#haikyu fluff

[cupiddelock3d]

just know i wanna write haikyu, jjk, and naruto fanfiction but im packing to move back to school and it is skull fucking all writing abilities out of my body. please tell my story

[basiilale]

When I first started getting into digital art almost 7 years ago I drew this mf as a bean, I was just a jit so it’s genuinely so ass 🥹🥹🥹

[luxinglan]

Sakusa Kiyoomi x Reader

Special feature headcanons: MSBY

Sakusa Kiyoomi is not a romantic. Not in the public displays of affection kind of way, and not in the grand declarations of affection kind of way.

Sakusa Kiyoomi is, in fact, so much of a simple comfort kind of guy that a lot of his friends and teammates were completely surprised when they found out you were dating.

It was even more of a surprise when they found out you've been dating since high school. They were speechless as they watched the MSBY outside hitter smoothly make his way to the stands after a won match, and wrap his arms around a lady who excitedly threw herself at him.

They were even more speechless as he tightly pressed you to himself, smiling as you kissed each other on the cheek. A handshake would have slid under the radar; someone calling him a romantic nickname would have also slid off the radar. A lot of their fans come up with nicknames for them—some hardcore fans aren't afraid to use those names in public meet-and-greets and public matches, and even some reporters have gotten in on it.

But for their black cat to actually hug someone, kiss them on the cheek not looking like he wants to die or bury himself, all the while smiling like that? It was clear that you were more than just an acquaintance.

You weren't bothered by the fact that your relationship was kept private. You knew how much he preferred to separate his private life from his public life, keeping the things most important to him close and away from any judgment, nosiness, or criticism. And you also knew it wasn't that he was hiding it from his teammates as a secret. He probably thought it wasn't something they should be concerned with.

As seen with his answer when the bewildered and suspicious Atsumu asked excitedly:

“How long have you two been dating?”

“None of your business.”

A clean shutdown delivered without even a glance at the setter, leaving you to offer an apologetic smile to the team and do the explaining.

So then, if Sakusa Kiyoomi doesn't go up to rooftops to shout out his affections, and his teammates had no idea he's been in a romantic relationship for years, how do you yourself know that he actually loves you?

Well, it's simple.

There's no one else that he lets into his personal space the way he does with you, enough to even be the one to make the request that you move in with him. Something you questioned multiple times just to be sure.

There's no one else he so easily shares the same space with. Even if you both have conflicts over how orderly things are, and whether it's better to let the water drip down from newly washed dishes or dry them off with a rag immediately, it still never crosses his mind to instantly kick you out of his sight and do everything himself, his way.

There's no one else he's that compliant with, even dropping the level of his obsessive control with his environment and activities to reach an agreement when it comes to you.

There's no one else he seeks physical touch with when he's alone like he does with you. Having you sit on his lap when you're watching a movie, holding your hand when he's writing something down, looking forward to your back hugs in the morning when you wake up to find him in the kitchen—either cooking up a healthy breakfast or back from his run—and silently just hugging you himself when you forget.

There's no one else who he lets wash his hair, completely entranced with the soft and warm feel of your hands on his scalp, scrubbing through the curly strands in a comfortable silence he sometimes falls asleep to.

There's no one else who he'd let order and eat junk food in his house, even if he doesn't join you in having it.

And even if he doesn't shout it from the rooftops or let reporters know in interviews, you know he loves you because he says it at random. Three words whispered to your ears, forehead, neck, shoulders, stomach, thighs. Almost silent, meant for your ears alone, even at times when he thinks you can't hear him.

Most importantly, there's no one else who he lets get away with giving him a special nickname—a name he thinks is completely ridiculous, yet still answers every single time you call him by it.

A/N: I have nothing to write 😭 bye 🤞

[kamoblitz]

ⓘ 01. HQ BOYS AS TWITTER LINKS !

⤷ LINKS ﹫ smut ﹫

⌗ bokuto, kageyama, kuroo, kenma, atsumu, osamu, suna, iwaizumi

⚠︎ porn without plot, cunniligus, rough sex, creampie, oral (f receiving), slight public sex .ᐟ.ᐟ

bokuto kotaro

- making out after a long day

- eating you out like it’s his dinner

- taking care of you like a goddess

- taking you as he pleases

- lives to see you on top of him

- don’t even know he’s making you squirt

hajime iwaizumi

- fingering his girl and making sure she loves it

- when he has bad days, you’re the first one to know it

late nights back shots

- how he hold your tits cause he loves them

- coming home to his sweet wife after a rough day

suna rintaro

- taking a video of you riding him so beautifully

- making sure you’re moaning loudly

- when he’s lazy

- asking videos of you when he’s far for a game

he lives to tease you

- never finish without making you squirt

atsumu miya

- atsumu loves it rough

- cum just at the sight of you

- pics he’d keep carefully

- just the tip? nah.

- mutual masturbation

- “you’re gonna break the bed!” “we’ll get a new one”

kenma kozume

- when he’s too lazy and wants to see you do all the work beautifully

- the beautiful lace set he bought you

- you distracted him from his games

- still making you do the work

- after a long exhausting stream

- kenma is lazy but when he’s into something…

kuroo tetsuro

- autopilot is useful in his new car

- knows just how to make you see the stars

ass guy

- red is still his favourite color

- couldn’t even wait to be in the bed

- taking you right before the shower

kageyama tobio

- always fond of his girl

- burry himself deep

- fingering while his dick is in your ass

- eating you out like it’s a competition

- the first time you did it you thought he was gentle when it came to sex

- he does so much workout for volley and this

[luxinglan]

Tetsurō Kuroo × Reader

Boyfriend Headcanons

Tetsurō Kuroo, who's actually a big romantic at heart, in private and in public, despite his tough cool guy appearance (he also profusely weeps about how he's often mis-characterized by strangers who judge him based on his looks).

Tetsurō Kuroo, the kind of guy who loves flowers, knows their meanings and associations, and gives them according to the situation.

Tetsurō Kuroo, who doesn't need an excuse to give you flowers—a birthday, an achievement, an anniversary, a date, or even just an ordinary day. (If you're allergic to them, he goes out of his way to keep them far away from you.)

Tetsurō Kuroo, whose favorite days are the days you go on dates together. His favorite kinds of dates are outdoor dates, as he's quite extroverted.

Tetsurō Kuroo, who's always eager to motivate you to try out new experiences and share them with him.

Tetsurō Kuroo, who's ever eager to let people know he has a girlfriend and how amazing she is, along with a clear reminder that she's taken.

Tetsurō Kuroo, who takes Valentine's Day and your birthday very seriously as special occasions (one is the perfect time to be as openly romantic as he can be, and the other is a day to appreciate your existence in the world), and puts sincere time and effort into planning and coordinating them to bring out the brightest smile possible on your face.

Tetsurō Kuroo, who always demands a kiss on his cheek after you receive a bouquet.

Tetsurō Kuroo, who probably thought about getting couple rings a month into your relationship, but kept the thought to himself and kept waiting for the right moment—which, according to Yaku, is when a guy (he) wants to propose, or else it would just be weird.

Tetsurō Kuroo, who's rendered speechless when you surprise him with couple rings for your anniversary celebration.

Tetsurō Kuroo, who has since made sure to always wear his ring, whether on his finger or on a pendant chain.

Tetsurō Kuroo, whose favorite way of taking a nap is cuddling up to you. (Sometimes he insists on being the little spoon.)

[yomiixo]

“I heard you”

The first thing Kageyama noticed was the sound of your voice.

It was faint.

Almost like he was hearing it from underwater.

“Tobio?”

His fingers twitched slightly.

You were there.

Of course you were.

You were always there.

Even when he was being difficult. Even when he answered your questions with a blunt “Whatever.” Even when you complained that he had absolutely no idea how to communicate like a normal person.

Somehow, you were always there.

And right now, your voice sounded terrified.

“Tobio, please wake up…”

₊ ⊹🪻 ✧ ˚. ᵎᵎ 🫐‧₊˚ ⛲️ ‧₊𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🎐

It had started earlier that afternoon.

You'd been walking home together when a group of older students started making comments about you.

Kageyama had immediately frowned.

“What did you say?”

You grabbed his sleeve.

“Tobio, don't.”

He looked at you.

“They're annoying you.”

“I know. Just leave it.”

But one of them laughed.

“What's wrong? Can't you speak for yourself?”

Kageyama's expression darkened.

He stepped forward.

“Say it again.”

You knew that look.

“Tobio.”

He didn't listen.

The argument escalated, and eventually it turned into a fight.

Kageyama wasn't fighting because he wanted to prove anything.

He was fighting because they wouldn't stop talking about you.

And somehow, that made you even more worried.

When it was finally over, Kageyama had won—but he hadn't exactly walked away fine.

He'd pushed himself too far.

By the time you found him a little later, he was lying unconscious on the ground.

Your heart dropped.

“Tobio!”

You rushed over.

He was breathing, but he wasn't responding.

Your hands trembled as you carefully helped him sit up enough to check that he was okay.

“Tobio… come on.”

Nothing.

You swallowed hard.

“You idiot…”

Your voice cracked.

“You absolute idiot.”

You carefully cleaned up the small cuts and bruises you could, making sure he was comfortable while waiting for help.

But you couldn't stop looking at him.

You'd always known you cared about Kageyama.

You just hadn't realized how much until now.

You gently moved a strand of hair away from his face.

“Why would you do that for me?”

Your eyes started watering.

“You didn't have to.”

You let out a shaky breath.

“You're so stupid sometimes.”

Kageyama didn't move.

And suddenly, all the feelings you'd been keeping hidden came rushing out.

“I was so scared.”

Your voice became quieter.

“I thought something had happened to you and…”

You squeezed your eyes shut.

“I don't know what I'd do if I lost you.”

Silence.

You looked down at him.

“I like you, Tobio.”

The words escaped before you could stop them.

Your face burned.

“I really, really like you.”

You laughed nervously through your tears.

“And I know you're probably going to make some stupid face when you wake up and pretend you didn't hear that, but…”

You carefully held his hand.

“I just needed you to know.”

For a few seconds, there was nothing.

Then—

“…I heard you.”

You froze.

Your eyes widened.

“T-Tobio?!”

Kageyama's eyes slowly opened.

He looked exhausted.

Confused.

And incredibly embarrassed.

His face was already turning red.

“You…”

He swallowed.

“You said you liked me.”

You immediately looked away.

“I thought you were unconscious!”

“I was.”

“Then how did you hear me?!”

“I don't know.”

You stared at him.

He stared back.

Neither of you knew what to say.

Kageyama looked away first.

His ears were bright red.

“…I like you too.”

Your heart practically stopped.

“What?”

He frowned, as if frustrated that he had to repeat himself.

“I said I like you.”

“You—”

“I've liked you for a while.”

Your mouth fell open.

Kageyama looked increasingly uncomfortable.

“Don't make that face.”

“What face?!”

“That one.”

“You're the one who just confessed!”

“I know.”

“And you're acting like I did something wrong!”

“I don't know what I'm supposed to do!”

You couldn't help it.

You laughed.

A genuine, relieved laugh.

Kageyama stared at you for a moment before the smallest smile appeared on his face.

It was subtle.

Barely there.

But you knew him well enough to notice.

“You're smiling,” you whispered.

“No, I'm not.”

“You are.”

“I'm not.”

“You literally are.”

“Shut up.”

You laughed again.

And for the first time that day, Kageyama relaxed.

He gently squeezed your hand.

You looked down.

Then back at him.

Neither of you said anything.

You didn't need to.

After everything that had happened, simply knowing he was okay was enough.

Kageyama shifted slightly closer.

You noticed.

He noticed that you noticed.

Both of you immediately looked away.

The silence became painfully awkward.

Then Kageyama quietly asked,

“…Can I?”

You blinked.

“Can you what?”

He stared at you for a second before his face turned even redder.

“You know.”

“Oh.”

Your cheeks warmed.

“Oh.”

Neither of you moved for a moment.

Then, very slowly, you leaned closer.

Kageyama met you halfway.

The kiss was brief.

Soft.

Almost hesitant.

The second it ended, you both pulled back.

Kageyama looked completely stunned.

You covered your face with your hands.

“Oh my gosh.”

His ears were bright red.

“…That was embarrassing.”

“You're the one who asked!”

“I know.”

“You were shaking.”

“So were you!”

You peeked through your fingers.

He was looking away, clearly trying to hide how flustered he was.

Then his hand found yours again.

His fingers slipped between yours.

This time, neither of you pulled away.

Kageyama leaned his head gently against your shoulder.

You smiled.

After everything, he was finally safe.

And somehow, after months of hiding what you both felt, you were sitting there together, hand in hand, feeling lighter than you had in a long time.

Kageyama closed his eyes.

“…Stay.”

You looked down at him.

“I wasn't planning on leaving.”

His fingers tightened slightly around yours.

“Good.”

And that was all he said.

But somehow, it was enough.

You rested your head gently against his.

For once, Kageyama wasn't thinking about volleyball.

He wasn't thinking about winning.

He wasn't thinking about being the best.

He was just thinking about you.

And, judging by the tiny smile on his face, he was perfectly happy with that.

My frikin baby omgaashhh I LOVE HIM

guyssss give recs you want and I’ll do them okayyy 😉😉😉😉

[luxinglan]

Haikyuu

Ushijima Wakatoshi x Reader

A/N: This is a compensation for the fluff/angst Ushijima x Reader fic I wrote last time. Usually I just write fluff but I wanted to try something different. Lol. And I don't regret it 😊✨, but here's an apology to those who were disappointed.

Setting: College.

Ushijima Wakatoshi is known to have high standards. People that catch his interest are rare, and people who hold his respect are even rarer. His close childhood friend happens to be one of them.

Coincidentally, you both grew close from a shared, admired trait each person possessed: Authenticity. Strong personal beliefs that you're willing to stand for in public or in private.

Sometimes Ushijima disagrees with your beliefs, but even then, he still can't help but respect the full backing you always put behind each voiced thought.

Ushijima Wakatoshi would probably describe himself as honest, as will most people around him. He says what he thinks out loud and doesn't care about public opinion, squeamishness, or criticism.

But for quite a while now, he's been wondering how true that claim is—that he's an honest person—considering the fact that he's been somewhat lying to people for a while now.

Maybe it's because he hasn't found a clear distinction. Is he just lying to people, or lying to himself? How important is it anyway? Is it that terrible to keep one thing a secret?

Must he let everyone know that he thinks your smile is one of the nicest things to look at? That the sound of your voice sometimes sounds like music to his ears? That your presence makes him feel grounded without you even needing to speak? That he always remembers the words you say, the things you pick an interest in, the things you dislike, the things you appreciate, the things you ignore? That he knows the quickest way to make you frown and the fastest way to turn that frown upside down?

Does he have to announce to the world that he's memorized your favorite songs, read your favorite books/manga, watched your favorite movies/animes/shows, and even celebrates your favorite holidays?

First, it was just a curious investigation to find out why you have the opinions that you have. Next, just because you asked, claiming they were of high quality and wouldn't disappoint anyone with proper taste. Next, just because he hears you mention it, whether offhandedly or to answer a question.

And then, at a certain point, it just becomes natural. Natural for him to know your favorite season. Natural for him to watch your favorite media with you as many times as you wish and tell you his criticisms at the end of it, but still join you when watching it again or moving on to something else.

You don't have the exact same taste. You don't share the exact same opinions across all boards. You don't have the same favorite foods, and quite frankly, your taste in certain things is horrid to him, and yet he still partakes in them because of one reason.

You.

Is it really a lie when Tendō drags him into a dorm game of truth or dare, and when it's his turn, he naturally chooses truth—only to be hit with a question that should have a simple answer: “Is there someone you have feelings for?” And yet, the answer he gives feels dishonest.

No, he doesn't have someone he likes.

No, he doesn't have someone he's romantically and sexually attracted to.

No, he doesn't have a type.

No, he doesn't have someone he has feelings for.

No, he doesn't have someone who brings him joy to be the source of the smile on their face.

'That’s a lie. If it's the truth, then why aren't you stopping her right now?’

Of course you and Tendō drag him off to the party. Of course you two leave him behind to go have fun. Of course he has to find both of you already getting drunk and immediately get you out of there before things get worse.

But having you straddle his thighs in the backseat of his car isn't among the list of things he expects from you tonight. The water bottle he gave you to help you get back to normal quicker is barely within your grip, the cap having fallen to the floor at some point.

You raise your left hand and point your index finger into his cheek. He doesn't bother trying to get your hand off; his hands are too busy keeping you steady on his legs. His large palms hold onto your waist with a steady grip, somewhere between your lower waist and your stomach—an area he considers the 'most respectable' placement he can pull off at the moment.

Besides his overtime-working hands, he's had years to get used to your casual touches. It would be weirder if you didn't even brush shoulders with him at all. And although he'd never admit it, it's nice to have at least one person bold enough to poke at his cheeks and get away with it like it's normal.

Except right now, you aren't behaving like your normal self. Besides the fact that you drank alcohol, there's also that strange look in your eyes, similar to your usual look of mischief.

But it's different this time.

“Drink slowly, Y/n, or else you'll choke.”

His forehead furrows with concern, hands itching to take the plastic bottle from your grip and help you drink it himself.

A drop of water trickles down your chin as you stare down at him—one of the rare moments that you don't have to shift your gaze higher to meet his directly. The edges of your lips tilt into a smile as you bring the bottle down from your mouth, wiping off the dribble with the sleeve at your wrist.

“How rude of meee~”

She’s dragging her words, which means she's definitely drunk. But just how much?

You wobble the finger poking his cheek, your lips stretching into a wider smile.

“To not offer any back to the person who was ki… kind enough to get me some water. Sorry, you must be thirsty too, huh?”

Ushijima Wakatoshi is about to let you know that he isn't thirsty and didn't mention anything to imply he wanted you to offer water back, but he decides not to when your next choice of action is to tilt your head back and drink more of the water from the bottle.

She must be dehydrated. I'll need to start bringing bottles of water along with me the next time we attend these kinds of events…

“So miracle boy, I'm just dying to know, as are many other people in this room right now: Is there someone you have feelings for?” Tendō asks, wiggling his eyebrows at him in anticipation.

His answer comes almost a second later, after a name rests under his tongue and a face flashes behind his eyes. “No.” Another second passes, and he strengthens the tone of his voice to reassert his answer. “No. I don't.”

Liar.

A trickle of water runs down his chin as you shift the angle of his face, holding onto his jaw to keep his head still while you offer him some water back—choosing to exchange it directly from your mouth to his.

His eyes remain completely open as he stares at your closed lashes, seeing them this close for the first time ever without bright lighting highlighting their beauty.

Liar.

His heart seems to suffer some kind of lag from the moment he feels your lips on his and his brain acknowledges and verifies the contact is real. Even now, it hasn't completely gotten over the lag, but it decides to enter a full marathon inside his chest.

Liar.

His lips remain open and his jaw stays relaxed as his mouth accepts the water coming in from yours.

Liar.

His hands flex on your sides, his fingers securing their grip. The warmth of your body seeps through your clothes and into his palms while he absentmindedly drops an inch below the “respectable” zone.

Liar.

The water is emptied out of your mouth. He swallows every drop that he can, and yet, when your tongue slips past his lips as if you changed your mind and want the water back, he doesn't stop you.

Liar.

He also doesn't stop you when you drag your tongue back, taking the warmth of your soft lips with you as you pull your head back and flash him a smile that sends a sharp, painful tug through his heart.

Liar.

“Not rude of me anymore, right?”

Your eyes seem to sparkle in the dark with self-satisfaction and the pride of someone who won a pat on the back for a charitable deed.

He presses his lips back together, his dark olive eyes unable to tear themselves away from your lips, still wet and glossy from your consideration.

“Y/n…” His voice sounds deeper and coarse, his eyes blinking against the dark as a familiar heat begins to pool in his stomach.

There’s nothing different between us, nothing beyond normal friends. Nothing… foreign that would change the dynamic of our relationship. I don't see my childhood friend that way. I just respect her and care for her as a friend. That's it.

“Oh… sorry, that probably wasn't enough, right? Do you want more?” you ask, raising the bottle once more between both of your faces.

His heart is still racing, the heat in his stomach forming knots and threatening to spread much lower than his abdomen.

It takes more than a second for him to part his lips to answer—to give the same answer that he gave Tendō in their dorm during the game.

Too bad he's never been able to lie to you before, and he can't possibly start now.

“Yes.”

A part of his chest tightens in anxiety as you take more sips of the water and bring your lips together again. This time, he tilts his head without your guidance, eagerly swallowing every sip you have to offer. His tongue drags into your mouth to demand every last drop. His hands slip another inch past the respectable zone as he pulls you closer, pressing your chest against his. He's certain you can probably feel his heart beating wildly against his rib cage.

Perhaps you can even feel the swell gradually building up in his pants. His fingers flex and tighten their grip around your waist as you grate your hips forward against his.

His eyes remain closed while the excitement rushes through his veins, and his chest tightens further in anxiety.

Are you doing this on purpose?

Are you just drunk out of your mind?

Are you aware it's him, or are you under the misconception that it's someone else?

The last question tightens the knot in his chest, and he grinds your hips down against his, harder, pushing his tongue further into your mouth and nibbling on your lips while eliciting a low, motivating sound from the back of your throat that he swallows greedily.

“No… No, I don't.”

Liar.

Yes… Yes you do, Wakatoshi.

[yomiixo]

a second before midnight

Hinata Shoyo × Reader

The apartment had somehow become warmer as the evening went on.

Maybe it was because the heater had been running for hours.

Maybe it was because the kitchen was still carrying the smell of freshly baked cookies that had come out slightly misshapen after Hinata insisted they "had personality."

Or maybe it was simply because every room seemed brighter when it was filled with laughter.

The living room looked lived in.

A blanket had been abandoned halfway off the sofa after the two of you had argued over who was stealing it first. Empty mugs of hot chocolate sat forgotten on the coffee table, rings of marshmallow fluff clinging stubbornly to the inside. Fairy lights draped lazily across the bookshelf cast a warm golden glow over everything, making the room feel softer around the edges.

Outside, snow drifted past the apartment windows in slow, lazy flakes.

Inside, the television played some over-the-top New Year's special neither of you had really been paying attention to.

You were too busy trying—and failing—not to laugh.

"No, no," you wheezed, holding your stomach. "You absolutely did not think reindeer were a type of deer with naturally glowing noses."

Hinata pointed dramatically from his spot on the floor.

"I was seven!"

"You were ten."

"...Details."

"They're very important details."

He groaned loudly, flopping backwards until he lay spread out across the rug like he'd been defeated in battle.

"You remember everything embarrassing I've ever said."

"You make it easy."

"Oh, you're evil."

"I'm realistic."

He narrowed his eyes at you before reaching for one of the throw pillows.

You saw it coming half a second too late.

"Hinata—"

The pillow hit you square in the face.

Silence.

Then—

"Oh, you're dead."

The next few minutes dissolved into chaos.

Pillows flew across the room.

The blanket somehow became a weapon.

At one point Hinata attempted to dodge behind the sofa, only to trip over absolutely nothing and land face-first into the cushions while laughing so hard he couldn't even get back up.

You laughed until your ribs hurt.

Until tears gathered in the corners of your eyes.

Until you both eventually gave up and collapsed wherever you happened to fall.

Your breathing slowly settled.

The apartment grew quiet again, save for the distant television and the occasional crackle from the little candle burning on the coffee table.

Hinata lay on the floor, one arm thrown over his eyes dramatically.

"I think..."

He took an exaggerated breath.

"...you broke my spirit."

"I barely touched you."

"My spirit is fragile."

"I noticed."

"You should apologise."

"You should stop being dramatic."

"...Impossible."

You smiled to yourself.

Somehow, even silence with him never felt empty.

It was comfortable.

The kind that didn't ask either of you to fill every second with conversation.

The snow continued falling outside.

Someone in another apartment laughed.

The clock on the wall ticked quietly.

11:27 p.m.

Still time before midnight.

You tucked your legs beneath the oversized blanket, absentmindedly staring out at the city lights sparkling below.

"They're probably all having countdown parties," you murmured.

"Hm?"

"The people outside."

Hinata rolled onto his side to look at you.

"They're probably all dressed up."

"Probably."

"Taking pictures."

"Mhm."

"Kissing people at midnight."

...

The words left your mouth so casually that you almost didn't think about them.

Almost.

A small smile tugged at your lips, though it carried something quieter underneath.

"I've actually never had a New Year's kiss before."

The sentence disappeared into the room almost as soon as you'd spoken it.

You weren't embarrassed exactly.

It was just...

One of those things.

Every year you'd see videos online of couples counting down together. Fireworks exploding across the sky. Someone laughing into someone else's shoulder before the clock struck twelve.

It always looked so...

Warm.

Not because you desperately wanted the kiss itself.

More because it seemed like such a simple little tradition.

A tiny promise that maybe the new year wouldn't be so lonely.

You laughed softly to yourself.

"Kind of cheesy when you think about it."

Hinata didn't answer immediately.

Instead, he looked at you.

Really looked at you.

Your eyes were still fixed on the snowfall outside, completely unaware of the way his expression softened.

The corners of his smile became gentler.

His heart gave one ridiculously obvious thump.

He'd never tell you that.

Not in a million years.

"...I don't think it's cheesy," he said quietly.

You turned back to him.

"No?"

He shook his head.

"I think..."

A tiny shrug.

"...it's nice."

You smiled.

"Yeah."

Neither of you said anything else.

The conversation drifted away as naturally as the snow outside.

Soon you were laughing again over another ridiculous television segment, debating which snack to open next and arguing over whether pineapple belonged on pizza.

But every now and then...

Hinata found himself glancing toward the clock.

11:41.

11:48.

11:53.

His fingers drummed absentmindedly against his mug.

He wasn't hearing half of what the television host was saying anymore.

Instead, one sentence echoed in his head.

"I've actually never had a New Year's kiss before."

It settled somewhere warm inside his chest.

Not with pressure.

Not because he thought he had to.

But because...

If there was anyone he wanted to spend the very first second of a new year with—

It was you.

By 11:58, the apartment lights had been switched off except for the fairy lights and the television. The room glowed in soft gold and blue, reflecting in the window beside you until your own reflections looked like they were standing among the city lights.

Outside, distant fireworks had already begun to bloom on the horizon.

You wandered over to the balcony doors, pressing your palm lightly against the cool glass.

"They're starting..."

Hinata joined you a second later, standing close enough that your shoulders brushed.

Neither of you moved away.

The countdown on the television began.

Ten...

The crowd on-screen erupted with excitement.

Nine...

Somewhere below, strangers shouted into the night.

Eight...

Your breath fogged the cold glass.

Seven...

Hinata looked at you instead of the television.

Your eyes were fixed on the fireworks.

The colours danced across your face in tiny flashes of pink, gold, and blue.

You looked...

Beautiful.

Not in some dramatic, movie-like way.

In the quiet way he'd come to notice over months of knowing you.

The way your nose scrunched when you laughed.

The way your eyes sparkled whenever you got excited over the smallest things.

The way you always made room for him beside you without thinking.

The way being with you felt easy.

Six...

His pulse quickened.

Five...

Would this ruin everything?

Four...

Or would you smile?

Three...

He took one careful step closer.

Close enough that your sleeves brushed.

You finally looked at him.

"Hinata?"

He smiled—that bright, earnest smile that had always worn his heart on its sleeve.

"Happy New Year," he whispered, even though it wasn't quite time yet.

You blinked, laughing softly.

"It's still—"

Two...

The fireworks exploded brighter than ever.

One...

The world counted together.

Happy New Year!

In that exact heartbeat—

Before you could even process it—

Hinata reached up with surprising gentleness, cupping your cheek with a hand still slightly warm from the mug he'd been holding.

His thumb brushed lightly beneath your eye.

"So..." he murmured, his voice almost lost beneath the cheers outside, "...I thought maybe you shouldn't have to start another year without one."

And then he leaned in.

The kiss was soft.

Careful.

A question rather than a certainty.

Warm despite the cold window at your back.

It lasted only a few seconds, but somehow it made the fireworks, the shouting crowds, the television countdown—everything else—fade into the background.

When he pulled away, the tips of his ears were bright red.

"So..." he said with a nervous little laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "...guess that's not true anymore."

For one perfectly still moment, you simply stared at him.

Then the biggest smile he'd ever seen spread across your face.

You laughed—that beautiful, unstoppable laugh he'd fallen in love with long before he'd admitted it to himself—and before he could wonder if he'd made the wrong choice, you reached up, caught the front of his hoodie, and pulled him back into another kiss.

This one wasn't shy.

It was full of giggles against each other's lips, noses bumping, foreheads touching when you finally pulled apart.

Outside, fireworks painted the night sky.

Inside, wrapped in fairy lights and warmth and the smell of hot chocolate, it felt like the new year had arrived exactly the way it was supposed to.

With laughter.

With hope.

And with the very first kiss that neither of you would ever forget.