#yahafuta

[pandamito]

Haikyuu!! - Shigeru Yahaba, Kenjirou Shirabu... & Kenji Futakuchi

comfort... well futakuchi has a different idea of comfort + matching outfits (again... futakuchi just wanted to be included)

[mitoposting]

@stzfanweek day 4 - reunion

{ Kenjirou Shirabu + Shigeru Yahaba & Kenji Futakuchi }

Bitc- ehm Captains Reunion

[you-sir-areadick-blog]

I am a very depressed little bean rn so here have some Shirabu x Futakuchi x Yahaba headcanons as I attempt to cheer myself up

tw for mentions of depression, anxiety, and thoughts of self harm/suicide I’ll put the hcs that have to do with depression/anxiety stuff under a cut so that no one has to read it if they don’t want to

• All three of them are hella salty so like 99% of their time in public is spent silently (and not so silently) judging everyone around them • the other 1% is spent staring lovingly at each other and being sappy little shits, not that any of them will ever admit that

• Shirabu has a major sweet tooth, not that he’ll ever willingly admit it • Futakuchi first starts to question it when they go to a cafe and Shirabu orders a caramel macchiato and strawberry shortcake • Yahaba notices it when Shirabu literally begs for cotton candy when they go to an amusement park on night • They finally confront him about it and Shirabu is super flustered, which FutaYaha find both amusing and somewhat concerning • Shirabu explains that his mother doesn’t let him eat or drink sweet things, since it’s “not good for his social image” • He then has to call Aone and Watari to hold FutaYaha back from going and beating up his mother • Once they calm down, FutaYaha make sure to bring Shirabu sweet things as often as they can

• Yahaba has a thing for plushies • He’d never admit it, but he’s definitely one of those people that sleeps with all of their stuffed animals on the bed so none of them feel left out • He probably cries if he wakes up and sees that one of them fell off his bed during the night • He hides them all in a box in his closet when Futakuchi and Shirabu come over but high key feels really guilty about it for locking his poor precious babies in a box in his closet, though, not for hiding things from his boyfriends • It goes without saying that they eventually find out about it • They laugh and tease him about it until Yahaba starts to tear up and they’re both like “f u c k don’t cry it’s super cute that you have stuffed animals, you’re so precious don’t cry” • From that point on they both randomly buy him cute plushies and Yahaba has honestly never been happier • Shirabu will never admit that he stole borrowed one of Yahaba’s plushies and cuddles it whenever he feels lonely or upset • Futakuchi will never admit that he has over 100 pictures of Yahaba cuddling plushies (he’s low key ashamed but he just can’t help himself, Yahaba is too adorable for his poor heart to handle) • He also has pictures of Shirabu cuddling the stolen borrowed plushie, but not as many since Shirabu actively tries to make sure no one finds out

• Futakuchi’s current concern is that he has to go get his wisdom teeth removed so please picture if you will • Futakuchi still high off of anesthesia after the surgery • There is no doubt in my mind that he would say a bunch of dumb shit that makes no sense and randomly gushing about how perfect and gorgeous is boyfriends are before returning to his nonsense ramblings • He’d probably start crying about the fact that snakes don’t have legs or something like that

• As much as they try to act cool, all three of them are major nerds • They probably go on library dates

• Whenever they have a movie night (which is pretty often) it is pretty much guaranteed that they just watch a Disney movie • Futakuchi eats sour gummies, and Shirabu and Yahaba eat popcorn • All three of them cry at sad parts of the movie • They then swear each other to secrecy because no one can know that they sat on the couch snuggled together under a blanket and sobbed over a disney movie • n o  o n e  c a n  k n o w

• Yahaba and Futakuchi don’t really mind spending a lot of time alone, but Shirabu gets really lonely really fast • He likes (and needs) some alone time but he starts to get really depressed and anxious if he’s alone for too long too often • It takes a while for FutaYaha to notice since Shirabu never mentions that anything’s wrong and they can be a little dense but once they do they make sure to shower him in attention as often as they can • Shirabu absolutely thrives on all the attention and snuggles they give him, but it can be a double edged sword • Over the summer Futakuchi and Yahaba both go on family vacations, and although they text and skype every chance they get, it just isn’t the same as having them with him • He gets pretty down until they come back and shower him in hugs and kisses again • Shirabu feels better now that his boyfriends are back home and able to give him attention again, but he still doesn’t feel quite right • After talking to FutaYaha about it because communicating is a beautiful thing Shirabu finally agrees to go see a psychiatrist and set up therapy

• As much as Shirabu hates admitting when he’s upset or hurt, Yahaba is even worse • This boy locks absolutely everything inside until it all comes spilling out uncontrollably • On the outside he’s perky and outgoing and salty as usual but inside • Inside he feels so numb and empty and he can’t control his thoughts anymore • He knows that his boyfriends love him and that he has real friends that care about him, but g o d it doesn’t feel like it anymore • And as it comes closer and closer to when he’ll officially have to take over as captain he gets more and more anxious • But in true Yahaba fashion he acts like everything is just fine • That is until Shirabu mentions something about the three of them taking over as captain of their respective teams and Yahaba has a full on panic attack • He’s crying and shaking and he can’t breathe and it feels like the world is collapsing around him and all he can hear is a voice in his head whispering “you’re a failure, you don’t deserve to live, everyone will be so much happier if you just kill yourself” • Futakuchi and Shirabu wrap him up in a blanket and cuddle him, rubbing his back and pressing soft kisses on his jaw and cheek until finally he can breathe again • He’s still shaking but he can breathe and think again and before he even realizes what’s happening Yahaba tells them e v e r y t h i n g • All of the pain and anxiety insecurities and self destructive thoughts come spilling out right then and there • After calming him down, Shirabu immediately calls his therapist and sets up an appointment for Yahaba as well

• Futakuchi has never had any real issues with depression or anxiety, but after a few months of helping Shirabu and Yahaba cope he ironically finds himself getting way more stressed out than usual • He knows that talking about your emotions is “the key to a healthy relationship and personal mental health” but he’s terrified to bring this up to Yahaba and Shirabu • He knows damn well that they’ll blame themselves for it and that’s the last thing he wants, but he also doesn’t want to bottle up this newly found issue and keep it secret from them (especially since not that long ago he scolded both of them for doing just that and insisted that they should all bring problems to each other right away instead of letting them fester) • As he’s lying there thinking about how to talk to them without making it seem like he blames them, his thoughts begin to wander • After a few minutes of not thinking of anything in particular he starts to wonder if it would be terribly painful if he were to drag a blade across his skin • It’s a detached, idle thought, and he’s almost in a trance as he sits up and grabs the pair of scissors from his desk • He stares at them, not really feeling anything other than a morbid sort of curiosity, and then suddenly snaps out of it • He literally s c r e a m s when he realizes what he was just thinking and what he almost did, and throws the scissors across the room • Shirabu and Yahaba come running in to find him curled up in the corner sobbing and shaking • After lots of snuggles and a long talk, all three of them are now signed up to see Shirabu’s therapist, in one-on-one sessions once a week and in a group session once a month

[mitoposting]

@haikyuurarepairweek2020

Day 5 - Soulmate AU

{ Kenji Futakuchi / Kenjirou Shirabu / Shigeru Yahaba }

where you have a tattoo with the first words your soulmate will say to you but each of them has two

[alecrhysandco]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Haikyuu!!

Relationship:

Futakuchi Kenji/Yahaba Shigeru

Characters:

Futakuchi Kenji

Yahaba Shigeru

Additional Tags:

Confessions

Alternate Universe - College/University

Mutual Pining

[harkwrites]

a saso fill. futakuchi/yahaba in which futakuchi's shitty attempt at making music literally summons a ghost who tells him it's shit. ~1.2k

*

It starts when Futakuchi is laying down an audio track for a group project, sweating in his too hot apartment. It’s pure labor. He’s stuck at that bizarre stage in an assignment where you know you’re shit at something but have to keep at it anyway: him and his freeware editing program and his freesound.org and the stifling summer heat, his lonely box fan turned off because it was making too much background noise.  When he plays the song back he hears a scratchy noise that he definitely hadn’t included and definitely isn’t just static. No matter how much he fiddles with it the aberration refuses to go away. Futakuchi gets close enough to wanting to rip his hair out to consult a friend about the issue, which is how he winds up on Ennoshita’s doorstep, a self-proclaimed weirdo and aficionado of all things supernatural that could be stuffed into a terrible horror movie, who hooks a pair of earbuds into his ears to listen to the track, hums, and says as if affirming a day’s dismal weather by looking out the window: “Yep. Ghost.”

And so Futakuchi’s dilemma: A ghost dwells somewhere in his shoebox of an apartment. Of all places – what was the appeal? There is hardly any room to haunt. His fridge is nearly empty. He has a scenic view of the parking lot. His couch is covered in plastic and tries to rip the very skin off his legs every time he sits down.

Ennoshita suggests talking to it. Peaceably, he adds, because they’ve known each other for a while now. “Kindly fuck off,” Futakuchi mutters into his empty apartment. He half expects the lights to dim or a bulb to shatter in response. Nothing happens. Futakuchi walks to the door and opens it, sweeps an arm in a polite ‘after you’ gesture, and says, “There’s an entire complex out there. See? Lots of other people to bother who aren’t working to meet a freaking deadline. Clap once if you just left.”  He waits for a sign. A pale, long-haired woman to appear, a real life jump scare to pop up and give him a heart attack. He earns a baffled look from a passing neighbor. There’s not much else for it then, except when he pauses before his bathroom mirror an hour later he recalls the story of Bloody Mary. How did it go? Chant her name three times and she’ll appear? It’s no Bloody Mary that he wants to summon, and he doesn’t even know this ghost’s name, but if the trick works maybe he’ll get a chance to tell it to go away properly. And if it doesn’t work, well. He’ll only lose a little dignity in the privacy of his own home. Determined, Futakuchi sets both hands on the rim of the sink basin, looks his reflection straight in the eyes and chants, “Nuisance, Nuisance, Nuisance!” Behind him, the temperature suddenly plummets. “That’s not my name.” “Holy shit,” Futakuchi curses, spinning around. If Futakuchi wore glasses this would be the comedic moment where he takes them off and tries to wipe away the sight of the smudge that’s hovering near the towel rack, but he doesn’t, so he rubs his eyes instead. The smudge remains. When he blinks again the figure stutters into a more solid form, a flicker of a human-shaped light brown haired something, but in the next moment the vision is gone, replaced by an ambiguous, fuzzy presence. “Are you haunting me?” Futakuchi demands. The ghost scoffs. Scoffs, and then disappears not in a puff of smoke or some other cool cg spectacle, but simply vanishes, leaving Futakuchi gawking in his bathroom before he stomps out to see it blinking back into existence on his sofa. A glowy, oblong shape taking a seat like it’s something it does every day. “God dammit. Don’t think I won’t hire an exorcist and bring him in here.” “Don’t bother. I’m only here because of this,” Nuisance announces, moving like a glitchy stop motion animation toward Futakuchi’s music set-up. Which is to say, his laptop, a small pair of portable speakers, and a borrowed soundboard that still looks like a panel from an alien spacecraft with how many buttons it has and little he knows what to do with them.  “What, petty theft? Hate to break it to you, but ghosts can’t touch anything so that’s a pretty lame threat.” “The music, you… Whatever you’re making, it sounds terrible.” “You don’t know what I’m making.” “I’ve been watching and it sounds terrible. You clearly don’t know how to use any of this stuff.” “First of all: creepy. Second of all, you think you can do so much better?” In answer, the ghost reaches for a switch. Its finger phases through the soundboard. The speakers emit an awful nails-on-a-chalkboard screech that makes Futakuchi’s teeth grind.  “Wow,” he says. “Because that was such a wonderful addition.” The ghost gives a frustrated look at its own hand before whirling on Futakuchi. “Hit that switch right there.” “Hit it?” “Push the lever up – you knew what I meant.” What an attitude for a dead thing. Futakuchi heaves a sigh and slides the switch up until Nuisance says stop. The instructions keep coming. The ghost quite literally hovers over Futakuchi’s shoulder while telling him what to do, which buttons to push, what sounds to edit away or enhance. It’s almost feels like a collaborative efforts until Futakuchi remembers that he’s the only one literally sweating over a laptop, bossed around by a know-it-all ghost that makes a passing comment about producing like it’s a dead dream with a voice that sounds like it’s eating gravel. “Now play it again,” it demands. “I don’t see how a few little changes like that will magically make anything better –“ Nuisance lunges for the laptop in a streak of ghostly residue like taillight caught in long exposure, trailing comet-like behind it. It loses shape, melting into wispy things that reform a second later and righteously jabs an entire arm straight through Futakuchi’s laptop. Twice. A fission of static scrolls down the screen; the mouse cursor turns into the pinwheel of death. The lights even begin to flicker above, shadows playing on the wall like some dripping macabre puppet show, and it’s all so horrifyingly cliché that Futakuchi rushes to hit play just to make it stop.  Music begins to pour from the speakers as the lights give a final flicker. That scratchy note which plagued Futakuchi’s earlier recording is now mysteriously gone and, even more baffling; the track isn’t total shit anymore. The melody is cleaner, the bass less muddled, extraneous parts trimmed away to reveal a halfway decent result. “You’re welcome,” Nuisance says afterwards while Futakuchi is too busy frowning into the silence to admit thankful defeat. “And my name is Yahaba.” “You do know that you’re dead, don’t you?” Futakuchi blurts out. Yahaba graces him with a look. A real look, that shapelessness shifting into concrete features; the face of a young man with eyes as light brown as his hair, lips downturned, brow furrowed, gore dribbling down one side of his face hinting at a gruesome death that Futakuchi didn’t even want to know about. Futakuchi shrinks back, and then heads toward the couch. “Fine. Fine, whatever, yay we’re done. I’m turning on the fan to celebrate.” So he does, flopping onto the couch with an ugly squelch of plastic. After a long moment Yahaba joins him, the fan blowing noisy between them, sitting all silent and cold until he isn’t. “If anyone ever wants to raise the dead,” he says, “I’ll just refer your original song to them.” “Ha fucking ha,” Futakuchi bites back.