#inarizaki

[blancxr]

please and thank you ೃ༄* suna rintaro

content: roommate!suna x fem!reader, smau, timeskip (suna plays for ejp raijin), mostly fluff, swearing, mentions of drinking, slight miscommunication, very ooc, down bad suna bc yeah

*note: the text with komori is in suna's pov !! → if you enjoy this click here for the series ⋆˙⟡

[drawnbymabel]

🌾🍙 Happy Haikyuu Day!!

[miyasmagnolias]

𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥 | 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐤𝐲𝐮𝐮 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

miya osamu x f!reader

➢ synopsis: when your daughter starts kindergarten at the quirky all-girls school across town, you form an alliance with the only other solo parent in her class: hot single dad miya osamu. what ensues is a year's worth of chaos — and a love you didn't think you deserved.

➢ what to expect: friends-to-lovers, slice of life, found family, tooth-rotting fluff, occasional angst, mentions of absent parents, any 18+ nsfw content will be tagged!

➢ how to read: each installment stands on its own, but there's an ongoing story that unfolds if you read it chronologically!

➢ listen while you read: ufo, better than, worth it

➢ status: in progress!

1. lunch boxes

➢ when you get a call from your daughter's teacher that a classmate ate her lunch, you're determined to give the parents a piece of your mind — only to meet hot single dad miya osamu instead.

2. bake sale

➢ at your first pta meeting of the school year, osamu ropes you into running the fall bake sale with him.

3. on the house

➢ osamu treats you to lunch at onigiri miya — and grows determined to change your half-hearted relationship with food.

4. bug fair

➢ osamu finds out about his daughter's school project the night before it's due. in a rare moment of panic, he calls you for backup.

5. pick-up lines

➢ you meet osamu's twin in the pick-up line of your daughter's school.

6. stage fright

➢ osamu comforts your daughter before her first music recital of the school year.

7. the fiancé

➢ your ex-fiancé comes into town with a favor to ask. meanwhile, osamu struggles to keep his own feelings in check.

8. field trip

➢ osamu notices you're having an off day and wants nothing more than to comfort you. the only problem? you're both chaperoning the kindergarten field trip.

9. tooth fairy

➢ when osamu tells his five-year-old daughter that the tooth fairy isn't real, he, you, and atsumu team up to do damage control.

...stay tuned for more!

please note: there is no taglist for this series! i wish i had time to maintain one, but alas, adulting is hard. feel free to turn on post notifications for my blog instead!

@miyasmagnolias, 2026

[qardenofeden]

contrary to popular belief, osamu miya is not any better than his twin brother, especially when he’s with you.

this must be your fourth date this month, and it’s barely even two weeks in. so, in order to save money, osamu proposes a little life hack. a cheat code, if you will.

“baby, i got this ring at a pawn shop,” he takes a small, rusty ring from his pocket and presents it to you as he continues, “i’ll pretend i’m proposin’ to ya and all ya gotta say is yes, okay? free dinner, easy peasy.”

you sigh, holding back your laughter as you pinch your temple. “‘samu, that’s unethical.”

“whaaaat? no way, come on, baby. we’ll get to go on dates more often if we do this,” he says, and you know you shouldn’t say yes. you should be the angel in this scenario, guiding him towards the right path. the path of the just and the good.

...but then again, why would osamu date you if you weren’t at least a tiny bit similar in terms of thinking?

“fine.”

“hells yeah!” he celebrates, looking around and waiting for one of the staff members to enter your vicinity. luckily, it doesn’t take long until a blonde girl walks to the table next to yours and starts cleaning up the leftover dishes the previous party has left behind.

osamu looks at you, grinning before he gets off the chair and gets on his knee. you cup your mouth with both your hands, seemingly in shock; though in reality, you’re doing it to prevent yourself from laughing like a madman.

“my sweet, beautiful, gorgeous girlfriend. i’ve loved you since i’ve known you, and i’ll love you for as long as i do. will ya marry me?”

and the restaurants’ guests just eat. it. up. the crowd cheers, much like how they do in his games, and they chant “yes, yes, yes!”

“yes!” you burst out in laughter, jolting out of your seat and hugging him. he lifts you up slightly before putting you back to the ground and kissing you, lips soft and at your mercy.

osamu puts a ring on your finger as the crowd yells and howls, and later that night, the manager approaches the two of you and tells you not to worry about the bill.

atsumu’s been rubbing off on your boyfriend too much.

and so this becomes a ritual, though you’re both careful not to overuse it. you reserve it for anniversaries and small celebrations, like his team winning a big tournament or you getting a high score from a grumpy professor.

and though it doesn’t always work, you guys at least get a little dessert on the house.

until one day, when you’re a high end, fancy restaurant. you’re wearing a silk, red dress with so much jewelry, you’re practically shining. the chandelier lights reflect off of his rolex watch, and you both have just finished eating.

“this place is really good, osamu. we should come here more often.” you take a sip of the wine, drinking in delight.

“yeah... hey babe, what’s that?” he points behind you and you turn immediately in curiosity.

“...huh? ‘samu, i don’t see anything,” you turn back around to face him, but lo and behold, osamu miya is down on one knee.

your eyes look around in shock, clearly taken aback. “wha— babe, we didn’t plan this?!”

“i know,” he chuckles, pulling out a ring similar to the one he bought at the pawn shop, except brighter, cleaner. with more diamonds than you could ever even imagine. “my love, i’ve loved you since i’ve known you, and i’ll love you for as long as i do. will ya marry me?”

sure is a good thing osamu’s got practice.

[haikyu-mp4]

When you messaged Suna to ask if he could send you a video of Atsumu for a friend, the side of his lip lifted in a little scowl. He considered it for a second before sending you a video of Atsumu sneezing into his towel at a volleyball game, before handing it to Osamu for him to unknowingly rub his face with it.

Suna watched from across the cafeteria as you frowned, leaning away from your phone screen in disgust as you watched the video. It made a small laugh huff between his lips as he tried to hold back the satisfied smile.

From y/n: I can’t send this to her?? she’s head over heels for that piss-head

From Suna: oh it’s actually for your friend

With an ungraceful sound of realisation that you were in fact asking for a friend and not just using it as a cheeky excuse, Suna glanced at Atsumu who was currently stuffing his face with onigiri, his cheeks covered in stray rice as he talked while chewing.

From Suna: he doesn’t have any good angles tho, you’re on your own

And he thrived in the way you found his eyes across the room to hit him with a glare because at least you weren’t the one crushing on the twin. Even if you were, his video planted enough doubt in the Miya genes to last until he finally asked you out. Crisis averted.

I've fallen ill and will be taking a bit longer on the requests for my event, so have this drabble in the meantime<3

[showhay]

pebble

— shinsuke gave you a rock once, and now you apparently owe him your entire life, soul, a kid, and a joint bank account.

kita shinsuke x f!reader

c: fluff fluff fluff!!

not proofread, i was sleeping halfway

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

you didn’t think a stupid joke would change the trajectory of your entire life, but here you were—sitting across from kita shinsuke, captain of the inarizaki volleyball team, man of terrifying discipline and scary neatness, who was currently holding out a pebble to you like it was the crown jewels of england.

and the worst part? his face was completely serious.

“so,” he said slowly, like he’d been practicing this in the mirror, “will you marry me now, or later?”

you blinked. once. twice. a third time for dramatic effect. “kita,” you said carefully, “that’s… a rock.”

“a shiny one,” he corrected.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

the thing is, you had done this to yourself.

yesterday, in the middle of lunch, you’d been joking with your friends, complaining about the horrors of modern romance. “dating is exhausting,” you’d whined. “why can’t someone just… i don’t know… give me a rock and call it a day? i’d totally marry them on the spot.”

you hadn’t realized kita was listening.

well, you had noticed him looking, but it was kita shinsuke. his resting face was so blank and unreadable that for all you knew, he was thinking about fertilizer ratios for his grandmother’s crops.

apparently not. apparently, he was thinking: say less. i’ll get you a rock right now.

and now here you were.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

“shinsuke,” you tried again, hands twitching in your lap because you weren’t sure if you should take it or run. “you can’t just hand me a pebble and call it marriage.”

his eyebrows twitched—kita’s version of a full-body flinch. “it’s not just a pebble,” he said quietly, like you’d gravely insulted him. “i picked it out myself.”

because suddenly, you were picturing kita, stoic, dutiful kita, crouched in the dirt somewhere on the school grounds, carefully turning over rocks like he was shopping for diamond rings. imagining him brushing the dirt off, tilting them toward the sun to see which ones sparkled most. maybe even rejecting a perfectly fine rock because it “didn’t have the right shine for you.”

you clutched your chest. “oh my god. you’re cute.”

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

kita frowned. “what’s wrong with that?”

“you’re serious,” you croaked.

“of course i’m serious,” he said simply, like this was the most obvious thing in the world. “i don’t joke about you.”

you nearly choked on air.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

and here’s the thing about kita shinsuke: he didn’t do grand gestures. but when he decided something, he committed like his life depended on it.

and apparently, you were the thing he had committed to.

because ever since the pebble incident, kita had been acting like you’d already said yes.

he walked you to class every morning, carrying your bag before you could protest. he refilled your water bottle before it ever got halfway empty. he started memorizing your schedule with the terrifying precision of someone who probably knew what brand of pencil you preferred before you even did.

when you laughed at a dumb joke, he looked at you like he’d just witnessed the second coming. when you sneezed, he handed you tissues faster than humanly possible.

it was… intense.

but also? kind of cute.

like, alarmingly cute.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

the next day, he gave you another rock.

“this one’s smoother,” he explained, holding it out solemnly. “good for keeping in your pocket. for luck.”

you squinted at it. “are you just… planning to give me rocks every day now?”

his face didn’t move. “if that’s what it takes.”

“takes… for what?”

“for you to keep me.” i’m keeping you alr

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

you wheezed so hard you nearly bent in half. “shinsuke, you sound like a stray cat i picked up.”

“if that’s what you want me to be,” he said seriously, “i’ll be that.”

and the best worst part? he meant it. fully, wholeheartedly, terrifyingly meant it.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

kita shinsuke in love was… a lot.

if love was a battlefield, he was a one-man army, willing to burn down entire civilizations to make sure you stayed hydrated and warm.

if love was a garden, he was the guy checking the soil pH daily, pruning the hedges at dawn, and guarding it from pests like his life depended on it.

if love was a rock—well. he was literally handing you those, so.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

“people usually give flowers,” you said one afternoon, staring at the growing pile of pebbles he’d slipped into your hands all week.

“flowers wilt,” he replied, unbothered. “rocks don’t.”

you blinked. “that’s… actually kind of romantic in a weird, caveman way.”

“then will you marry me now?”

“shinsuke.”

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

the funniest part was how unshakable he was.

other guys would blush, stammer, maybe crack a joke. kita? dead serious. every word. no hesitation. it was like he’d skipped past “crush” and “dating” and landed directly in “till death do us part.”

and sometimes, when you caught him watching you from across the classroom—calm, steady, like he was memorizing the shape of your smile—you got the sneaking suspicion that maybe… you liked it.

just a little.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

“do you want to know why i picked the first rock?” he asked one evening, walking you home.

“…sure?”

he glanced at you, soft in a way that almost made your knees give out. “because it reminded me of you.”

you snorted. “a rock reminded you of me?”

he nodded, not a hint of shame. “solid. reliable. something i want to keep with me.”

you almost screamed into the void. “shinsuke.”

“hmm?”

“stop being so—so you.”

“i don’t know how,” he admitted simply.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

eventually, you gave in.

not because of the rocks (though your drawer was starting to look like a geologist’s collection), but because you realized something terrifying: kita shinsuke wasn’t going anywhere.

you could push, you could tease, you could laugh at his caveman courting tactics, and he’d just keep showing up with more devotion than anyone had a right to have.

and honestly? that wasn’t so bad.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

so one day, when he handed you a particularly shiny pebble, you took it without hesitation.

“thanks, husband,” you said casually, just to mess with him.

for the first time, his expression cracked—his ears turned bright red, his lips parted like he’d forgotten how to breathe.

then, slowly, carefully, like you were made of glass, he whispered: “so… later, then?”

and you realized, with horrifying clarity, that kita shinsuke had just unlocked a whole new level of terrifying devotion.

but you were smiling.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

because honestly?

you would marry him for a rock.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

a: i’d marry him for nothing idk

© showhay — don’t copy nor translate without my permission. i do not own any of the photos that i have used. credits to all the rightful owners. (˶ˆᗜˆ˵)

iloveu

[miffytriffy]

Sneaking around!

"getting caught making out w hq boys!" suggestive!!! ft: Hinata Shoyo, Suna Rintaruo, Yaku Morisuke x gn!reader

Hinata Shoyo:

Originally you planned to watch a movie with Hinata at his house, in his room.

Instead hot and heavy breaths filled the four walls, along with the faint sound of the long forgotten movie playing from his old laptop. He was palming your waist, keeping you sat on his thigh while his tongue slipped past your lips. You kissed him back, tugging at his hair. The muscles of his thigh flexed underneath you with every rock of your hips, just right. Almost like his body knew exactly what you needed. Tilting his head up by gripping his jaw, you kissed him deeper. More more and more. You needed him more than anything. "please Sho" you gently whimpered against his lips. "Shhh" he shushed you, pressing his lips against yours again. You tugged his hair, making him jerk his head back. He breathed heavily, looking up at you with nothing more than need. His hands slipped under your shirt, making your skin tingle at the sudden warmth of his palms over your bare hips. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him closer. He started kissing your neck, while you continued grinding down on his thigh. Soft moans and breaths left you. His palms rolled over your hips, moving you in his own rhythm suddenly. "Sho- f-fuck!" You gasped.

Suddenly the door of his room burst open, making both of you freeze.

"Shoyo! Have you seen my pencil case?" Natsu asked, peeking inside. "No, I haven't." He answered her, with a groan, keeping his forehead against your shoulder, probably to hide his flustered face. There goes your moment.

Suna Rintarou:

He had been waiting all day, watching you pass him in the halls quickly between classes. But now he finally had you to himself. The two of you were in an empty classroom, school had finished, you should be fine. Suna was sure of that, just like you. He stood between your legs, kissing you as you sat on a desk. Your hands were tangled in his hair, tugging and pulling him closer as you pleased. He hummed against your lips, his tongue slipping into your mouth while you moaned. Your tongue pushed against his, while your legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him even closer. Suna felt himself growing dizzy, partly because he reallly fucking needed to breathe. He squeezed your thigh, a sign for you to ease up. Relucantly you pulled away, watching him pant and looking at the pretty blush dusting his cheeks. "You're so pretty" He muttered, while you pulled him closer by the tie of his uniform. A smile stretched across your lips, while your fingers loosened his tie. "Kiss me again" And who was he to deny you? His hand started wandering up your thigh in the middle of your kiss, making you whimper.

"YOOO!" A familiar voice boomed through the empty classroom. Your eyes widened in shock while a huge sense of dread and annyoance washed over you. You probably overheard the door opening. Suna didn't even seem fazed anymore. You peeked at the loud twin over Suna's shoulder, your brows furrowing. "You're the worst"

Yaku Morisuke:

Practice ended thirty minutes ago almost, but Yaku was still in the changing room. You were supposed to go on a date, so you came by when practice ended to walk into town with Yaku. But he wasn't done changing, so he asked you to stay just a bit longer with him. One thing lead to another and you were pushed against one of the many lockers, with his knee between your thighs while he kissed your neck. You tilted your head to the side, letting him kiss down your neck. "Yaku..." You moaned, your entire body squirming when he started nibbling on a more sensitive part of your neck. You felt your knees buckle underneath you, but he was quick to steady you with two strong hands on each side of your hips. "I got you" He whispered. Then he lifted his head, going back to kissing you. You parted your lips for him, letting him take control. The kiss was needy and hungry, like he couldn't get enough of you. Because he honestly couldn't. His hands wandered from your hips to your thighs, lifting one just a bit so he could hear you moan against him at the friction. He pulled away, only a string of saliva connecting the two of you. For a moment he just took the sight of you in. You were breathing heavily, your lips were swollen from his kisses and he couldn't help himself. He leaned in again, barely giving either of you time to propely breathe. You felt his teeth gently bite down on your lower lip and you both whimpered in perfect sync.

So perfect you didn't hear the door opening.

"YAKU-SAN!?" You both stopped instantly. The voice was so familiarly loud, you could imagine his expression without even having to look at him. Never before have you wanted to sink into the floor so badly. And Yaku hadn't felt so pissed in a while. "LEV! GET OUT!"

[offt0wonderland]

Can't you see? I want you ~ Shinsuke Kita

₊˚⊹

𝜗ৎ Shinsuke Kita, your candid and scrupulous friend, stumbles upon you huddled outside the volleyball gym after practice... biting back tears from the agonizing cramps your period bestowed.

wc: 3.9k

Tags: fem!reader x Kita, fluff!, suggestive language (Atsumu is an idiot), Suna filming everything, Osamu needs to chill with talking about food

a/n: I'm on my period, and every month I never fail to be in excruciating pain like wtf :) I legit woke up at 3am crying and nothing would help. however, it did give me an idea to write about cutie Kita taking care of you. ♡

❀ all images are found off of pinterest! I do not own them.

You had always prided yourself on how adept your pain tolerance was. Viral infections, broken bones — none of them had ever dared hinder your proclaimed attendance. Which was partly why you didn’t think much of it when you woke to the familiar red stain. It was the same thing every month: constant trips to the bathroom to change feminine products, the occasional cramp warping through your abdomen. Vexatious, yeah, but it was never unbearable. Never enough to make you throw up or fold into yourself from the pain. Because you could handle it. 

Except today… today was something new. 

You were stationed near the boys’ volleyball gym, palm clutched against the bulge of your swollen uterus while your legs curled snugly against your chest. Your head, which had instinctively leaned forwards, pressed itself against the cold and dirtied brick of the building in front of you. Even your eyes had glued themselves shut, your breaths in rhythmic pattern to try and keep the affliction of a missed pregnancy from making you pass out.

Honestly, it was probably a concerning sight for anyone passing by. Because from their perspective, it looked as though you were moments away from hurling… unfortunately, you weren’t that lucky: your glimpse of anguish destined to stay perpetual.

What was worse, though? You had spent the last ten minutes shifting into every awkward position imaginable, desperately hoping one of the odd stances would ease the agonizing throb clawing through your body. You tried bending forward, squatting, even sprawled out on the concrete below. Yet, none of it worked. The pain only grew, the sharp keen to your stomach worsening with each movement. 

“I’m tellin’ ya, I’m gonna be his next setter!” Atsumu’s voice was the first to echo off the pavement. And you fully meant to move, to stand upright and pretend that the knife dug into your lower stomach was nothing more than a scratch. But you couldn’t. Your body only shuddered with effort, cheeks red with warmth, soft whimpers trapped within your throat. “Oh god… ya look awful. What’s wrong with ya?” 

Your head tilted slightly, eyes peering toward the group gathered a few feet away: Four volleyball players stood frozen near the gym entrance — horror etched onto three of their faces. Kita, however, remained expressionless; his narrowed gaze dropped toward the hand you had pressed taut against the fabric of your skirt. 

“Y/n, did ya eat anythin’ today?” Osamu bent slightly at the waist, lips pulling into a small frown. 

“Not everythin’ revolves around food, Osamu.” Suna rebutted. 

“It does when people look like they’re about throwin’ up.” 

You grunted at their banter, a string of curse words etched into your mind at the imbecilic behavior you were faced with. Fuck… you should have just walked home earlier. “I’m not,” you groaned lightly, nose scrunched and breaths uneven. “Going to throw up.”

“Then what are ya doin’ on the floor like that?” Yeah. You’re going to punch Osamu. You shifted your body, brows pulled inwards as you prepared to shout at the moron stood nearby. But the moment you tried to lift yourself, another sharp ache ripped through your stomach, the sheer pain forcing you back against the brick wall. 

“Oh shit. Do we need to call somebody?! Is it appendicitis?!" Atsumu was fumbling with his phone, the sweat built on the pads of his digits swiftly allowing his cell to land on the walkway. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“No,” you groaned quickly, mortification burning throughout your veins. “I’m fine.”

The four of them stared at you. I mean, you were crouched against a wall, sweating through your uniform, and visibly trembling… clearly, nobody believed you.

Kita bent down, tucked knees pressed to his body as he tried to gain eye level with your curled frame. “Is it cramps?” 

And, unlike Atsumu’s panic or Osamu’s intensive questioning over food, his voice stayed… serene. As if this sort of menstrual dilemma was something he dealt with quite frequently (how cute). Still, that didn’t take away from the sheer embarrassment of his declaration. For fuck’s sake, might as well slap a sign on your forehead while he’s at it. “I, uh, um… yeah.” Your grip tightened over your stomach. 

Suna snorted, phone wrapped within his palm and pointed upwards at a reddened Atsumu. “Congrats. How do ya feel knowin’ ya yelled at a girl on her period?” 

“I didn’t know, okay?!” Atsumu puffed his cheeks out, hand swatted out to cover the lens of the unconventional recording Suna was about to store within his albums. “And can you stop recordin’ everythin’?! My mom sees that stuff!”

Osamu ignored the two delinquents entirely, eyes flickering back toward you. “Damn. Been hurtin’ long?”

You nodded. “All day.”

Kita’s expression hardened almost imperceptibly at your answer. “All day?” he repeated. “Why didn’t ya go home? Yer health is important.”

While you hated to admit it — Shinsuke was right. If you had half a mind, you would’ve gone home hours ago. You would’ve sunk into a bath, epsom salt soaked into your muscles while clean sheets and sweats laid neatly atop of your bed. But you were stubborn. And your attendance meant more than some clenched walls of your organ. 

“It’s usually not this bad, but—” you sucked in hard, eyes wide and a slight whimper trembling throughout your throat as another wave of battle erupted within your uterus. “Fuck.”

Honestly, it was a rare sight for them; witnessing how their friend doubled-over in such discomfort. Normally, you were one to brush these things off. Even Atsumu, who had detrimentally miscalculated his serve the other day and sent the ball crashing straight into your shoulder, remembered the way you’d only laughed through the sting while your skin reddened under the blow. 

So, seeing you like this now? They didn’t know what the fuck to do. 

Atsumu snatched his phone from the floor, the balls of his feet attempting to stay stationary to keep some feign sort of poise to the situation at hand; still, the nervous energy wasn’t hard to miss. Especially with how pitifully obvious it was to what he was doing — scrolling through a wiki-how tutorial about periods and pain management (such a fucking idiot). Even Osamu, who stood a few inches beside the other Miya, watched Atsumu’s fingers with deeply creased brows, irritation impending at how inept his own brother was. And if it wasn't for Suna, who kept to his recording, the tip of his phone shamelessly directed toward your hunched figure and twisted expression, Osamu probably would’ve smacked his twin. 

“Maybe don’t record y/n.”

Suna disregarded Osamu’s attempt to shut his videography down, torso leaned forward as his pinched fingers zoomed the camera closer. “Just documenting,” Suna responded. “In case this happens again, y’know?”

Atsumu parted his lips, prepared to back his brother up on this matter… but truthfully, Atsumu had become peculiarly grateful for it. At least now he could show his mom exactly why he’d assumed you were dying from appendicitis. 

You sucked in sharply, glossed over sclera’s directed at the boy who closely resembled a fox. “Suna, if you use me,” you whined briefly, eyes clamped down to keep a scream from tearing through you. “For research purposes. I will murder you. Trust.”

“Got it.” Suna lowered his phone.

“Reddit says to take otc pain meds,” Atsumu had his face glued to the glow of the screen; probably to hide the pink tint of his cheeks from the pure discomfort of the situation. The audacity — why the fuck was he uncomfortable? You were the one actively piling blood into your underwear right now. “And warmth? The fuck that gonna do for ya.”

“Maybe a bite of my Onigiri would help. Have ya eatin’? Ya never answered.” 

Oh. My. God. 

You were going to kill them. I mean, they were useless: pitifully incompetent. Of course you knew to take medicine, to use a heating pad, to eat small portions, to drink plenty of water. You’d had a period long before any of them decided to earn some stupid menstrual doctorate through Reddit and wiki-how tutorials. The real issue, however, seemed to fly directly over their heads. Where the fuck did they expect you to get any of those things… outside of the gym.

“I think ibuprofen is the best solution. Suna, ya got some?”

Suna huffed out a laugh, palms placed on the dips of his hips as he nodded towards the entrance. “Ya, genius. Lemme go grab that from a volleyball.” 

There was a moment of silence after Suna’s callout. Probably due to the realization of the group's shitty whereabouts. And you would’ve assumed that the brief stretch of quietude, something you grew grateful for, would’ve been a perfect opportunity for the boys to find a rational solution: grab the school's physical trainer, walk to the convenience store… hell, even help you up. But Atsumu found it in him to jest. “Ya know,” the piss blonde took a step forward, phone still grasped tightly in hand. “There is a way to get rid of periods… for like nine months.”

Honestly, his suggestion made your uterus reflex in disgust, pulsating a new wave of tightness that forced your body to lean further into the wall. But it seemed his twin thought the same as your muscular organ. “Why would ya joke like that right now?”

“Wait. Let him continue.” Suna’s thumb instinctively tapped the red button, camera angled above to capture Atsumu and his childish grin. 

“Well, biologically, if ya were to… y’know—”

You briefly shoved the pain aside, hoisting your torso upwards, eyes directed scrupulously at the setter. Maybe you should’ve yelled: Maybe you should’ve told him to shut the hell up and leave you alone. But, frankly, you were pissed. And if Atsumu wanted to joke — well, then you’d love to tag along. “You’d ruin our kids' genes.”

“Huh…” Atsumu’s grin settled downwards, a slight scrunch pinched at the bridge of his nose. “What does that mean?!”

Suna, whose phone still occupied his palm, swapped the camera between your huddled body and Atsumu’s widened eyes. “She’s got a point.” 

“Agreed.”

Atsumu let out an audible whine. “Why does everyone think I’m ugly?!”

Kita, of course, had stayed quiet through most of the unruly exchanges. While the Miya twins bickered and Suna filmed, he naturally… discerned. His irises followed your movements; the way your shoulders trembled inwards every fifteen seconds, how your fingers clenched taut against your school’s fabric in place of a whimper. Honestly, you’d nearly forgotten he was even there. Until he stepped forward; one large hand settled atop your abandoned backpack before he tugged the strap over his shoulder. “Save yer energy for walkin’,” he said. “Ya can come to mine. It’s closer than yer place.”

“Huh?” Your right brow angled upwards, trembled shoulders pulled back in an effort to make some sort of eye contact with the captain. “It’s okay. I’m fine, seriously. I can make it back to,” your tone wavered as another stabbing pulse disrupted your abdomen. “My house.”

Kita shook his head before one arm outstretched behind your back, the other hooking just below your knees, hoisting you up until your body firmly pressed against the hardness of his chest. Before you knew it, a startled inhale made its way down your throat, your palms intuitively dragging the bottom of your skirt down to keep the masses from witnessing the war in your underwear. 

For fuck’s sake — this was utterly humiliating. Sure, you and Kita had been friends for years. You’d seen each other through awful at-home haircuts, the horrid period of time where you only wore hoodies. He even witnessed first hand the day you laughed so hard you peed yourself. But this? Being carried bridal-style while actively withering away from cramps outside the volleyball gym? Yep. This was a brand new low. 

“Oh, c’mon,” Atsumu groaned from behind. “Kita’s genes?!” His head whipped between the two of you while Kita adjusted his hold slightly, still inscrutable towards the nonsense spilling from his teammate’s mouth. 

Osamu swatted his twin, earning a small whine from the yellow-haired boy. “Least her kids ain’t growin’ up to be idiots.”

But you couldn’t take it anymore. The countless waves of excruciating pain, the nonstop chatter, the horrifying realization that everyone around you had probably just mentally conjured a child born from you and Kita having sex. “Oh my god,” you groaned, dragging your hands over your face. “Just leave me here to die, will you? I don’t think I’ll recover from this.”

Before you knew it, a faint vibration rumbled against your cheek. Was Kita… laughing? No. That’s not possible — he hadn’t laughed in months. You peered through your digits, watching as the boy's lips twitched into a tiny smile, as if he was attempting to hold a rupture of howling back. “Ya bein’ dramatic,” his voice had lowered, words muttered in faint so that only you could bear witness to his next atrocious statement. “Ya got over peein’ yerself in front of the second grade class pretty fast. Ya can get over this.”

Your pupils dilated, a rose sheen glossed over the rounds of your apples as you dug your face deeper into your sweat soaked palms. “You’re,” and you wholeheartedly meant to finish that threat. But a whine erupted from your vocal chords, nails dug into your scalp to ease pain with pain. 

Kita’s chuckle promptly vanished after that, head swiveled to the side to say his goodbye’s. “Alright. We’re goin’ ahead.”

“Well, good luck.” Atsumu noted. 

Suna blinked, camera pointed back to the moron next to him. “Good luck with what?”

“I don’t fuckin’ know. Bein’ a girl?”

You had to admit; the silence that overcame the two of you was far better than the nonsense the Miya twins spilled out of convenience. Even the faint scent of grain and freshly dried towels surrounding him almost managed to dull the embarrassment still simmered within your mind.

Well… almost. Until corporeality came crashing back to existence the second another ruthless cramp tore through your abdomen. You hissed at the sudden twinge of your organ, hand pushing into your stomach as Kita drove his shoulder lower, toeing his shoes off at the entrance. “Sorry,” you mumbled, hands now palmed against his shoulder in an attempt to rid yourself from his grasp. But he disregarded your attempt entirely. “I can walk now.” 

“No, ya can’t.” With that, he pushed forwards, making his way towards the systematically fluffed and vacuumed couch, laying your limp frame against the folded blankets. Your fingers found their way to the cushion beneath, heaving your torso upwards to take in the familiar sight of his home. It was the same as it was two weeks ago; shoes aligned properly near the doorway, glossed floors from countless hours of hand mopping. And, of course, this week’s load of laundry strung orderly in the backyard. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.” 

Frankly, it wasn’t like you had much of a choice. The contracted muscle was nothing short of tortuous, not to mention exhausting. So, you resorted to flitting your head to the side, listening as the creak of cabinets were heard, faint splashes of water echoing against stainless steel. Before long, he returned with three small rust brown pills laid symmetrically within his right palm, a glass of water gripped right above. On the left hand remained a large item wrapped in a white towel. 

“I don’t have a proper heatin’ pad,” Kita draped the warmth over your lower stomach; something your body sunk right into. “But I had a water bottle. So I filled it up with hot water and created a reprieve to keep the heat under control.” He dropped the pills in your hand, eyeing as you gulped it down in one swallow — still, he wasn’t content with the situation. Shinsuke’s irises flickered between the hallway and the couch before settling on the tight fabric the school uniform displayed. “Ya can wear my sweats and hoodie.”

Okay, you needed to draw a line. Create some sort of distance between the innate caretaker within Kita. It was evident that the boy didn’t think much of it; his mind purely fixed on the logical solution of this predicament. But, to you? This felt way more intimate than necessary. You began with speaking his name, uttering the same syllables you always did, yet he was long gone. 

Fuck.

The next time you saw him, a pair of grey sweats and a dark hoodie was slung over his shoulder. “Ya know where the bathroom is. Or ya can use my room.” Bathroom — definitely bathroom. His room would be… you shook your head, burying the remainder of that thought to the depths of your hippocampus. Though, that ponder was the least of your worries. Because the pain meds hadn’t kicked in yet, and each drag of your body only sharpened the clamping of your organ. “Ya can change here. Less movement. I’ll help.” 

“No.” Your response was immediate. And, if it wasn’t for the heat creeping up to the rounds of your ears, you probably would’ve looked a lot more intimidating with your declaration. But he was right: your movements were limited. The most reasonable course of action would be to change here. But you’d be damned if he witnessed that. “I’ll change here. Just turn away.” Kita tilted his head, eyes blinking a few times before handing you his personal pairs of fabrics. Something you took with feigned ease, waiting until your friend turned his back before slipping his sweats underneath your skirt. 

Hah. See — easy. 

Your back leaned against the cushion, fingers unclasping each button of your uniform shirt with trembling reflexes. God, this was so awkward. For fuck’s sake Kita was only a few feet away. It wasn’t unreasonable to assume he could hear the ruffle of materials, taking note each time you undressed with shaky exhales. 

No — Stop: Focus on the hoodie. 

You slid your skin out from under the pressed button-down, replacing the cool breeze against your body with the warmth of soft fabric. The comfort was instantaneous; oversized hoodie swallowing your frame the second you tugged it over your head, sleeves drooping past your hands while the abiding scent of sun-dried cotton engulfed your surroundings. Frankly, if it wasn’t for the dull ache warping into something more unbearable, you could’ve melted from the relief of fabric alone. Your eyes squeezed shut as your hands tremulously grabbed at the hem of your skirt, aiming to tug it down over the sweatpants without bending too much. But a pathetic whimper escaped you before you could stop it; a clear signal to Shinsuke that you were, in fact, not doing okay.

Kita shifted his attention to your bent over torso, large hands brushing yours aside. “Lemme help.” And, too exhausted to argue, you let him. You allowed your grip to loosen while the captain tugged your skirt the rest of the way down, tossing it aside somewhere onto the floor. Honestly, at this point, you barely cared about dignity anymore. Not when your uterus currently felt determined to murder you from the inside out.

“Hmph… Kita,” He crouched in front of you, hands sprawled on your knees while he peered upwards, awaiting your next set of syllables. Truthfully, you wanted to inquire about removing your uterus; whine about how you wished someone could just reach up and tug the organ out of you to relieve such pressure. But he’d only tell you how impossible that was — so, you opted for the next best thing. “Can you push on my stomach?”

His brow perked, probably from the unfamiliarity of hearing such a request like that leave your mouth. Still, Kita didn’t question it. He shifted his positioning to the couch, cushions dipping beneath his weight as one large hand settled carefully against your lower abdomen, underneath the hoodie and makeshift heater. “Here?” he asked,

“Mm… lower.”

He obeyed, broad palm stretching lower across your skin before pressing down, thumb moving in small, firm circles. A shiver radiated throughout your veins: The warmth from his hand, the slow pressure, the inordinate clothes, the blanket… you couldn’t help but allow your eyelids to grow heavy. 

Shinsuke noted the change in your demeanor instantly (Of course he did). And what better way to help out his friend than to reposition? One of his hands remained secure against your stomach, the other moving behind your shoulders, gently guiding your weight sideways with him until both of you sank deeper into the couch cushions. Kita, whose spine was pressed taut against the back of the furniture, urged your body closer, allowing one of your legs to entangle between both of his. Honestly, with the new proximity, you half-expected the poor boy to reek of sweat and leather. Instead, his uniform seemed to be saturated with fresh soap and disinfectant (damn, how much did this boy clean?). 

“You know,” your hand lazily snaked its way over his, feeling the way each of his tendons tightened with every press to your abdomen. “You’re really… good at this. Caretaking.”

A quiet huff of amusement vibrated against your body. “I’ve got younger cousins,” he explained. “Used to help when they got sick. Also, ya know… my grandma; been needin’ more help lately. ”

“How is Yumie doing?” You winced at another wave of affliction towards your organ, something Kita reacted promptly to, digging his thumb deeper until your bottom lip stopped its trembles. “I haven’t seen her in a few weeks. Is she around?”

“She’s visitin’ Nakamura-san with my brother. She should be back soon, though.” You hummed in response, a slight tug to the ends of your lips at the notion of seeing precious Yumie again. Honestly, you adored his grandmother. She was warm in the same quiet way Kita was — blunt with her words, but gentle nonetheless. “Ya can stay for dinner too,” Kita continued, voice dulcet as his hand continued its slow circles against your stomach. “She’d like that. I’m cookin’ Tamago porridge.”

God, did he even realize how unfairly sweet he was? 

Maybe it was the exhaustion, or maybe it was the way his clothes draped your frame and the warmth of his hand eased your suffering. Regardless, your brain wasn’t exactly equipped to filter your thoughts before they left your mouth. “Whoever ends up with you, they’re going to be so lucky.”

Kita’s fingers twitched, the slow movement of his hand faltering for the briefest second against your stomach before continuing again. “Ya think so?”

“Yeah,” your head pushed underneath his chin, slurred words mushed together as you tried your hardest to spill each fleeting thought before exhaustion dragged you under. “I know people seem to straighten up around you. Probably because you’re so blunt. But it always baffles me… you're such a softie, Kita.” Had you looked up, you probably would’ve noticed the way Kita’s expression softened; the way his gaze lingered on the top of your head with longing. “You remember. You take care of everyone,” your voice gradually dissolved into incoherent murmurs, thoughts trailing apart faster than your mind could keep up with. “Oh, and so organized… and…” 

Kita pushed his head upwards, observing as your chest steadily rose with each drag of breath. And, for a while, he stayed like that — thumb circling your skin, irises fixed on your slumber. “Who says I want ‘whoever’?”