Samu. Though to be fair, he devours everything edible.”
-
You’ve learned your lesson. You’re the first out of class and the last to step in.
Still you know you won’t be able to get away forever.
But you will enjoy it as long as it lasts.
“I made something,” you exclaim when it’s time for the first real break. You pull the large container from your bag and prop it up, open it to reveal a small mountain of sugar cookies. They’re not in season, but they’re easy to make.
Just as Kosaku predicted, Osamu’s the first to grab one. His face lights up like firework as he tastes it.
“Hey, leave me some!” Atsumu pushes him to the side and you flinch.
“Behave!” Ginjima crows and half of the team turns to look at him, his face turning almost as red as the Inarizaki tie. “We don’t want crumbs in the Gym,” he tries to explain. You offer the box to him next and his hands shake funny when he takes a cookie.
Maybe he’s just as anxious as you are, you think and send him a small smile. It only deepens the red on his face and you turn back, glad to see Aran approaching. Aran is safe.
- - - xxx - - -
“Does anyone know how we got her to make cookies?” Samu asks, licking the last remnants of his fingers.
Ginjima listens only with half an ear. You’re sitting on the other side of the large Gym, head bent over Riseki’s books as you explain something.
Why are you just so cute???
“I told her we all like sweets,” Kosaku explains simply.
“And she brought in sweets?” Suna’s voice is teasing enough to gather Ginjima’s whole focus.
“What are you saying?” He asks, voice skipping an octave.
“What do you think I’m saying?” Suna asks back.
“It’s just cookies,” Tsumu argues, clearly annoyed, “Can we get over it and start playing again? I’m getting bored over here.”
-
“Ginjima?” Kita’s voice cuts through the noise and he turns, half expecting a stern reprimand.
Instead, his captain stands stiff like a board, waving for him to come over. Next to him: You, head bowed.
He rushes over, heart thundering ahead.
“Yes, Captain?”
“Our dear manager isn’t feeling well. I trust you to walk her to the bus station.”
“Of course!” His heart beats in his throat now, but at least he managed to get that out. “Can I carry your stuff for you? That’s absolutely no problem!”
“I’m fine,” you whisper, but when Kita clears his throat pointedly you relinquish your bag to him
Ginjima makes sure to handle it with the utmost care, trying not to smile too brightly as he walks you out. Kita chose him for this job!
“Do you have a cold?” He asks as you walk. “Tsumu had it last week.”
“No, I don’t have a cold.” Your hands press against your stomach.
“Oh, a stomach bug then? Did you have the curry too today? I heard it wasn’t very good.”
“No… No, I didn’t.”
“Oh, what is it then? Do you have diarrhea?”
Your face pales and he goes almost cross-eyed looking for a trashcan to puke into. Instead, he finds a girl who’s pointing… at you.
“Are you for real?” She asks, voice shrill. “You’re a manager?”
“Who are you?” Ginjima asks, already pissed at the way she asked.
“Who are you?” She asks back. “And what lame kind of sport do you do that you allow Fatty over here to join?”
“What the hell-” He starts, hands balled to fists. “Who do you think you are?!”
She scoffs. “Like you need to know that, loser. Bye Fatty. I’ll see you.” She laughs and runs off and Ginjima has to grind his teeth to keep where he is instead of running after her.
After all, you’re still sick and Kita entrusted you to him!
“Are you okay?” He asks, turning back to you. “Do you know who that bitch is?”
You gasp.
“What?” He asks. “Like she didn’t deserve that title! You’re not fat. My uncle is fat but even if you were that’s no way to talk about you like that! She needs a good beating if you ask me.”
You look up at him, eyes welled up with tears. Your mouth opens and closes and he kinda has to guess what you want to know.
“My uncle?” He guess. “He’s got a disease… I can’t name it properly, but when he was my age he couldn’t move at all because of it and he got so depressed only food gave him a source of comfort. He’s a lot better now but he’s still got plenty of weight. Not that that drags him down if you’ll excuse that joke.” Ginjima can’t help but smile as he thinks of Uncle Keiji.
You shake your head and sniff.
“Oh, you need a tissue?” He pats down his jacket but comes up empty. “Here,” he slips out of it, “Just wipe your nose on it, I’ll wash it today, no problem.”
That’s when you start laughing, his jacket clutched in your hands.
He laughs along, a little confused, but hey, he got you cheered up again.
-
You don’t look up when the door opens. But the rest of your class does.
“It’s Miya Atsumu!” One of the girls whispers, clearly shocked.
“And his twin!” Someone else mutters equally impressed.
Ginjima leans around them and finds you easily, head bowed over a Bento Box.
“Hey!” He calls out to you. “You coming? We’re going up to the roof to eat.”
Your mouth opens and closes like a fish.
“Come on,” Suna’s voice drawls out lazily, “We don’t have all day.”
You nod, clearly confused, and grab your stuff, rush toward them.
“Who did you say was that bitch again,” Atsumu asks just as you’re a few steps from the door.
Ginjima pokes his head in again and smiles at the girl in question, baring his teeth.
“If you guys mess with our manager again,” Samu declares calmly, inspecting his fingernails, “Getting banned from our games will be the least of our problems. Are we clear?”
- - - xxx - - -
“Thank you for taking the time,” Kita closes the door behind him and smiles. The little storage room is cramped but filled with light from the evening sun.
“You wanted to talk to me?” You ask, hands fiddling. You haven’t lost your anxious ticks even after all these months.
“I’m resigning today,” he explains calmly. “It’s time to graduate. I thought Atsumu would be a good Captain. What do you think?”
You blink away a stubborn tear that won’t stay inside.
“He’ll need a little help,” you sniff, working against the lump in your throat. “But I’m sure he will do great.”
“You’ll help him, right?”
You nod, swallowing thickly. Kita’s warm hands land on your shoulders.
“Do you have any plans for the break?”
“No, not really.”
“Would you like to stay with us for those few weeks?”
You freeze.
“Are you… are you sure?”
“Yes. Granny would love you. I’m sure your parents won’t mind and you can help me with the harvest if you want. Or stay inside and help Granny with the house.”
Silence enfolds between you.
Eventually, with the warmest voice you’ve ever heard from him, he says “I’ve never had a little sister, but if I did… I’d want her to be like you.”
-
Ginjima’s eyes zero in on yours - surely red rimmed from all the bittersweet tears - but he doesn’t say anything.
Not long and Tsumu’s crying too, wiping his nose on his sleeve as Osamu blinks up into the sun, acting like he doesn’t care at all - the liar.
It’s hard, saying goodbye to the third years.
It will be different with them there, Aran’s daily blessings and Ōmimi’s book recommendations, Akagi’s silly jokes, and Kita’s calmness.
It will be different, but it won’t be bad. Not with all your friends around you.
“I entrust this Club to you,” Kita reminds Tsumu again as he leaves. “Every member and our shared goal. And don’t forget our dear manager.”
-
“What are you doing over the break?” Ginjima asks later as you wait for the bus.
Your hands fold around the seam of your skirt and you pinch it as if you remind yourself that this is real.
“I’m staying with Kita,” you tell him proudly, “He asked me to come.”
“Oh,” he makes and falls quiet.
“And you?”
“Training, I guess.” He pulls his shoulders up. “Text me when you get back, okay?”
“Okay.”
- - - xxx - - -
Another graduation comes much too soon.
Riseki’s crying this time, the captain’s title heavy on his shoulders.
“Ah, like you’d forget us,” Tsumu says but his voice is heavy with emotion.
Samu’s looking up and squinting into the sun, one of his eyes impressively bruised to match Tsumu. They’ve gotten into a fight this week and even though they refused to talk about it, everyone knows what it’s about.
-
“You coming in tomorrow?” Ginjima asks as he walks you home, the last bus long gone.
“For your graduation? Like I’d miss that.”
He smiles, fiddling something between his hands.
“You know, about that tradition… the second button… Did you get one so far?”
You laugh. “A second button? No way I’d get one.”
“But would you want one?”
You blink up at him. “Why would I want one?”
“Ah,” he smiles, “Just asking. Don’t all girls want one?”
“I dunno. Depends on the boy, I guess. Would you want one? From a girl, I mean?”
He blushes furiously and you snicker, digging your elbow into his side.
“Come on, tell me. Who is it you like?”
His smile turns pained and you step away.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to push you. It’s your decision to tell me.”
“Thank you. Though, I guess…” He holds out his hand. In it lies a button. “I think I should give it to you. For safekeeping, you know.”
“You don’t think she’ll accept it?”
“Doesn’t matter,” he tells you, voice strained, “I’m not allowed to date her anyway.”
“Oh, that sucks.” You pick the button from his hands and hold it up to the light. “But if you entrust me with it I will keep it safe until it changes. Would that be okay?”
He nods, redfaced, clearly unable to speak.
You tap his elbow with yours and walk on, slowly.
“Did I tell you about my summer plans?” You ask. “Kita got me a job at an accounting firm in Osaka. It’s nothing much but he thinks I might like it. What are your plans?”
-
Your hand is on Riseki’s shoulder and you’re crying along.
It’s different when you’re the one who’s leaving. Fresh-faced first-years look back at you. The second years mourn the games they could have played - lost to Karasuno yet again.
A new manager will help them go on and though you doubt the friendship will stay beyond these gym doors, you’ve burned her kindness into your heart.
“And don’t forget,” Riseki reminds them one last time, “Kita-san’s rule! Do not date the manager!”
You stop and turn, the tears forgotten for a moment.
“What?” You ask, not unlike a few of the boys who’ve been eyeing sweet Oyama for the better part of last year.
Riseki stumbles, clearly confused by the question.
“Yeah, he told us when you came in. It was very important to him so it must be important for the team. Keep that in mind, will you!”
They agree, some more, some less eager.
You resolve to ask Kita about it the next chance you get. After all he promised to come in tomorrow for your graduation.
- - - xxx - - -
“Ginjima!” You hug him, tears streaming from your eyes. “You came? What a surprise!”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world!” He says, proud that it succeeded. “The rest of the gang is also here!”
“Heeeyy!” Suna waves lazily. There’s also Tsumu and Samu, fighting over a Bento Box like in the good old days, and Aran who’s blessing you with one of his well-missed head pats.
Akagi drags Ōmimi and Kosaku over and for a moment, too short but still so precious, it feels like nothing changed.
“These are my parents!” You introduce them, grinning from one ear to the other. “Do you mind if I go out to eat with the boys?”
The boys. Ginjima’s heart sinks and lifts at the same time. He’s nothing but one of the boys.
Not like Kita who addresses your parents by first name.
But, he thinks when you fall into step with him, whispering how you’ve still got that second button if he needs it, not all hope is lost, right?
-
“Sit next to me,” he asks when you find chairs at the Izakaya. Half the team grins knowingly but you still don’t get it.
“No, no, I insist,” He pushes your hand back when you try to pay for your food. “It’s on me.”
“Let me walk you home, please.” He asks when they gather outside.
Tomorrow he’s going to be back in Osaka where his job waits for him.
Tomorrow you’ll be nothing but a too vivid memory of something that never got to be real.
Tonight you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever laid his eyes on.
“Sure,” you say, waving at the others, promises of meeting up soon hanging in the air. It’s been a year. It never gets easier.
But still, he leaves without a kiss, without a confession, without anything that means anything.
Because he can see it in your eyes, wide and warm and lovely, that you don’t get it. Maybe you never will.
But that’s okay. Or at least it will be okay someday.
- - - xxx - - -
“So you’re staying?” Samu asks as he plates the food. “For real?”
“For real!” You agree, breaking apart the chopsticks. “What should I try first?”
“Whatever you want. Everything’s good.”
“Wow, what about being humble?” You ask, digging in.
He laughs. “When have I ever been humble?”
“A lot,” you point out, mouth full. “Gosh this is good. Tsumu was always more arrogant.”
“True,” he jokes. “Have you seen him lately?”
You shake your head.
“Suna? Aran? No wait, Kita.”
You snort. “I see Kita at least once a month. That’s not news.”
“Ah yes, Kita, the love of your life.” Samu swoons, clutching his chest. You furrow your brows.
“What do you mean?”
“What?” Samu grins. “You’ve been a thing since when, his graduation?”
You choke on a bit of Onigiri. “What?! No! EW!”
“What?” Samu laughs disbelievingly. “I mean Ginjima told me you went to his place for the break. That’s kinda like making it official.”
“NO!” You belt out, horrified. “That’s what you all thought? But I was… But he is… We’ve always been more like brother and sister.”
Samu shrugs. “I mean he never seemed to mind that Ginjima was head over heels for you, so I didn’t bother-”
Your jaw slackens. “What?” You ask, voice breaking. “Ginjima was what?”
Samu halts, bottle of soy sauce in his hands.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t know.”
“How would I know?”
“How would you not?! He’s got a crush on you since the day you started! Kita made it very clear though that no one was allowed to ask you out and Suna thought it was because he called dibs on you… Are you okay?”
You shake your head.
If he’d pulled the floor from under your feet you couldn’t have been more at a loss.
“Oh my god. I still have his second button.”
“Who’s?” Samu asks, taking a piece of Nigiri Sushi from your plate and popping it into his mouth.
“Ginjima’s.”
“Damn. That guy was bold. I mean I was never fully sure you were dating Kita after all, but at least Ginjima was convinced that you liked him more than him.”
“As a brother, maybe.” You huff, heart beating. Everything looks different now, looking back, with that information in mind.
“You need Sake?” Samu asks, voice comforting. “Or Soju?”
-
Sleep isn’t coming to you these days.
Kita’s explanations made sense - you had been afraid of everyone breathing back then, scared shitless every time someone other than him or Aran tried to speak to you - and you couldn’t hold it against him that he tried to protect you.
You’d have to talk to their current Captain though, to make sure that ridiculous rule wasn’t still in use.
You’d have to talk to Ginjima too at one point. But you don’t know what to say yet.
If you think of him now, all the moments you’ve been through together, the little things stand out so much more.
How he’d always been so eager to help, always wanting to talk.
How often he blushed around you.
How he defended you, told the other second years - no doubt that whole plan had been his idea.
You can’t think about all those quiet walks home, side by side yet barely touching, how he asked about your day and told you of his, without curling into a ball, warmth filling you to the point of overflowing.
If Kita’s the warmth of a fireplace in winter, a spot to stay safe and comforted, Ginjima is the warmth of the spring sun, guiding you outside. He’s the bright blue sky on summer days that makes you want to stay awake forever.
And every night, without fail, you pull his second button from its safe place and rest it where it had been on his blazer, on the place closest to your heart.
-
Ginjima works as a Gym Instructor now, not far from where you work.
Twice you’ve walked by and chickened out. You’re not sure you’ll be more successful today.
This time, though, you spot him through the tall windows.
He looks just like the last time you were a team, a towel slung around his shoulders.
It’s that sight that gives you the push you need and you step into the Gym, heart beating in your throat.
He turns and spots you, surprise widening his face. It reminds you of the first time you’ve met and your heart beats even faster.
“Hey!” He rushes over, almost tripping over a weight. “What brings you here.”
“I have something for you.” You stretch out your hand.
Ginjima stops and stares.
“I…” He starts, face split between confusion and pain he’s trying to hide. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s mine,” you explain nervously. “Samu told me… That you had a crush on me.”
“What?” He blushes furiously. “He told you what?”
“And that everyone thought I was dating Kita. We’re just... We’re just friends. Like brother and sister, actually. I didn’t know… I didn’t know you liked me,” your voice is getting lower but his eyes are wide.
“How could I not like you? You’re literally perfect!” He shouts and from somewhere behind him you can hear a voice shushing him.
You snort and he laughs, flustered, hand moving to take yours - and the button.
“And the No Date Rule?” Ginjima asks as if he’d only just remembered it.
“Officially no longer valid.”
- - - xxx - - -
“Lovebirds are in!” Tsumu declares loudly from the bar as the door opens. Ginjima shoots his cap at him, whistling in victory when he hits him square in the head.
“Don’t fight,” you chide behind him, your hand in his. “Are we late?”
“Nah,” Riseki waves from the other side, “Like you’d ever be. Ginjima should be glad to have you.”
“I am!” He declares. “Who’s questioning it?!”
“No one,” Kosaku drawls, hugging you as he moves toward the bathroom. But have some mercy on the single guys.”
“Hey, I could have a girlfriend if I wanted to!” Tsumu points out, followed by laughter.
On nights like this, when they all get together to watch one of them on TV - today it’s Aran - things hardly ever calm down.
But he wouldn’t change this for the world, not even when he has to work a shift tomorrow.
It reminds him of being young and a fool like he’s got nothing to lose and yet so much to fight for.
And when you curl into his side on the Couch, cheer him on when he manages to eat his bowl of soup faster than Tsumu, or defend him against Suna’s jabs he knows that nothing much has changed.
reading your own works is either like, "What in the world possessed me to write that it's so good! How do I do that again for the next one?" or, "What the fuck is this pile of trash?" and it also can feel like both at the same time.
