Haikyuu Angst - Blog Posts

I am oh so very stressed

Too much love to handle

Tendou x Reader angst!

Word count: 835

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Playlist to bawl you eyes out while reading

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It hurts him to see you happy, with someone other than him. Tendou never let his guard down, even if his day was fully exhausting to him. But seeing you happy with someone else hurts him.

You both had gone your ways after you broke up two years ago in high school, and it took time to get close again, even talking was taking too much courage for Tendou, but eventually as time moved on, you started to be friends again.

You once came to his part-time job at a café just to catch with him up again. But as his best friends name came out of your mouth, his heart shrinked in his chest suddenly, making his chest hurt. Tendou just smiled it away as he listened to you talking about your date you had.

Each time the name fell, the pressure on his chest got heavier, but he wanted to show you of what a friend he is to you, just a kind friend. A kind friend with too much love to handle.

You always were loyal, and you could never betray your partner with someone else. Tendou and you just eventually realized that it wasn't the relationship you dreamed of, never enough for both of you.

But for his part, it was a lie. He was the happiest he's ever been with you, but he didn't wanna pressure things onto you, that you weren't going to enjoy. He wanted you to live your life at your fullest. Without him unfortunately. He couldn't give you enough love he had buried deep inside. Yet he still feels it, after those years, it didn't dissappear.

He smiled at you, you and Ushijima that visited his café to meet him once again, to have another date in this café. As you chatted, Tendou's body signals his little anxiety, feeling a pain in his chest as you seem happy, more happy than you ever were with him. He smiled the pain away, trying to make the coffee you and Ushijima ordered.

"we planned on going to that library afterwards" you said with such a calm voice, he never heard before. Calming but yet thrilling, at the same time hurtful with the word 'we'.

"You did? It seems like you really planned things out!" Tendou said, looking at the satisfied faces of you and Ushijima. It hurts to see them together. It felt like cheating, but it's all time that lead to things.

He gave you both your mugs of expresso and dark coffee and smiled at you with such a facade that was about to break in thousands of pieces if anyone would simply snap with their fingers. You thanked him as you went to a table, Ushijima putting his free hand on your back to lead you.

Him seeing you talk, smile bright as you looked at his best friend like you never did, chuckled, or just listened to him with such a soft gaze, let Tendou felt hurt, maybe even terrified. He couldn't concentrate on his customers anymore, his put-on smile trembling more and more. It let him feel so weak that he couldn't enjoy seeing you at your best, so hurt. All the time, his love for you never really faded.

As you said your goodbye to him, Tendou was slightly closer to break out in here. Your true smile, your perfect face, your charm, everything he loves is meant to be for someone else but him.

As you and Ushijima walk out of the glass-door, his arm around your shoulder, Tendou couldn't bear his feelings anymore. A tear slowly running down his face.

He quickly told his colleague to take over and went into the private area of the café, his tears uncontrolled. It was too much, too much to handle and he has to smile about it, about the fact that he was once again not exactly what he intends to show. His tears running down his smiling pathetic face.

What Tendou didn't know, Ushijima noticed it, his friend breaking apart behind his back.

"Wait here, I'm just using the bathroom from the café" Ushijima told you and went into the café once again.

Suddenly, Tendou saw the shoes from before in the private area, looking up to see Ushijima infront of him. Without hesitation or words, he took Tendou in his arms, them resting on his shoulders.

Curiosity is seeable on Tendous face, wondering how he got in here, but it quickly faded to acceptance, slowly wrapping his arms around Ushijimas body.

It was rare for those best friends to hug, as Ushijima is not much of a physical touch type, but he knew what was needed. Just a hug, a hug that lasted a little longer.

Tendous chest hurt, but the warmth of Ushijimas body filled him. It felt like a silent apology to him, an apology Tendou knew wasn't needed. Just a little longer.. He thought.

A little longer for the moment, to feel a bit better. Just a bit...

Ushijima Wakatoshi headcanons

fluff! little angst! mentioning of alcohol!

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●Would bring you a little bouquet of flowers when you come back from big exams

●He especially likes violet asters, it feels like they would fit to his personality

●Ushijima is kind of a talker around you

●If you and him are out in public and you both overhear a bit of tea/situations from other persons, he would later bring it up again and would discuss with/talk to you about it

●He is an honest person, but he knows when he shouldn't brag about some things

●When you play music from laufey through the house/appartment and sing with it, he wouldn't mind

●After all, he would even sing along, especially to "from the start" because he found it from Tiktok

●It also reminds him of the love between you

●Short situation: while you want to clean up the appartment with Ushijima, you asked if he's okay if you put some music on. "Do it, I don't mind" he says and starts to wash the dishes in the kitchen while you clean the fridge. You sing along Laufeys songs. 'have to get this off my chest, I'm telling you today'

●"that when I talk to you, oh, cupid walks right through and shoots an arrow through my heart" you hear along with your voice. You stop and turn your head around with your eyes widened to Ushijima. "You like Laufey?" "Yes, it's a good song" he says as if it was nothing and hums along. Your heart melted on the spot.

●If you think he would be good at cooking, you're wrong. He would most likely just cut the ingredients while you cook the meal

●Ushijima is not much of a drinker when it comes to alcohol, he barely drinks on parties but if he does, then it's most likely Radler or a glass of sparkling wine

●As he gets older, he tried some whiskey and gin, but he still would drink it just on special occasions

●And he is known for his silent greetings, he greets you with just one hand up and stares at you unintentionally

●If he would make/do music, He would be in a choir singing alto or tenor

●If you wanna surprise him with a place, bring him to a lake with little cliffs. Ushijima would love just swimming around with you and jumping off the little cliffs.

●He's a bookworm but he wouldn't call himself one, and if there would be a homework to read a book/novel, he would read it immediately

●He really likes reading old novels, especially Jane Austen and Kafka

●Love Language : Acts of service and quality time are his top. He doesn't mind touching you or being touched, he's open with it

●If he shows his love by physical touch, he definetly gives you kisses on your forehead and head while hugging light

●If you feel down, don't be shy to cuddle with him, asking is the best thing to do

●If he receives physical touch, he loves it when you stroke litghly with your nails over his neck, the sensation is beautiful to him

●Ushijima is always gonna help you with chores throughout the house, there are even days when only he does the housework. He likes the feeling of you finally relaxing and showing you love while helping out

●Don't be shy to compliment him, it's making him a little bit shy even if it's not noticable

●But don't expect much compliments from Ushijima, as he is not much of an all-around talker

●But he would take notice if words of affirmation is your love language, just so he can show how he cares about you

●Be ready for some late evening/afternoon walks, it calms 'toshis heart

----little angst here

●He cries, very rarely but he does, and he thinks he shouldn't bc it's a' sign of weakness'

●All because of the pressure he got from his family and work, sometimes he can't endure it and he should know that that's okay

●He cries without saying anything, he just sits and little tears run over his cheeks, silent like a cat sleeping

●And as ushijima realizes, he tries to overcome his sadness and just wipes his tears quickly but steady away

●We go away from the angst now

●Ushijima is a person that doesn't really listen to music in his freetime, sure he has some songs he likes but he listens to podcasts more

●'toshi randomly gives advices unintentionally, like he doesn't even notice it

----<3----

SYNOPSIS: Sure, you have more than just a tiny crush on Suna Rintarou, but that doesn’t mean you can’t get to know him as friends… Right?

Or, in which: It’s hard to get Suna’s attention when he’s at the center of it all, especially not if he might have someone else he already likes.

PAIRING: Suna Rintarou x f!Reader.

TAGS: strangers to lovers. mutual & one-sided (?) pining. fluff. crack. angst. jealousy. slight college au. lowkey some bullying. explicit/sexual content. set in timeskip. friends with benefits.

WARNING: NSFW & extremely suggestive themes, MINORS DNI (this means that if you’re below 18, go away); mentions of alcohol use. profanity.

NOTES: has a few written parts. also, she/her pronouns are used for the reader.

TAGLIST: closed.

STATUS: on-going. / on hold. UPDATES: irregular. once a week, as much as possible.

start date: June 3, 2021

PLAYLIST.

Keep reading

pairing: suna x f!reader

warnings: angst, toxic!suna, suggestive themes(?), destruction of property, glass breaking, manipulation

summary: suna knew that he was doing something wrong, but he refused to acknowledge it. therefore, you slowly dropped five major hints for him, hoping that he would notice them and take action to fix your broken relationship.

status: complete

taglist status: closed! fcygh is over!

© 𝘫𝘰𝘺𝘢𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘢

chapters

part one: the ghost of your laughter

part two: lingering touches

part three: limited interactions

part four: sleeping alone

part five: rin became rintarou; then it became suna

Voicemails After the Breakup (Haikyuu!! Headcanons)

*GIFs not mine*

A/N: nothin’ much to say, except I like writing with an accent for Atsumu. That shit’s bomb. Enjoy!

Word count: 2339

Tetsurou Kuroo:

“Hey YN,”

He starts off so strong. His voice has that ever present lilt in it, like he’s trying to bait you closer. 

“I-” he breaks off into a breathless, short laugh, “-I’m not really sure why I called… I guess I was hoping to catch you before I went to practice but…”

He swallows, and you can almost imagine him rubbing the back of his neck. “But I guess I missed you. I mean–not like that.” He sputters. “Not that I don’t miss you! I do! I-”

Kuroo pauses, a bitter chuckle traveling through the phone. “God, I’m a fucking wreck. Did you know that? I’m a fucking trainwreck after us, and I can’t even pinpoint why.”

There’s shuffles in the background before the phone thumps, and Kuroo’s voice is distant but still audible. You figure he’s put you on speaker for whatever reason while finding a seat somewhere. He huffs as he settles in. 

“Sometimes I think it’s because of the way we ended things.” He sighs, tone growing thick like his throat is stuck with something. “I yelled at you, so loudly, and I’ll never forget that look on your face when you left. I relive it every night, you know that? Asking myself what I could have done better and whatnot.” A loud hiss, like he’s sucking on his bottom lip harshly. “What I could have said or done to make you stay.”

“And then it’s not even the breakup that I can’t stop thinking about. It’s those moments we used to have, those goddamn memories I’ve got seared in the back of my brain that I have to repress when someone even spins a goddamn pencil like you did.”

Another thump, and suddenly his voice is much louder than before, the phone pressed back against his ear. “That pillow, you know the one that’s got your perfume all fucking over it. I tried to throw it away yesterday.” He scoffs. “And that failed. So I woke up fucking cuddling it this morning, as if I didn’t already feel like a loser.”

“And I know you still have my sweatshirt,” he inhales then exhales deeply. “I don’t want it back. I can’t–please don’t give it back, I don’t want it. Consider it yours, or whatever. Maybe you’ve already gotten rid of it, I don’t know.” So wobbly. His voice has slowly grown shaky over the last few seconds. “Whatever.”

A long pause drags out for at least a minute, and the only thing that stops you from checking if he’s still on call is the short breaths that are barely audible. 

“Just,” he finally breaks the silence, voice cracking. “Please, I gotta know. For my sanity, please, do you miss me?... Miss us?”

“‘Cause God YN I miss every second of us.”

“One of the guys yesterday asked me what happened between us. I don’t even know why, I just got so mad so quick I wanted to sock him in the face for even bringing you up.” A quiet slap against his skin, like he’s brought up his hand to run it down his face. “I just… I had spent all day trying to keep you out of my head. I saw you in the halls that morning, but I know you didn’t see me–you had your head down reading that fucking book you love so much–and for the rest of the goddamn day I tried to keep you out of my head. And then he brought you up, and I just… God, I don’t even know, I just fucking lost it.”

“The coach sent me home after that, said I needed to clear my head. Not that it worked, ‘cause look where I am now.” He released a self-deprecating laugh.

“Sitting on the damned school steps all over again, crying like an idiot for who knows how long.”

A voice, distant and hesitant, calls out to him. “Kuroo.” It’s Kenma.

“Yeah, sorry, I’m coming, just give me a sec.” But he’s quiet all over again, maybe deep in thought.

But then you hear a ruffling of clothes and a small sniff. Kuroo clears his throat. “I-I have to go. I’ll… just–call me back. Please. I wanna hear your voice, I-... I miss your voice.”

Silence.

“I miss you.”

“I love you.”

Then he hangs up.

Wakatoshi Ushijima:

“YN.” As usual, his tone is deadpan and succinct. If he’s calling you, there’s a reason for it. 

“You’ve left some clothing at my house. Please let me know when you have time to pick it up. I’ll have it prepared for you.”

“There are also the gifts you’ve given me there as well. I don’t know if you want those back or not, so please let me know before your arrival so I can get those packed up as well.”

“Regarding the gifts I’ve given you, you can keep them. I will not be needing them back.”

“If... if you have the time, I would also like to talk to you. I feel we have some things to discuss regarding our breakup.” The line falls silent, but when you pull the phone back, the voicemail still says it has five minutes left.

“I do not like the way we ended things,” he speaks up after a minute has passed. “It was… you’re wrong. You were wrong.”

“You said I didn’t care about you, but you’re wrong. I do. You said I never think about you, never spare you any thoughts, but you’re wrong.”

“The truth is, I hate how distracting you are. I find it hard to focus on practice now. In games, I feel myself losing my edge. You’re always just there. My mind is always on you. So much that I don’t know how to stop it.”

“So when you said I never cared about you… I was frustrated at how wrong you were.” A scraping is heard, dull and barely audible. He’s gritting his teeth, clenching his jaw in what you’ve always recognized as a hint of his growing irritation. 

“How you can take over my mind and still say that I don’t ever spare you a minute of my time, it angers me. You’ve taken so much away from me, and then you go and say that I haven’t given you enough…”

“It’s not fair. I don’t accept it.”

“Tell me, YN. Have I taken over your thoughts the way you’ve taken over mine? Do I have you as wrapped around my finger as you do me?”

“Or have I just become one of those lovesick fools I’ve always despised, chasing after something they can never have?”

“I deserve to know, YN. You owe me that much.” There’s such certainty in his tone. It’s impossible to think of his words as anything else other than absolute truth. Speaking through your phone was a man not only desperately heartbroken, but also completely, utterly confused. To draw such an emotion out of a man like Ushijima…

“Tomorrow, before school, I will find you.” His words held no threat, softly spoken so as to only sound like a promise. “I want you to be honest with me tomorrow, so I can have some semblance of closure.” 

Once more he’s gone silent, as if waiting for your response. Every breath he takes now comes out as a huff more than an exhale. He’s so wound up by now you’re almost positive this attitude will drag on until your conversation tomorrow. 

“It’s what I deserve, YN. You can’t take away from me the one thing my mind has run on for months now and expect me not to want answers.” There’s a squeal of a chair against tile flooring, and a beat later you hear the rustling of clothes as he takes a seat.

“What more you want from me, I’m not quite sure. Yet, somehow, I still feel myself yearning to give it to you.”

“Tell me, YN, is that fair? You’ve taken yourself out of my life, and I still feel as though I’d do anything for you. Give anything for you.”

“At the very least, I must know if my actions were not in vain; if you feel my absence even a little bit in comparison to the hole you’ve left in me.”

“Did you really love me? You said it before you left that night, but if you did, then I don’t understand why you left. I need you to enlighten me, YN. I just don’t understand.”

A pause. “Goodbye, YN. I look forward to our talk tomorrow.”

Atsumu Miya:

“YNNN!” The shout of your name is so loud you yank the phone away from your ear in shock.

Hesitantly, you draw it closer when everything quiets down again. 

“Oh God, someone grab his phone!”

“Atsumu, hand it over now!”

“He’s calling her, isn’t he? Dumbass.”

However remote, you can still hear the groans of your ex’s teammates along with the dull thumping and buzzing of far-off music. You figure he had been at a friend’s house or maybe even a club, and he’d probably locked himself up somewhere like the bathroom with his phone in tow. 

There’s a slam, then a click followed by the muffled shouts of the voices you’d heard earlier. Then a gulp as Atsumu downs the rest of whatever alcoholic drink he somehow got his hands on before calling you.

“YN, how dare you!” Accusatory, and extremely slurred. He’s drunk off his ass, and his accent is so thick you struggle a bit to understand him. “Yer such a meanie for breakin’ my heart like that, darlin’!”

“All I ever wanted was to love you an’ give you the world; why’d ya hafta go an’ take it all away from me?”

Another gulp, and now he’s sniffling. “I just… I just don’t know why you did it. It was gonna be us two forever, darlin’. You said you’d never leave me. Why did ya have to…?”

“I know it’s hard for you to be alone for all that time, darlin’, an’ I ain’t gonna act like I never saw how you felt. But you said you could do it–you promised that ya'd do it for me.”

“What happened to all those promises? You said you loved me so many times, and now every time I think about you sayin’ those words, it hurts so bad. I know I’m gonna regret this later, I ain’t stupid, but I want you ta know that I’m broken now, darlin’, and it’s because a’ you.”

“The nights are so unbearable, YN. I can’t stand ‘em. You wouldn’t believe how cold that bed is without you in it. And yer fuckin’ pillow–goddamnit that thing–so many times now I thought a’ just throwin’ it out rather than smell it for one more second. That fuckin’ perfume ya always wear is just everywhere on that bed though, so I say to myself, ‘What’s the point? It’s still there no matter what I do.’ And do ya know what’s really sad?”

The slurring, the wobbling, the stuttering. At this point, he’s an incomprehensible mess. Long ago you’d heard a concerning bang, but that bang had caused the end of his unsteady footsteps so you figured he’d finally just collapsed to the ground. 

“Two days ago I took down all the pictures we got hung up all over the apartment. Every single one I took down and put ‘em all in a li’l pile on the couch. An’ on the coffee table I had this stupid trash bag, and I had this fuckin’ lighter in my hand. For an hour, I sat there, lookin’ at the first damned picture I took from that pile. The stupid lighter ran outta gas ‘bout halfway through, and I still didn’t put the picture down. It was like I was stuck lookin’ at us, at how good we were. So many times I asked myself what the hell went so wrong that you up and left me outta the blue.” A choked up laugh snuck through the speaker. “It was that picture of us when we graduated. I was holdin’ you in my arms and you were smilin’ and hangin’ onto me so tight and—fuck-” Atsumu broke off in a breathless whimper, a muted sob slipping through. 

After about a minute of silent weeping, he cleared his throat, though it was scratchy rough when he spoke again. “All those pictures–they’re back up on the wall, darlin’. Never did nothin’ with ‘em, never hid ‘em away.”

“I just… I just don’t wanna get rid of ‘em. And ya wanna know why? It’s the most pitiful thing yer ever gonna hear.” He heaves a shaky sigh. “It’s ‘cuz I keep hopin’ one a’ these days yer gonna show back up at our door, that li’l look of confusion on yer face when ya see I got rid a’ all our pictures together, and then you’ll get all sad and pouty and beg me to dig ‘em outta the trash for ya.”

“I’d do it. Ya know I would. I’d do anything for you.”

“S-so can you come back, darlin’? Please?”

“‘Cuz I need you, bad. I can’t stand it anymore.”

“That damned house is too quiet without you singin’ and dancin’ all over it. An’ I can’t ever figure out where you got those scented candles from–the ones that smell like yer perfume. I can’t find ‘em, and the ones you left behind, they’re all burnt out. All used up.”

“I miss you, darlin’. Fuck, I can’t stand another second without you.”

“Please, just come back to me. I need you.”

And in the background his friends have finally jimmied the door open. There’s a strangled cry as one of them tackles Atsumu to the ground, ripping the phone from his grasp. “Fuck, guys, look, he is calling her.”

“Oh, ‘Tsumu…”

And the call ends.

so osamu x reader angst au where osamu is deeply in love with the reader and decided to dye his hair blonde so reader can cope with tsumu's death but didn't like this idea anymore, he wanted her to love him for who he truly is,,, 👉👈

Lapse in Judgement (Osamu x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: A car crash has taken Osamu’s brother away, the boy you liked so dearly. Osamu was dull to the pain, his crush on you blinding him from reality. But when he dyes his hair in hopes that he could make you feel the same, he realizes he may have gone too far. 

A/N: Sorry it took me a while. As per request, we got some major angst, but I gotta be honest, I don’t think Osamu’s evil enough to focus on a girl rather than his brother, so I focused more on his desperation to replace what he had lost than anything else. Hope you enjoy!

Word count: 1412

        Maybe it was a mistake. A screw up of the royal kind. 

        But at most, it was a lapse in judgement. 

        High school boy found dead in a car accident. That’s what the newspapers said, but it didn’t account for the total grief of it all. 

        Boy, dead. Drunk driver, critical condition. The navy blue truck totalled the small SUV at eight o’ clock at night after running a red light. Witnesses called for help, and that was it. 

        Except it wasn’t. 

        The journalists didn’t talk about the empty bedroom across from Osamu’s. They didn’t talk about the abandoned desk in Class 4b, the bare seat at the lunch table, the still-full locker in the hallway. 

        Atsumu was gone, with only an indifferent news article to his name. 

        Practice was never quite the same. Each time Osamu went, he couldn’t help but stare at the floor where his brother once stood. Deep down, he knew he should have cried by now. Bawled tears at the funeral, or maybe let one slip when he saw the first layer of dust settle onto his brother’s dresser. 

        But the truth was that he hadn’t. Yeah, it hurt, but he couldn’t… feel it. Every sense in his body was numb as he got through each passing day like turning the pages of a book without reading them. Things were happening, he just didn’t care enough to listen. 

        Osamu guessed the one who was visibly taking it the hardest was you, who won by a landslide. 

        The night he died, you had texted the quieter twin with wide-eyed innocence, revealing that the next day at school, you were going to give Atsumu a letter telling him how you feel. 

        I can do it! Just watch me, Samu!

        The chance never came, and when Osamu informed you of what had happened, you had broken down in his arms. 

        And he felt sick for the first time. 

        Disgust at himself for actually being happy that he was the one to hold you now, it was horrifying. The bile that had risen up his throat lost out to the joy. 

        Him, Osamu, he was the one you talked to now, each day asking him if he was okay, hugging him and confiding in him with your deepest thoughts. 

        You and Atsumu had been close in a way Osamu had always been envious of. Teasing and flirting, all of it turned him into a green-eyed monster.

        So maybe that was what forced away his ache of loss. Around him, you were almost as happy, almost as teasing and playful, but you had lost that glint in your eyes. You didn’t have that with Osamu.

        He knew that was what had sent him over the edge. 

        Two weeks after his brother’s death, still not a tear spilt. Instead, he spent all his time thinking about you. Your smile, less forced than before. The shine in your hair had returned, and your cheeks finally began to flush again. 

        Osamu entered the school and made a beeline for the classroom, praying that you had attended school today so he could see you. So you could validate what he had done. 

        And there you were, slipping into the classroom with the same dark circles under your eyes. They were no longer only from long nights of doing schoolwork. 

        “YN.” 

        Your head snapped up and your eyes met his in a split second. Then your gaze rose to his hair. Your lips separated to let out a single, quick breath of air while your brow twitched. 

        “At- Osamu?” 

        He nodded, the newly-blond hair shifting to hang in front of his eyes.

        “Your… you changed your hair.” 

        “Yeah, I did.”

        And that was that.

                                ~~~

        Having you by his side, Osamu could ignore all the stares he received. He never cared for attention, especially not now. Throughout the halls of school, people’s brows rose to their hairlines as they watched you both walk around, hand in hand and smile together. 

        It never seemed weird, and Osamu had never felt happier. 

        He wasn’t… he wasn’t alone anymore. 

        The bedroom across from his never bothered him when you stayed over at night. He hadn’t even travelled into it since the last time. 

        “Do you want to come over tonight?” Osamu didn’t really say it as a question, mostly because you were guaranteed to say yes anyways. 

        “Again? I think someone likes having me around.” 

        He did. God, he loved that adoring look on your face whenever he said he wanted you. Those puppy dog eyes of yours that you never seemed to notice you were giving him made his heart thump in a frantic pattern. 

        Volleyball wasn’t really a concern anymore. The new setter pissed him off, so he didn’t bother attending practice. His jerseys hung in his closet, unworn for what might’ve been a month now. 

        It was maybe… two months? Three? Osamu wasn’t sure, but Atsumu had left a while ago. 

        So he never bothered with the sport, meaning you could come over right after school, or he could even walk with you there. 

        You both had a tradition now. Homework, then a movie or show, then a nap together. Then Osamu either walked you home or, if it was too late, let you sleep in his bed for the night. 

        He found that your warmth fended off the nightmares that leered in on him at all hours in a day. 

        Today was a day that you stayed the night. The moon was already falling from the sky by the time you two finished eating a dinner of box mac and cheese, and thus it was decided that you shouldn’t bother going home. 

        Osamu’s blond head rested on your chest, and one leg was intertwined with both of your own. His arm was strewn across your stomach, heavy enough to keep you in place for the night. 

        You had two hands in his hair, head propped up on a pillow so you could make out the shape of the tufts in the black room. It was three am, and Osamu’s breathing had finally slowed and leveled.

        “Atsumu,” you whispered, your own voice not even loud enough to hit your own ears. “Fuck, I miss you so much.” 

        Osamu shifted and your hands stilled, breath held in anticipation. Then he stopped and nuzzled his face back into your chest. 

        After waiting a couple more minutes just in case, you let out a sigh and combed through the long tufts again. “I’ll never stop loving you, Atsumu. I wish I could’ve told you that three months ago.” 

        Your eyelids grew heavy with sleep and you let out a yawn. 

        “I love you, Atsumu.” 

        And then you slipped into unconsciousness. 

        Atsumu was gone forever. 

        His bedroom was still empty, and a few spiders had probably claimed the corners of the room by now. Dust must have caked over every single picture and piece of furniture the boy had ever owned. 

        His bed was probably unmade, and would never be made again. 

        He was dead, and nobody could fill the holes his absence had left. 

        You couldn’t fix Osamu’s loneliness, no matter how much you latched onto him. 

        Osamu couldn’t replace his brother for you. He wasn’t really the boy you would love, no matter how hard he tried to be. Your words had confirmed that.

        Dying his hair was a lapse of judgement. A last ditch effort for both of you to keep his memory alive. 

        But that effort was futile. 

        And so, for the first time since he had lost his setter in volleyball, his friend in school, his rival in love, and his twin for life, Osamu let reality sink in. 

        Against your chest, in the hold of the woman he loved unrequitedly, Osamu cried.

a kuroo au :(( kuroo song au with ready yet by sasha sloan :((

Forgive In Time (Kuroo x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: Kuroo always teased you, joked with you during class. You couldn’t help but grow feelings for him. Evidently he didn’t return them. (Based on “Ready Yet” by Sasha Sloan.)

A/N: Sorry this is so late! Btw, you got some good taste in music, my friend. This song is just *chef’s kiss.* Anyways, I hope this is what you were looking for, and I hope you like it!

Word count: 1728

        “Hey YN.” Kuroo smiles at you and collapses into the desk next to yours. If only he knew how much that made your heart race. 

       “Hey Rooster Head.” He throws you a fake offended look that makes you giggle before he pokes your shoulder with a finger. 

       “Yeah, yeah, call me nicknames now, but soon you’ll be begging at my feet for help on the quiz tomorrow.” 

       “There’s a quiz tomorrow?!”

       The black-haired volleyball player lets out a cackle that grabs the attention of the entire room, but his gaze is still only on you. Having his attention and being able make him laugh like that made you feel… funny. Giddy, really. 

       You and Kuroo had only been friends for a few months, but within that span of time you always yearned for more. In reality, he had first spotted and identified you as a loner, one he wanted to add to his collection, evidently. 

       You didn’t mind that idea. Kuroo was kind and funny, and super hot. Somewhere, deep down inside you, you were almost sure he felt the same way. After all, he always latched onto you like white on rice ever since he first saw you in his third year class. 

       “A pretty girl like you should never have to sit alone.” Yeah, as if your panties weren’t already flying off at the sight of him. 

       Anyway, he followed those words like a devotion not unlike that of a blood oath, always claiming the desk beside yours and teasing you in any way he could. 

       God, you liked him so much. And come on, what kind of guy flirts with a girl every day without romantic intentions?

       With that thought locked in the spotlight of your mind, you glanced over at Kuroo several times throughout the school day, only getting caught about thirty percent of the time. It was okay, because each time he noticed, he threw you a wink that lit your cheeks aflame. He always chuckled at the sight, and you had to fend off any fuzzy feelings that almost made you pass out at the enticing sound. 

       Okay, seriously. It was time. 

                               ~~~

       You never really ate lunch with Kuroo, but you figured you could track him down during the time. 

       After about ten minutes of frantically scanning every nook and cranny of the school, you finally spotted him outside in the courtyard, munching on a sandwich next to a blond boy. His shorter companion was preoccupied with a game while Kuroo proceeded to chatter his ear off. 

       You weren’t surprised.

       With a deep breath of reassurance, you stepped outside into the cool breeze, hugging your school blazer tighter around yourself. 

       You got this, YN! You totally got this!

       Your heart thumped sporadically, barely making a comprehensible rhythm along with the wing flaps of your stomach’s butterflies. 

       Y-you got this, YN. Y-you… umm.

       Steps slowing, you began to realize the consequences of your actions. Kuroo still hadn't noticed you, instead digging around in his bag for the rest of his lunch. 

       Nope, you totally don’t got this. 

       Spinning on your heels, you marched back to the entrance of the school.

       What if he doesn’t actually mean it? 

       What if that’s just how he talks to people? 

       What if-

       “YN!”

       Oh fuck. 

       A hand grabs your arm and swivels you around. 

       “H-hey Kuroo, what’s up?”

       He gives you a confused smile. “What are you doin’ out here? Did you need something?” 

       Yeah, you. “Heh, umm, noooo,” you drag out the word while heavily avoiding his intense gaze. 

       Kuroo playfully jabs your side. “Oh come on, you can tell me. What’s up?” The distance between the two of you grows smaller and smaller the more he becomes more invested in the conversation, inching closer to you with every encouraging nudge. It’s too much and simultaneously not enough. Heart fluttering, you finally bat away his hand and sigh. 

       “Fine,” I can do this, “I’ll tell you.” 

       Kuroo only nods, allowing you to continue. 

       “So, here’s the thing….” 

       “Yeah?”

       Rip off the bandaid YN!

       “I like you.”

       A quick inhale, then silence. 

       “... Oh.” 

       The quiet almost kills you, leading you to scramble for something to say. 

       “I’m sor-”

       “I’m sor-”

       You both interrupt each other and pause, forcefully laughing at the awkwardness. 

       “Erm, you go first,” you gesture with a wave of your hand. Kuroo’s eyes grow pained and he looks away, rubbing the back of his neck. 

       “YN I’m really sorry, but I just don’t feel that way about you.” 

       See now, rejection was always a possibility. You knew and understood there was a chance that Kuroo wouldn’t reciprocate your feelings. 

       You just didn’t know it would suck this much. 

       For a moment, it felt like you couldn’t breathe. Your chest tightened and your throat closed up. Blood rushing through your ears, all you could do was nod numbly. 

       “Oh. Okay.”

                               ~~~

       Class was… painful. Kuroo had given you some space, as per your request, and in return your only friend in the class was now long gone. You never had anyone to talk to or ask about homework. You couldn’t giggle and make fun of the professor during class, or throw sticky notes at one another. 

       You just wish you had considered the consequences before you confessed. Not only had you gotten your heart broken, you had also lost your only companion to help make it through the school day. 

       Also, there was one other future consequence you had forgotten. 

       The school halls were empty, a sign that you had come way too early. Cursing your forgetfulness, you tightened the grip on your bag and huffed all the way to the classroom, only to be stopped by a heartbreaking sight. 

       “I’ll take you home after practice, all right baby?” 

       “Of course, see you then.” 

       Their lips clashed together in an intimate farewell, arms wrapped around each other as they swapped spit like tennis. Her hands dug into his dark hair, making it that much messier than it already was naturally. 

       And when Kuroo finally unlodged his tongue from the girl’s throat, he dragged his gaze up, up, up, just high enough to see-

       “YN?”

       In class, Kuroo always seemed just as uncomfortable and lonely as you after having to claim a new seat farther apart. Apparently that assumption was incorrect on your end. 

       A squeak escaped your lips and you froze in place. Really, what could you do? Run out of the school? Your mom would beat your ass for ditching. Just ignore it and walk into the classroom he had just made out in front of? Umm, no. You’d rather avoid that confrontation. Hide out in the bathroom? Pfft, yeah, like that would-

       Oh shit. I can hide out in the bathroom.

       Kuroo flinched at the sudden sight of you jumping into action. You pivoted and dashed down the hall in a mad sprint like a monster was after you. If anyone else was in the halls at that time, they would have seen the pure, unadulterated fear on your face and joined you in an instant, not even bothering to ask what you were escaping from. 

       It was a boy. Wasn’t it always? 

       Steps followed after you, more stretched out in the pattern of a longer stride. They only halted when you shouldered your way into the bathroom, scrambling to a stop and slamming the door in front of Kuroo’s face. 

       “YN! Hey, come on!” 

       “It’s occupied!” 

       You struggled to catch your breath as you sifted through your bag for your phone. Bingo.

       “YN please, let’s talk about this.” 

       “…”

       “YN, come on. You can’t avoid what just happened.” 

       “Watch me.” 

You: Hey mom, can you come pick me up? I’m not feeling well.

*Message sent*

                               ~~~

       Tons of calls. Hundreds of texts. Each one was adorned with a harmony of buzzes or the acoustic version of “Sexy and I Know It” —Kuroo’s choice of course. 

Tetsu😻: YN please.

Tetsu😻: Just respond.

Tetsu😻: I’m so sorry.

Tetsu😻: I didn’t want you to see that.

*Confirm name change?*

*Contact name successfully changed*

Kuroo: YN please forgive me. 

Kuroo: Just let me know how to fix this.

Kuroo: Please just say something. I’m so sorry, please just give me a chance to fix this.

       You were surprised at how much it hurt. Like a rock in the bottom of your stomach, you felt the worst emotion imaginable: complete and utter betrayal. Though you hadn’t been in a relationship with Kuroo, it still hurt to see him with another girl.

       You supposed it wasn’t really that itself. It was also the idea that he moved on so quickly. It almost felt like he had acknowledged how you felt and completely dismissed it. Watching him make out with another girl just a couple days after you confessed your feelings for him wasn’t like any other pain you had felt. 

       It wasn’t like a paper cut, but it also wasn’t like a loved one of yours had died. It just felt… achy. Like a dull gnawing in your heart. 

       Some parts of you even wanted to blame yourself. Why wasn’t I the girl he wanted? Were you not pretty enough? That girl certainly was. Not smart enough? He always had to help you with your homework, but that was when he teased you most. Or maybe-

Kuroo: I don’t want to lose your friendship. Please YN, I’m so sorry.

       ...Maybe it was because you were just that. A friend to him. Either way, you just weren’t ready to forgive him. Your heart was trampled and covered in dirt, and it could take a while before you recovered from this. 

Kuroo: Please.

       One day. One day you would forgive him. 

       You weren’t mad at him. You couldn’t be. Your feelings for him weren’t gone either. 

You: Just give me a little time please. 

       But you certainly weren’t ready to see him anytime soon. 

       Not yet. 

Kuroo: Okay.

Sorry for always camping on your requests 🙈🙈 but uhh dhhshd can i request a kuroo x reader (or if u do konoha pls do konoha) angst au with the song i cant make you love me by bon iver?

One-Sided Future (Konoha x Reader) 

*GIF not mine*

Summary: It’s hard to see a person fall in love with another who never intends on sharing a future with that person. It’s even harder when that person is you. (Based on “I Can’t Make You Love Me” by Bon Iver)

A/N: I’m really sorry this is so late, but I sincerely hope you like it. It might not be what you were expecting, but I saw a comment on the video of the song that just inspired me and also broke my heart, so I just hope you feel the same with this angsty fic. Again, I really hope you like it!

Word count: 900

        He was warm. 

        The bed shook as he slipped under the covers, arms wrapping around you while you feigned sleep. 

        Why did it hurt so much? 

        His grip on you never tightened. It was as simple as that. 

        His chest was hot near your back. You couldn’t feel it’s solidity anymore though. 

        There was a wall between you and Konoha now. Every inch of space between you two created a wall. You didn’t like it. 

        You couldn't stop it. 

        Sitting in silence, you waited until his breathing slowed. Then you shifted in his grip, moving closer to feel him while also turning to face him. This was the closest you had gotten in weeks. 

        He was so peaceful in his sleep, dirty blond hair splayed against his pillow. You couldn’t see his dark eyes behind his closed lids, and for that you were thankful. 

        In moments like these, you could pretend they still held love. You could pretend they would still squint in delight at the sight of you. You could pretend their pupils would still widen when you embraced him in a hug.

        But the fact was that they didn’t. Your hopes, your requited love, your shared future, it was all just a dream. A fruitless dream. 

        In your own eyes, Konoha was the one. One day, you wished you two would get married and spend the rest of your lives together. You wanted to walk down the aisle under his adoring gaze. You wanted to dip your toes in the hot sand of a gorgeous beach beside his grinning form. You wanted to watch him spill a single tear at the sight of a newborn in his arms. 

        A whole future was visible before your eyes. Every detail was beautiful. Not perfect, but beautiful. 

        Konoha couldn’t see it. He didn’t want to see it. God, how you wanted him to see it, wanted him to want it. But he didn’t. 

        Nothing was more hopeless than that wish. The idea of being together forever, loving each other for the rest of your lives was nothing but a pipe dream. Not even a pipe dream. It was just a damn dream. One you needed to let go. 

        Tonight would be your last night in his arms. You should have ended it before he joined you in the bed, but you just wanted to feel him one last time. It was a lapse in judgement, but a final farewell all the same.

        Tomorrow you will move on. Tomorrow you’ll let him go and carry on with your life. You’ll let him find someone else, someone who wanted the same things he wanted.

        And maybe one day you could find someone for yourself. 

        Still, it hurt to think that there was nothing you could do. There was nothing left to salvage in your relationship. 

        How…

        How can someone possibly describe the pain?

        It wasn’t physical, but it was damn near close. Your heart was… aching, yearning for reciprocity. 

        Konoha wanted a girlfriend. He wanted movie dates and posters at volleyball games. Study nights and silly little pranks. Posts and pictures online of the two of you everywhere and anywhere. 

        You wanted the love of your life. A man to marry and have children with. Someone to hug in joy as you watched first steps, listened to first words. Someone to go to for comfort when work was stressful or when college days began. 

        Konoha wanted good times.

        You wanted commitment. But you couldn’t force that on him. So yes, tonight was the last night with him. 

        So you wiped away your tears and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. You wrapped your arms around his waist and pulled him close, intertwining your legs with his. 

        He was warm. He always was. 

        Then you closed your damp eyes and laid your head against his chest, letting out a broken sob when his hands squeezed just a bit tighter. 

        You promised yourself this was it. This was the last night you would be in his arms. Then you would let him go. You promised.

        Then you fell asleep.

                                ***

        Within the span of a month, Konoha’s arm had already fallen over another girl’s shoulder. 

        Within the span of a month, you still felt just as much love for him as you did when you let him go. But the truth was clear before your eyes. 

        You couldn’t force him to be with you for your own dreams. 

        You couldn’t force him to love you.

akaashi cheater au :( with the song rose by jereena montemayor pls pls make it super angsty 🥺🥺

Rose of Thorns (Akaashi x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: Akaashi was much like a rose. He was beautiful, soft and enchanting. But he also had many undeniable thorns. (Based on “Rose” by Jereena Montemayor)

A/N: I’m really sorry I waited so long on this request!! I just haven’t been in the mood to write angst in a while, but I swear I’m working on it! Also, I should’ve focused on the cheating aspect in this fic, but eh. I tried. Mega angst, so watch out. Side note: good lordy that song put me in my feels GODDAMN! Hope you like it!

Word count: 1285

        You loved him.

        You loved him so much. 

        But you knew what was happening too. 

        He was drifting away from you, bit by bit. Every day, he seemed a little more out of it with you. A little less passionate with his words. A little less adoring with his eyes. 

        They were filled with more guilt than anything. 

        Every time you kissed him, told him you loved him, hugged him after a long day, his responses always seemed a bit slower than the time before. He was slipping through your fingertips day by day, but you didn’t want to lose him. 

        It started with a kiss, as it always does.

        Akaashi’s team won the game, and after lining up to shake the other team’s hand, Akaashi’s eyes skimmed the crowd. You were smiling and cheering and waving at him, but they didn’t reach you. 

        No, instead they stopped on another. She was beautiful too. Her hair looked softer than yours. Her legs were longer, more slim and toned. Her large eyes were enchanting as well, even you yourself could understand how one could get lost in them. 

        You didn’t know her name, all you knew was the pain that stabbed through your heart. Every beat seemed to drain you of life. 

        Oh.

        Then Akaashi’s eyes finally drifted to you in the crowd, and the blue orbs were pouring with guilt as you made your way down to him. 

        Like normal, you hugged him and smiled, muttering a congratulations. But it was all lifeless and soft. He knew you had seen it, and his face seemed to twitch nervously. 

        Akaashi was always composed and calm, so maybe that was how he recovered from the shock so quickly. His hands soon cupped your cheeks, and a gentle, loving smile soon encompassed his face, causing you to instinctively relax and return the gesture. 

        He leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. 

        Oh God. 

        It hurt so much to feel how little passion was in it. By definition, it was a kiss, but you knew it was so much more. It was a brush of lips, so light and compulsory, like an obligation to keep up a lie. 

        “I love you.” The words tickled your lips thanks to his proximity. His thumbs caressed the tips of your cheeks gently while he leaned his forehead against yours and stared into your doting gaze. 

        “I love you too.”

                                ~~~

        A rose sat on your desk in your room. Homework laid forgotten underneath it, and you hugged your knees to your chest and wept. 

        Your eyes hadn’t left the flower once. Like Akaashi, it was beautiful, gentle and soft. But thorns ran along the stem like vicious pricks of reality. 

        He was the one who had given it to you too. After all, it was Valentine’s Day. But where was he? 

        Doing homework, stuck at practice with Bokuto, spending time with his family. Any number of the excuses he had texted you in the past few days. 

        God, I love him so much.

        Of course you didn’t want to. Who wanted to be in love with a cheater?

        With an outstretched hand, you shakily picked up the rose, careful to avoid the thorns. One pricked you anyways, no matter how much you thought you avoided it, but you only whimpered at the pain. You didn’t drop the rose. 

        You held it closer to your face, finding small waves of comfort in its flowery scent. The rose was alluring, spirals of petals enticing you to come closer, to embrace the soft touch of each blood red petal. 

        But at the end of the day, it was just a rose. 

        Your phone buzzed, but it was just one of your friends in a group chat. No, nobody was talking to you personally. Your boyfriend was somewhere else, with only the physical, basic show of affection left in your hands to remind you of him. 

        The screen lit up your dim bedroom and stung your bloodshot eyes. And the background picture came clearer as the notification finally faded. 

        It was you and Akaashi. You were draped over his shoulders with a large smile on your face, beaming like the sun. His eyes were rolling at the dramatic act, but a hint of a grin was displayed through an upturned corner of the mouth. Adoring. That’s what he was. 

        Was. 

        Gulping, you grasped the phone in one hand and opened it, entering your photos. All of it was there. Pictures from the beginning of your relationship all the way to the end were in albums, dating back a year. 

        You clicked on the very first one that held him. 

        Akaashi was holding a sign, his cheeks burning bright red. One of his arms was draped around your shoulders, and your own were wrapped around his waist in a tight hug. His gaze was locked on you, but you were smiling brightly at the camera. He had asked you to prom, and you distantly remember your first dance. 

        “You look gorgeous.” 

        You hadn’t felt like you did until that moment. Until that beautiful man himself looked you in the eyes and truthfully told you how captivating you were. Nobody had ever told you that before….

        Pluck. 

        Tears trailed slowly down your cheeks as you slowly dropped the petal into the trash can beside you. Knees wobbling, you relocated to your bed and sat criss-crossed on the mattress. You set your phone in your lap and held the rose in your hands. 

        The bedroom was cold. You almost shivered, your tank top and sleeping shorts barely keeping you warm, but it almost didn’t bother you. At least, you weren’t distracted by it. 

        Your phone screen lit up your whole room with another picture as you swiped your finger along. 

        Akaashi was pecking your cheek while you hugged him tightly after winning a volleyball game. 

        Pluck.

        Akaashi was kissing you in the rain after your one month anniversary. A new necklace glittered around your neck, the one currently sitting at the bottom of your trash bin. 

        Pluck.

        Akaashi was trapping you tightly against his side, holding you under an umbrella and affectionately scolding you about not wearing warmer clothes. You were wearing his sweatshirt. The one that still sat in your closet, waiting to be washed even though you cherished the scent it held. 

        Pluck.

        Akaashi was staring at you in amazement as you stepped down the stairs in a floor length dress. Heels made your legs seem endless, and they only appeared every couple steps thanks to a sultry cut on one side of the skirt. “I don’t deserve you, angel” he had mumbled against your lips.

        Pluck.

        Akaashi.

        Pluck.

        Akaashi.

        Pluck. 

        Pluck. 

        Pluck.  

*Are you sure you want to delete these 105 photos? This action cannot be undone.*

*105 photos deleted.*

        Maroon petals littered your bed. You tossed the bare rose stem into the trash can, now only consisting of green thorns. 

        Your cheeks were damp and your eyes felt heavy and tired. 

        I loved him so much. 

        You only had one thing left to do. 

You: We need to talk. 

*Message sent*

uhh hi again 😅 im sorry for requesting again hdhd but is it ok to request another akaash papercrane au? where him and the reader are friends and akaashi believed that if he folds a thousand paper cranes the reader who is sick would get better but in the end when his wish came true his life was taken in exchange for his wish.

Paper Cranes (Akaashi x Reader) 

*GIF not mine*

Summary: A thousand paper cranes led to one wish. Or at least that’s what the legend said. Akaashi never wanted or even minded if it was true. At least, not until you came along.

A/N: I’m just out here wondering why y’all wanna be hurt. Like wtf. Anyways, this bitch angsty. Like I seriously hope y’all cry at this, bc boy did I want to. So like, pls feel free to tell me if you did cry, bc then I would feel accomplished. Aight, hope y’all enjoy!

Word count: 3725

        There was a… legend, of sorts. 

        If any one person could fold one thousand paper cranes, he or she would be granted a wish. 

        Akaashi had heard this story from his grandmother at a young age, and since then scoffed at the idea. What’s a wish gonna do? And why would he need one?

        He never truly believed in fate, destiny, or any other mystical mumbo jumbos. At least not until he met you. 

                                ~~~

        The swings are the loneliest place on the playground. Only one person can enjoy the ride at the time. If you have someone to push you, you only have a split second every time you swing back toward them to talk or laugh or enjoy each other’s companies. 

        Akaashi found himself there often. He was the quietest kid in his kindergarten class, and though his appearance did make him popular in crowds, he preferred the solitude of the swings. 

        The swings didn’t expect him to be funny. They didn’t expect him to be smart. They didn’t expect him to be perfect. 

        “Hey, can I swing with you?” 

        The swings didn’t- wait, what?

        Akaashi slowed his back-and-forth swaying, lowering his dusty tennis shoes to the bark of the ground to observe who had spoken. 

        It was a girl. A girl he had seen in his class often. The rays of the sun glimmered in her eyes, making them seem magical and kind. Her hands were folded behind her back shyly, and she scuffed the toe of her plastic sandal against her other heel while awaiting his answer. 

        Being confronted by his classmates was nothing new. All the time they came up to him and chattered like mindless lemmings. But Akaashi couldn’t help but gape at this girl in shock. 

        She was the first person to ask. 

        “S-sure.” 

        The young girl gave him a wide smile and crashed down into the swing beside his, already propelling herself to and fro with a kick of her feet. 

        A feeling awoke inside Akaashi in that moment. Competition. 

        Quickly, he bent and locked out his knees, trying to catch up to your pace though you were quite a bit ahead. You giggled and squealed when he swung ahead of you, and cheered victoriously when you blew past him. 

        Breathless. That’s how he felt. There was a glow in his chest, and suddenly he understood why so many other kids enjoyed being around their fellow classmates. 

        Having a friend who enjoyed the same things as him was fun. 

                                ~~~

        “YN!” Akaashi groaned, grimacing at the sight of you dancing victoriously above him. 

        “Look at all this money, Keiji!” You threw the Monopoly dollars in the air, waggling your hips and whooping. “How does it feel to SUCK?” 

        The black haired boy only folded his arms and pushed himself deeper amongst the blankets of the pillow fort. A pout carved onto his face when you began rubbing the fake bills against your cheeks. “Ahh, to be a millionaire. By the way, how’s your bankruptcy?” 

        “Shush, you,” he sulked, grabbing a stray pillow and tossing it at your head. You only dodged and laughed, crashing onto the floor beside him with a large oof. 

        “Ahh c’mon, you know you love me twerp,” you poked the side of his cheek as you laid on your back with a grin. 

        Shaking his head, Akaashi turned his face the other way and hid a small smile. “I can’t believe you were my first friend.”

        “Only ‘cause you sucked at swinging too.”

        “How does one suck at swinging?”

        “I don’t know! How do-”

        “Kids!” Akaashi’s mother interrupted, peeking her head into the fort with a quirk of her lips. “You better get to sleep. It’s almost ten.” 

        “Okay, Mom,” the boy nodded, discreetly jabbing your stomach as soon as she disappeared outside once more. 

        “OW!” you squealed, ruffling his hair in return. 

        The living room grew silent as you both settled in to sleep five minutes later. The excitement had calmed down, and now Akaashi was huddled in a blanket just a few inches away from your own. 

        His heart raced at the idea, and many thoughts flitted through his head. One being… 

        “Hey YN?” 

        You fake snored loudly and Akaashi scoffed, pulling a lock of your hair. 

        “Geez dude, why you always gotta hurt me?” You rolled over, incidentally getting even closer to your friend, and opened your eyes to face him. Akaashi was almost choking at the proximity. 

        With a purse of his lips, he lifted himself on one elbow and scratched the back of his neck. He avidly avoided your gaze as his cheeks tinged pink. “Sorry, I just….”

        You raised a brow. “Yeah…?”

        “We’re gonna stay friends, right? Even when we go to middle school? And even high school?” 

        Akaashi held his breath while you tapped your cheek thoughtfully. “Well, I was actually kinda hoping I could replace you with Godzilla once we got there, but if that doesn’t work out, then I guess so,” you shrugged. 

        He rolled his eyes and licked his lips. “Come on, I’m being serious.” 

        “I am too.”

        “Come on.”

        “All right, all right!” You lifted your hand out from under your blanket and poked him in the cheek once again, a new, nervous habit of yours. “Of course, stupid. We’re gonna be best friends forever. I promise.” 

        You held out your pinkie with a grin, and Akaashi stared at it hesitantly. 

        “Forever?” 

        You nodded, and he gave in, interlocking his last finger with your smaller one. 

        “Yeah, Keiji. Forever.”

                                ~~~

        Volleyball became a huge part of Akaashi’s life in middle school, and even on into high school. 

        “Hey, hey, hey Akaashi! Pass it to me!” 

        But not once did your friendship stray. 

        “It’s yours, Bokuto!”

        Every few seconds, he caught a glimpse of you in the stands. A large grin adorned your face, and you held a personalized sign just for him that you waved frantically any time he scored a point. 

        “GO AKAASHI!!!” Your voice, almost impeded by the overall clamor and volume of the gymnasium, was still fine-tuned in his ears. They perked at the cheer like the first melody of a bird on a bright morning. 

        A quirk of his lips accompanied the call, and he had to shake his head to stay focused on the game. 

        Block this guy’s spike.

        Send the set directly above the net so Bokuto can get a cross-court shot. 

        Where’s Konoha?

        I better send this one to-

        His never ending train of thoughts faltered for a second at the sound of a collective gasp. Nothing amazing had happened on the court, at least not from his point of view. So something must’ve happened in the crowd. 

        Hollers and cheers shifted to low, concerned murmurs. 

        The team on the other side of the net watched the audience in complete shock. 

        What is…

        Akaashi turned around with a crease in his brow and instinctively searched for you.

        You were gone. 

        Nostrils flaring, he slipped under the net to the other side of the court for a better vantage point. The sight shot his heart to pieces. 

        There, on the second level of the gym, collapsed against the plastic bleachers, was your unconscious form. 

                                ~~~

        The fluorescent lights on the ceiling of the hospital buzzed almost silently. And yet, for as long as Akaashi had been there, it was the only sound he could hear. 

        He stood outside your room like a guard dog, keeping his gaze locked on you at all times. 

        Through the glass windows of your room, he watched as your parents hugged you with tear-stained cheeks. You, on the other hand, were emotionless. Your eyes were unfocused, and you didn’t seem to be tuned into reality at the moment. 

        A half an hour passed. Your parents finally let him into the room, and he stepped in almost unwillingly. 

        “Mom, Dad, can… umm… can we have a moment alone?” 

        Your mom almost screeched in denial, but your father swiftly nodded and grabbed her hand, tugging her out of the room. “Of course, sweetie.”

        As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, Akaashi gnawed on his bottom lip nervously. “So….”

         You seemed to snap out of it and turned to him with blank eyes. Your form was slumped back against the pillows of the hospital bed and you fiddled with the white cotton blanket. A thin, white nightgown covered your body, but it seemed to tremble every few seconds. Or maybe that was you. “Keiji.” 

        He took the cue and scurried to your bedside, grabbing your IV-plugged hand in his own. The pads of his fingers ran over your skin in a comforting manner, but he wasn’t exactly sure if it was helping any. “YN… what-”

        “The doctor said I have like a year.” You sounded so distant, locked away deep inside yourself. Almost confused at what was happening, but you also knew your fate. 

        Akaashi couldn’t breathe. His eyes watered and his brows furrowed and he almost grew angry at your dismissive state. But he couldn’t be mad at you. It wasn’t your fault. 

        “What,” he shakily whispered, whole body rigid, “YN, what happened?”

        “I don’t know,” your voice cracked, and suddenly the facade fell. Or maybe reality finally set in. “They said I’m sick or something and it’s incurable and I’m going to die! Oh God, I’m going to die, Keiji!” You wailed and bawled and cried as much as you could, and Akaashi let his tears flow too. 

        “I don’t wanna die!”

        Akaashi nodded, grimacing and clenching his eyes closed while he sat on your bed and hugged you. 

        “Please, I don’t wanna die!” 

        Your body convulsed in his grasp as you heaved out sobs, afraid of something you couldn’t fight. This was a battle no one could win. This was fate. 

        Akaashi cursed under his breath as he rocked you back and forth, running a hand through your tangled strands before whispering soft reassurances to your deaf ears. 

        You began to cough and hiccup, shoving your face deeper into his soaked shoulder. 

        Nothing could be said. Nothing could be done. 

        The room was tense, filled with utter, uncontrolled fear. 

        Nothing could stop this.

        “Please don’t let me die.” 

        Akaashi’s bloodshot eyes opened in the slightest as an idea hit him. He squeezed you tighter as your sobs slowed to whimpers, and shook his head. I won’t let that happen.

                                ~~~

        “Do you have an eight?”

        “Go fish.”

        “Fuck.”

        “Do you have a king?”

        “...No.”

        “YN.”

        “FINE!” You threw your cards down on the bed with a pout. Akaashi chuckled and gathered up the cards, giving you a smug glance. 

        “What is it you said to me when we were kids? ‘How does it feel to suck?’”

        You stuck out your tongue and batted his teasing hands away before folding your arms. “Shut up,” you muttered. 

        The hospital room was becoming more and more your own. Flowers decorated the windowsill, a couple books sat on the nightstand, and you even had a few folded cranes of Akaashi’s on your headboard. 

        Months had passed, nine to be specific, since you got the diagnosis. Time was running out. 

        “Well, YN, I brought your homework.” Akaashi dug around in his bag before pulling out a stack of assignments. A bright yellow sticky note sat on the top with your name scribbled haphazardly. 

        “You know, Keiji, it’s funny you think I’d actually spend my time doing that instead of, oh I don’t know,” you playfully shrugged, “having fun the rest of my life.” 

        Akaashi gulped but forced his smile to remain steady on his face. For you.

        “I think you should still do it, YN. It’ll keep you smart.” 

        “What smarts am I gonna need when I’m-” 

        “YN please.” Akaashi winced at your recent lax in self-respect. A muscle in his jaw irked at the thought, but his eyes stayed locked on the cranes just above your head. 

        You nodded and softened your gaze. “Sorry, Keiji.” You held out your hands and accepted the papers he handed you. “I’ll try my best on them.”

        “Thank you. And don’t forget to use my notes,” Akaashi added.

        “How could I,” you scoffed. “Half of ‘em are done in glitter pens.” The corner of Akaashi’s mouth quirked up at the thought. 

        “Only ‘cause I know you like them that way.” Akaashi leaned in to give you a hug, pressing a kiss to your hair that he knew you couldn’t feel. Your warmth, the warmth you filled his heart with, made him never want to leave. But he had to. 

        “All right, I have to go, but before I do,” Akaashi dug around in his bag for a second before locating his gift with a sparkle in his eyes. “Here.”

        A blue paper crane was set in your palm, and his fingers brushed yours before he pulled them away. Your body wiggled in happiness at the new addition. 

        “Yay! Another one! How about I call this one…” you trailed off, tapping your chin in thought. Then you pointed your finger in the air in glee. “Perry! What do you think, Keiji?” 

        You reached up and set the crane along with the others while Akaashi nodded in agreement. “It’s perfect. I’ll see you tomorrow, YN.” 

        Just as Akaashi stepped away, you grabbed his hand and tugged it to gain his attention once again. 

        “What’s wrong?” 

        You scrutinized his face with narrowed eyes, reaching your hand up and brushing your fingers just above his cheeks. “Keiji?”

        “Hmm?” His eyes were almost closed in bliss, enjoying every spark of exhilaration that came with your touch. He flinched when you patted his cheek roughly. 

        “Get some more sleep at night. You look like shit.” 

        Blue eyes flickering open, he covered your hand with his own and delivered a soft kiss to your palm. “Not in a million years.”

                                ~~~

        Everything around him was fuzzy and blurred. The room was so dim and warm. A wave of exhaustion hit him every two seconds, leaving his head reeling and his ears thumping. 

        And yet, he wouldn’t move. 

        No, not if he couldn’t help it. 

        Papercuts littered his fingers. Scraps and scraps of paper, all shapes, colors and sizes, laid out in front of him, along with one lone whiteboard and marker. 

        The sun was just beginning to rise outside his window, and birds began to stir in their nests. 

        Fuck, he was so tired. His body pleaded with him to close his eyes just once. 

        No. 

        Shuffling of parchment became his new white noise. The pads of his fingers were on fire with every fold and every crease. 

        Then he set the new crane behind him, uncapped the marker and drew a single tick mark. 

        “Eight-hundred and seventy-four,” he muttered with a sigh. 

        Another.

        He grabbed a new page with sore, pained arms, resisting the urge to yawn and starting anew. 

        Fold. Crease. Fold. Crease. Fold. 

        “Eight-hundred and seventy-five.”

                                ~~~

        “Ughhh yesss,” you moaned, licking the sweet stickiness off your fingers. “It’s been too long since I’ve had ice cream.” 

        Akaashi smiled at the sight. Your face had glowed with pure joy when he showed up with your favorite flavor, and you had deadpanned “I love you.”

        It was enough for him. He chuckled into his own bowl before swallowing another spoonful. “What, is the Jello not any good here?”

        You flipped him off and continued downing your cold treat. “Next time they try to force that gelatinous shit down my throat, I’m just gonna hop out the window.” 

        “From the fourth floor?”

        You shrugged. “Why not? I could make it! I’ve seen it in the movies, all you have to do is roll.” 

        Your dark haired friend scoffed at the thought. “Yes, please ‘roll.’ It will be much quicker travel than limping on two broken legs.” 

        You busted out laughing. “See? Now you get it!” Your face was frozen in pure joy as you held your ice cream. 

        This moment made it all worth it. You were beautiful. Completely happy and carefree for the first time in a year. Akaashi didn’t want you to worry anymore. 

        He would only hope that you could find someone to make you laugh like this again once he was gone. He didn’t want you to be alone like he had been before you. You were the light of his life. You made him discover a purpose for living, and you lead him through it. He would follow you to the ends of the Earth if need be. And now was the time to repay you.

        His bag was empty this visit aside from a single slip of paper. It was blue, your favorite color. “It reminds me of your eyes, which are really hot, by the way,” you had said.

        “I did my homework like you asked.” You nodded with complete self-assurance and even held up the assignment. “I might’ve gotten number three wrong though….”

        “That’s okay.” Akaashi set down his bowl and stood up, approaching your bedside with slow, purposeful steps. 

        You were breathtaking at this angle. The sun shined just barely through your room’s window, and lit up your entire face with a single ray. It emphasized the natural glow of life you already had. 

        Yeah, he could do this. For you, he would do anything. 

        When he stopped at your bedside, you shifted under your blankets until your legs hung off the side of the mattress. Completely facing him, you threw him a questioning glance. “What’s up?”

        “Can I kiss you?” 

        He had to at least try. If only once. 

        You stopped breathing and your heart stuttered in your chest. Akaashi could read it all over your flushed face that-- Thank God-- you felt the same way he did. 

        It was a mixture of euphoria and anxiousness that flooded his stomach when you nodded. A shy smile covered your face, and it grew larger the closer he leaned towards you. Then finally, your lips touched. 

        The kiss was soft and slow, with Akaashi’s hands landing on the bed around you to support himself. Your lips were plush and tasted like sugary sweetness, and he snatched up your chin the second you tried to pull away too soon. 

        This second kiss was more passionate, rushed and intoxicating. The fervor of it left you feeling light-headed and breathless. And loved. His lips smashed against your own in a desperation of showing how he felt. It was as if he was making up for lost time, or something opposite of that. 

        And then he pulled away, gasping for air and not regretting a thing. His hand slowly dropped from your chin and fell to your thigh, barely covered by the thin hospital gown. His fingertips, rougher than you remembered, gently massaged your skin, leaving you to sigh happily. 

        His forehead pressed against your own, and smiles were permanently etched on both your faces. 

        “I love you,” Akaashi finally whispered, eyes staring honestly into your own.

        “I love you too,” you pecked his lips once more and he returned it with ease. 

        You stayed like that for so long, just enjoying the feeling and proximity of one another. The air was clear. You loved each other. 

        But now, one of you had to let go.

        Akaashi pulled away slowly with one last peck. While you sat with affectionate eyes watching his every move, he dug in his bag and pulled out a slip of paper. 

        “You write me a letter or something?” you teased. 

        “This is better than any letter I could write you, love, trust me.” Akaashi threw you a soft smile before settling onto the bed beside you. 

        You watched in utter fascination as folded and pressed the paper with skilled fingers. 

        “Wow, Keiji, you’re so good at that!” You let a hand hover over his own and stop the process for a second. “How long have you been practicing?” 

        Akaashi froze in an instant, but quickly rolled his shoulders and relaxed his form, leaning himself closer to your presence. “Quite a while now, but I did it for you.” 

        You beamed at him, tears pricking your eyes. “Keiji….” With a small, disbelieving shake of your head, you pressed your lips to his own just one more time. This time as a thank you. 

        Then you urged him to continue with a slight wave of your hand. 

        And he did so. 

        Fold. Crease. Fold. Crease. Fold. 

        And at last, the final product. A single paper crane of gorgeous blue, just like his eyes. 

        “YN.”

        “Hmm?”

        Akaashi hands you the crane and stares deeply into your eyes. “I love you.” 

        “I love you too.” 

        “And I wish for your life to be spared. At the expense of my own.” 

        “What?” You giggle in confusion, growing more and more concerned as Akaashi’s eyes seem to flutter. 

        Then they close for one last time. 

        “Keiji?” 

        His body slumps back, falling like dead weight to the mattress of your hospital bed. 

        “Keiji?!”

        You were afraid. So afraid. 

        “Keiji, what did you do?” you mumble breathlessly, wide eyes locked on him. On his body. 

        “WHAT DID YOU DO?!” 

        Gut-wrenching sobs tore through your chest, leaving your whole form trembling. 

        “KEIJI!” Your blood-curdling screams led crowds of nurses to your room, but they could never pull you away. You, keeled over Akaashi’s lifeless form, refused to move even an inch. You hugged him close, wailing and wailing against his unmoving chest. Incoherent moans scratch your throat as you rock him back and forth, whispering I love yous one last time.

        The legend was uncomplicated, but so painfully real.

        A thousand paper cranes. One wish. 

        And Akaashi’s wish was simple. A life for a life. 

        Him. For you.

hi,,, do u still take requests? if so uhm :( can u write an akaashi x reader au based on burn fr0m hamilton?

Burned Promises (Akaashi x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: Every letter he wrote you was useless now. After he cheated, they were filled with  nothing but lies, and what was the point of keeping lies lying around? (Based on Hamilton song “Burn.”)

A/N: Requests are open :)! I’ve never watched Hamilton, so… let’s just hope this is what you wanted. BUT I DID MY RESEARCH. Now it’s not this whole Hamilton/Haikyuu rewrite, but I did take the gist of the song and write it for Akaashi, so I hope you like it! Enjoy!

Word count: 1217

        When you had first met Akaashi, he had enchanted you. The way he spoke so eloquently, how he held himself so purposefully. His looks had struck you first, with black locks tussled so perfectly atop his head and gunmetal blue eyes that struck your heart. 

       He had bewitched you. 

       Since the day you met, it appeared you had captured his attention as well. He wrote you letters, and much like the way he delivered his words by mouth, he delivered them through pen potently. 

       Every paper you received filled you with euphoria. Seeing your name scripted in personalized swirls of his hand lit your love aflame. But it was the sentences, the paragraphs he crafted so passionately that kept you entranced.

       “My angel, every second I spend away from you is a second of my life wasted.”

       You felt the same.

       “Unlike what others say, your love has strengthened me and filled me with purpose.”

       You felt the same.

       “My angel, we were meant to be. Every thought in my consciousness has been overtaken by the image of you.” You felt the same. “Bliss floods my heart when I receive mail graced with your devotion. I devour your every word like a man starved the longer we are apart. Please, my angel, send more to me. Each piece you send me fills the whole your parted presence has left. I am yours, and your cherishes will fuel me till the end of time.”

       You felt the same. Or apparently you felt some way. 

       In the streets of your own town, on some random day, you began to feel like an outcast. People observed you with pity and sorrow. 

       “Poor girl.” 

       “What a shame.”

       “No one deserves that.”

       What were they talking about?

       It didn’t take long for news to travel one step farther. Your friend enveloped you in a hug and rubbed your back soothingly after you had shown up on her doorstep in tears. 

       “I should have listened to you.” 

       She had warned you months ago to watch him, be careful around him. She had said that one day, he would hurt you, and she was right. 

       After months and months of letters exchanging affection and tenderness, Akaashi had broken your heart. He cheated with another woman and hadn’t even had the gall to tell you first. 

       No, you had to learn from others. People who barely even knew you told you that your relationship had fallen apart. 

                               ~~~

       That night, Akaashi slipped into the house with a grimace. In search of you, he followed the sounds of a crackling fire and entered the living room. You were seated with your back to him, facing the chimney with your knees on the hardwood floor. Your entire form slumped as you settled back on your heels. 

       He hesitated to enter, instead clenching his jaw and standing in the doorway. 

       “Angel…”

       “Don’t.”

       Your voice was quiet and scratchy as you spat the word. From what he could see, your hands were laid out in your lap, holding something. 

       The flickering flames were the only thing lighting the dark room, hissing and battling each other to grow stronger. Silence overlaid the tense atmosphere, and Akaashi found himself unable to breathe. His hands twitched by his side, the hands that had touched another woman. 

       He wanted to hold you, comfort you if possible. But that wasn’t going to happen any time soon. 

       You heaved a sigh and lifted your head, previously dropped low, and stared into the burning heat. With all the composure you could muster, you unlatched the fireplace door and pulled it open, letting your eyes water at the increased light. 

       And then you threw one in. His first letter. 

       Akaashi inhaled swiftly at the sight but he didn’t move a muscle. 

       He had meant every word he had written in those letters. Things had just… gotten messy and grown to be too much at one point. 

       At least, that’s the excuse he told you. 

       “I don’t care,” you muttered in response, observing another letter with a snarl before feeding it to the crackling flames. The parchment was engulfed in seconds, and every sentence that had ever made your heart twinge scorched up with a tsss.

       The pile of papers dwindled down to one, and you scanned it over for a split second. 

       “I will always be yours.”

       It charred into smoky flakes just as quickly as the others. 

       You wiped away a wave of tears and closed the door to the chimney before smoothing out the skirt of your nightgown. Then you rose to your feet and closed your eyes, taking one long, deep breath. 

       The peace didn’t last long.

       Your gaze flew open at the feeling of a hand settling on your shoulder. 

       “YN, I still love y-” 

       You threw off Akaashi’s grip and whipped around, giving him a fierce glare. 

       “I hope you burn in hell.” 

       His eyes dropped and his cheek twitched at the words. 

       After a few minutes, you could no longer stand the sight of him. Your heart ached to think that he could betray you in such a way. He said he was mine.

       You wished you could forget it all. Not only what he had done, but everything before. The first kisses, the first touches, the first anything.

       You wanted to forget the strong arms that had caressed you to sleep at night. You wanted to forget the long fingers that had combed through your hair. The soft smiles, only for you. The flicker in his eyes that spoke volumes. The tenderness of the lips that had kissed you, brushed over every inch of you. 

       Akaashi wasn’t yours anymore. And God how you wish that wasn’t true. 

       With a shake of your head, you made your way out of the living room, pausing only in the doorway to glance back at him.

       He stood with his head hanging low, but, as if he felt the weight of it, he looked up to meet your gaze. 

       His eyes, pools of deep indigo with the occasional fleck of cyan, stared at you deeply. They glimmered with hope. 

       You wouldn’t be so cruel as to feed it. 

       You turned away with a trembling frown and continued on your trek up the stairs. Footsteps attempted to follow you to the bedroom, but you threw a halting hand over your shoulder and shook your head. The strides slowed to a stop behind you, and you could swear you heard a silent whine. 

       He was broken over what had happened too. But that didn’t mean you forgave him. 

       You couldn’t face him as you said it, but one half of your bed would be empty for a while. 

       “Sleep on the couch for now, Keiji.” 

       God, I hope he burns.

𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟑, 𝐌𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐀𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐮

KITA VERSION HERE

pairing: miya atsumu x reader (strangers to lovers—fake dating)

genre: fluff

word count: 1.4k

summary: number 13, miya atsumu seems like a nice man, but his little dilemma he ropes you into seems to show you he’s much more than that

“Hey, you’re Miya’s date, right?” Turning, you frown, staring at the MSBY player before you with furrowed eyebrows. Atsumu had mentioned his name to you before, but you can’t seem to recall it, having been a part of a list of far too many names to remember only fifteen minutes before reaching the gym.

“Um, n—yes! Yes, absolutely. I am,” you catch yourself at the last second, nodding furiously with a large (probably more than necessary) smile. He stares at you for a moment before nodding slowly, awkwardly smiling back.

You’re not sure if he’s completely convinced.

“Oh, okay. Well, uh…see you after the game, then,” he offers before quickly walking away.

Number 13, Miya Atsumu. He’s a nice man—from what you can tell at least. He’s helped you carry groceries to your car before—somehow always managing to be at the store at the same time as you. He’s paid for your drink at the local coffee shop that one morning—you’d forgotten your wallet in the car—and his smile seemed genuine enough. It was a little cocky for your taste, but his eyes were sincere, the saccharine honey of his orbs seeping with warmth when you looked into them.

And when he approached you, hands stuffed in his pockets and eyes downcast as he kicked a few pebbles around, claiming he’d needed a favor, you couldn’t find it in you to say no.

“I had a one night stand and a few photos got out to the press o’ me walkin’ out. Told ma manager I was datin’ someone so she wouldn’t get onta me,” he’d mumbled sheepishly, and though it seemed like a lot of trouble, you’d still agreed to be his date.

And here you were. His date, with him nowhere to be found.

The sudden poke to your hip makes you jolt, turning to face the source of your scare, hand unconsciously ready to shove it away when a smooth chuckle and a warm, callused hand on your wrist makes you pause.

“Woah, there,” Atsumu flashes you a grin, tugging you flush against his chest. The proximity makes you swallow, looking up at his face with wide eyes. He smirks slightly. “Yer here as ma date, wouldn’t look too believable if ya shoved me two seconds in, would it?”

Your voice seems to find itself as you frown, huffing before you look him in the eye more determined this time. His smirk only widens.

“You shouldn’t scare your date on the first one, it’s not very gentlemanly of you.” He offers you a sly grin, hand wandering down lower till it reaches the small of your back. Your breath hitches at the way he starts rubbing small circles into it.

“Well, I s’pose ya gotta point,” he mumbles, head dipping down lower till his breath is fanning lightly against your face. He smells faintly of cologne, cool yet spicy, but definitely expensive. “Can’t let people get the wrong idea, can we? Come on, angel, we gotta convince em.”

Eyes widening as you realize what he means, you press your palm against his chest, a futile attempt to push him away, really—the sturdiness of his muscled chest was enough to distract you instantly.

“I…y-you…here? You want to—here? In front of all these people?”

And he chuckles once more, making you start to wonder how the smooth and adorably sweet guy from the grocery store and coffee shop had become so smug.

“‘S just a kiss. Never had a kiss before?” You scowl, finally shoving at his chest this time, but his grip only tightens.

“Of course I have, you moron. Just not with a star athlete in front of all his fans,” you mutter.

“Ya keep up with me on the media?” Scoffing, you turn your head away to the side, not willing to admit that perhaps you’d searched his name in google once or twice. It was strictly informational.

“As if,” you huff. “This is not a very great first date, you know.”

“‘S not real, thought we went over that. Don’t tell me yer attached already?”

Number 13, Miya Atsumu seemed more a handful than you’d initially anticipated. With pursed lips and narrowed eyes, you glare daggers at him, making his eyes sparkle with amusement.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’m the one doing you the favor here. Be a little grateful.”

“Well ya gotta play yer part for me ta be grateful, angel. Gotta give em a show. Kiss me,” he puckers his lips slightly. “I’ll be grateful.”

You shove his face away when he leans down, making his lips curl into a pout. Staring at him in disbelief, you look around to see if anyone is staring at the show Atsumu is so hellbent on giving. To your dismay, it seems the entirety of the stands has their eyes cast specifically on you, making you sag into his hold.

For the millionth time, Atsumu’s snicker rings in your ears.

“Atsu—Miya, I’m not kissing you here in front of—”

“Ya can’t call yer boyfriend by his last name!”

“Fake boyfriend. Fake.”

“But they don’t know that,” he grins. Groaning, you sigh in defeat, glancing around the gym a few more times before ultimately caving. Atsumu’s grin couldn’t be any wider, and if it was, you’d have half a mind to smack it gone.

Perhaps your good deed was a bite that was much more than you could chew at the moment.

“Fine, if I give you a quick peck on the lips, will you be satisfied?”

“Oh, I’d be ecstatic,” he smirks. So, with an exasperated sigh, you usher him closer—to which he obliges much to quickly, and much too happily.

“Okay, but remember, it’s just a quick peck, okay? Don’t—” he cuts you off before you can finish your sentence.

And it most certainly isn’t a quick peck.

Atsumu presses his lips firmly against yours, molding against you so perfectly, you can’t help but close your eyes shut. His arms tighten their grip around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, and the scent of his cologne wafts through your nose once again, much stronger this time. And he swallows the strangled noise you let out, only kissing you deeper. The hand that lay flat on his chest a moment ago grips his shirt tightly, and your other hand subconsciously wanders past his shoulders to play with the hair at the base of his neck. He smirks against your lips.

Pulling away, he places one delicate, tiny, quick peck to your slightly swollen lips, huffing out yet another chuckle at the dazed expression on your face.

Except this time, it’s not cocky or smug. It’s purely one of glee, and it matches his expression. He looks almost as giddy as a child at an ice cream shop.

“A quick peck, as promised,” he winks.

“Atsumu! Everyone’s watched that! What’re they gonna say? It’ll be all over the media if we’re never seen together after a kiss like that! And—”

“Then I guess we’ll just have to be seen together after that, angel,” he cuts you off. Sputtering, you do a double take at his words, watching as he all but rolls on the balls of his feet in excitement.

And it clicks in your head, finally, that this was just number 13, Miya Atsumu, MSBY’s star setter and your resident smooth talker’s elaborate plan to set you both up to see each other over and over again.

You roll your eyes as you mumble “you could’ve just asked me on a real date like a normal person.”

“Well, I did actually tell ma manager I was datin’ someone,” he mumbles sheepishly, and you catch a small glimpse of the same shyness you’d seen when he first approached you with his dilemma. “But I thought it was a good opportunity ta dazzle ya,” he offers a toothy grin. Your heart does a 360 in your chest at the sight.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“And yer unbelievably cute when yer flustered.” The whistle blows, and his attention turns to his coach who’s ushering him over sternly, making him turn to you with a smile. “I’ll see ya after the game, kay, babe? Cheer for me real loud.”

And with another stolen peck on the lips, Atsumu jogs to where his team is waiting, glancing over his shoulder and winking over at you. You cover your mouth with your hand and stifle a chuckle when he stumbles slightly, ramming into a raven and curly haired man who scowls and shrugs him off.

Number 13, Miya Atsumu seemed quite the handful, but you think you can manage to deal with him somehow.

reblogs are really appreciated !!

:0 your sleeping on the couch thing was so nice!! If it’s not too much, could you do something similar with Atsumu, Oikawa, and Bokuto?

sleeping on the couch after an argument part two

feat. Atsumu, Oikawa, Bokuto

♡ warning: angst, happy ending

♡ a/n: ahhh I'm glad you liked it hehe

♡ part one

ATSUMU

arguments with Atsumu are the worst sometimes because he just expects you to see things from his point of view??

and when you pointed this out to him, he was not happy to hear that

so instead of acknowledging it, he changed the subject

"Let’s just go to bed, I have an early practice tomorrow” he says, making his way to your bedroom first

and of course you’re livid because he just chose to hold off on the argument

like heck you’d sleep in the same room as him

you lay down on the couch, curling up and draping the throw blanket over you

a few moments after closing your eyes, you sense a looming presence

fluttering your eyes open, you see Atsumu hovering above you, still looking annoyed

“What the heck do ya think yer doing?” he asks, and scoops you from the couch and towards your room

“Put me down ‘Tsumu!” you’re doing your best to thrash around in his arms, but his grip on you is too strong

“Yer acting really petty- sleeping on the couch is a tad dramatic don’t ya think?” he says, setting you down on your side of the bed before heading to his side

“I’m not! I’m seriously upset with you and I don’t want to sleep in the same bed as you Atsumu!”

you watch the panic set into Atsumu’s eyes when he realized that yes, you were 100% serious

instantly wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest

“please don’t say that Y/n. you didn’t mean that did you? I’m really sorry I know I’m a selfish idiot”

to him, hearing those words from you stung him. the fact that you were so fed up with your boyfriend that you couldn’t stand to even sleep near him made him worried that you were slowly starting to stop loving him

the tone in his voice is enough to calm you down

“no I don’t mean it.. I’m sorry too, I’m just tired and wasn’t thinking.” you reply, stroking his hair. and he starts to calm down too

you feel Atsumu nod his head

“okay, well let’s get proper rest and talk about this in the morning rationally” he says, kissing your forehead

“I thought you had an early practice”

“that can wait, you’re more important” he mumbles, hugging you closer to him and slowly drifting to sleep

OIKAWA

arguments with Oikawa can get stressful

because it’s clear he knows what the issue is- but sometimes his pride just gets in the way of admitting his wrongs

during your latest argument, he accidentally snaps at you for being too much and how he already knows what you told him

he calms down for a bit, but doesn’t realize how his words stung you

“let’s just go to bed” he sighs and makes way towards your bedroom

you’re honestly really hurt, and it feels just wrong to go to bed during this entire debacle, so instead you lay down on the couch to sleep

the argument itself was extremely tiring for you, so you’re able to fall asleep in no time at all

but Oikawa’s still awake in bed, just scrolling through his phone waiting for you to come in

after sometime of mindlessly going through social media, it finally hits him that he’s been waiting for a considerable amount of time

his first thought is that you were still riled up and just didn’t want to go to sleep right at this moment, so he heads out to the living room to get you to go to bed

"Y/n-chan, c’mon time to go to sleep. You can’t just stay up that’s not good ..” he stops talking the moment he sees you fast asleep on the couch

and now he’s freaking out. it’s not that you didn’t want to sleep- it’s that you didn’t want to sleep with him

which says a lot about how you currently feel about him and your argument

he panics and rushes over to the couch to wake you up

“I- wha? What do you want Tooru?” you groan, keeping your eyes shut

“I’m sorry!” he says, throwing his arms around you

“...what?” you’re starting to wake up more, but you definitely heard him apologize

“I said I’m sorry. I don’t want to argue anymore if it means you refusing to sleep in the same bed as me” you’re now fully awake and look at your boyfriend, and you can see the alarm in his expression

he’s just too scared to lose you, and he’s afraid that if hets you sleep on the couch just this once, then things will go downhill from there

but that’s a discussion for another day

you look at your boyfriend and you can tell how sincere he’s being with his apology, so you lift your arms up

and he carries you back to bed 

“..we still have to talk about it in the morning you know” you mumble

“mhmm” he hums before pulling you closer to him

he doesn’t care about that all too much because he knows you two will be alright in the morning

BOKUTO

arguments with Bokuto were uncommon, but when they did occur it was a big deal

and tonight was no exception

the two of you weren’t listening to one another and it felt like you both were talking to a brick wall- it was terribly annoying to deal with and you knew it was going nowhere

"C'mon Kou, let's head to bed- we can talk more in the morning" you sigh, and without a word, the two of you start preparing for bed

while you're brushing your teeth, you start thinking about how you really don't feel as if it's right to be in bed with your boyfriend

the argument was kind of your fault, wasn't it? you started to feel extremely guilty for your actions- and thus you made the decision to sleep on the couch

perhaps sleeping separately would help the both of you clear your minds more

when you finish up your nightly routine, you peek your head into the bedroom, you saw Bokuto fast asleep

you made your way to the closet to grab a spare blanket and head towards the couch

you were extremely exhausted so it didn’t take long for you to fall asleep too

but Bokuto woke up probably an hour after he had fallen asleep, and of course he noticed that you weren’t next to him

his first thought was that you went to get water, so he decided to stroll into the kitchen to grab some for himself

but when he entered the living room and saw you sleeping on the couch, he was extremely confused, like have you been sleeping there the entire time?

he walks up to the couch and frowns, feeling especially guilty that you had chosen to slept on the couch

brushes some of your hair out of your face and cups half of your face

he sees you smile a bit in your sleep upon feeling his touch and there’s a wave of relief in him

like heck he was going to let you sleep alone now

when you wake up hours later, you notice that you’re no longer sleeping on the couch- but instead on Bokuto who is the one on the couch

your head is rested on his chest, and while the movement of his chest rising and falling brings great comfort- you’re honestly confused as to how this happened

apparently Bokuto tried to squeeze into laying down on the couch with you, and while the both of you technically did fit, it wasn’t the most ideal way to sleep

so he just kind scooted you on top of him, and you slept peacefully on him, hugging him like a giant teddy bear in the process

you ever think about how they'll probably see this picture in a yearbook when they're 60 years old and reminisce about their time as a part of the karasuno volleyball club? cuz i do all the time

how you left

synopsis. at the end of the day, you’re always your boyfriend’s second choice.

pairing. oikawa tooru x female reader word count. 1.2k genre. establish relationship au, break up au, angst. warnings and notes. mentions of insecurity, part of my prompt list requests.

“You wanna watch a movie tonight?”

There’s a slight pause at your words, a mellow voice echoing throughout the four walls of your shared apartment as your boyfriend, Oikawa, looks up from his phone, his smile slowly fading.

“About that,” he purses his lips, “I’m busy later.”

It only takes those three words, the exact ones that he’s overused for the past three months to make your heart drop. Even without context, you already know that this must be something that revolves around his best friend, Nari, someone who seems to be more important to Oikawa than you.

It’s almost as if they’re in the relationship, and you’re his supportive best friend instead.

Keep reading

this broke my heart 😭 can i please be added to the taglist? ty!! 💗

Chapter 3

sypnosis: you and your boyfriend, Bokuto had a fight the day before the training camp in Tokyo and it was all because of a girl carrying rumors that left the both of you in bad terms. Will the ace and the manager immediately resolve this issue, or will they keep it that way until for who knows when?

✦ genre: angst, fluff

✦ word count: 3.7k

✦ warnings: reader’s heartbreak

»»— masterlist | previous (ch.2) | next (ch. 3.5)

chapter 2…

Bokuto released a deep sigh, blaming himself for every stupid thing he’s done to you. “I fucking hate myself.” He holds his hips as he scrunched his eyebrows in distress. You would always laugh at his craziness and he’d even do it deliberately if it makes you happy. Out of each of them, this could be the stupidest and the saddest one yet.

“You reap what you sow.” Aiko stated and grabs her phone to check the time. “And you better get ready for tomorrow.”

That’s enough scolding for someone who already admits their fault.

He pouts, his eyes full of hope. “Is y/n-chan going to be there?”

“She’s not coming.”

DAY ONE: Training Camp

The night breaks into dawn. It was serene and the weather was perfect for the start of the training camp. People are snuggled into bed, still in slumber, and yet the volleyball clubs from different schools are already on their way to spend the week fortifying themselves.

Coach Yamiji speaks entirely of pure motivation to keep Fukurodani at their greatest forms. He had always encouraged them right before they showcase their willpower on the court.

However, the coach’s word doesn’t seem to be effective on the ace. All of them are steeled except for him. Bokuto stands beside his teammates, in a deep trance. He was unusually quiet for some reason, and it concerned the whole volleyball club.

Also, it was too early for him to be in his emo mode. Unless something or someone had provoked him to be that way.

But this wasn’t his typical emo mode either.

Keep reading

I love the way you write can you do Kenma. Kinda toxic Kenma, reader and him had an argument but it’s mainly just him being awful to her. So reader is sad and then he gets worried she’ll do some stuff to herself and then he comforts her yeaaaa emphasis on the him getting worried and guilty part.☺️

sorry this is kinda detailed

ECHOES OF SILENCE

Pairing: Kenma x Reader

Genre: Angst with Comfort

A/N: IM SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I BROKE MY COMPUTER. also change of writing style I literally physically couldn't go back to my old one LMAO

The door shut behind you with a hollow thud, the kind that echoed through your chest long after the sound had died away. The air inside the apartment felt heavier than usual, weighted down with the aftermath of your latest argument with Kenma. Your hands trembled as you reached for the back of a chair, grounding yourself before your legs gave out entirely.

He’d been harsh tonight. Harsher than ever before.

His words—cold, cutting, and merciless—had pierced through every defense you had built. They circled in your mind like vultures, picking apart the fragile pieces of your heart.

“Why do you always need my attention? It’s suffocating, honestly.”

“It’s not my job to make you feel okay all the time.”

“Maybe if you weren’t so insecure, this wouldn’t be a problem.”

Tears burned at the corners of your eyes, but you bit down on your lip hard enough to taste copper, refusing to let them fall. You felt small—so unbearably small—and so unbearably alone.

Kenma hadn’t even looked at you when he delivered the final blow, his amber eyes fixed on the glow of his game screen as if you were nothing more than a background noise he could turn off.

And maybe he was right. Maybe you were too much.

The ache in your chest grew sharper, blooming into a storm of hurt that wrapped around your ribs like a vice. You rubbed at your arms, seeking warmth where there was none, your breaths shallow and shaky. The spiral was familiar, dark thoughts gnawing at the edges of your mind, whispering that you weren’t enough, that no one would miss you if you disappeared for a while.

Or for longer.

You blinked slowly, your gaze drifting to the window. The city lights outside twinkled, cold and distant. There was a numbness creeping up your spine, spreading through your limbs until you felt disconnected from yourself, like you were watching someone else exist inside your body.

Kenma leaned back in his gaming chair, the controller still in his hands. The room was quiet now—too quiet. He could hear his own breathing, uneven and shallow. The last thing you’d said before you left replayed in his mind.

“I don’t know what you want from me anymore.”

There was no fire in your voice, no anger. Just sadness. Defeat.

Kenma swallowed hard, his heart thudding unevenly against his ribs. The glow of the screen in front of him felt blinding now, the sound effects grating in his ears. He turned it off with a sharp click, plunging the room into darkness save for the faint light seeping in from the hallway.

Guilt clawed at his throat, a thick, suffocating weight that made it hard to breathe. He squeezed his eyes shut, running a hand through his hair, the silky strands slipping through his fingers like sand. He knew he was cruel tonight. He’d known even as the words left his mouth that they were too sharp, too unfair. But he’d been so frustrated, so overwhelmed, that he lashed out the only way he knew how—by pushing away the person who mattered most.

And now you were gone.

What if you didn’t come back?

A cold shiver ran down his spine. What if—

No.

No, he couldn’t think like that.

Kenma stood abruptly, his feet carrying him out of his gaming room before he even registered he was moving. He opened the door to your shared bedroom, half expecting you to be sitting on the bed, waiting for him like you always did after a fight. But the room was empty, and the silence was deafening.

His heart dropped.

You didn’t hear the door creak open behind you. You were too lost in the storm of your own thoughts, too far gone to notice the way Kenma hesitated on the threshold, his eyes wide and full of something you hadn’t seen in him before—fear.

“Y/N.” His voice was soft, barely a whisper, but it cut through the haze in your mind like a blade.

You flinched, your head snapping up to meet his gaze. He looked pale, his hands trembling as they gripped the doorframe.

“What do you want?” Your voice cracked, raw and brittle.

“I…” Kenma swallowed, stepping into the room. “I was worried about you.”

You laughed, a bitter sound that didn’t reach your eyes. “Worried about me? Since when?”

“Don’t say that.” His voice broke, and the sound of it made your heart stutter. “Please… don’t say that.”

You looked away, your shoulders curling in on themselves as if you could shrink away from the weight of his guilt. “You don’t have to pretend to care now. You made it pretty clear where I stand with you.”

“I’m an idiot,” he blurted out, his voice cracking with desperation. “I’m… I’m so stupid, Y/N. I don’t know why I say those things. I don’t mean them—I never mean them.”

“Then why do you keep hurting me?”

Kenma felt like the air had been knocked out of his lungs. “I don’t know,” he whispered. “I don’t know how to stop. But I want to. I swear I do.”

The silence between you stretched thin, fragile as glass. Kenma took another step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “I thought… I thought I was losing you tonight. And it scared me. It terrified me.”

You blinked, fresh tears slipping down your cheeks. “You are losing me, Kenma. Every time you say those things… it chips away at me. And I’m tired of feeling like I’m not enough.”

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, the words trembling on his lips. “I’m so sorry. I’ll do better. Please… don’t leave. Don’t leave me.”

The vulnerability in his voice broke something inside you, the walls you’d built around your heart crumbling as he reached out to cup your face with trembling hands. His touch was warm, grounding, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself lean into him.

“I’m scared too,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper.

“We’ll figure it out,” he murmured, his forehead pressing against yours. “Together.”

And for now, that was enough.

HAIKYUU CHARACTERS IGNORING YOU AFTER AN ARGUMENT

CHARACTERS: Tsukishima, Oikawa

SYNOPSIS: after a long day all you want to do is come home to your boyfriend, little did you know they've had a pretty shitty day and were ready to make it your problem

CONTENT WARNINGS: Angst!!, comfort, swearing, name calling (slut, bitch), reader feels insecure about their weight (Oikawa)

Author's note; Feel free to request anything you want I'm desperate to write anything. This is a college AU but feel free to consider it whatever you'd like I don't really care. Also gave a little sneak peak for my next post about Haikyuu College AU Major headcanons

TSUKISHIMA Has been acting a bit strange recently, well more than usual at least. You've been together since freshman year of high school, so it really should come to no surprise that he'd be changing, you're growing together after all.

However, ever since you entered your first year of college he's been distant and unbothered with you, every day after class he'd come home eat dinner and lock himself in an office for hours on end.

You could understand he was busy, after all being an anthropology major must be demanding but you couldn't help but feel left out, so you brought it up when you came home.

you carefully approached your lover's office knocking on the door, your hands were shaking against the hard wood. You were nervous to say the least but this has been going for way too long.

Tsukishima swung open the door with a bored look on his face, he was pissed but that wouldn't stop you.

"we need to talk" you said a slight shake in your voice, it was stern nonetheless but that wouldn't last long when you felt his piercing gaze, he looked even more pissed, like he was just waiting to start an argument with someone.

Well, that wouldn't even matter anymore because here you were, holding back tears as your lover was lashing out at you, calling you 'clingy' and 'bothersome'.

"do you even know how much of a bitch you've been?" he said approaching you slowly as he leaned down mockingly.

You were squeezing your fist looking at him in disbelief, this wasn't the Tsukishima you fell for. "really? your girlfriend wanting to spend more than fifteen minutes a week with you is being a bitch?"

He scoffs standing up straight before walking past you, shoving your shoulder in the process as he leaves the apartment with a loud slam of the door leaving you flinching alone in the middle of your apartment.

you really didn't know what was going on with him but you were determined to resolve it once he came back home,

well, that wasn't much of an option anymore because the moment Tsukishima came home you rushed over to him begging to resolve the argument however you were met with silence. it was clearly a game to him as well, 'see how long he can ignore you before you break.

You stood once again in disbelief for the third time this day as your lover walked right past you without uttering a word, you could almost feel your eye twitch.

You weren't going to let yourself get too beat up though, you had classes too after all and you wouldn't let yourself get distracted by a petty argument so you kept yourself busy, completing assignments, studying anything that could keep your mind off the argument. Plus, Tsukishima never stayed mad for long, he'll most likely have forgotten when you guys went to bed.

well that's you thought , although you went to bed Tsukishima was nowhere to be seen, you waited and waited until you lost your patience walking down the stairs to the living room where you were met with a sleeping Tsukishima on the couch, your heart was clenching, he's never done this.

You found your way back up to the bedroom filled with guilt, were you really in the wrong? all you really wanted was to spend time with him. Well maybe he would forget about it in the morning you thought as you drifted off to sleep.

In the morning you made your way to the kitchen thinking you'll make some breakfast and you'd eat with your boyfriend like you would each morning but once you set the table Tsukishima only looked at his plate with a raised 'brow giving you an unimpressed look before making his own breakfast.

Just how many times was he going to leave you in disbelief?? you stood there speechless as he left for class with his toast, he didn't even put in the effort of eating with you.

His ignorance wouldn't stop after coming home though, whatever you tried he wouldn't break.

You had enough, you stood in front of him as he sat on the couch, he groaned moving positions so he could see the TV "Just how long are you going to ignore me??" you snapped.

silence

You scoffed and walked away making your way to your room, maybe you needed some space, plus, you don't think you could handle anymore of this treatment. You stuffed a bag with clothes and essentials feeling yourself breaking down as you stumbled out of the room and past him.

"Goodbye, Tsukishima." is the only thing you muttered before slamming the door.

'what?' he thought as he registered what just happened before hastily jumping off the couch and swinging the door open,

you were gone.

this time it was him who stood alone in disbelief, he searched for you, asked your friends but you were nowhere to be seen.

He went home with a wave of guilt washing over him, he called you, texted you but no response.

He sat on the couch alone with his thoughts 'did he lose you?' 'it was really bound to happen with how he was' he though he looked over to the clock 6 AM. 'where were you??'

creak

his head snapped back 'did you come back??' And there you were, standing in the door giving him an unbothered look, he always has so why can't you?

He rushed over to you "where the fuck have you been?" you looked into his eyes meeting him with silence. He softened realizing what was happening before hugging you. You flinched to his touch, did Tsukishima just hug you?? not once in the 4 years of dating has he hugged you, he's held your hand, he's played with your hair, draped his arm around you shoulder but he's never hugged you.

" 'm so sorry baby." what.

you stood there in confusion awkwardly putting your arms around hi- I'm sorry are you hallucinating or did the words 'I'm sorry' just come out of his mouth..

"it's fine. Just, don't do it again." You say snapping out of it as you pulled away "and don't call me a bitch ever again. emphasizing every word with a hit on his chest.

"I won't baby, 'promise." he says with a groan clutching his chest as you smiled at him giving him a peck on his kiss bitten lips before walking away to the kitchen leaving him starring at you as if you'd vanish, you turn to look at him with a confused face "what are you waiting for, you owe me dinner."

OIKAWA Has always been pretty popular with the ladies, it really isn’t surprising at all considering how charismatic he was. You knew all of that even before you decided to go out with mister popular.

He was handsome, that was undeniable but you just couldn't stand his fan girls anymore, how they touched him, flirting shamelessly while you were RIGHT THERE. oh, but the worst part? Oikawa flirted back, that's where you drew the line, dragging him home to your apartment more frustrated than ever.

But once you started telling him it made you uncomfortable he had the audacity to call you what? 'selfish' and 'insecure'. started going on and on about how you were the same with men apparently, calling you a 'slut' and also- wait what?

...

you sat there dumfounded, what did he just call you?

"excuse me?" you whispered, voice cracking. he's never insulted you before, he just scoffed pushing past you to grab his keys and his volleyball before leaving your apartment.

You were enraged, he just called you a slut and walked out? you should be the one walking out you thought as you found your way to the kitchen with furrowed brows.

If it was anyone other than Oikawa you would have been out of there in an instant but he was the love of your life, plus, it was a first offense right? and you believed every argument can be resolved. You just couldn't lose him.

you sighed picking out a pack of chips from the cupboard before halting 'did he find you unattractive?' maybe he flirted back because he didn't love you anymore? all those girls looked so much better than you did, did you gain weight??

your mind was racing before hearing the door open, oikawa waked in giving you an empty look before cocking his brow at the sight of the chips

oh God

You find yourself putting the chips back before approaching him "Oikawa? what is up with you today?" you say voice laced with worry he rolls his eyes before plopping on the couch

did he just ignore you? you start shaking your head at him before you find your way to your shared room looking in the mirror, playing with the fat of your stomach and thighs feeling yourself unconsciously start breaking down.

He gets up from the couch leaving to the bathroom, passing your room, while his girlfriend was- uh..

what the fuck is she doing he thought confused before letting it go and continuing over to bathroom.

He was mad at you but he was still your boyfriend so as he did every night he made you both diner setting your plate on the table but you didn't come down, he waited before deciding he was just going to eat on his own you'd come down eventually he though but a couple hours passed and you still weren't there.

He gets off the couch making his way into your shared room, panic washing over him when he sees your pretty face soiled with tears on the floor, he rushes over to you "baby what's wrong??" he says petting your hair.

You hide your face shaking your head in embarrassment "why didn't you come down for dinner" you rub your eyes looking around the room to avoid eye contact with him, he turns your face towards him eyes boring into yours as he plants a kiss on your lips "I'm sorry for saying all those horrible things, baby. I was being an asshole, please forgive me"

you chewed on the inside of your cheek for a moment before finally speaking "do you find me unattractive? or- or well fat.." you asked uncertainty laced in your voice

he looked at you in shock flicking between your eyes looking for a sign you were joking "what? baby God no, you're the prettiest girl I've ever met- why would you even think that?"

you sighed "it's just that- you know all those fangirls are so much prettier and it just seems like you don't like me anymore"

he sighs pulling you into a hug "I'm so sorry for making you feel like this baby I promise I'll never do it again please just forgive me, you're the most beautiful woman I've ever met"

You smile up at him tears prickling in your eyes as you let out a giggle giving him a peck on the lips. He smiles back at you throwing you over his shoulder "hey!! put me down" you giggle trying to wiggle out of his grasp.

"No way, I'm spoon feeding you, you haven't eaten all day.

PS; if you ever feel insecure about your weight never resort to starvation, you're beautiful just the way you are as long as you're healthy.

https://anad.org/get-help/eating-disorders-helpline/

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

jus' a silly guy who enjoys writing ! I do take requests sometimes but i mostly write what's on my mind. here's a breakdown of my blog! (things you might see and can request٩(•̤̀ᵕ•̤́๑)

╭──╯ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ╰──╮

୨⎯ "trope wise" ⎯୧

fake relationship

(best) friends to lovers

rivals to lovers

forbidden relationship

strangers to lovers (to strangers)

opposites attract

love at first sight

stalkerS to lovers

unreliable narrator

୨⎯ "genre wise" ⎯୧

ANGST.

(sometimes) fluff

horror/thriller

(dark) romance

fantasy

୨⎯ "fandoms" ⎯୧

jujutsu kaisen

haikyu!!

my hero academia

promised neverland

୨⎯ "readers (?)" ⎯୧

oc x oc

oc x character

all gender readers

all body type readers

character x character

୨⎯ "POV" ⎯୧

2nd person POV

1st person POV

୨⎯ "other" ⎯୧

book rants!

random updates

twitch promotion! (staargaazing_)

╭──╯ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ╰──╮

Everyone has their limits and boundaries, so do I! You've seen things you may request and stuff I will post about! Here's stuff I do NOT want to see in my comments/request...(ᗒᗣᗕ)՞

╭──╯ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ╰──╮

୨⎯ "trope wise" ⎯୧

Age gap..(ex. 18 & 42)

INCEST/STEPCEST

kidnapper/kidnapped to lovers

love triangles...(¬､¬)

second chance (cheating wise)

୨⎯ "genre" ⎯୧

SMUT. (minor lol)

୨⎯ "fandoms" ⎯୧

literally anything bookwise b/c i feel like i would make everything OOC. i can't characterize anything that does not have a direct picture in my face

IRL/ live action shows. I don't watch any of those and i have a sever fear of mischaracterization

i guess we'll know when we get there!

୨⎯ "readers (?)" ⎯୧

child reader. (ex. -16)

oc x reader

୨⎯ "POV" ⎯୧

none. i can do third reader, it's just not typical

୨⎯ "other" ⎯୧

racism

homophobia

non feminist agendas

ableism

religious themes

╭──╯ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ╰──╮

this obviously isn't everything b/c I'm human and can't remember everything i will/won't do. but i will change and add as i go through everything.

i just ask for respect when coming here and for some constructive criticism!

ヾ(*´ ∇ `)ﾉ

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

hi im atrociously sobbing and i cannot stop

The Burden of Being

Summary: There was an Osamu who loved you once. Who loved Onigiri Miya so much he spent most of his waking hours there, supported loyally by the members of Hyogo Ward. A fire changes that and he and his twin brother adopt their old high school motto: we don’t need the memories. Now they’re gone and memories are all you have. So as an homage to the man you love, you reopen his restaurant back up for him.

Pairings: miya osamu x reader (romantic); miya atsumu x reader (familial); akaashi keiji x reader (platonic)

Content: angst; fluff; inaccurate portrayal of how amnesia works; there is a hospital scene; fem reader; reader eats meat; reader has depressive symptoms that are, for the most part, amateurly addressed; reader attends therapy; alcohol as a coping method; undiagnosed alcoholism; unhealthy coping mechanisms; cigarette smoker Akaashi; cigarette smoker Osamu; amnesiac Osamu; pro volleyball player Osamu; the characters are all in their mid to late twenties bc this fic covers the time span of 2+ years; long passages written within parentheses are memories; there is a mentionable size difference between Osamu and reader where reader can wear his clothes and it be too big for them

Word count: 22k+

A/n: the premise for this fic was born after binging The Bear; she's gone through 4 drafts, 2 of which were completely scrapped and rewritten, and strayed much further from the initial plot than I imagined, but she's here! Thank you The 1975 for writing About You which I binged just as hard and would rec listening to it while you read! Sets the vibe, you know? Anyways, I've talked too much (obviously) but if you read, know that I love you!

The day was Tuesday, the most unforgettably forgettable Tuesday to exist.

Your downstairs neighbor was doing laundry. Or upstairs. Someone was doing laundry that day because you remember the scent of down. It lifted into your bedroom, pressed into your sheets, and made it harder for you to wake up despite your phone’s incessant vibration.

A shounen ending song, the season finale. A matcha roll. A nurse who spoke with her fingers and head tilts. A walker with tennis balls at the bottom, an annoyed cab driver, and a tourist who smelled too strong of American deodorant.

They were all there. You remember.

The hospital was the same as ever. It had ample seating, not too busy, which you recall eased the burden on your heart (only slightly) if it weren’t for the reason you were in the hospital to begin with.

An elderly woman sat at the end in one of the chairs pushed against the wall, sucking on a candy that smelled like guava when you passed. Her walker was parked right next to the seat and someone, probably her daughter because she was younger but they looked alike –they shared the same nose– sat beside her on her phone.

There was a man in an obscenely large overcoat sitting in one of the middle aisle seats. You remember because you couldn’t help but be quietly jealous of his wear considering how cold it was in the lobby. And finally, a teenager who was crying on her phone, holding her stomach as she did. Her tears gave you courage, allowed you to slip them quietly down your cheeks and soaked them up with your sleeves when you got your moment alone, away from the rest of the family. 

You weren’t there when Osamu got hurt. He was by himself in the restaurant, opening it up and getting it ready before everyone else arrived just like how he always insisted.

You weren’t there. But you do remember.

Ma held you in her arms the moment you turned the hallways. She was on her way to the cafeteria, grabbing something for Atsumu to eat. Her head was downturned, a doleful cadence in her steps, and it was obvious that she’d spent ample time shedding tears, but there was a quiet peacefulness to her. Acceptance.

Her phone call had been quick like a debrief. She mentioned an accident. A fire, a gas leak, and despite your gasp, quickly told you not to worry because the doctors said Osamu would be fine. She said to come when you could, because she was there and Atsumu was on his way and he was going to be okay.

Then when you arrived, she immediately started crying. She had pulled you into a hug, devoured your body into hers as she pressed her head into your chest to weep.

She cried before she even got to say hello. And you didn’t know then, but there was a hierarchy for the pain.

Atsumu bore Osamu’s, Mama Miya, her sons’. And with you on the outside, with you being the last arrival, you held all of theirs.

And gods, do you remember the pain.

Ma had warned you that Atsumu was attached to his brother’s bedside. He was hunched over in a chair pushed back so he could burrow his head into the crooks of his elbows. The steady rise of his back meant he was asleep, probably cried himself to it. It had been a long journey from Osaka to Hyogo, and just the news of his brother’s incident, the weeping he must have done in public and bedside, you didn’t even question his exhaustion.

With your eyes on Osamu’s still figure, you moved to rub your hand soothingly along the length of Atsumu’s back. Comfort him was your thought process. Comfort your brother because Osamu would have wanted you to.

Was it bad to say that, inside, burrowed deep in your selfishness, you felt relief? There was a certain calmness that Osamu had been lacking lately, like a Tuesday morning where he finally, begrudgingly, gave himself an extra day off.

It wasn’t until you felt liquid dip down your neck that you realized you were crying.

Dark hair sweetly tussled to the side, one hand held in Atsumu’s and the other loosely laid over his chest. The scene was a rewind to the past, a replica of a childhood stored in the photo albums you’ve perused more than once in the Miya family home, when sharing beds and staying up until dawn led them to sleeping in until noon. When was the last time you’d seen him so… calm?

If only there weren’t any bandages on his head. If only it didn’t take these kinds of circumstances to finally close his eyes, to allow himself an unlabored breath.

You pulled up a chair and situated yourself amongst them. Atsumu at Osamu’s right, and you at Atsumu’s. Rolling a hand over Osamu’s thigh, you tucked the blankets in, pressed it into the crevices, his soft body heavy under your ministrations. Neither of them noticed you. Osamu only shuffled slightly, tilted his knee to the side and then clenched Atsumu harder. Atsumu responded immediately and scooted in. You stayed beside them, observed from the side.

There was no bitterness to your actions. What they have is something different and sincerely, for them to even love you so much that their bond bent, that they made themselves flexible to fit you in, it had always been enough.

Atsumu was who you called when you couldn’t talk sense into Osamu. And Osamu was who you turned to when Atsumu’s pride refused to allow him to fully run to his brother.

Ma came later. She brought a matcha swiss roll for the both of you to share and Atsumu a complete bento. It roused both of her boys up. Atsumu woke up first.

He rubbed his eyes with the back of his left hand, the one still joined with Osamu’s and though he woke with his nose in the air, his freehand started reaching for you the moment he recognized you were there.

Your tears brought on his. His yours. Yours Ma’s. You held each other close and you whispered, because Atsumu could not bring himself to speak, words of consolation.

“He looks okay,” you muttered, eyes closed because you couldn’t chance a glance to look at him, to really, really look at him. “He’s going to be fine. He’s so stubborn. He’s going to be okay.”

Whether the words were salt or sugar on wounds, it was hard to tell because all that emptied from anyone’s eyes were tears.

No one expected to be here. Who did? Even when you watched Osamu sign the insurance policy and signed your name next to his just in case something happened. Something could never happen to you or Atsumu or Ma or Osamu. These were precautions to ease the heart, not the premise of a tragedy.

But even then, it would be dishonest for you to admit that Osamu’s accident was the most devastating part. You’re only being truthful because true pain began when Osamu woke up.

Atsumu noticed first. Even with his back to his brother, it was instinct that forced him to turn around. His groggy eyes were barely open. You could only see a slit of gray, drowsy and clouded like an overcast morning as his hand patted the edges of his bed as if in search of something. Of Atsumu.

The dutiful brother forewent everything. You, his ma, his bento, and immediately bent down to reach for his brother with both hands. He was at his side immediately, a cup of water brought to Osamu’s parched lips without a word before you could even recognize that Osamu was awake and against all disbelief, that he looked okay.

You took the napkin that was neatly folded atop of Atsumu’s bento, the one that had somehow been passed onto you and quickly made your way to Osamu’s side. To Atsumu’s side. And when Atsumu’s hand pulled back and Osamu resigned himself to a weary groan, eyes shut to take a physical break from all the hurt you were sure he was feeling, you handed Atsumu the napkin. He wiped the corner of his brother’s mouth with a gentleness you had never seen him bear.

An eerie silence persisted in the room as everyone held their breath. Osamu did so because of the aches and everyone else as a life vest because one wrong exhale felt like this reality could slip away.

It did. Frighteningly quick. Relief dissolved from your chest like cotton candy in water and all was left was this cloying and overbearing feeling of inconsolable despondence and disbelief because how? How did you end up here?

Osamu flinched when you pressed your hand against his thigh, a quick jerk that you surmised had to do with the fact that he had his eyes closed. You twisted your palm and stroked up, a move that you had done many, many times before, a premise to sex, a plea for comfort, and instead of him falling prey to your touch, he jerked out of your reach. There wasn’t even enough time for you to react because Atsumu had gripped your hand away between clammy fingers.

You looked between the two boys with a heart going brittle.

“What’s wrong, Samu?”

Said man took one quick glance at you before settling his gaze on his brother and a foreign expression passed him. Insecurity. He pressed himself deeper into his pillows and it forced Atsumu forward and you back as Osamu passed a glance to his mother.

He looked like a boy. And between exchanging glances at his mother and brother, Osamu couldn’t seem to find it in himself to return his gaze back to you.

Atsumu gripped his brother’s shoulder, “Samu, Samu. It’s okay. I’m here. We’re here.”

Osamu responded silently with a glazed stare that made Atsumu sputter. “Samu? Ya feel okay? Can ya tell me how ya feeling right now?”

The question seemed far too much to handle because all that was received was silence. Atsumu was hardly holding himself together with the tears that spilled from his eyes onto blotted, pink cheeks but you couldn’t bring yourself to move forward. You wanted to help carry this burden, hold Osamu like you’d done many times before, but the world felt skewed. Instead of being at his bedside, you felt like you were standing outside a window, watching the scene from a distance.

“Do ya… do ya know who I am?”

Ma broke first. You remember reaching backwards and gripping a wet hand full of used tissues, the fibers sticking to your skin.

“Samu. Samu.” Atsumu repeated his name over and over again like prayer, an incantation meant for miracles. “Samu. Say my name.”

“Tsumu.” The small croak was accompanied by the mildest glare, a small fire of insult always and specifically reserved for his brother and Atsumu choked.

“Fuck. Yeah, yeah, yeah. That’s me. Ya remember our birthday?”

“October.”

“What day?”

His face pinched momentarily.

“What day, Samu?”

“What happened?”

“Nothing, nothing.” Atsumu tried to deflect, “just try to think about it. What day is our birthday, Samu?”

“Atsumu…” Ma finally gained the strength to speak, a tiny chide that she was too exhausted to actually give any weight.

“Fifth,” Osamu pushed himself to sound out, like the word was a foreign tongue.

“Yeah, that’s right.” Atsumu brushed his brother’s hair with his fingers and the sight was disconcerting because despite how close they were, how they were one part of a whole, they had never been so careful. A childhood of roughhousing and testing limits proved invincibility. 

Bruises and beatings and cuts that they wrought on eachother and yet there Atsumu was, tending to his brother as if he’d been his caretaker all his life.

“Ya recognize anyone else in the room?”

“Course I recognize Ma, ya idiot.” He coughed in between, stutters forming one worded sentences, but the attitude brought on the brightest smile on Atsumu’s face.

“Yeah, and who else?”

You remember moving to lift your hand, the one pressed against your lips to keep them from trembling, the one that wasn’t holding Ma’s, to provide a shy wave but thank the gods it stayed. Because when Osamu finally urged himself to look at you, instead of the ardor and the sweet groggy expression right before early morning kisses, he winced in pain. You muffled the sound of shock, but no one noticed with Atsumu’s screeching chair as he rushed to hover over Osamu’s anguished figure.

He writhed for an achingly long moment, though it must have been just seconds. You would have ran off if Ma didn’t force her grip on you tighter but once Osamu could melt back into his hospital bed, Atsumu turned his head.

His expression was tight and so desperately trying to be controlled despite himself. But you weren’t an idiot because beyond the glassy edge of hurt and worry and fear, if you dove deeper beneath the well of tears that pooled in his eyes, was blame.

Atsumu turned his back to you and pressed his brother’s head into his chest as he rubbed large strikes across his back. “It’s okay, Samu. Sorry I pushed ya. Ya did well. Ya did good. Ya gonna be okay.”

And before Ma could stop you, you ran out the door with the excuse that you were going to find a doctor. You turned down the hallways, heedless of direction, where you were able to find what you thought was a secluded cove. The torment was gushing, a pain that you’d never felt or could even begin to understand. No matter how you expelled the misery, in tears or heaves or wracked out sobs, the hurt never abated. It was limitless.

Because for some ridiculous reason, this felt like all your fault.

You were only able to spend minutes crouched in the privacy of your corner until a nurse found you. It must have been a usual sight because she hovered over you, a quiet calm in her voice, as she led you away with a bottle of juice in one hand and into a room where no one else was. She said nothing, only passed napkins your way and didn’t blame you when you couldn’t find it in yourself to express gratitude. Afterward, she pointed down a long hallway and told you that when you were ready, that’s where the waiting room was.

Ma came by maybe an hour later. The pain at that point had swelled into your marrow, aching at every movement you made, but the bubbling river of tears had turned shallow. Now they were silent streams. You had spent the last half hour in solidarity with the teen who cried to her mom over the phone, catching glances every time a sniffle turned wet, and seated in the spot with a lingering guava and menthol scent.

Ma sat where the grandmother had, you beside her. Without glancing up, she placed the matcha roll in your hands, half eaten but notably uneven because you had the larger half.

Her touch lingered. It stayed. When it prompted more crying, the reality that you were a pitiable sight, that this wasn’t just shared between you and the girl with her arm around her stomach and the wordless nurse, the swollen bones in your body bursted.

Ma’s cold hands easily maneuvered you into her bosom. She held like you’d seen her hold Osamu in pictures when he was sick, like how she held Aran when he cried after coming back home after being away for so long.

“We’ll get through this.”

It sounded like an empty sentiment but if anyone were able to make the impossibles come true, it was Ma and Ma alone. You barely believed her, but maybe. Most likely not, but maybe, she was right.

So you nodded into her chest but she only clicked her tongue behind her teeth.

“Together,” she told you sternly, “as a family. I don’t want to hear none of that.” Ma held you tighter when she felt you pull away. “Ya’ve been my daughter for a long time now. Even if the two of ya never got married.”

You’d been trying to be so strong. For Osamu because it was obvious. He was your partner for life, and though the vows were never spoken, you had lived them. For all the good, the bad, the happy, and the sick.

But Atsumu, his pain was tenfold and you had to do something, even if it was to tread the thorny footpath to be by his side, even if it was just your hands cupped open so you could help carry his misery.

Then Ma held you like she was strong enough to piece you together again and you trusted her. Your wails were muffled into her cardigan and she rocked you back and forth despite the arms of the uncomfortable chairs in the way.

“It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t–” your breath ceased, words lingering in the air because living it is already unbearable enough.

“He does.”

“He doesn’t.”

“Ya think a love like the two of ya had is that easy to forget?”

It wasn’t. Or at least, it wasn’t supposed to. But the way Osamu had winced in pain at the sight of you, and Atsumu’s imperceptible glare, maybe it was best to be forgotten.

Ma took your silence as agreement because the circle of her arms loosened. She pulled back so that she could wipe your tears with a bent index finger.

It was jarring seeing the puffy rise below her eyes. She had always been beautiful in your opinion. A simple charm for life and the zest derived from raising two wildly vivacious boys kept her young. In a single day, she aged a decade and you wondered how you compared.

“The doctor is on their way. Come on,” she tapped you the same way she did whenever Atsumu started an unnecessary argument, “let’s go see what they have to say.”

Atsumu’s expression flashed in your mind, hesitation clenched her cardigan tighter, “but Atsumu…”

“Don’t be mad at Atsumu,” your throat had lurched when she looked away from you, head tilted to the side as if you had just slapped her across the face. “He’s going through a lot. He doesn’t know what to do.”

And you remember how your grip relaxed, how your arms had fallen into your lap, diminutive and so, very exhausted. Never did it cross your mind to be angry at the way any of them ached. Not Ma, not Atsumu, and especially not Osamu. If there was anyone you hated, it was yourself for even being there.

Ma said you were family. But Atsumu and Osamu, of course, they would always be her boys.

Osamu was asleep when you reentered the room and Atsumu held your hand as if nothing had ever happened. He stood up immediately when the doctor stopped by, eyes forward. Something had changed that day. Atsumu was a different man.

He’d have neverending stories of when he was captain at Inarizaki, and he liked to pass time by retelling another instance where he had to wrangle control of Bokuto, or Sakusa, or Hinata. Atsumu’s passion and sense of righteousness were great qualities for a leader, but his clumsy delivery always made him the butt of Osamu’s (among others) jokes.

That day had changed him. His footfall was sure despite his blemished expression as he listened faithfully to the doctor, only ascertaining everything you had already deduced.

It all made sense, logically, scientifically, situationally.

The fire was still being investigated but from the report, it had loosened the foundation of Onigiri Miya and it caused a beam from the ceiling to strike him flat against the head. He’d been knocked unconscious before the flames could even consume the restaurant and if it hadn’t been for the regulars and the community that had memorized their favorite restauranteur’s habits, no one would have even known he was inside.

As you all waited for Osamu to come to again, you’d rationalized the incident repeatedly in your mind. Reality though, was never as kind.

Because even in the tepid fluorescent light, you couldn't convince yourself. This could not be real.

It’s not. You knew this, but Osamu spoke with such vindication, honesty in every breath that even he had you fooled.

“Ya traded out Kageyama when we were six points down in the second set.” Osamu recited to his brother at his bedside, in the same spot, in the same clothes, in the same battered expression. “And I remember cheering ya on from the bench when ya set the winning point to Aran against Russia.”

The silence that followed was cold. A shiver started at the dip of your shoulder blades, and wrung you out like a towel squeezed dry.

The doctors had said something like this would happen. Memories could return a little misplaced, as if you had just moved everything two inches to the left because it exactly was as Osamu said.

In the 2020 Olympics, Japan faced Russia in the first round. They won the first set, but struggled hard in the second. To prevent risking their lead, Kageyama was subbed out for Atsumu. The tides had turned and they won with Aran scoring the last point.

Yes, Osamu was there. But rather than on the bench, he was outside the arena. You were manning the register and he’d stepped outside the final moments of the match, standing there with his arms crossed like a dad, cap in one hand, and head tilted at the enormous screen that streamed the ongoing match inside.

Atsumu was the one who made the first sound. It was strangled and faded when his brother gave him a peculiar look. Then he glanced at his mother, urging answers out with his eyes, staring at everything before landing at you. His face contorted in pain, but Atsumu saved him. He grabbed his brother’s cheeks, hair glued to his skin, and he pressed his forehead against his brothers, and nodded. 

“Yeah, that’s exactly what happened.”

That was the extent of what you could take and you ran out of the room, droplets of your tears mingling with the tile’s speckled pattern, and when the door clicked again, you didn't have to look up to know who it was.

“I’m sorry.”

Through your blurry vision, the world graying, darkness descending right before your eyes, it was like you were speaking to Osamu himself.

“He looks happy for the first time and I’m so sorry.” The Atsumu-Osamu amalgamation held your hands desperately.

Their individualism had always been easy to parse, especially with you being devotedly in love with one and having developed a brotherly affection for the other, but you allowed yourself this. If your heart must break, let Osamu herald this pain. No one else.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” He pulled you in by the shoulders and hugged you. He sniveled wet breaths into your neck just as you darkened the cloth on his back. “It’s the first time I feel whole.”

The sting reappeared between your nose and you found it harder to breathe so you clutched him tighter in a feeble attempt to expel all the excess tension that had ballooned in your chest.

“I know.”

Though the fact did little to ease you, you'd never been able to compare. What is Osamu’s had always been Atsumu’s and vice versa, too. Joint custody in all things: pride, success, pain.

Memory.

“And I don’t want to break that yet. Not for him.” Not for me he said silently. “And I love ya and I know ya love him. Ya love him so much and he loves ya too but–”

But I love him more. I love him in a way you could never.

“I know.”

Osamu would pinch your lips shut if he were really here. He’d never stand for your way of thinking because comparing yourself to his brother was a thought he never entertained.

That’s like apples to oranges or whatever that saying is. I chose ya. I choose ya for the rest of my life and I just happen to be stuck with that guy for life.

You took Atsumu’s face in your hands. Wet cheeks stuck to your fingers as you collected tears along your lash line until the world blurred just enough that blonde turned dark brown and golden rays faded to gray.

“- but I don’t want to take this away from him yet. Ya heard the doctor. He said we could try some exposure therapy so that his memory can unwonk itself out again, but ya saw that didn’t ya?”

Tears burned down your chin when you gave a somber nod, “I did.”

“When he was talking about being in the Olympics, I… I just–” he bit his lip, the memory painful, “ –and he got all those details correct, I just couldn’t tell him no.”

“I know.”

You couldn’t either.

“We’ll start the therapy when everything settles down. Maybe he’ll start remembering things on his own but it’s been a lot for him to deal with. The injuries, his memory, the shop–”

You shook your head and the man before you paused. He looked surprised with his mouth open for breath, but the foremost expression did not hide how he felt yesterday.

Your thumb started at the plump of his face and swiped up to the ridges of his cheekbones. A clean slate.

“It’s okay. Osamu will be okay.”

Your love was Osamu’s choice. Atsumu’s will always be shared.

After that day, you kept your presence minimal. Only occasionally stopping by, slowly relinquishing the things that the old Osamu, the one that knew you, valued. Each time, he’d hold the item like it was foreign. You watched from the corner of the room, like a diminutive decoration, maybe even a broom, and spectated as Atsumu helped him pull item after item.

The black hoodie, stained at the cuffs, and chewed strings at the ends, the one he had first shared with you.

(The night descended softly, like the flutter of silk sheets, and before you knew it, you’d been in Osamu’s front seat talking nonsense and sharing an assortment of leftovers he’d brought from Onigiri Miya. You’d only been talking for a couple of weeks, slowly getting to know each other outside of customer and cook, but it’s been months of patronage. When Osamu texted you after his shift and found you still awake despite your early start the next morning, he invited you out for a drive.

You’d heard him before he arrived, the worn out truck of his announcing his presence. He had the audacity to apologize for the poor state his vehicle was in, as if it wasn’t endearing, as if he didn’t make you feel like a princess when he held his hand across the console for leverage.

And here you are now, at a hilltop overlooking a beautiful city you’d  moved to in a drowsy silence. His presence is calming, a knitted blanket that softens the bite of the night air. It doesn’t stop you from shivering though.

Osamu notices immediately, head snapping to you when you do.

“Ya cold?” he asks, but regardless of your answer, he’s taking action. The man braces a hand around your bare thigh since you’d only come out in sleep shorts and shirt (though you still made sure to check yourself in the mirror before heading out) and just the warmth beneath his touch makes you ache. You lean closer, just a slight movement over the console for any residual heat he has to offer, the seats of his vehicle a sharp contrast.

“Still working on fixing her,” Osamu explains, “she’s a little off in some spots. Her heater don’t work and she leaks some fluid every hundred kilometers but she’s still a beaut.”

Your smile makes Osamu pause. His body is turned as he tries to reach for something in the back, but just the sight of your expression makes him stop and fully face you so he can take it in.

You think it’s cute how he talks about his car, how despite all her flaws, he can see her value. The world has been hard on you, but he gives you hope. From the moment you met eyes on him at your office and when you walked into his shop months later, greeting you with a fond welcome because he remembered you, he makes you think that he can see your true value too.

And with the way he leans in, his eyes glancing between yours and your lips, his hand unknowingly dragging up and down for the feel of more skin, you think he does.

The kiss is chaste, so innocent like the first drop of sunlight in the winter. It warms you from the inside out with a crisp feeling that makes you feel renewed.

Barely a second, but Osamu has you wishing for more. You’ve noticed he has a tendency to do that, to have you eager and hungry for all that he has to offer. How from just one bite of his catered food to your office, you couldn’t help but visit his shop as well.

Though your lips have parted, your faces have not. Osamu’s lashes are long from this point of view, and his skin looks lovely in the moonlight. You’re so close that you can see the small veins, blue and greens below his eyes. The colors are so distracting, his breath so warm across your cheeks, you can’t help but stare, memorize everything before the chance to do so again is taken from you.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

His husky words create a vortex of desire, consuming you wholly. You can’t help but squirm in your seat.

“Like what?” You’re doing your best to keep it cool, but you can hear the fray in your voice, reedy and needy and wanting. It’s scary to even think of the power he has over you.

“Like,” his pause forces you to glance at him and you see it too, a mirrored expression of yearning. It’s so intense the way your barriers break. It’s scary. You want to pull away, escape the emotions that are hardly within your control but he tilts your chin with an index finger and thumb. The motion is so gentle, the slightest touch with the heaviest of meanings, and he continues to stare. Maybe even admire. “Yeah, like that. Ya gonna make me go insane.”

“Me too,” you whine. It’s unfair, so unfair what he can do just with his eyes.

His expression hardens. The corners of his eyes crinkles as he glares his sight down on you, “don’t. If I kiss ya again, I don’t know if I can control myself. Ya don’t know how bad I want ya.”

“I’m right here.”

Your reply induces a vexed response. He has to breathe heavily through his nose as he fully moves his fingers to cup your cheeks. You watch as his chest rises, the breadth of it expanding as the tendons in his neck protrude at the action. Then he looks down on you from a head that’s tilted back and you see it, the subdued hunger that you’re sure he’s trying to persuade back inside. It’s frighteningly beautiful. The attraction beckons you forward despite his grip on your face keeping you still in your spot.

“Why?” You have to ask. What is all this discipline for when clearly, it’s reciprocated.

“Because,” Osamu grits. His hand travels to the back of your head and you can feel the strength of his grip, the promise of more beneath his fingertips. “If I’m gonna wreck ya, I’m gonna wreck ya right. So quit being the devil’s little thing, and let me take ya out on a real date so I can have ya properly.”

You pout but his thumb moves to push the plump of your lips back in, “no, ya hear me? Ya keep those pretty lips in. Be good and I’ll promise I’ll treat ya even better. Ya okay with that?”

His dominance, the assuredness in his words but the ragged pitch in his voice, as if he’s hardly holding himself together, as if he wants this just as bad, or maybe even more than you do has you finally agreeing despite the fact that you’d give it all. Forget the shame or the ladylike propriety of saving yourself for when you’re sure. Lust is a persuasive speaker, but Osamu, he is a promise you want to ensure you’ll  have.

“Good,” Osamu is pleased with your ascent.

His attention returns to his back seat and he pulls out a black hoodie for you to put on. When you pop your head through the collar, you don’t expect the confident man to suddenly be so bewildered, mouth agape and wrist hanging dumbly from the 12 o’clock position of his steering wheel.

“What?” you ask though you know the answer. It’s a giddy feeling to know there is a power balance between the two of you.

“Ya, uhm, ya,” Osamu coughs into his hand, turning his head away before looking back at you. “That shit’s old. All stained up and ragged but. Ya make it look good.”

You look down, sleeves well past your hands where you notice blots littering the cuffs. You can’t help but bring the strings up to eye level. There are teeth marks indenting the aglet and you give Osamu a dubious stare.

He shuffles, a nervous chuckle, “like to chew on them sometimes. Keeps my mouth busy.”

Then without a second thought, you bring it to your mouth to chew it on your own. If he won’t kiss you, an indirect kiss has to suffice. His agonized groan is worth it.

Osamu takes you out on an official date the very next day.)

Osamu spared one second for the article of clothing and tossed it to his night stand. You pretended that he didn’t just break your heart.

The next item was Vabo-chan, but not the same one Osamu had brought into your shared apartment. That one faced its demise after a neighbor’s dog ran inside when you accidentally left the door open and used it as a chew toy.

(“What are ya doing on the floor like that?” you hear the door to your bedroom creak but petulantly refuse to acknowledge him. His steps thud, hollow over the cheap wood of your home.

“Hey,” he nudges you with his foot, “ya asleep? Ya gonna hurt ya back if ya stay like that.”

“Leave me alone.”

“Are ya crying?”

“No!” Denying but not hiding, you curl into yourself even further.

Osamu bothers this time to actually hold you with his hands, gentler, more patient. He softens his tone too, “hey, hey. What are we doing?”

He waits for you to react, doesn’t continue pressing further and refuses to leave you alone.

“I’m so fucking stupid,” you lift your head up, fresh tears as you admit your failure. You expect Osamu to comfort you, abate the sting of your own proclamation. He stares at you for a moment before he starts laughing in your face.

“You hate me!”

“Hey, now that’s going too far. I don’t hate ya.”

“But you think I’m stupid.”

“Just occasionally. Like when ya make impulse decisions.”

Hearing him makes you scream into your palms. Osamu laughs and urges you into his lap.

“What’d ya do?”

He’s so mean to know you so well, all the good and the bad.

“Tell me. So we can cry together.”

You press your face into his shirt, using it as a napkin to wipe away your tears, ignoring his mild grunt of disgust when you do. “Remember when Vabo-chan got eaten? Well I bought you a new one to replace him because you were sad.”

“Did ya?” His voice sounds so surprised, it makes breaking the bad news feel even worse. “That’s mighty nice of ya. Doesn’t make ya stupid.”

“Okay, but—“ You scramble off him, knee digging into his thigh that he makes a noise of pain, to get a box tucked underneath the bed. Your hand runs across the frayed cardboard where it had ripped open from your excitement. Hesitation stops you but Osamu places his palm on top of yours. Careful and encouraging and though you know he’s going to laugh at you, you finally open it up but stop yourself by placing a hand on top of the item.

“I was so excited! Because they don’t sell him anymore, just the vintage ones that are super expensive.”

“I know.” He’d been talking about it with Atsumu and his Ma, conversations you’d overheard on the phone.

“But I saw it and it was super affordable so I bought it without thinking, but,” you look up at him and he smiles. It makes you hide your face in the box but he’ll eventually admit to you later on how cute you had looked then. How distraught you were on his behalf and that then, in that moment, he’d truly felt loved. “Don’t laugh!”

“I won’t.”

Your constant hesitation brings on Osamu’s impatience and he tries to pry your fingers away, “okay. Seriously. Don’t laugh or I’ll cry.”

“I told ya, I won’t.”

The plush comes out on your own accord and before he has any time to process the sight, you begin overexplaining. “It’s a counterfeit! They gave him a nose and his name is Bavo-kun. I’m so stupid!”

Osamu’s too quiet, expression unreadable as he looks at the stuffed toy. Your heart is teetering on the edge of a cliff, so close to falling off and on the verge of tears once again. Then he bellows out a solid bellow from the gut. Before you can crumble into embarrassment, Osamu pulls you back against him, squishing stupid Bavo-kun between you two and holding you tightly against his chest.

“I love him,” his voice turns wistful. “Bavo-kun.”

“I hate him. He’s so ugly.”

“That ain’t right to say about ya kid.”

“What?”

“Look at him.” His eyes fall to your chests, forcing you to take in the hideous sight of your failings. “He’s got ya nose.”

“That is not funny, Miya Osamu.”

“Oh no, Bavo-kun. She used my full name. What are we gonna do? Ma’s mad.”

You slap his chest. Bavo-kun is collateral damage, “don’t call me that!”

Osamu’s humor is all sorts of fucked up. His laughter is excessive, shaking the both of you that he loses his balance and you guys fall to the floor. A hand of his comes to cup your cheek, acting as a buffer before you thud onto the ground and with your heights at the same level, tears drying out, you can finally see his expression clearly.

He reminds you of gemstones at moonlight, the sparkle of something beautiful. Light cannot replicate it, only refract it. And though it’s close-lipped, his smile pulls you back from the edge, melts you to the ground and anchors you back with him.

“I love this life,” Osamu confesses, “This family. I love ya and our little mishap.”)

The way Osamu’s eyes had lit, you couldn’t help but clasp your mouth to hide the smile that blossomed beneath. It was devastating how despite it all, his joy elicited yours.

“Vabo-chan!” Osamu looked to his brother in an eager excitement. “Remember how we begged Ma to buy us this when we were little?”

“Yeah. Then we had a sleepover every night with the four of us. Tucked them in with their own pillow too”

Osamu lifted up the plush’s hands, fondness tight in his expression. His eyes roamed, though they were elsewhere, remembering the memories he never lost.

“Wait a second,” Osamu’s expression hardened. His hands traced over the lines on the Bavo-kun’s face, flipped him over to read the tag, and when it didn't provide the information he wanted, he turned the toy over again to face it directly. “This ain’t Vabo-chan. The hell is this fake shit?”’

Atsumu was quick to return to damage control the way he had been these past couple of days. He plucked the toy and tossed it to a chair on the side and told Osamu not to worry, that Vabo-chan was back in Osaka in Atsumu’s home because Osamu was kind enough to lend him his when Atsumu left the one he owned on an airplane.

New memories. Fake memories.

Lies.

You were out before anyone could stop you. Not that either of the boys would have since in the midst of this whole facade, all you were was a burdensome truth.

You laid in bed accompanied with misery. The emotion made for a poor cuddle partner but it kept you company as you shivered and wailed into pillows that hardly smelled like the Osamu who knew you anymore.

Ma called. The image of her worried eyes made you answer, but when she’d update you about Osamu, how she’d first tell you he was getting better and then, as if an afterthought, urged you to visit him, you didn’t have the heart to tell her that you didn’t want to hear it.

So you started ignoring her calls. She was persistent, as expected of a woman who raised a set of rowdy boys all on her own. She knocked on your door between two minute intervals, called and texted in the gaps between and you made excuses like you were busy working over time to catch up on the job you’d left behind.

All untrue because you’d emailed your supervisor that you’d be on an indefinite leave of absence with no explanation. There was no part of you ready to meld back into the real world again. Your world had ended, your existence ceased and now it was your duty to find your place again.

Ma’s final message was an update that Osamu was getting discharged from the hospital. She mentioned that the family would be moving to Osaka at Atsumu’s insistence. She wanted you to come by before they left.

You didn’t.

With the money you’d gotten from selling Osamu’s food truck, a phone with a dying battery lost beneath your bed, you traveled in the opposite direction to Okinawa. 

It was supposed to be healing. You were supposed to recreate a new identity here, find yourself in the beaches, among the company of strangers, smoothened into fine stone and drawn back to shore after getting caught in the riptide.

But here you are, with misery steeped so deep within your bones that it’s turned you bitter.

You leave your budget lodging only because your stomach tells you to and the measly mini fridge of your studio had nothing but flat soda. There’s no reason to look in the mirror, a quick scrub across your face is enough to remove the crust from your eyes and dried drool from the corner of your lips.

The convenience store is just around the corner from your temporary home. You’ve been trying to maintain your elusive nature, hoping you can leave the island as folklore, by limiting your patronage and entering the establishment at various times.

It’s the first time you smell fresh air, and admittedly, it does feel good against your skin. Much more palatable than your room which was already scented by mold when you entered. There’s birds singing and even the scent of smog excites your stale senses.

The world is so effortlessly beautiful.

And that’s what makes it so cruel.

You push your way into the convenience store, the aggressive movement rattling the bell above.

By your last visit, you’d memorized the aisles so you stroll on through with a single basket in hand. The thought process is careless as you pick out which shelf stable meals you’ll have for the week. It’s not until you reach the cold beverage section that this mundane visit turns into something interesting.

You squat to level yourself with the bottom shelf, debating whether or not you had the energy to carry a full twelve pack the half kilometer back. Just the thought of it hits you with a sudden feeling of fatigue that you cannot help but groan and press your forehead against the fridge door.

You’d spent the past two weeks alone so just the quiet call of your name has you jumping up defensively.

Akaashi looks down at you unimpressed.

“What are you doing here?” You look around, fearful that Atsumu or another one of Osamu’s volleyball confidants might be around. “Are you following me?”

Akaashi is an acquaintance at best, an Onigiri Miya fanatic at most. You hardly had a chance to have a conversation with the man when every time you saw him, he spent most of it with a face stuffed full of onigiri.

Your reaction flattens his expression even further.

“No, I did not take a three hour flight all the way to Okinawa only to watch you buy alcohol in your,” Akaashi pauses, “sleepwear.”

He has a point so you settle in the defeat by glaring at him.

“I am on a company retreat,” he finally explains. “You are far from home.”

“Retreat,” quick to use his verbiage, “yeah, I’m on a retreat, too.”

He eyes you then glances to the fridge door. You glance along with him and notice that the oils of your skin transferred onto the glass panel and do your best to hide your embarrassment with anger instead.

“What,” you challenge, feeling awfully prickly today and poor Akaashi is the one you get to take it out on. Who else? Certainly not Ma, or Atsumu, or Osamu or the nice landlord who handed you keys without question. Of course, you’re particularly nasty with yourself as of late, but if you can share the beating with someone like Akaashi whose deadpan nature is persevering, then so be it. Now that Osamu’s erased you from his life, it’s not like your social circles will ever collide again.

“You look…” Akaashi doesn’t spare you any grace. His eyes roam over your figure, disgust especially contorting his features when he witnesses the sight of your shoddy pants that have seen better days. In fairness, so have you. “Maudlin.”

Despite not knowing the definition of the word, you gather context from just the tone of his voice and it immediately makes you frown.

Defensive, you’re quick to retort. Because who is he, baggy eyed Akaashi, hangnail ridden Akaashi, squinty and blind Akaashi, no owning hairbrush Akaashi, to speak of your current condition?

“And you look like your retreat isn’t retreating.”

You get up, discreetly rubbing your self portrait in sebum with a pants leg, and impulsively decide that you deserve the 12 pack thanks to this new inconvenience. The pack slams against the glass door when the suspension forces it back too quickly. Akaashi moves to help but you cast a glare before he can.

“I do not need help,” you supply.

His reply is nonplussed, “you do.”

“I don’t,” and now the corner decides to catch on the gasket. Akaashi ignores your small grunts and your quiet insistence, pulling the door wide open.

You thank him begrudgingly only because it’s the socially acceptable thing to do but the man doesn’t let you stray much further.

“What if I bought another pack?” That catches your attention. More liquor, less lucidity, less opportunity to remember you’re sad. It seems to be a curse these days, the power of memory, and for once, you think it’s quite unrelenting. “And I paid for your items? Will you let me camp out wherever you’re staying?”

“There’s only one bed.”

“The floor is fine.”

“It smells like mold.”

“Let’s buy a candle before we leave.”

There’s a desperation that you recognize, a solidarity between two persons barely hanging on and the least bit put together. It shouldn’t be so exciting to find someone as miserable as you but isn’t that what they say? Misery loves company.

“Holy fuck,” you grin at him, sardonic, “I don’t remember liking you so much, Akaashi.”

“It’s my pleasure.”

It’s a stupid response, a very Akaashi response, so you giggle manically and kick a pack with the toe of your shoe.

“Grab the 24 pack. We’ve got some retreating to do.”

Akaashi is running away from his responsibilities and so are you. He locks himself in your studio without a mention of its disarray and happily sleeps on the flat futon provided by your temporary landlord with a single fitted sheet and your neck pillow. The amenities offered are quite militant, but considering the price point, you cannot complain and neither does Akaashi.

Neither of you mention what sorts of horrors plague your sleep, a respect for each other’s privacy, because despite enjoying his company, life did not bring you two together out of kindness.

There’s a reason why the underneath of his eyes have swelled to a charcoal gray the same way you cannot help but begin your mornings with a beer. The two of you watch reruns of old childhood shows and every so often, Akaashi wordlessly gets up to go outside for a smoke. You thank the heavens there’s no balcony so you wouldn’t have to face the familiar sight of a back lazily bent over a railing and the slow wisp of smoke. He comes back inside with the hint of tobacco on him and you think he’s noticed how it makes you choke because the first thing he does is wash his hands before sitting next to you again.

He chooses to abide by the code of silence until the fifth day. It’s an evening where the bed has been stripped bare, the room emptier than it already is.Your dirty clothes had been piling up but it had been a struggle to clean them when laundry felt like a hug, the firm press of a collar and a lost nape. The two of you lie on the floor and bide time while you wait for the linens and whatever paltry laundry either of you have dry.  

Akaashi dons a white undershirt and sleep shorts, you in a shirt that doesn’t belong to you. It doesn’t belong to anyone actually, because its owner has abandoned it too.

He holds a half eaten Okinawa style onigiri in his hand and the sight is so familiar you don’t pay him any mind. Your thoughts are gluey from the alcohol so it takes an extra line for the jokes to settle. Laughter is muffled by your forearms where you’ve placed your chin, laying on your belly and big toe tracing a gap between tiles on the floor.

Even the sound of Osamu’s name takes longer to process.

But you still remember. You devotedly will.

“These onigiris taste different from Myaa-sam’s,” Akaashi says beside you.

You lay a cheek on your arm and look up at the cross legged man. He finally got his glasses and other belongings from his previous room yesterday. A smile is already plastered on your face because the liquor makes Akaashi funnier than usual.

The joke never comes.

“Did you ever want to talk about it?”

His question prompts self reflection. Talk about what? What was there to say when the two of you have been so busy running. Immediately, you scramble to get up onto the smooth surface of the stripped mattress to put some distance between you two.

“That’s why you’re here, right?”

Beneath glasses, Akaashi’s eyes have a pointed edge to them.

“What do you know?” It’s suddenly so cold now with the space between you and there’s nothing to cover you up. You can only pull your knees to your chest.

“Nothing.” Akaashi turns to look at the TV. He watches the scene play out until it cuts to a commercial. “Atsumu doesn’t say anything. He’s been uncharacteristically tight lipped.”

Akaashi says uncharacteristically but you’re not surprised at all. This sounds exactly like the Atsumu you know now. It fouls your mood and has you reaching for your emotional support sake from the nightstand.

“He tells everyone to entertain Osamu lest he get a traumatic episode.”

“You’ve seen him?”

“No,” Akaashi watches your face deflate so he tacks on that Bokuto has.

Tension coils the muscles along your bones. It makes you feel frigid so you gulp down the rice wine in hopes that it warms you up from the inside out. Akaashi only watches. He never mentions your drinking habits. You don’t say anything about his smoking tendencies. These were the boundaries you were supposed to respect, but the man keeps on pushing.

“I heard you sold the food truck.”

“How else could I afford all this luxury?” Your hands stretch out to broadcast the shoebox the two of you call home.

He’s used to your defensive sarcasm by now, only taking a singular bite from his onigiri. “So the branch in Tokyo?”

You laugh. “Not happening.”

Then you finish the whole bottle with an aggressive gulp. You flatten yourself against the bare mattress. You ignore him, pretend you’re alone, pretend you’re okay, and you accept the dizzying fall into slumber.

When you wake, the laundry is brought in. It smells exactly like down and a headache. The digital clock on the nightstand tells you it’s midnight so you drink a bottle of water and work on fitting the sheets to the bed. For your efforts, you reward yourself with another can of beer. Then another. It only takes two for you to fall asleep again.

The both of you don’t broach the topic. He reels you back in with a sense of normalcy, the routine of bumming it in front of the TV and the unhealthy eating habits. Even when you blurt out that onigiris are now banned from the house, he only provides a knowing blink.

Slowly, the space between you two skitters away. He coaxes you in like a stray with indifference and eventually, he’s sat cross legged in front of the TV while you lay next to him on your belly.

The duration of your lease is running out as the month dwindles away into repetition. There’s only a couple of days left but you’ve run out of alcohol and food. It’s a weekend night with prime time television over reruns and you’ve gotten particularly attached to this drama that you started halfway through so Akaashi and you head out one evening to prepare for the last couple days of indulgence.

You should have known Akaashi had something planned when he veered to the left with the excuse of wanting to try out a different store.

Once you heard the quiet roar of waves crashing, you had to pause. A rush of trepidation overcame you. Akaashi was already halfway through the crosswalk when he turned around and noticed you weren’t there. He urged you with his eyes, sharp still below the frames of his glasses. People walk around him and you cannot help but notice their peeved expressions. The sound of cars whiz past and the waves do nothing but recede and crash and it’s all so much to take in.

“No,” you shake your head.

You want to run but where do you go? Forward? Away? Where else because there is no going back. 

The crosswalk sign starts blinking and there is renewed severity in Akaashi’s expression. He beckons you with an outstretched hand.

It reminds you of Atsumu, the way he had reached for you the first day at the hospital.

It reminds you of Osamu, the days he’d pull you out of bed when you slept in.

“Come with me,” Akaashi says.

That is all you need to go. The dramatics are uninhibited as you make your way to him, blind with your head bent as one wrist wipes away incessant tears and the other is extended to catch his hand. He takes it. It’s a foreign union with his spindly fingers that are long enough to twine around your wrist like a restrictive vine but you relinquish yourself to it.

Because, this whole time, all you’ve wanted is this: promised, unselfish companionship.

Akaashi leaves you on a bench and returns with meat pies bought from a nearby food truck. The smell of it saturates the area in an appetizing scent of fried deliciousness that has your stomach gurgling. You’ve not had a single healthy meal since you arrived in Okinawa but the alcohol you’ve imbibed religiously for the past few weeks welcomes the offering.

“Have you wondered yet what is going on with me?” A bus whips past you two with an uncomfortable gust of warm wind. You want to pretend that you didn’t hear Akaashi over the sound of the engine, but his silence is imploring.

“Always,” you say.

Akaashi entertains you with a small huff, “you could ask.”

“But then that would breach our secret NDA. Which you have breached by the way. You owe me another 24 pack.”

“Considering I no longer have a job, we might have to put that on hold.”

You reply only with a wide eyed surprise.

“I put in my resignation yesterday.” Akaashi admits. His hands glide up his thigh to clear the grease from his fingertips. “Do you want to ask questions now?”

There’s a lot of questions running through your mind. First of all, why? Why quit? What was the reason? Why did it take you in your pajamas buying alcohol before noon on a foreign island for him to do so?

“Yes, but I won’t.”

“You’re aberrant.”

“I’m assuming that means ridiculous.”

“Close.”

“Share whatever you want to share. I won’t…” you almost hand the crust of your meat pie to Akaashi out of habit. You press it into the napkin instead, crushing it with the pressure of your fingers. “I don’t want to force anything out of you if you’re not ready.”

Akaashi hums. It’s a sound similar to when the understanding of a concept finally dawns on someone. He kicks his long legs out. The Oxfords provide a bouncy noise and it’s only now that you see how aberrant Akaashi is. Near the ocean shore, he wears business casual dress with slacks and though unpressed, he still dons a button down with elbow pads. Freaking elbow pads. You must look ridiculous next to him in your novelty shirt and pajama shorts. It’s been difficult wearing anything that doesn’t have elastic lately and jeans leave for no room to breathe.

He pulls out his cigarettes from his breast pocket and when he remembers, he turns with a silent tilt of his head, asking permission to smoke. You only nod but turn your head away quickly. The gradual exposure to the smell is one thing, but the sight of him smoking might be another step you’re still not ready to take. 

The cigarette crackles twice in two long inhales and he makes a point to blow in your opposite direction.

“I’m told that literary composition is not my forte.” You remain quiet, respecting the beginning of Akaashi’s soliloquy. “People tell me that I’m not meant to be an author. The world, actually. My short stories weren’t selling so I tried my hand at writing fanfiction for Meteo Attack, the manga I edit and hardly anyone read it. I even got hostile responses for my characterization.”

He needs another two inhales from the admittance. You don’t blame him.

“My boss and I had been working on a training plan the last two quarters so I could move to the literary department and the night before I met you, we were announced our placements for the next quarter. Mine didn’t change, still editor, still in manga. And when I asked, my boss said he’d be an idiot if he let me leave. I was too good at my job to change positions now. I went on a manic binge, slept through my alarms for the scheduled office activities, saw you, and figured you’d be the best excuse I could have to avoid my boss and coworkers for the rest of the trip.”

The sound of the lighter flicks once more. You listen to the quick initial inhale and the lengthy one that follows.

“My intention was never to quit. It was just like you said, retreat. I wanted to abscond myself of responsibilities for a moment but then I ate the onigiri I bought and I remembered. I remembered lots of late nights in Hyogo with you and Myaa-sam and Bokuto. And it made me think of you.”

“If it’s pity you’re offering, I don’t need it, Akaashi.”

“It’s not. I’m offering another contract. A business one.”

You turn to him and find that the smoker had finished his cigarette already. He gathered saliva in his mouth and discretely spit it on the floor before turning back to you.

“Let’s open Onigiri Miya up again.”

The idea sickens you because just the name of the restaurant brings back an onslaught of memories you’ve been trying to avoid. Osamu in his tight arm sleeves and black apron. His musk after a long night. His weary smile that would worry you only for a second until you realized it was satisfaction that compelled it more than anything. The sweet and salty scent of sticky rice and the starchy feeling on your hands whenever you would swirl your fingers in the buckets of dried grains that Kita would present to you. Long days, long nights, and Osamu, Osamu, Osamu.

“There’s no way. I have no clue how to even begin starting a business.”

“You say that but do you even know if your job will be there when you get back home?”

That was also another pertinent issue you were still planning to avoid.

“There is an Osamu out there right now who doesn’t even know that Onigiri Miya exists. The world is telling you you’re forgotten and there are people out there willing to accept it. But did you? Did you forget?”

His intensity brings on a delicate quality to your voice, “of course not.”

Osamu could forget you, but you? Forget him? The erasure of his existence was something so foreign of a thought that even just the mention of it strained your heart raw. 

“I didn’t either. Do you want anyone else to?”

Your response is incomprehensible as you blow snot into your grease laden napkin but the point comes across. For all the weeks you and Akaashi have spent together in the apartment room, he touches you a second time ever, hand atop yours once more.

“Then let’s open Onigiri Miya back up.”

It’s minutes later until you can gather yourself up again and even longer for you to seriously entertain the idea. The night is quiet and you’re thankful there are no passersby to witness this embarrassing exchange.

You think of everyone that Osamu had brought into your life when you walked into his. All the customers and friends and neighbors that offered you joy and small gifts worth living for. Atsumu was okay with throwing it all away, abandoning it just like his high school motto had endorsed.

But they were the ones who found Osamu. They were the ones who saved him, who forced the firefighters to break down Onigiri Miya’s door when the fire began to consume. If not for the community he fostered, he would not have had the second chance he has today.

There’s an Osamu out there that does not love you, that you may never learn to love without being hurt, but there was an Osamu that was beloved by all. If you had to do it for anyone, you’d do it for him.

“Fine.” Akaashi does not move, eerily still as if to not startle you to backtrack. “We can give this a try.”

You settle in with your choice and finally, with a bit of courage, you ask “I know what I am getting out of this, but what are you?”

“A flexible schedule so I can write my novel,” the man beside you answers frankly. Then in a softer voice, he adds, “and maybe I can finally open that branch in Tokyo.”

You cannot help but crack an amused snort. Akaashi joins you with his singular chuckle.

“That seems ambitious.”

It is so grossly, overwhelmingly, exceedingly ambitious to run a restaurant and more so, to even consider a second location. Promises are easy to make on tear-stricken nights amongst the salty air of Okinawa, but back in Hyogo, the air is severely stifling.

Even with more than half a decade of partnership with Osamu, it is a steep learning curve managing all its operations. Your ex boyfriend did not make it seem easy. No, not with the long hours he’d pull or the days when he’d lash his frustrations on you. Some days, even seasons, happened to be more difficult than others but to have first hand experience all on your own is novel.

Akaashi moves in the day you guys arrive. The two week unofficial dry run makes the decision easy. He fills in the space that has been left behind, screens all the voicemails that you’d avoided when you were gone, and confirms that you are officially jobless by looking through your emails too.

What is better than one jobless, mid-twenty travesty who is one milligram of caffeine away from a breakdown? Two jobless, mid-twenty travesties who are one milligram of caffeine away from a breakdown. It’s a support system, hardly structural but functional enough.

It includes a lot of spontaneous frenzies, you and Akaashi both. He teaches you to be quite efficient with your distress. A prolonged yell helps relieve the pressure and it compels the other to join. You teach him the benefits of isolation. Sometimes, it’s simply best to take some space, to cast away the burdens for a night and relearn how to breathe.

It takes a year and a half to open the restaurant with the help of Onigiri Miya’s neighbors. Their support does not come without payment though. They ask questions you’re unprepared for and no response is ever safe. If you say you are fine, you’re scrutinized with a watchful eye, just waiting for proof of a lie. If you admit that you’re struggling, there’s pity. Some are more vocal about it than others, a patronization in their tone that never used to be there before.

The price may be steep, but it’s worth it because Hyogo ward was Osamu’s community. They carry the pieces of Osamu that you know, the ones that made the alleycats fat.

(Osamu frequently gets yelled at by the Shizuku, the florist, three doors down. She blames him for the rising cat population. Osamu laughs it off. He always did and frequently, there is a cheeky quip that follows. He says something about catnip.

Something like, “ya sure ya ain’t the one growing catnip in there?”

It taunts the woman even further, but malice never burns their interactions.

A grudge on Osamu, though easy to promise, is impossible to uphold. Not when he delivers a bouquet of onigiri right to her door the next day. Not when he accidentally tips a pot over while obnoxiously perusing through the abundance of greenery, hoping to find catnip within the collection. Not when he looks at her sheepishly, swiping his hands on his apron as if dusting away any evidence and says, “now how did that happen?”)

Shizuku’s a savior, by the way. If left to your own devices, Akaashi and you would work yourselves to the point of exhaustion but Shizuku comes in during lunch and always provides tea in plastic cups. Eventually those cups turn into a beautiful ceramic set when Kita drops off your first order of rice, a visit in disguise.

His barley eyes that were always warm to you darken at the sight of Akaashi. Their greeting is stiff which you thought just had to do with their taciturn personalities but it wasn’t until Kita pulled you into the alleyway, Akaashi left to finish painting the front, did you realize it was out of protectiveness.

“I was glad to hear from ya.” Kita leans against the waist high wall that separates two lines of shopping streets. “But I didn’t know how to feel when I found out ya were calling me about business.”

“I know,” you say, eyes cast down low. Kita has a way of making you feel guilty with so little words. He’s disappointed, you know despite his level tone, because you never called. What was there to discuss? You figured if Osamu could forget you, if Atsumu can cast you away, then there was nothing to expect out of his friends either.

“I won’t say anything because I know ya already feel bad but Gran and I were worried about ya. It’s good to know that you’re okay.”

You shrug. Okay is hardly what you’d describe yourself when you’re barely hanging on just like the threadbare sheets from the studio in Okinawa.

Kita crosses one muddy boot over the other, “and what ya got going on here, it feels like the right thing.”

It’s hard to make of what you feel, decipher the feelings that manifest inside because the days have not gotten any softer. The pain is ambiguous and persisting. Whenever you feel like you’ve made progress, another strain emerges like a new variant of the same virus. You’re doing this for Osamu. But Osamu…

“Have you talked to him lately?”

Kita’s lips line into a solemn expression. He stares you right in the eye and you hold yourself strong because you know he’s testing whether or not you can handle his answer.

“Not recently. Atsumu’s kept their distance from here. If I do see them, it’s when I stop by Osaka.”

“And…”

“And he’s good. He plans on going pro,” Kita shakes his head, “or Atsumu says, going back to pro. He tells him he took a break.”

You nod slowly. So that’s what you were. A break.

“But it ain’t him.”

The farmer’s voice is barely above a whisper and for some reason, it is gut wrenching. You have to lean against the wall with him in case you topple over. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to it, the admittance that the Osamu you had was someone real. And maybe that’s why you’ll never be okay because you’re chasing after validation that has already been erased while he chases other things, of dreams unfulfilled.

“This,” Kita points to the restaurant in renovation, “this is him, but…”

He never finishes his sentence. The irony of it makes you laugh.

“Well I’ve got another delivery to drop but don’t be a stranger now. I’m serious. I ain’t letting ya. And visit Gran once in a while, will ya? She needs someone to talk to because I think she’s about had it with me.”

Kita hugs you goodbye and by the end of his visit, you think Akaashi’s gained his approval. When he leaves, he gifts the two of you the tea set. They are black with white and brown intricacies. Two of them have geometric blocking designs and the other two have one lone stalk of rice, bent gracefully by the wind.

Akaashi and you sign up for onigiri making courses where you eat them for every meal. So much so that even Akaashi of all people gets tired of it. The craft does not come easy to either of you despite your business partner’s penchant for it and Osamu’s intermittent lessons over the years. When you did help him out on the days he was short-staffed, Osamu would have you ring up customers up front, smoothly mentioning how your pretty face would help them rack up tips when you knew it was just to keep you out of the kitchen.

(He flusters you with a wink and an encouraging tap on the ass, laughing when you look back. He flings his glove into the trash can and makes his way to the handwashing station, thinking it was worth it just to see your cute pout. You know he’d wasted boxes of gloves since you’d been together just for one quick touch. Your eyes would be enraptured by the graceful jerks of his chest and the curl of his lips and later, at close, when the two of you were finally alone, he teases you about it. He asks you if you were hungry, what with the way you devoured him with your eyes. You bite his arm just to prove how hungry you were.)

“Quit drinking the mirin. That is foul and we need it.” He hides little revulsion in both tone and expression but your time with Akaashi has you immune to his harsh delivery.

You take another swig out of spite even if you didn’t plan on having another sip. It is, in fact, foul.

“This is the only thing that has alcohol in this apartment.”

Akaashi snatches the bottle with starchy hands. The residue imprints the shape of his palm onto the neck of the bottle, furthering his irritation. “Then drink something that does not have alcohol.”

“No,” you slump with your chin on the table, leveling your gaze with the practice oblongs you’ve just made. “I am sad.”

They’re lumpy and if they’re not lumpy, they are mushy. If they are not mushy, then the filling is peeking out. All in all, completely imperfect and not suited for a restaurant succeeding Onigiri Miya. Just the image of his disappointment discourages you because these were not up to his standards and certainly not to yours.

“We just need more practice,” Akaashi tries to console. “Maybe we could buy molds.”

“He didn’t use molds.”

“Unfortunate. We’re not Myaa-sam.”

“Neither is he.”

Akaashi doesn’t respond. You don’t say anything more either. If anyone is tired of your deploring, it is him and he already has to handle you enough. But it’s true, isn’t it? No one is Osamu anymore, not even the one out there who is probably doing practice sets in a gym, who wears a uniform that’s less than five years old, who has no recollection of you.

“Everyone’s going to be disappointed because it tastes nothing like the ones he used to make. They’re going to hate us for even disgracing his name.”

Akaashi’s had enough. He drops his practice roll, the heavy weight of the thud clattering the utensils on the table. You’re about to reprimand him but the man talks over you.

“Do you think that’s why people will come? Because of Osamu?”

The answer seems obvious that you can only gesticulate.

“Are you inane?”

That hasn’t been a word of the day so you haven’t learned that one yet but you can take a guess what the right answer is. “No?”

“People want to come and support you. Everyone knows Osamu’s gone off elsewhere doing whatever he is doing now. You’re the one honoring his memory. You’re the one keeping him alive. You are the reason they’d walk through our door now so get your act up.”

You glower like a child, unsure how exactly you feel. That sort of pressure seems daunting but comforting at the same time. You want to do him right. Is it really better than not even honoring him at all?

“You’re mean,” you settle on saying.

Akaashi clicks his tongue behind his teeth, “do you want to scream about it?”

You smile, “yeah.”

His mood lightens, “me too.”

“Okay, but it’s late already so we should probably scream in some pillows.”

“Yeah, that sounds right.”

The journey continues like that. Ups and downs. Ebbs and flows. Akaashi handles operations and finances. Your first job at the local government helps you complete the clerical stuff like having the proper documentation and paperworks. Your most recent job in IT helps you develop the website while Akaashi words out the marketing. You set up all the socials, design the uniforms, and the last step is to decide on the name.

The night before the opening, you have a dinner for everyone that helped as a thank you and soft launch. You and Akaashi slide in and out of service with Shizuku, Kita, Gran, and some of Akaashi’s friends like Konoha and Kuroo and Kenma as guests. It’s a small gathering of every single member of the community that never forgot about Osamu sitting around a massive table you’ve made by pushing the smaller ones together.

“Lovely what ya did with the rice, here,” Gran says beside you, a seat she had claimed.

You tilt your head to the side, “that’s all Akaashi.”

“Fine cooking, dear.”

“I followed a good recipe and had a little luck.”

“Ya better hope not,” Kita laughs and it’s comforting to hear the quiet trickle of his humor knowing fully well that Akaashi’s been accepted into the family. “Or else ya gonna have some unhappy customers.”

“Will ya tell us now what the name of the place is? Hard to advertise if I don’t know what it’s called,” Shizuku demands.

Her impatience started when she walked right through the door, but you wanted to wait for the right time when everyone was already gathered together and broken bread, heart happy and stomach satisfied. It’s how Osamu would have wanted it. It’s how you do too.

“Fine,” you say, dragging the word out with little bite in your tone.

You pull out the uniforms you’ll be wearing tomorrow. It looks not much different from what Osamu used to wear, plain black shirts with lettering on the upper left portion of the chest. Everyone lifts up from their seats to witness it.

o.mo.ide

Miya Osamu, Onigiri Miya, memories that you’ll always keep close to your heart.

There’s tears that escape, from you no different. There’s more that follows when you show them the corner right by the entrance dedicated to Onigiri Miya. You want everyone to know whose walls these actually belong to, whose essence and soul brought his dreams and yours to life, that without him, this would have never been possible.

Kita helps you kick everyone out knowing that you and Akaashi have a long day ahead. People promise to visit tomorrow just to show their support as they bid you goodbye. Gran slips an envelope of cash between your hands and quickly loops her arms around Kita’s so you can’t make a scene.

Akaashi is quick to have a foot out the alley back door after cleanup. He nods his head out, “are you ready?”

“Yes.” You run your hands through the crisp fabric once more as you shuffle your bag over your shoulder.

And the two of you leave. The black apron on the last hook closest to the back alley door waves as the door slams shut. There’s a black cap above it with the original character snaps against the wall from the wind pressure. They sway in the dark, until finally they lose momentum and settle in the dark.

They stay. They always will.

The support is so overwhelmingly kind. People show up in droves that Kita has to come in later in the day with an emergency delivery because your forecasts had been so off. Compliments come one after the other, of the design of the store, the food, and even yours and Akaashi’s service. Cheery employees were no longer in, it seemed. Everyone loved the stress-ridden ones instead. More relatable, they’d explain.

The novelty slowly wears off, but you maintain a generous rotation of regulars. Of course, Shizuku always arrives. She retains her habit of having afternoon tea with you and Akaashi. She’d bring along Hayashi, the man who owned the ice cream shop behind your store. He’s a grizzly man with a barrel chest with a right bicep so plump from years of scooping ice cream. The two are the neighborhood’s newest gossip. Flowers and ice cream. Looks like they do go together.

And you think that you have finally have this life handled. You and Akaashi settle on this pleasant routine of wake, work, and rest and the mundanity has you fooled. Still, after all this time, it takes so little to disrupt your small ecosystem of peace.

You hear someone compare o.mo.ide as a mockery of what it used to be and it sends you into a spiral. You listen with a crazed expression, hands busy scrubbing tables but ears listening like a hawk.

Osmau never needed consolation like this. He had been a master of quick glances. He was always multitasking, mind on the next task as he was still in the process of finishing the first. And his eyes never missed anything, not when you’d try and sneak into his office unnoticed to surprise him for break or how he’d always know when someone was taking their first bite. He’d watch from the corner of his eyes and he’d wait for that precious moment. It didn’t take much to make Osamu proud. Just a single hum. He’d beam from ear to ear, and as if shy from his sudden display of emotion, he’d tuck his chin into his head and pull the brim of his cap down.

But then again, this was his forte and not yours.

You start sleeping in and waking up late. You lose the habit and Akaashi has to pick up after you. In order to make it up to him, you offer to close the restaurant on your own. His response is a simple scan to check that you’re okay, but he has little energy to say a word, probably expended it screaming in the walk-in freezer when he couldn’t get you out of bed. So he goes.

You don’t even wait a full five minutes after he left to lock the doors and ignore any knocks from customers who know your regular hours.

In the silent kitchen, you situate yourself atop the recently wiped down stainless prep table, a bottle of sake in one hand and Kita’s teacup in another. A shot glass is much too small for your preferences.

“Cheers,” you raise your glass in the air. This might be your sixth one, so just the image of your hand and solo teacup is enough to make you giggle. “This one is to…”

Your gaze is glassy and there’s no one here, but the alcohol reminds you that you’re not lonely. An image of Osamu appears before you like an apparition and the sight brings on a void of yearning. You throw back the shot and quickly pour yourself another.

“To you.” This time you clink the tea cup against the bottle, already hollow in just one sitting. When the burn dies down and settles in the pit of your stomach, you begin to kick your feet.

“Hey,” you say softly. “Haven’t spoken to you in a while. Think about you every day though.”

It’s weird because you thought that with this place being saturated by Osamu’s very essence, you’d find his face everywhere you look. He’s more of an idea now, lately. A feeling you carry, memories that you play before you go to sleep. It’s difficult to accept because it feels like you’re losing him. The old Osamu, the one you knew, the one you loved. The other one in Osaka, Kita’s accidentally slipped that he likes to read as a pastime and that they’d recently visited Panama. Osamu never bought books unless they were cookbooks and that was more for aesthetic than anything. And the one you knew had never been to Panama, more so even mentioned it at all.

What you have left is the remains of his legacy and the bare bones of a former flame. You crack open another bottle. Here’s another shot to that.

“Life sucks by the way. I don’t blame you for it. I just wanted you to know. This wasn’t my dream. Yeah, I can hear you. You know, you know. But I haven’t told you in a while so you’re going to hear me say it again. I just wanted a cushy, IT job. I’d be your sugar mommy and force you on vacations, pay you for any lost wages. Any reason to have you all to myself. That’s what was supposed to happen.”

Another shot to missed opportunities. That one has you feeling woozy that you have to lay on your side but your drunken mind fails to realize how cold the stainless steel would be against your cheeks. It makes you squeal and then you can’t help but giggle, laughing at your own stupidity. That’s what’s nice about inebriation. Instead of being so serious about yourself, you can just laugh.

“And in the middle of it all, I knew that one day, I’d get absorbed into it. That’s just what you do. You say Atsumu is charismatic, but I don’t think you ever realized the power you had in just being. People get caught up in it and that includes me. And I imagined myself working hard so I could leave early from work just so I could help you in the kitchen. And then working part time until eventually, we woke up together and ran it together and did it all. Together. As a family. Ma would help when she has the time but you know her. She’s got clubs and activities and neighborhood responsibilities. And Atsumu would try and hang out but not do any work so we’d just ignore him until he ended up whining his way into the kitchen. I didn’t imagine…”

You look around the backroom. It’s nothing like how Onigiri Miya used to look. There are some items you’ve inherited like the pots and pans with their grease-stricken bellies and the three step ladder with The Little Giant (Akaashi actually wanted to throw this one away but ladders are surprisingly expensive) labeled on the top step. Everything is paltry pickings compared to the care Osamu had when working with his suppliers. It was hard enough with Kita’s endorsement to find something within your budget so you’re left with limp greens and off brand soy. And no Osamu.

Time for another shot. Should you make a game of it? Every time you thought you felt sorry for yourself, should you?

“No,” you giggle as you get up, answering your own question, “then I’d get really drunk and you’d get mad at me for that. Anyways,” you shoot it, neck craning back so swift it makes you dizzy. Your body bends wilted just like the spring onions you were talking about and you have to close your eyes, groaning and giggling, unable to discern discomfort from pleasure.

“Mmmm, what was I saying? I don’t know.” Suddenly, you’re crying. There’s a mess on the prep table that  you have no idea how to clean. Over a year now and you’re still not over Osamu and you’re missing the rest of the Miyas especially too.

“This is so hard and fuck, I feel so alone.” It’s heartbreaking to hear how much you pity yourself when there have been so many people in your life that have supported you. Like Akaashi who has dealt with your disaster tendencies and Shizuku and the neighbors and everyone that has made this possible.

But they can’t fill what you’ve secretly been trying to reclaim. Of a family that had loved you, had accepted you with open arms. The ones who held you when you needed them most but… Fuck. You just weren’t enough. You lacked the strength to hold their pain, so much so just by being, by existing, you burdened them.

And maybe this had been a ploy to simply gain approval and find some self-worth again, to show them that the love you have has value. It had been distracting enough while you and Akaashi prepared for the grand opening but only for so long until you fell into this sort of misery again. How long would the next pocket of happiness last? Could you find a stable source of bliss ever again?

Sometimes, as difficult as it is to think, you wish you never…

No, you shake your head adamantly. For all this anguish, for all the ache you’ve accidentally caused the Miyas, you want to selfishly keep all the memories, even if Osamu has to forget, even if you know how it ends. You don’t want to change a thing.

You grab the extra aprons in the back except for the black apron on the last hook closest to the back alley door and slump into the office chair in the back nook. It was a simple office with just a desk and a file folder cabinet. You cover yourself with the aprons, your impromptu blankets as you wait for the inebriation to tide over. The open sake bottle stays on the prep table with the finished one and your used tea cup and you make a mental note to hide your drinking from Akaashi who’s been passively limiting your intake lately.

You fall into a light sleep when a meowing out the alley door rouses you. The office chair snaps as you ungracefully rise. There’s remnants of your misery in the form of crusts at the corner of your eyes that you blearily wipe away.

He stares up at you with a single meow as a greeting when you open the door. The cat sits on his paws like a well mannered customer waiting to be let in. A gray puffball like a ball of lint straight from the dryer, his gold eyes blink up at you and maybe it’s the hour or your halfway sober state or just life in general because you think it’s a sign.

Many of the cats had left when Osamu did too, venturing into more fruitful alleyways that can get them the fixings that they. You’re quick to pick him up but you do it a little aggressively that his limber body bends to evade your hands. Instead, he enters o.mo.ide and you’re able to lure him in with a few slices of fish.

Akaashi is not amused when you get home, especially considering the late hour and cat in your hands.

“No,” Akaashi greets, eyes hardened, aimed at the feline creature who has taken to resting his chin into the crook of your elbow.

“But, Akaashi, look at him!” You turn your body to the side so he can witness his complete cuteness.

The man is not impressed, only closing his book, an index finger marking the pages he left off, and crossing his arms. “No. You can hardly take care of yourself.”

“But they’re low maintenance,” you mention the fact you had quickly googled before unlocking the front door, “and he was crying outside our door because he was so hungry.”

Your roommate weighs the cat with his eyes and before he can complete his calculations, you add, “if I wasn’t there, he would have starved. He needed me.”

Akaashi finds something in your expression and you think it’s this new energy, this purpose outside of yourself or Osamu and after a drawn out glare, he finally sighs. It’s a world weary sigh, the kinds only parents of rowdy and impossible children should only make and you take note that you’ll make it up to him somehow.

“Okay, fine,” he extends his hand for your new friend to sniff, “what’s his name?”

You smile, “Mumu.”

An homage to your boys, your favorite twins, and Akaashi cannot help but sigh again.

But Mumu quickly becomes your new best friend, much to his benefit. Even though Mumu never quite opens up to him, he has to worry about you less and you spend more of your time laboring efficiently at work so you can go home and play with silly things like lasers and a little rattle ball he likes to roll around. There’s energy to do your share of household chores now, and despite the slow trickle of business lately, you’re unbothered.

At the end of the day, the success of the business does not define you or your love for Osamu.

The stability lasts only for a few months because you arrive home unannounced, closing the shop early when the pelting monsoon keeps people locked in their homes.

You opted to take responsibility for the day, allowing Akaashi a break. His trust in you has slowly renewed considering it’d been a while since you dipped into the restaurant’s liquor stash. You knew he’d understand the shortened hours considering the weather but he hadn’t been prepared because when he got home, he was watching a livestream MSBY volleyball match. There was this understanding that had been established when he moved in because the both of you knew that you’d be powerless to the demise.

When you see Osamu on TV, that split second the camera had panned to him, you felt gravity warp. Your heart constricted and condensed while it felt like that floor beneath you had slipped away and you were just as helpless as any other leaf victim to the storm.

Akaashi tries to turn off the TV, but you manically topple over him, not wanting to miss what little camera time he might have.

“I don’t think this is good for you,” Akaashi’s eyes doesn’t leave you as you continue to watch the game. You agree, but you can’t strip your eyes away from the stream. You can’t believe what you’re seeing and you have to continuously wipe away your tears just to be sure, to ascertain that what you’re viewing is really true. It’s him. It’s him and this is the closest you’ve seen him, the closest he’s been to this home in basically two years and he looks so different.

“He grew out his hair,” you observe.

All you can do right now is play spot the difference. What parts of him do you still know? What is gone forever? Osamu’s hair is near shoulder length and you think he might have gained Atsumu’s salon habit because it’s curlier and fluffier than you knew. The color in his eyes have lost their luster, making them appear darker like a smoky quartz and he’s bigger. He’d always had a stronger upper body but you can tell he’s far more defined than you’d last seen him. He looks. Good.

You feel so small knowing how well he’s moved on without you. There’s always this small spark of hope that can’t help yourself from holding onto but seeing him on the screen, living a dream that he had once left behind, you figure it must be your turn to be abandoned for something else.

“He looks good,” you nod, trying to be strong. Because that’s all you’ve wanted. You’ve wanted him to be ok, to live out the life he desired, whatever that may be and regardless of how it involved you. “He looks good. I’m so–”

“You don’t–”

“–proud of him.”

The admittance makes you burst, diving head first onto the floor and crying into the rug. Mumu comes to rest between your legs, wary of Akaashi as he does his best to console you which alternates between a hand down your back and simply hovering over your figure.

But then you hear the announcer and how the music stops, and immediately your head lifts up because you know what the sound of those footsteps mean.

Miya Atsumu is on court, serving the ball with just as much assured confidence as you had left him. He passes to his brother where they easily make a point and you watch the two boys celebrate. The camera eats it up, their facial expressions, the way they hold each other in a solidified joy, and you see it. You see the true reason he’s left this all behind. This was the life he was meant to share.

And you were never meant to be a part of it.

It was delusional of you to think that their bond had enough space for you to fit in.

Of course, as much as you tell yourself Osamu’s happiness is the most important thing to witness, it still sends you on a spiral that neither Akaashi or Mumu can bring you out of. Business slows down when you can’t provide proper service and Akaashi struggles to pick up the labor you can’t complete. Days pass in a haze where you burn things by accident and your mindlessness has you putting in two servings of soy instead. 

You wallow in your sheets, so worn that the Osamu’s essence has filtered through the gaps and all that’s saturated it is your misery. Mumu leisurely snoozes beside you, happy to keep you company.

Akaashi tries to persuade you out of bed with ice cream.

You shuffle to the side of the bed pressed against the wall and tuck yourself into the crevice, “no thank you.”

He ignores you and opens the door and you whine, noisy and petulant. “This one is from Shizuku and Hayashi. They’ve missed you.”

You instantly sit up, interested because Hayashi’s ice cream had been a favorite of Osamu’s. Whenever he’d have a bad day and their schedules lined up, the two men with their solid stature would gossip in the alleyway, the brick wall separating them. One would be devouring an onigiri while the other relished the fox shaped ice cream he’d always be given as payment.

You’d peek your head out the alley door whenever you could never find Osamu in the kitchen or in his office. The alley was the only other place he’d be and Hayashi would prompt you to come out, sit and gossip with them. He’d leave so he could serve you an ice cream of your own, but you suspect he’d take longer on purpose so that you two could spend some time alone.

(“Have you heard about Shizuku and Hayashi?” Osamu asks once the confectioner steps back into his building. Your response comes for the back of your throat, a soft hum while busy licking the dessert your boyfriend offered. He laughs when he sees you nibble off the candy eye of the animal, leaving him a little lopsided but far more endearing. “Damn, I said ya could give it a try, not eat all of it.”

“I was hungry and you weren’t inside.”

“Ya could have made yaself some food. I’ve taught you enough to be self-sufficient.”

You shake your head immediately, “doesn’t taste the same. Stop changing the subject. What’s going on with Hayashi and Shizuku?”

Despite all the time you’ve spent with him, all the different faces and expressions you’ve been gifted to witness, his smile still disarms you. It’s the right combination of conniving and whimsy that has your heart traipsing the edge of a cliff.

“I was talking to the Grandma that’s got the okonomiyaki shop right there, ya know?” He points with his ice cream whose lifespan is slowly disappearing, “and she told me how she went into Hayashi’s shop and he had a full bouquet of flowers.”

“Oh, that’s nice. I wonder who got it for him.”

Osamu snorts, “Shizuku obviously. Who else would have?”

“Osamu,” you give him a discriminatory look, “are you starting rumors.”

“No, hear me out. Shizuku came by yesterday and was asking me for some cooking tips.”

“You?”

“Yeah, we have a truce right now. The onigiri won her over.” You giggle, snatching another bite from Osamu’s hand. He’s too busy telling his story to even admonish you. “And she was telling me she planned on making grilled mackerel and guess what Hayashi had for dinner last night apparently.”

You hum forcibly, drawing it out and giggle when Osamu gets irritated with you. “Mackerel?” He nods and the image of those two makes you laugh.

Hayashi’s just like the ice cream he serves, a man who longs for the richer things in life. He has women swooning out of his restaurant with his velvet words and Shizuku is a woman who knows what she wants, spritely and tough. She’d be perfect to keep him in line. 

“Now that I think about it, they’re surprisingly good for each other.”

Osamu agrees, “Grandma says Hayashi needs to lock it in and get married.”

“Shizuku’s a catch! He’d be wrong not to.”

Your statement dulls the mood because Osamu turns quiet. He hands you his ice cream for you to finish, Hayashi forgotten, and his hands clasp together, right pad of his thumb running over the back of his left. His side profile is soft, round cheeks over a strong jaw.

“Ya know that I–”

“We don’t have to get married for me to know that you love me,” you say quickly. You don’t want him to finish the thought because he gets caught up in the guilt a lot. You’re not certain what it exactly is aside from the fact that he doesn’t want your future to be tied down to one as unstable as his, as if marriage would be the only thing that could permanently hold the two of you together. As far as you know, he’s all you want for the rest of your life and Osamu makes you feel like he thinks the same.

Your admittance relieves the weight on his back. He straightens up, a thankful expression on his gaze when he rolls an arm out to wrap around you. You fit right into the crook of his body, pleasantly warm with your ice cream.

“I love ya, I really do.” You nod. “One day, when I get my shit together, I promise I’ll make ya mine for real.”

He says it like you’re not his already. He says it like this relationship is less than the ones acknowledged by law or the gods or whoever presides over the validity of unity.

He says it like he really does love you.)

Thinking about it makes you cry despite Hayashi’s ice cream. He artfully crafted the gift in a pint that he must have bought from the store because you’ve never seen him sell take-home products. A frog decorates the surface complete with blush, large, round eyes, and the brightest of smiles. Usually the confectionery is an immediate remedy but it looks like your sorrows have fallen so deep that its effects are hardly uplifting. Akaashi hands you a letter made of cardstock in a saturated red and shaped like a heart.

“What’s this?”

“Open it,” is all he replies.

You do as he says and find a poorly drawn replication of what you assume is you, serving a triangular item to a smaller stick figure human.

“That’s from Asako. She missed you when you left early today.”

Asako is the little girl who orders a plain onigiri with extra sesame seeds. Exxxxtrraaaa she likes to say and you entertain her, seeing who can lengthen the word the longest. It’s an effortless game that comes with a high reward of giggles. She comes in on Fridays when her grandparents pick her up from school. They didn’t know of Onigiri Miya then so you never thought much of them, but clearly, she had thought of you.

“I understand that we opened up o.mo.ide in order to commemorate Myaa-sam and everything he’d done for this community, but have you ever stopped and thought that in the process, you’ve integrated into it yourself?”

You hadn’t. You’d been so deeply absorbed by your own troubles that you had never bothered to even look outside of yourself or Osamu.

“We’re operating at a loss right now, but there are people like Asako that rely on us to stay open. And so help me, I need you too. We promised to do this together and I refuse to let you abandon me.”

“Oh… oh, Akaashi, I’m so–” you’re forced speechless by your own guilt.

“Don’t apologize. Just.” Akaashi searches through his vocabulary, “just get better. Have you ever thought about therapy?”

Akaashi introduces you to his therapist but after two sessions, you find that the way he gels his hair back and the nasal hums he provides every time you confide in him is unsettling. The journey through therapy is not so much a journey but more like an illegal obstacle course formed with bottomless pits and thorny vines and a portable bed.

It’s physically draining and mentally exhausting that you need a nap most days. Akaashi hardly yells at you anymore when you fall asleep in the office chair while on break as long as he knows you have an appointment scheduled at the end of the week.

You go through three more therapists. This fourth one, she’s on thin ice, but you’re five months in and she’s managed to get you to stay. She encourages you to reach out to the people you love on your own and to make time for them every week.

Now you spend time teaching Mumu new tricks. He’s mastered the command ‘sit’ and is also very good at laying down. You’ve yet to teach him much else though. Monday mornings are for mahjong with Granny. Sweet as she is, that woman is a good liar and to this day, you still haven’t won a game. According to Kita, no one has yet to beat her. You’ve extended tea dates with Shizuku into dinners after you and Akaashi close. Most of the time Hayashi is there and despite Akaashi’s indifference to their relationship, every night you gossip about the way his hands would linger around her waist or how he’d whisper something in her ear while they washed dishes. When Asako visits, you untie your apron and give her grandparents a break. Only when she is done with her meal, you walk her into the back where you tell her to mind her step and you and lift her over the wall so she can knock on Hayashi’s back door for an ice cream.

People gradually enter your lives, ones that you didn’t have courage to see. With a warning text sent like an afterthought, it’s a welcome surprise to find Bokuto seated on top of your kitchen table, towering height even more pronounced, while Akaashi showcased his skill in a new apron.

“Oh?” you say and at the sight of Akaashi’s expression, all you do is smile and wish them a good time. If there is a time that Akaashi shouldn’t be burdened by you, it would be now. You are in the process of healing after all.

Suna and Aran eventually visit, dragged along by Kita. His small build compared to the two athletes make an awkward remeet amusing.

Suna scruffles your head and cups the fat of your cheeks as a greeting, “hey, Bug. Nothing kills you, huh?”

You’re grateful when Aran saves you, pulling you into a deep hug that soothes your soul. He lifts you up once just to hold you closer, and when he’s done, they all apologize for not visiting you sooner. It was shame, they admitted. Because for Osamu, they were willing to do anything to make him feel better, even if it was to perpetuate lies.

You’re at a space now where you understand because for Osamu, you know you would and will do anything for him too. No one talks about him though. No one dares mention any Miya first, and finally, you’re not compelled to bring them up either.

Of course, it’s just as tumultuous of a ride, even more so now that you’re more aware of your issues. Some days, the social vigor of running a restaurant is so draining that all you can do is keep your head down in the back. Count inventory and roll orders whenever Akaashi places them in. Sometimes it’s even harder than that, where you end up at the convenience store with one bottle of sake. Usually the guilt hits you half a bottle in and you end up pouring the rest over the nearest drain. This time, halfway isn’t nearly enough to ease the pain.

With the amount of volleyball players that have re-entered your life, an old interview of Osamu’s is in your recommended videos to watch. You can’t not click it when the thumbnail is a closeup top angle of his face, long hair pulled into a messy bun.

He stands the same with hands on his hips and in a wide stance but even the way he speaks sounds different. Same voice, different person. Different words.

The comments prove that he has a lot of fans from all over the world. They shout words of affection, recount the best games they’ve witnessed him in and no one mentions a single word about Onigiri Miya.

You’re at a point in your life now that any sort of Osamu brings on a general longing. You miss him so much you’re willing to take whatever you can have.

The realization makes you feel like you’ve lost him again because this place, the venue where you labor yourself until your back is broken despite your lack of knowledge had been a huge part of him. Now it is all lost to his pro volleyball glamor.

Onigiri Miya Osamu will eventually fade from existence. Once more, you begin grieving.

Despite your coping methods, it takes a long time to build yourself out of your rut. The gloom lasts for days and life has a predilection for stacking up your misery.

“Miya–”

Akaashi doesn’t have to finish his sentence. The impact already hits your stomach at the surname. It doesn’t matter which Miya it is. A Miya has stepped foot into this building, the first time since the fire. Suspense boils in your gut and its noxious fumes cut the breath from your lungs.

You’ve thought about this moment in great lengths, anxiously in bed or idle thoughts as you wait for the train. Preparation has never been your strong suit though. The fact is clear with the condition of your restaurant that struggles to even get by.

Blonde hair glistens against the backdrop of an afternoon sun and distracts you from the bells that ring when he opens the door. He glances around the walls with his mouth agape, focusing mostly on the origin story next to the host stand. It’s just a few old newspaper clippings of articles and one image of Osamu’s face. It was one of your few stipulations. He must always be there to greet the customers.

When Atsumu’s gaze finally finds yours, you can’t help but grip the towel tighter in your hands. Misplaced anger simmers right behind your tightly pursed lips. His face is so similar. It’s the closest anyone could get to a clone, and the distinct features you’ve been searching for, the ones that belong to the Osamu you once knew, are not there.

It’s a lot. It’s been a bad couple of weeks.

But Atsumu doesn’t know that. He doesn’t know that you’ve worked yourself raw and instead of building calluses, all you've done is made yourself tender.

He passes the backline and you find yourself taking a step back towards the display case as he crosses your first line of defense. He acts like nothing’s changed, that he’s still got free reign of the place and maybe it hasn’t. When he pulls you in, when he mutters ‘I love ya’ and ‘I’m so sorry’ over and over again, you fall apart in his arms.

You fist his shirt at the chest and sob in a way you haven’t allowed yourself since the hospital, since you’d seen any of the Miyas last. You cry into his chest, condense the past years you’ve had to make do with just your hands or sleeves or pillows. There’s rage and pity, but most of all, there is relief. Because as much as Akaashi has sat beside you while you mourned, and how everyone had gathered to remind you of your worth, they could never fill the space that any Miya left behind. None of them understood what it was like to lose Osamu. Not Myaa-sam, or Chef, or Oji-Samu. Youhad borne that misery alone.

You can’t fault Osamu for not choosing you. And Mama Miya has tried reaching out despite your lack of response.

But Atsumu, he could have stayed. You thought there was kinship there, a shared love for his brother. You thought you could have shared the sorrow too. Instead, he’d whisked away his family to Osaka to escape any reminder of the previous life he lived. He took everything and he left you behind.

Atsumu follows you to the ground when you literally fall apart in his arms. He hugs you tighter and he ignores the stack of napkins shelved right next to you, knowing that his shirt is more than enough.

Atsumu is eventually able to get you to a park near the restaurant once you calmed down. You both lay next to each other on the grass and the sun’s power is too strong for your swollen eyes. You have to balance your water bottle over them as shade. Atsumu offers the sunglasses he likes to keep clipped to the collar of his shirt. You accept it cautiously, wary of taking too much.

“I’m sorry.”

His apology is overwhelming and the corners of your eyes overflow, unprepared.

“Don’t,” you sputter out when you have the breath, a sting clinging to the bridge of your nose, “don’t. I can’t take it. Say something else.”

“I–” the way he blunders means he must have prepared a speech and now you’ve thrown a wrench in his plans. “I… uh. It’s good to see ya.”

“Oh, gods. Why are you even here?”

“I wanted to see ya,” he answers lamely.

There’s still anger in your chest and for the past couple of years, you’d been aiming that ire at Akaashi unjustly. Atsumu’s expression from the day at the hospital still keeps you up sometimes and it’s taken months of therapy for you to realize that his emotions were also misplaced. You’d dealt with pieces of the guilt and there’s still a lot that you need to address, but you understand now, that the burden of being was never yours alone to bear.

“Now? When you’ve had all this time?”

“I know. I–” he stops himself from another apology. You’re grateful he’s grown the maturity to keep his mouth shut when asked. “I just wanted to prepare ya.”

“For what?”

“Samu went no contact on me.”

You rise to your elbows in shock, worry prickling prickling your heart, “and Ma?”

“Not Ma,” he shakes his head quickly. “He calls her sometimes, not enough, but more than me.”

“Why?”

Atsumu breathes deeply, worn and weary. He brings his arms back and rests his head on them, eyes up at the sky watching a kite flown by two children, probably siblings. “Why fucking not, ya know?”

“No, Atsumu, I wouldn’t know when you basically went no contact on me.”

Atsumu pinches his bottom lip between his front teeth. Through the dark lenses of his sunglasses, you can see the way they lighten from the pressure. He sighs again.

“I deserve this, I know. But Osamu didn’t. I fucked up but I had no clue what I was doing. Ya gotta understand. Ya were there and ya saw him and how beaten down he was and maybe I did put blame on everyone but myself. I hated Onigiri Miya for even getting him caught up in that sort of mess, and when his dreams lined up with mine, I figured it would be okay. We could leave it all behind. I tried to play God with my own brother’s life and he let me. Everyone did.”

“He listened to you?”

Atsumu shakes his head, “crazy, right? He was lost and unsure, but I was confident, ya know? I just felt so certain I was doing the right thing and I think that’s the only reason why he let himself be led all this way.”

“So what changed?”

“Are ya kidding?” Atsumu looks at you, and when he realizes you don’t have a clue, he turns to face you. “The answer is you.”

It’s a fucked up thing for Atsumu to say. The words erupt an ache in your chest. You curl into yourself, bring your knees up so that you flinch away from the pain but Atsumu grabs hold of both of your hands. He grips tightly in an attempt to siphon the pain.

“A love like yours ain’t something easy to forget.”

You remember the hospital, “that’s what Ma said.”

“It’s exactly what she told him when he left. I don’t know how he found out, but I saw that he looked up Onigiri Miya the day before he left and he’s been gone since. For about two weeks now, I think.”

“No,” you shake your head, closing your eyes to soften the blow of his words but even in the darkness, a stinging, buzzing pain wracks through your body. It’s everywhere all at once but Atsumu holds you through it.

“I love ya. I promise, I do. There wasn’t a day I didn’t regret what I did, but believe me when I tell ya. I do. I love ya,” He takes your hands that have been bunched up into fists and presses them onto the soft skin below his eyes where it’s sticky and wet. “And I’m so sorry I had to put ya through this and made ya go through this all alone, so if ya moved on, if ya got someone else, I understand and I’ll figure something out.”

You try to pull yourself from his grip but Atsumu holds onto you, head bent in repentance and the sincerity of it all spouts more tears.

“I’ll handle Osamu if that’s the case. I know Akaashi’s a really good guy so–”

You take your conjoined hands and jab him across the forehead. Atsumu sputters in shock, letting you go in the process while he tries to soothe the pain.

“Does it look like I’ve moved on, idiot?” You knock soft fists into his chest like a child. “Would I be crying in what I consider my own brother’s arms in a park if I moved on?”

“I just wanted–”

“And Akaashi? Fucking Akaashi? He’s a good guy,” you mock, irritated, “of course he is. Shut up. You know I’m in love with your brother.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Stop hitting me. I said I was sorry already.”

You make sure to put some extra force in that final punch, “you’re going to say it for the rest of your life.”

Atsumu nods gratefully, “of course.”

“And,” the words hurt coming out, “and don’t run off on me again.”

What makes the tears slip this time is forgiveness. Atsumu holds your hand against his chest where you can feel his heart. You’ve missed him, longed for him just as much as you have Osamu and slowly, you feel yourself start to heal.

“He might not need a brother right now, but I do.”

Atsumu kisses you on the cheek and pulls you close. He holds you in his arms with the same exact care he had for Osamu in the hospital, with the same protectiveness of an elder brother.

Finally, you feel understood. 

Atsumu spends his off season in Hyogo where you find out Ma has moved back. Akaashi doesn’t take kindly to a change in routines, but he begins helping out where he can along with Ma. 

When Ma first sees you, all she can do is hold you at arm’s length, picking her vernacular apart with words that she wanted to say. You just shake your head and let yourself be swallowed by her cardigan comfort. She encourages you to come to family dinner and you have to ask if Akaashi is invited too. She pats his cheek and says of course like the question was unnecessary to begin with.

The world shifts almost exactly the way you imagined it. Life has a funny way of doing that. Atsumu helps around the restaurant and Ma stops by with some of her friends after an activity. She meets Asako who she adores and is adored just as equally. Ma takes ice cream duty from you while Atsumu, because it’s his off season, likes to overstay his welcome at your apartment. Akaashi kicks him out and the athlete tries to use Mumu as an excuse. Mumu, unfortunately, likes Atsumu even less than Akaashi.

Sometimes Atsumu will try to broach the topic of contacting Osamu, something that both you and Ma are against. Osamu has been through enough, you both reason. And he’s probably had his fill of someone telling him what to do.

The restaurant fills and though you know that yours or Akaashi’s food cannot compare, the laughter spills out the doors from friends and family and neighbors that continuously visit. They manage when you accidentally don’t order enough fish, opting for broth and rice and when you run out of beverages, someone offers to run to the convenience store to buy drinks.

It’s not a perfect venue, but it embodies Osamu’s very being, a place that has become a home.

One day, Akaashi is out of town and Atsumu helps you while he’s gone. He’s not as focused as your usual business partner, whose eyes continuously drift out onto the streets and he even leaves early when you haven’t finished clearing up for the day.

“Alright, I gotta go but I’ll lock the door,” Atsumu runs off quickly. “Ya can handle this, right?”

You look at the stack of dishes and the ready to go items that haven’t been put away yet. It’s not much, but it would certainly be easier if he stayed. Unfortunately, his question is apparently rhetorical because the man does not wait for an answer. He reiterates his farewell and with a jingle, the door is shut.

“Okay,” you say, blinking at his figure that eventually passes a corner and disappears. You scan your surroundings, running a mental image of what would be the most efficient process. Wipe down the tables, you decide. Some haven’t been bussed yet so you head over with a fresh rag and empty tray.

Atsumu likes to turn up the music the moment the o.mo.ide closes as a way to decompress. You hum along. It’s a mindless process now that you’ve done it so many times. Clear the tables. Sanitize the tables. Sanitize the chair. Bend down eye level with the table and make sure you haven’t missed any crumbs. You’re not even thinking, just lost in the routine and it’s why the sound of the bell startles you.

It’s so like Atsumu to forget to lock the door. You compose yourself with a slow inhale and prepare for an irate customer who might argue at your innocent error, but the breath expels from your mouth.

You stand there stupidly, hands holding your chest like you’re about to dive backwards into water. It’s that feeling, where two characters catch eyes on a crowded street. Despite everything that has happened and all that separates you, he holds you captive. Your feet are planted to the ground and everything, heart, mind, body, and breath is under his power.

“O – Oh…”

Even saying his name feels foreign because as much as you’ve thought of him, you can’t remember when was the last time you did. It feels foreign on your tongue and you can’t blurt anything out but the first letter, and you witness his demeanor change.

“Osamu,” you say only because you think it’ll make him smile. It does and because of it, you want to fall down on your knees.

Everything, everything that you had observed different about him, his hair that looks like he’s cut but is still longer than you remember, the cut of his jaw that’s sharper, his brows that he’d boast about being strong look trimmed, and even his choice of clothes is different, opting for a sleeveless tee over his favored oversized shirts, all of that is negligent because seeing him once more, you recognize he is still your Osamu.

“Hi,” he greets and your heart flutters. Was this really how it felt when you were falling in love because everything he does brings upon a desire that you doubt could ever be quelled. “Are ya closed?”

“Yes,” you answer honestly and the wilt of his face makes you overcompensate, “but– but it’s fine! You’re come in… I mean, oh…”

This is so fucking embarrassing. “You’re always welcome. Come in and have a seat wherever you want.”

He points at a bar seat with a head tilt. You nod and make sure to lock the door behind him. The bus tub, the rag, you forego it all and pass the swinging door that separates the register and eating area. Your hands perspire at the stress of perfection. It’s a foreign thing for him to be seated while you serve him and maybe it’s you overthinking, but it feels like he’s watching your every move.

Osamu quickly diverts his gaze when you turn around. His not so subtle glancing of the venue, head craned back as he looks at the decorations on the walls and the lighting fixtures you and Akaashi picked, amuses you but you try not to show it too hard. Osamu seems shyer than you’re used to. That’s okay. You’re nervous too.

“Did you come hungry?”

“I did.”

Ease washes over you. Thank the gods, that has stayed the same.

You apologize for the lack of options and Osamu tries to downplay the inconvenience. “It’s okay. I didn’t… Well I did, but I didn’t really come here to eat.”

“No?”

Osamu plays with a stray grain of rice between his fingers. He rolls the sticky piece into a ball, back and forth as he thinks of what he wants to say.

“No, I… To be honest, I didn’t think I was going to go inside.”

“Oh.”

“But I…” then he stops his rolling and he looks at you, like really looks at you. And whatever it is, you feel it too. “But I just had to.”

“I’m glad you did.”

“Yeah, well, it took me all up until closing to work up the courage.”

“That’s okay,” you tell him. You pull up the stool near the rear register and situate yourself across from him. The boundary that separates you two is familiar, 76 centimeters of space that you know by heart and it makes conversation flow smoother. “I’m happy you came at all. How was your day?”

“Shit.”

The answer takes you by surprise, him too by the way he stops chewing, lips puckering close together as he ruminates whether or not meant to say those words. But he owns them, and continues on.

“My smoothie spilled all over my cup holder.”

“Oh no. Did you ask for another one?”

“Pretty sure they tried to sabotage me by giving me a cracked cup.”

You break in the most unexpected way. A smile splits your lips and a giggle strikes through your chest. Everything feels so similar, so weightless. It feels like a dam has been broken with just a couple of words.

“It ain’t funny.”

You agree, “I know. It’s the worst.”

“Then why are ya laughing?”

“I don’t even know. It’s not funny at all.”

“It’s not. I had to stuff a bunch of napkins in there.”

“No, it’s going to get sticky!”

“What else was I supposed to do?”

“Cry.”

Osamu sputters, rice flying from his mouth. He’s embarrassed for only a millisecond, fearful of your reaction, but all it does is make you bend over, sincerely losing control of your body. Osamu joins you, laughing at who knows what, but you’re grateful. For as much pain misery brings, it takes so little for you to be happy.

“Fuck,” he says once he’s able to catch a breath. He says quietly with wonder and it has your giggles soften to match his energy. “I’ve imagined every way this meeting could go.”

Your heart constricts like it’s being pinched from the bottom. “Is it everything you thought it’d be?”

“No,” Osamu shakes his head genuinely. You almost apologize. “I thought I’d mess it all up but,” he looks at you and it’s the gaze you had been searching when he had first woken up all those years ago. A quiet ardor, soft around the edges but saturated in passion, “but I didn’t expect it to be so easy.”

“Stop,” you have to hide your lips.

Osamu doesn’t understand, back straightening, “what?”

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Saying those things.”

His lips pucker themselves out, “why can’t I?”

“Because,” you blink furiously, willing the tears away because you want to remember this with clarity, “you’re making me too happy.”

He grins too, but it’s still shy as he bends his head down, nodding slightly as he does, “how do ya think I feel?”

There’s a calmness that settles now that your mania has subsided. Your eyes appraise, trying to find more topics to talk about so he can stay just a little longer.

“Are those cigarettes?” you observe the square box in his breast pocket.

He nods as he pulls them out, holding them in his hands as if they were novel.

“Are you smoking a lot?”

He looks at you curiously, “did I used to?”

The past tense makes you stumble, but you do your best to answer him honestly. “Sometimes. Only the bad days. That’s how we knew you were having a bad day because we’d smell them on you.”

He’d lean his chest against the railings like his body was too heavy, curved his body like a treble clef as he smoked. And often you’d find him in the alleyway, a cigarette in one hand and food for the cats in another.

“It’s crazy how I do shit without knowing the real meaning.”

You shrug, “habits are harder to break than memory.”

Osamu nods. A beat passes before he continues the conversation on his own.

“I’ve had this same pack since I left the hospital.” He opens it and reveals only a few sticks missing, “play with it for the most part but I’ll smoke one when I get overwhelmed. I dreamt of you once and my heart wouldn’t stop beating. I had to go outside and calm myself. Nearly gave Tsumu a heart attack when he noticed my bed was empty.”

“He’s a worrywort.”

The sound Osamu makes is not kind. There’s still animosity for his brother, “even more so now.”

“He means well.”

“Sure he does.”

“I’m sorry.”

Your apology takes him by surprise. Osamu shuts the pack and places it back in his pocket. “For what?”

“For, I don’t know.” A lot of things. For burdening him with faded memories, for not being who he needed, for not being enough, “for being in your dream.”

“What are ya saying? It was a good dream. It felt… nice.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he nods earnestly while looking at you. “I can’t explain it because I really don’t know the specifics, but it felt good. Made me wish I dreamed about ya more.”

The sunset is almost complete, dark orange hues streak the tile floor. Osamu’s been done eating for minutes now. With his plate clean and the conversation running its course, it feels like a good place for this to end. But you don’t think you can part with him just yet. A culmination of yearning and grieving and mourning and aching has led to this and you’ll be damned if it’s over now.

You hop off the stool and Osamu sighs. He matches your movements, slowly getting up, too. He looks ready to leave but you won’t let him go without trying. Not this time.

“Would you like to see the back?”

“Really?” his giddiness prompts yours.

“Yeah, of course.” You lead him to the back and grab your apron. Then you point at the black one on the last hook closest to the back alley door . “Take that apron.”

He hooks his finger around the neck, “this one?”

You nod. “Yeah, that one’s yours.”

He takes it in his hand, shy and foreign in his fingers. It’s different, clumsier, but it’s familiar enough to let your heart burn.

He pulls the fabric over his head and adjusts it along his shoulder. The apron is knotted up by habit, his hands reaching there after the three usual tugs and when he looks up, your stomach swirls at the sight of his beam.

He’s everything you’ve missed in more ways than one, but finally, thank gods, finally. He’s right where he belongs.

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HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO WAIT UNTIL JULY?!?

Summer Memories

First Tumblr post wooo! Decided to post an old fic I had never posted, hope you guys enjoy.

Warnings: Kinda angsty, bittersweet ending, fluff

wc.6k +

Childhood! Kitsune! Miya twins AU x afab reader (she/her pronouns used)

---

Waves lapping against the shore, cicadas chirping as they nest on dappled trees, the smell of the lilting breeze and bitter goodbyes; golden sunsets tinting our summer memories.

It was summer again. This was made clear to the melancholic nine-year-old as you watched the trees blur past the back seat SUV windows. You never liked summer. To most children, summer was an exciting escape from scholarly activities; a time to visit beaches, wear flowing floral dresses with straw sun-hats or eat chilled melon by the lakeside- but to you, summer was hot and unforgiving. The sunshine that should have brought you joy only stung your eyes. To you, summer tasted no better than bitter orange rinds. 

Ma didn’t like summer either. You had to spend the entirety of it away from her. 

“You ought to be a big girl now” she would say. “Spend time with your Pa, it's only for a few months”.

A few months felt like forever- forever with a stranger. Pa was never home when you were young, even less when your Ma spoke through tears telling you he was never coming back. 

Di-vor-ce. Divorce? You had a hard time wrapping your head around the pronunciation, but you reckoned that ‘divorce’ was what your Ma had meant. You had heard a few concerned teachers talking about it in the hallways, only ushering you off frantically when they saw your head peeking from the corner. You scoffed. Adults were always hiding secrets. You guessed that they didn’t think you would understand because you were ‘too young’. 

The juxtaposing jubilant melody of summer hits hummed quietly in the background, the occasional rhythmic clicking of the turning signal or the jolt from bumps in the road served as a distraction from your stewing feelings of pensive sadness. You didn’t like summer, and you didn’t really like your Pa. 

I wish I was home.

----

The crunching of gravel and the slow swaying of an ending turn woke you from your stupor. Your father briefly opened his door to stretch before giving you an awkward smile. 

“Hey squirt, we’re finally here. Let me get your things and put them into your room”. 

When you gave no answer and only stared at the collar of his shirt with empty eyes and pressed lips, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. 

Laughing to fill the silence, he smiled again- no less awkwardly before, but a little more dejected, you noticed. 

“Say what- how about I fix you a bento and you can go explore in the woods?” he gestured to the bountiful nature attached to his property. “There’s a frog pond close by and there’s some pretty nice weather today- leave the boring adult stuff to me”. 

Still silent, you nodded, to which upon noticing, the tension in your father’s shoulders lifted slightly. 

“Sounds good squirt”. 

You watched as he disappeared from the car and into his cottage home, leaving the trunk and car doors open. A good way to let in flies, but you weren’t going to tell him that. 

Trees shifted slightly in the warm breeze, the dappling of the evening sunlight casting shadows of foliage onto the warm wooden deck you had retreated to while waiting for your promised bento. 

Your father was wealthy, you supposed. You constantly heard the prim ladies of your mother’s office gossip about his famed writing career- something to do with traditional Japanese literature and poems- (though you noticed that the ladies gossip was snide regarding your Ma, which is why you never brought it up). You knew nothing about poetry or writing but you could definitely see the connection between your estranged father and his esteemed job. It simply made sense that he was eccentric, yet reserved and awkward. Most artists seemed to be that way, like Ms. Maraday; a European woman dressed in vibrant purples and eclectic, clashing, patterns that lived next door to your flat in Tokyo. She often wore long feathered caps and copious scarves, chemises, and silks. Your Ma told you she was an ‘interior designer’ (‘someone who made houses look pretty’-she later said when you told her you didn’t understand). 

If you remember correctly, you were now in Hyogo. It was a simple village with an emphasis on nature. The traditional Japanese home that laid amongst the towering trees made it look peaceful. You supposed that is why your father moved here, away from the bustle of the glowing city where he could concentrate on his work and be inspired by the elements that simply weren’t of abundance in a place like Tokyo. It made sense why he left-you knew this. People with passions like him needed suitable places for creation, yet this reasoning didn’t seem to cure the bitter ache that left a taste too pungent in your mouth. 

The sliding paper door caught your attention when your Pa returned, a cloth-wrapped bento in hand. 

“Go explore, squirt, just be careful and come back before it gets too dark”. 

He gave you an unappreciated head ruffle and limped back to the car to unpack (he’d always had a funky waddle- your Ma always called it his ‘penguin walk’). 

‘Time to explore’ you thought before stashing your bento into your yellow backpack and trekking down the forest pathway leading away from the house. 

---

The warm breeze flew past you gently, stringing along stray leaves and bending the branches above you in a graceful arc. It was more shadowy now; the shade from the canopy casting flowing shadows akin to when sunlight hits the sea. These woods seemed quite magical. Quiet; yet unexplored and imbued with mystery. You enjoyed the silence away from the reality of summer, and the fresh air that filled your lungs brought you temporary relief. 

You were no longer following any sort of pathway, having strayed from the main areas in a moment of distraction whilst looking at the rays of vibrant light peak through the leaves. This didn’t bother you much- you were keen on exploring and any bought time away from the house was time well spent as far as you were concerned. Birds chirped and creatures scurried along the tall blades of grass. Perhaps you would find a fairy- that would certainly make your adventure more exciting. You continued on, unwavering heat beating on your brow and causing gleams of sweat to form.

How long have you been out? It didn’t matter you supposed. It was just fun to wander in an unfamiliar place- plus you had been hoping to come across the frog pond your Pa had mentioned so you could hold them. There weren’t many frogs in Tokyo for you to hold. 

Though, despite your efforts to trudge on, you couldn’t ignore the rumbling in your stomach. The bento was looking more appealing by the second, and eventually, your hunger outweighed your determination to continue, as you settled by a sunning rock and dug around your belongings for the wrapped bento. 

Untying the pink patterned sheet, you unveiled your lunch, the rice from your tuna onigiri sparkling in the sunlight like a polished stone. You couldn’t wait to eat. 

Before you could even take a bite, a harsh rustling from a nearby bush caught your attention. You narrowed your gaze on the shaking bush, fear making hairs rise along your neck. Surely it was just a woodland creature- a rabbit perhaps? You wanted to find a fairy, not a monster, but when you creeped closer in fearful curiosity, the two identical pairs of glowing brown eyes within the shadows of the bush-branches made you leap away with a yelp. 

You squeezed your eyes shut and brought your chubby little arms to brace yourself from the bush-monster. 

Two small shadows with pointed ears loomed over you and the bantering whispers of hushed voices made you peek cautiously. 

“I told ya I smelled food!”

“You said ya smelled something, not food.”

“Did not-”

“Did too!”

“Yer a liar-”

“Ya? Yer justa’ scrub.”

Two brunette boys around your age stood over you, bickering as their colored kimono- blue and red respectively- swished with each dramatic flair of their arms. The two were perfectly similar, like looking at your reflection in the mirror, and even more odd than the traditional clothing they were wearing, was the pointed fox ears and matching orange tails they donned. Were they real? They looked eerily realistic and the fact that the red kimono-wearing boy’s tail was flicking violently, affirmed that they were. 

Perhaps they were the mischievous kitsune fox-spirits from folklore. You gulped. They were talking about food- you just hoped they weren’t meaning you. 

“P-please d-d-don’t eat me” you stuttered quietly. 

Your meek voice managed to catch the attention of the twins as they gazed upon your crumpled form. 

“Ha- we don’t eat humans, ya scrub.” The red kimono-wearing boy said, gazing down at you with a look that said ‘you’re an idiot’. 

“We want soma’ that onigiri ya got there.” Chimed the second boy, his face stoic; a contrast from his more fiery counterpart. 

You hesitantly put down your arms and stood back up from the ground, getting a better look at the twins who gazed at you with intensity. 

“What are ya waiting for, human?” the red kimono boy hollered “Stop ya starin’ and share yer bento with us”. 

You listened, grabbing your bento and holding it out for them to take. 

The two wasted no time (you noticed the blue-kimono boy was the first to snatch a bite) gobbling up the tuna onigiri. You were safe for now, you hoped, and so you sat along with them near your rock and began to eat as well. 

“Uwahhhh~ these re’ delicious!” the boisterous red-boy spoke rudely through a mouthful of tuna and rice. You could practically see stars in his eyes as he chewed in delight- it reminded you of Ms. Maraday whenever she saw ‘handsome younguns’ pass by your neighborhood (you didn’t quite understand, but your Ma said you would when you were older-you weren’t too sure).  

You were very curious about these strange boys and who they really were. You desperately wanted to know, but you remained quiet, afraid to bring more attention to yourself. 

“We’re kitsune” the quieter one spoke, rice grains littered around his mouth. When you gave him a look of confusion he replied with a mouthful of onigiri “Ya looked like ya wanted to ask”. Nodding in understanding you smiled at the two, which caused them to stop chewing. 

“What’cha smilin’ for, human?” 

“Just happy that you aren’t monsters- and that you’re not gonna eat me”.

The boys gave each other a mirrored look of shock and proceeded to burst out laughing. 

“This again? Of course we aren't gonna eat ya, human,- yer probably not even tasty” the red boy cackled, showing his miniature pointed fangs. 

“Yer such a scrub” he added. 

“Super scrubby” his brother agreed. 

Ignoring the insult, you started to feel more comfortable around them. You didn’t think that they were going to bring you any harm. 

“What are your names?” you asked, chewing on some grapes.

“I’m Osamu,” the blue-wearing boy pointed to himself  “and Atsumu is my idiot brother over there” 

Atsumu lit up in indignation as he swatted his tail to flick his brother- ending in a small tussle between the two that you awkwardly witnessed. 

“I- my name is Y/N!” you exclaimed quickly, hoping to break up the fight. It thankfully worked, as the two separated (albeit glaring at each other) and nodded along, ears flicking in irritation. 

“Sounds likea’ pretty scrubby name to me” scoffed Atsumu as he dusted off his Kimono. He looked at you deeply, his more golden-flecked eyes searing into your mind. 

Though Atsumu seemed to be the more loud of the two, Osamu was just as intense. He had this aura of coldness and aloof eyes to match, despite his age. 

“Let’s call ya froggy instead. Ya look like the dopey frogs by the pond.”

Atsumu agreed with his brother, snickering at the suggestion, while you simply nodded in indifference. 

“You know where the frog pond is?” You asked.

The two boys quit their teasing and looked at you with identical squinted eyes of suspicion. You felt a little nervous. 

“Can you show me where the pond is? My Pa said it was close by but I can’t find it” you continued, hoping they would lead you so you could see the frogs they had named you after. 

“Hm… I dunno Froggy, that’s mine and Samu’s secret spot…” he trailed off with a pout on his lips and a mock-questioning expression, and you looked crushed. 

Atsumu quickly realized your fading expression as he piped up quickly with feigned disingenuous interest “I guess ya can tag along Froggy. Yer a scrub, but yer kinda cool I guess”. 

“-Cool enough ta’ give us onigiri” Osamu joined, hands folded inside his kimono sleeves. 

Your eyes sparkled like river stones in the sun as you gripped your yellow backpack straps in excitement.

“Let’s go ‘Samu-’Tsumu!”

The two boys bashfully looked away with pinkish faces, but you were too stoked to notice. 

The three of you traversed to the pond, you doddling behind the two twins as they playfully told you to hurry up. 

----

Meeting up by the frog pond became a regular occurrence throughout the summer spent at your father’s cottage. No longer was it ‘Tsumu and Samu’s secret spot’- it was your secret spot as well. Times when your father had to work on manuscripts, became times for the three of you to explore the plentiful woods together and gather by the frog pond for a lunch of tuna onigiri (you made your Pa pack extra routinely, and though he was confused at first, agreed- you were a growing girl, he reckoned). 

“I’m going to catch the biggest frog today!” Atsumu beamed with unwavering confidence. You giggled and cheered him on despite Atsumu frequently proclaiming this and never living up to it. 

“Good luck catching a frog ‘Tsumu. Yer ugly face scares them all away”. Osamu sneered, grinning cattishly. He stood knee-deep in the muddy pond with his kimono robe hitched up into undershorts and his sleeves rolled to his shoulders.

“Ya have the same face as me ya scrub!” Atsumu barked back, similarly in position like Osamu, but on the opposite side of the small pond. You simply sat on the banks, dipping your toes in the luke-warm shallows as you didn’t want to dirty the yellow sundress your Ma had given you. 

“Just ya watch ‘Samu! Yer gonna be cryin’ once ya see the fat toad I catch- Froggy! Watch me!” his fluffy orange tail flicked around as he wriggled like a cat in a hunting crouch. His eyes were focused on the water underneath him as his brother merely rolled his eyes with an irked huff. 

“Y/N could catch a bigger frog than ya and she’s not even in the water, ‘Tsumu.” 

The boy gave Osamu a deadpan glare and returned to his concentrated form.

A quick fox-like dash of a hand and an unceremonious splash (not appreciated ‘Tsumu) later, Atsumu cupped his prize delicately with both little hands, trodding out of the water towards you with Osamu following. He unveiled the grayish frog to you, basically the size of his entire palm.

“Ha! What did I tell ya ‘Samu? Look at my frog!” 

Osamu paled when you cooed, fascinated at his brother’s catch, and rolled back his sleeves preparing to go back into the water- this was a competition now. 

Atsumu had looked pretty pleased with himself, a cocky smirk and high-raised tail, only feeling his ego inflate larger when you complimented his frog-catching prowess. This was only temporary of course, as Osamu reappears by your side, cupping a perfectly same-size frog to Atsumu. 

“Ah- my frog is still bigger than yers ‘Samu!” Atsumu stomped bitterly, the puppy fluff by his ears riled. “Froggy- ya measure ‘em up. Tell us which frog is bigger!” 

You analyzed both frogs carefully. They were utterly identical- a lot like the twins facing you with beaming anticipation for your decision. 

“They’re both the same” you concluded, bringing faces of disappointment as the two bickered about which frog should have won the competition. 

“Here-” they stopped their fighting to look towards your smiling face as you stood to perch a daisy-link crown around the two ears between them. “You both can win the prize.” 

They stood tensely with synchronized blushing faces- both frogs long gone by now from the lack of watchful eyes. 

“Yeah…w-whatever. I guess we can both win..” Atsumu pouted as his hands fidgeted with your gift. Osamu similarly looked bashfully, whispering a ‘thank you’ and playing with his damp kimono sleeves. 

Despite their many differences, you could definitely see their brotherly similarities as they stood with mirrored shyness. You could only giggle. 

----

“I’m King of the rock today!”

Osamu huffed, a frown on his rounded face. 

“Yer always King of the rock ‘Tsumu!”

Breeze ruffled the long fronds of grass, the sound akin to brushing the fur of a large pooch (you imagine that such a pooch would need to use a pool as a bathtub and a rake as a comb). You pleasantly tuned out the background noise as you relaxed in the golden evening, serenaded by the season’s cicadas. This had been going on for a while now, the sharp tang of clashing voices sometimes pulling you out of your sleepy daze. 

Two twins perched on the highest ledge of the sunning rock, billowing tails irate and ears pinned flat against their brown locks, bickering about who would be crowned the prestigious title of ‘King of the rock’. This was often a game the three of you would play, Atsumu and Osamu rotating between the ‘King’ role and you faithfully claiming your position as the court advisor (neither of them knew what that meant, and you only knew about it because of your father’s habitual tendency to spout oddities at the dinner table). Though you certainly had no opinion on the matter, you knew for certain that the two trouble making brothers would rope you into it somehow. 

“Froggy!” “FROGGY” (said simultaneously) 

And here it was.

“Ya agree don’t ya? ‘Tsumu would make a better princess than a King”.

You held in a laugh at Atsumu’s blinking shock as the twins pounced on each other; frolicking fox kits in the summer sunlight. You could tell there was no real malice behind the two’s actions, they were brothers- hearts intertwined and spirits invigorated by each other’s energy. It almost made you envious. You grew up relatively lonely, only enjoying the presence of Tokyo and your imagination; the subway was your carriage, the chimes of streetlights your music, and the songbirds and alleycats, your friends- you wondered if a sibling would help fill that void. 

“OW! ‘Tsumu!”

You snapped out of your reverie, lying up from the flattened grass you nested on. Osamu sat on the mossy rock, eyes watering, lip quivering, and little hands nestling the bottom of his foot. You got up immediately, looking back to see Atsumu guiltily shuffling beside his brother, wringing his hands. He looked unsure what to do, and you could see tears beginning to well in his eyes as well, as he saw what he caused to his brother. 

Gently you took Osamu’s muddy foot into your hand and inspected the scrape from the fall. It was bleeding slightly, running a crimson pathway down his heel and pooling between the crevices between his toes. Running your sleeve along his heel to wipe the blood, you caught him wince- you tried more delicately this time, removing residual grime as well, seeing as the two fox-boys never wore footwear. 

You turned back to Tsumu who by now was sitting on the opposite end of the rock, looking ashamed and wilted like an unwatered houseplant. “‘Tsumu-” you called for his attention. 

He turned.

“Help me bandage your brother up?” You pawed around your yellow backpack looking for the small first-aid kit your mother insisted you carry around- finally the heavy tin box would be put to use. 

You instructed Tsumu to hold up his brother’s foot while you held up two bandaids- a hello kitty one with polka dots, and a blue one with patterned hearts. Both brothers grimaced at the ugly choices, but you gave them a look that got them to settle down. 

“Hello Kitty or hearts?” 

Osamu sniffed and chose the blue one (of course), to which you complied and stuck it to his heel. You prodded Atsumu who had returned to sulking, and whispered at him to apologize. 

It didn’t take long for his pride to break. He started to sob as he hugged his brother in a tight embrace and tugged at his kimono sleeves “Sorry ‘Samu! I didn’t mean ta hurt ya!”  

Samu pouted his lips pretending to still be offended, but you could tell it was all forgiven as he flicked his tail atop of his brother’s head like a strange hat and patted his arms. 

“Ya ya. Yer alright ‘Tsumu”.

It was genuinely heartwarming to see them interact and you began to enjoy your summer a little more while watching your friends. Atsumu’s sniffling ceased, as he looked up at the two of you bashfully. 

“Hey ‘Samu?”

“Ya?”

“Ya can be King today”.

----

The smell of cedar is strong in the midnight forest as you trek with your fox-eared friends. Cicada’s chirp loudly, framing the sounds of wooden sandals and calloused feet on the grassy pathway. 

“‘Saaamuuu, how long till we’re there?” You complained for the nth time that night. 

Looking to the right, with a mopey face to ‘Samu, posture slouching from what seemed to be hours walking in your young body, you were interrupted by the wrong twin.

“Keep it down, ya, Froggy?! Yer gonna scare the buggies with all ya groanin’!”

Osamu flicked his plume of a tail and nipped his twin’s ear at his snappy response. Atsumu only shrugged it off, but clearly looked peeved, taking the heel of his palm and smoothing out the fur of his ears with a huff. 

“We’re nearly there, Froggy. Don’cha worry ya little Froggy head, ya?” 

You giggled as ‘Samu ruffled your hair like a wet umbrella. Only to giggle louder when ‘Tsumu joined in the attack- the two boys relentlessly tickling you and making you forget about your aching tiredness. 

They two stopped only when spotting a scooping hill in the distance. 

“C’mon, Froggy! The night waits fer no one!”  

You attached yourself to the racing twins by holding on to their obi, venturing to the moonlit meadow just outside of the forest. 

You sucked in a deep breath as you gazed upon the endless expanse of the glittering indigo sky. Arcs of night clouds circled the pearl moon, trees bending in a graceful embrace around the tickling sweet grass, the scent of chill and clarity enrapturing the senses. The flickering stars reflected in your irises; gleaming with some wondrous awe the two boys became utterly fascinated with, as their own sharp eyes studied your tranquil ease. 

Placid lips, once silent, parted to speak- though it was clear your focus was still diverted to the summer heavens. 

“This place is so…” you paused; gentle winds jostling your locks and chirping creatures filling the silence. 

“Beautiful” you finished. 

The sway of the long grasses caressed your body as you laid to stargaze in the meadow. The twins, still entranced by your contentment with their surprise location, sat on either side of you- mirroring cheshire grins of success lacing their canine smiles.

The more boisterous fox chirped as he flattened his arms behind his head like a pillow. 

“Just ya wait. The best part hasn’t even started yet”.

You directed your starlit gaze to ‘Tsumu, wondering what else could be more magnificent than the ether above. Anticipation paid off, as in the corner of your eyes (next to a pair of smirking foxes), golden, floating, stars started to come from underneath the grass. 

“They’re stars!” you burst out in excitement. You look at the faces of your two cherished friends, watching them giggle at your unlady-like outburst. They didn’t bother correcting you, as you looked like you were having too much fun hopping like a grasshopper in the meadow, a huge grin on your face as you attempted to catch the floating stars. 

“‘Tsumu! ‘Samu!” you called. “Come catch the stars with me!” Atsumu was the first to wriggle his tail and pounce like a hunter towards you, tickling you as you absolutely beamed. Osamu watched on, laughing identically with his brother at your giddiness. When was the last time he and his brother had a friend like you?

It had always been him and Atsumu, facing the world together. Foxes are solitary creatures, and it’s rare that Inari, the fox goddess, would send such young kits to work in the human realm. You truly were a treasure. A glittering golden stone like the bright sun; something so ultimately precious to them, as if you were worth more than the tastiest fatty tuna onigiri or the high of winning against his brother- you were family. No longer was it two unlucky twin fox kits facing the shadows of the earthly plane- it was ‘Tsumu, ‘Samu and Froggy-forever. 

“-forever” Samu turned to your voice, you and ‘Tsumu panting and tired after chasing each other, and lying in the ticklish grass. 

“Let’s stay together forever” you repeated, turning to face Osamu with glittering fireflies reflected in your endless gaze.

“Forever” the twins agreed in unison.

---

“Ya know, Froggy” Astumu chirped, hands lazily folded behind his fox-eared head, “Those weren’t stars, they were buggies”. 

You gaped, eyes wide. “EHHHHHHH!!??”

---

The last day of summer vacation came too fast, and it also just so happened to land on the rainiest day in years. The weather was torrent, trees lashing by aggressively amidst the sharp drops of rain and the howling wind. Roads were closing, trains were halted- all in fear of the upcoming storm.

“You can’t go out today sweetie, I’m sorry-” your father tried to placidate your rising temper. He gestured his hands towards you, in a friendly embrace, only for you to whip out of his grasp in anger. 

“It’s not fair!” you cried, fat tears rolling down your soft face. “Why can’t I go out to see my friends?- I won’t-” you paused to catch your breath as you continued to choke on your emotions. “I won’t be able to see them for a long time!”

Battling his confusion at the mention of your unheard of ‘friends’, he ached in sympathy to see you in such a state, but your safety was his uttermost priority “Now, sweetie-”

“NO!” you stomped your foot in utter outrage. You couldn’t believe the audacity of your Pa, to try and stop you from seeing your friends-no-your family- before you left. You hardly spent the summer with our own father, as he was too busy, and now he wanted to take you away from your only reprieve of loneliness? 

“You can’t tell me what to do when you’ve never been there- you- you’re barely my Pa anyways!”

Your father looked on in horror, not only at your stinging words,but your small form dashing away quickly past the paper doors and into the unrelenting storm.

“Y/N!” he shouted- you didn’t listen, quickly evading him even as he attempted to chase you on his bum leg. 

The wind clawed at your tiny body- rain slicked your floral summer dress and chilled you to the bone. The bending trees, once so welcoming, were being tossed around like marbles in a dish, and the sun that watched over you all summer- gone without a trace in the pluming smoke-like clouds. You continued to run as fast as your legs could take you, every once and a while slipping on the wet stones and skinning your knees in the gritty mud. You couldn’t tell if it was the rain pouring down your face or your tears. 

“‘Tsumu! ‘Samu!” you cried, eyes blurry, and snot dripping onto the bib of your yellow collar. Your socks were beyond ruined at this point, and the tears from the sharp branches and many tumbles you took, only worsened the burning sting of the raindrops and buffeting gale. 

A gnarled, slippery root brought you to your bleeding knees, and you felt as if you couldn’t possibly continue any longer. You were there- at your secret hideout, but the absence of your foxy friends made your heart drop. 

You were wet, bleeding, scared, and alone. Your small little paradise was crumbling, and the angels that once played such sweet melodies to lift your lonesome spirit had faded away into their now-melancolic tunes. 

“Froggy!” You whipped your head with re-invigorated energy as you heard the voice of your twins. “Tsu--m mu-Sam…” you cried incoherently as they bent to hug your shivering form. 

“I- I just want to go home”.

The twins looked at each other, and with a saddening, but newfound resolve, spoke.

“We can take you home, Froggy- if that’s your wish”

You nodded, feeling defeated, but also confused at how a gangle of small children would be able to pass through the bitter storm for the second time. 

“Don’cha worry ya little froggy head- yer safe, with us- always-”

Chocolate eyes met yours in a teary gaze. You were caught in a spell; the familiar slitted eyes communicating their immense sadness, yet, determination as they continued explaining.

“We heard yer wish, ya know, the one about ya wantin’ to go home, and Inari sent us to fulfill this wish, as spirits of the forest”.

Osamu chimed in- “That’s what kitsune do- we grant wishes” he paused and took your frozen hands in his. You noticed he was still wearing the bandaid you put on his foot. “We can help ya, Froggy, but after, our mission will be done…and once ya step out of the forest- you’re gonna forget everything that’s happened…”

“No!” you interrupted, your gaze flicked between the two soggy-haired, solemn boys as you balked in disbelief. “N-no- I’d never forget you guys!” The tears that had slightly dried before came back tenfold as you squeezed ‘Samu’s clawed hands. “The frog pond, the buggies, sharing onigiri?? I’d never forget any of that!” you proclaimed. “We- we promised to stay together-forever! I won’t go home if I won’t remember you two- you are my home!”

“Froggy.” Atsumu silenced you, tucking the stuck hair off your forehead, to behind your ear. You had never heard the jovial boy so serious before. “Ya need to go back to your own world- to grow up in Tokyo-” “-to experience the other seasons-” Osamu added. “-to be with yer Ma and Pa and that crazy hag Ms. Maraday…” They could go on, but by the defeated look reflected in your eyes, they could tell you understood. 

You shakily stood up. 

“Let’s get ya home, ya, Froggy?”

With their hands joined with yours, they steadied you. Like a beautiful dance, they conjured ghostly blue flames with their spare hands and you watched as the foxfire shot up into the sky like bullets, and returned as glowing orbs leading a pathway through the forest. 

Slowly, the three of you began to run through the rain, laughing as you splashed into cold puddles. This was it, the last you’d ever hear of their laughter, so you couldn’t help the tears that mixed into your giggles as they gazed upon you so fondly. 

The trail of glowing sky-like fire reached an opening in the forest and you could see the engawa of your father’s summer home shadowed in the near distance. 

You dug your heel into the mud and spun around right before the drop off out of the forest pathway. Your face glowed with the slick rain and the heavenly light emitting from the globes of fire that still surrounded the three of you. 

The twins cried. You cried, but your signature smile overtook your face. They let go of your hands. 

“I’ll never forget you two. We’re friends- forever”.

“Forever”, they agreed, smiling through their tears. You took one last look at their identical faces, tall pointed ears, and their plumes of fluffy white-tipped tails- committing it to memory. You’d remember them. That was a promise.

And with a leap, your muddied sock passed the border between the trees and the outside, and you looked back, seeing the two figures holding hands and grinning caddishly, fading away like transparent ghosts.

As you landed, you suddenly blanked. What were you doing here? You can’t remember, but all you know is that you’re wet, aching, and feel overwhelmingly empty- like something was missing. 

“Y/N- thank god you’re okay-!” your Pa hugged you tightly, looking over you as you faded back into reality. Police officers, sirens, and a gaggle of old adults who bore the fireman’s uniform huddled around you and your father, making sure you were okay. You didn’t really understand what was going on, but you hugged your father tighter as your daze looked back at the empty, dark forest. You were ushered inside immediately to get warm, and though the forest seemed to have some sort of significance in your brain, you let it slip your mind as you were being coddled. 

----------------

And though you could not remember quite everything that happened during your adventures in the forest by your Pa’s home, you were left with an uneasy feeling in your gut like something was missing. As the familiar crumble of gravel marked the beginning of the journey back to Tokyo, you couldn’t help but gaze upon the slowly receding forest. The tall trees swayed mystically in an enchanting embrace like they were reaching out for you; saddened by you leaving. You wanted to reach back too- only being separated by the pane of the SUV’s car window.

To you, summer was about catching frogs, playing king-of-the-rock, gazing upon fireflies, eating fatty tuna onigiri in the summer warmth, and oddly enough- about two orange foxes with identical brown eyes. To you, the feeling of summer was like home. 

The trickling streams of the frog pond, fireflies fluttering in the dimming night sky, the smell of the deep amber woods and yesterday’s rain; vibrant dusk tinting our fading summer memories.

End~

Loved Her So

Angst: Oikawa x F!Reader x Slight!Akaashi

A/n: I saw @multi-fandom-fanfic wanting to know how the great king and [b/f//n] got together and stuff. Also pls request because idk what to write atm🥺

Part 1

✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰

Why?

Why?

You're such an idiot Tooru!

You should have never left Y/n!

Idiot.

Idiot.

Idiot.

I felt a presence behind me, it was b/f/n. She was clinging onto me.

Her hold felt warm, but not as comforting as y/n’s. Wait….. What am I thinking? I’m in love with b/f/n,

so why am I thinking about y/n?

Am I still in love with her?

No, impossible. It’s been three years since I cut off our relationship. Besides, I have my own kid. Well, my daughter has a doctor's appointment to see if she has my DNA.

You know just to make sure....

I saw my daughter, [random/name], in a cute outfit. I picked her up and walked to the car, fastened her seat belt. We then drove off to the hospital.

-20 minutes later-

“I’m sorry sir, she does not have any ounces of your blood in her DNA”

I knew it.

[b/f/n] made me leave y/n.

But why?

You're probably wondering how I met b/f/n. Let me take you back a notch.

In my highschool days, I met b/f/n at a party y/n and I was invited to in August. Yeah, I was flirting a bit but I was bored because y/n had left for the restroom. Me and b/f/n were still flirting and all of a sudden we were in a room on top of each other.

After we put on our clothes we went back to the party. I saw y/n waiting for me at the table. Once she saw me, her eyes were shining in love and happiness.

Anyways, I took [random/name] to the park. I dialled b/f/n’ phone and called.

“Hey babe!” b/f/n spoke in excitement.

“[random/name] isn’t my kid, right?” 

I don’t have time for this.

“erm...What do you mean? Of course she is” 

Liar.

“Whose kid was I taking care of these past three years?”

“...”

“Well?”

“Okay fine. It’s my ex’s kid.”

“And why was I apart of this”

“*sigh* Because, I was jealous of y/n. Having a hot and school famous guy seemed pretty cool to me. Don’t think I was using you. I was in love with you and I still am.”

No.

I don’t accept this.

“Y/n and I would still be together by now if you didn’t approach me at that party” I spoke angrily.

“It's always “Y/n this” and “Y/n that” why can't you see that I love you more than her?!?”

“STOP LYING TO ME”

“OH SHUT UP! IF YOU LOVED HER SO, THEN WHY’D YOU LEAVE HER FOR ME?!”

I stopped in my tracks, why did I leave y/n for her best friend?

In the corner of my eyes I see someone familiar.

It was the girl I still loved till this day.

Y/n…

Wait, why are there kids coming up to her?

Is that her [brother’s/sister’s] kids?

I hung up the call with b/f/n. I smiled knowing I can finally see y/n again. But my smile fell once I saw a man back hugged her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. I looked closely at the man and saw a ring.

My heart shattered knowing I could never make her mine again.

I’m sorry….it’s all my fault.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Belongs to me: @minnies-mochi

"Your Coat's Still Very Much On"

Angst: Oikawa x F!Reader x Slight!Akaashi

A/n: idk if this is sad but🤷🏽‍♀️

Part 2

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Seven months older

Air's getting cold, our bed's startin' to creak

I turned my head to look on the spot on the bed. Empty and Cold.

What kind of boyfriend is he?

I shivered even though I'm under the covers. I wished his arms were wrapped around me.

God knows where you are

My boyfriend of 3 years went to Taiwan, without even telling me. I looked at my phone, hoping I'd gotten a response from him.

‘Seen’

‘Did-Did he leave me?’

I'm here waiting for love through a screen

I’m thinking about the times we’ve spent with each other.

You show me the outfit you chose

For the dinner and tonight's show

`”Hey, babe. Does this look good?” He said. I lowered the book I was reading and looked at him. I realized he was wearing his jersey.

Must be nice to be your clothes

He chuckled at my pouting face as he pulled me into his embrace.

“I can’t wait to beat Tobio-chan and Chibi-Chan,” he said. I smiled and  brought my hand up then caressed his cheek, “You better win”.´

Second to none even at your worst

Sometimes I wish you'd put me first

He was so caught up in his late night practices and I barely saw him at all.

Nowadays you're such a blur

I can barely remember what Tooru looked like. Has it been that long? Well obviously, he’s been gone for 7 months.

We keep dancing around the innocent truth that we're just…

I curled myself into a ball and cried my eyes out until I fell asleep

Out of time

Must I die before you feel alive?

-Next Morning

I woke up with my eyes being puffy. I heard the front door open then close.

Quickly, I ran down the stairs and saw Him.

Oikawa Tooru.

He saw me and smiled a sweet smile.

A curse in a graceful disguise

I smiled sadly at him.

I love you too much to stay in love

“How are you darling?” I asked.

How are you, really?

“How was Taiwan?”

He pulled out a bouquet of flowers.

My favorite (F/Flowers).

“Thanks for the flowers,” I said.

Tooru nervously scratched the back of his head, “Let’s break up. I started a family of my own and It’s with your best friend”.

He cheated, I knew it, but I still felt my heart shattering.

Great was our love, it was one for the books

“I’m sorry” Tooru, no Oikawa, said.

We gave it the best we could

His stuff was gone.

He was gone.

But I won't recite all my lines just to watch you and I lie

-3 Years later

It's been 3 years since I last saw Oikawa. I already moved on and got married to the new love of my life, Akaashi Keji.

We started a family of our own, 2 girls and 1 boy.

I cut off (best friend’s name), so I felt free from the excess weight from my shoulders.

I'm so proud I got to love you once...Oikawa. Thank you.

Little did you know, Oikawa is regretting he left you for your best friend.

~~~~~~~~~~

Credit of this story goes to me: @minnies-mochi

Kuroo x reader x oikawa

Synopsis : After years spent by a certain setter along with a small toddler mending you heart, your life was a just like a blissful movie with a happy ending. But little did you know the person who gave you not only the worst years of your life but also the small ball of sunshine, decided to suddenly make a appearance in your fairytale when fate played a wild

reader's note : this is the last chapter, make sure to read it in order! Sorry for the angst hehe.

Part 1 : meeting you again | Part 2 : wouldn't you | Part 3 : broken promises | Part 4 : where it all went wrong | Part 5 : enough for now (current one)

“she is a fucking psycopath” kenma sighs, putting the car in reverse as he pulls up in his driveway, eyes fixated on the rear view as kuroo watches the irriated expression on his face.

“dude, chill I know you hate kizumi, but I might marry her” kuroo sips his coffee as he lets out a shallow grunt in annoyance too, what was he doing in life.

“no, just think about it, she specifically asked for the ring you bought to propose to y/n, when she knows you could afford to give her much expensive one right now, but, again I repeat. she asked specifically for that ring, only”

the black hair man groans at the explanation, he knows his friend has a point, but he is trying to gaslight himself into believing whatever kizumi explained to him. “i think she just likes it, she was the one who chose it too, all those years ago—” and before kuroo could finish his sentence, the half blonde cuts him off, swiftly taking out his phone from his pocket and muttering something to it “siri, how do you block people in real life”

“yeah, okay, this is a kuroo hate club, I get it” the man sighs, propping his head back on the headrest, closing his eyes. “honestly I know her behavior is weird, but I’m in a tight spot, my only left family is nagging me to marry her, and you know I could care less about marriage” he pauses taking a deep breath. “dad is legit emotionally blackmailing me, sitting at his stupid hospital bed probably faking his disease”

“they want you to marry, doesn't necessarily have to be her” kenma suggests, opening the seatbelt around him. “i cannot marry a stranger, kizumi is a better option, we have been dating on and off for one year” the rooster haired man replies, honestly he really wants to jump off a cliff, but he will suppress the impulsive urges.

“as a rebutal to that, one thing you said was right” kenma sighs finally looking at his friend, kuroo looks tired, or is aged that appropriate word. “her behavior is weird, it's like she has more attachment to y/n than you, she is insecure as fuck of her. you, me and her, we all know she won't ever level up to the place y/n has in your heart, so she trying to become her, its giving me chills” kenma shudders at that thought, physically gagging.

“do you think it's too late for me to get a therapist?” with that kuroo tetsuro groans one more time.

kuroo sits quietly, hands clasped, looking up with hesitant eyes as he watches you put your purse on the table, stoice face, yet so pretty.

he really meant it when he said you got more gorgeous over the years, there were few lines now adorning your face, mature and elegant glow.

even if he sometimes wonders if it would have been better if you both never met at all, if it would have been better if neither of you had to go through the heartbreak, but he knows,

if there was a spell to go back in time, to where he met you, he would do the same thing. he would make a silly chemistry joke and wait for you to laugh at it, not because it was funny, no it was because it was so bad you laughed at it, it was his fault wasn’t it?

to loose the most precious thing in his life, did you feel worse than him, it wasn't a question, nor a comparison, he wanted to know because he will never forget or forgive himself to give you so much pain over the year.

what did you name the kid? did oikawa tooru’ see how your son took the first steps, was he the one who got called father first, what's his favorite food, does he have a birth mark, does he like volleyball? is your son’ tastes similar to what is his? Just like how he saw the little kid adorning your homely baked goods, similar to what he himself used to do.

it pains him, physically pains him to know he wasn't there for anything, he wasn't there to make you food, hold your hair while you threw up during you morning sickness, not hold your hand while you went into labour, he wasn't part of any of it, six years sometimes means nothing and yet to him, now, it means everything, it means every important thing he lost.

“you don't know how much draining this is for me, to be talking to you, or as a matter of fact to talk about what happened, cause honestly you deserve nothing, not the explanation, not to meet me or ruko” you break the silence first, firmly sitting at your place.

and kuroo wishes he could repent on all the thing you said but the only thought in his mind is what you named your son “his name is ruko?”

“his name is oikawa saruko” you firmly state, a small smile tugging at you lips, you were proud your kid had a father like oikawa, cause you can't imagine anyone else being a better father than him.

tetsuro has never wanted to be in someone else's place as much as he wants to be oikawa now, he sighs at your words. “why didn't you tell me, I would get it if you wanted to get away from me, but don't you think I deserved to know the kid was mine?” his voice quivering as he asks you the question, a weird pang in his chest.

“i tried, I tried so many times” your voice quivers slightly “why do you think I asked for your opinion to have a kid?” that silents the man infront of you, his pupil dilated as he realizes how he explained it, and how it sounded like a definite ‘no” from his side.

“not to mention, even after that I was going to tell you, with my parents kuroo and you didn't show up” he relishes at how defeated he feels when you don't even call him by his first name, so the announcement when you called him was with your parents? his legs tenses up and he stops shaking them.

“i know I don't have any excuse but you know there was a storm that night—”

“yet you left me all alone in that storm, tetsuro” his heart breaks into million pieces, do you even know how much he just wants to pull you close and cry, stain your shirt with his tears of sorrow that he made a mistake and couldn't be in your presence and of joy because after years he was able to see you.

“i—y/n” he tries to put his hands over yours but you are swift to pull away, he knows a million reasons of why your reflex action was right, yet he can't help but feel his throat becoming dry “i’m sorry, I assumed you were with your parents, I had no idea, my phone was dead”

“how can you still lie to me?” your voice croaks, finally looking straight into his eyes, you really don't want to care for whatever his action was or what he did but you can't help but feel wronged.

“what do you mean lie?”

“so your phone was dead enough to not respond to my texts but it was working when you reposted on social media with your now girlfriend, her friends commenting how cute you both looked” you scoff pausing in disbelief “or should I say fiance”

“whatever are you sayi-” then it clicks, it suddenly clicks how kizumi’s friend has always shipped him with her, despite knowing he has a girlfriend, despite him saying he doesn't appreciate it, that it straight up makes him uncomfortable.

how kizumi knew, that your birthdate was his password to Instagram, he remembers her saying it was so cute, its laughable to think how dumb he has been, how could he not notice her intention. but he wishes you told him, he wishes he could have cleared off the last misunderstanding and if he could take it all back he would.

hell, he would never breath the same air as kizumi if he could go back in time and fix things. but he cannot, all he has is regret and all he can do his atone for his mistake, he was hoping you'd be kind enough to let him see his son, he hasn't been a great partner but he sure as heck wants to have some influence in your son’s life—

after all, it was a part of you and him, back then if he actually heard you were pregnant he'd probably be scared as shit, but he would still fight every odds to raise the kid you made, how could he ever resent a mini you, kuroo knows he has no right to feel wronged but all those years without the little guy or even acknowledgment of his existence makes feel burnt.

his lips shaky and he doesn't know if a explanation would even help at this point, nothing would change and even if kizumi was in wrong– so was he though. his mouth ran before he could know.

he looks up at her. “I know you don’t owe me anything, but there’s something you need to hear" your eyes held anger and he was scared of that, he wanted to scream please forgive me, over and over again in a chant but he knew he didn't deserve your forgiveness.

you crossed your arms, wary but patient. you had no idea how you still held on. but they say but they say old habits die hard, and even after six year you had the same patience for him, you wanted to laugh at yourself “Go on.”

“It was Kizumi,” he begins, voice low but firm. “She… she’s the reason things fell apart. She was jealous of you, of what we had. She deleted your texts that night—the ones you sent me about the announcement. She posted on my social media to make it look like I was with her. And she—”

"You didn't know?" your eyes widened and you had no idea how to feel after hearing that, conflicted feeling filled your lungs and the wall of resolve you have solidified getting cracks of doubt in them, but you remained firm.

“No,” Kuroo says quickly, his voice thick with regret. “I was blind, stupid, and I didn’t see what was happening. I let her control too much. I thought I could trust her. But I swear, if I’d known—” He stops, realizing that no matter what he says, it won’t erase the past.

you stare at him, your face unreadable, but there was turmoil behind your eyes “So, you’re saying it was all her fault?”

“No. No..no.” Kuroo says firmly, shaking his head. “It was my fault too. I let her into my life, I didn’t listen to you, and I didn’t fight for you when it mattered. That’s on me. I just… I need you to know that I didn’t abandon you on purpose.”

you exhale slowly, looking down at you cup, a closure huh? but what does that change ? you know oikawa is much more important to you now, nothing could change that, nothing could make you ever abandon the perfect family you have right now. “I believe you, Tetsuro. But that doesn’t change what happened. You weren’t there when I needed you, and I had to pick up the pieces alone. Oikawa was there. He’s been there for me and for Ruko.”

even if there is a shaky heartbeat you feel around your past lover you know it was not meant to be. there are so many things unsaid and there will be so many things which will be, you are a mom now and you could never be an careless one. and as much as tears were welling up in your eyes for what could have been, you won't risk anything for what it is now.

Kuroo swallows the lump in his throat. “I know. And I’m glad he’s been good to you both. I just… I missed so much, Y/N. I want to know him. I know I don’t deserve it, but I want to try.”

bonus scene

Kuroo sits on a bench, watching from a distance as you and Oikawa playing with your son, Ruko. The boy—his son, biologically—has Oikawa’s mannerisms but your smile. Kuroo’s chest tightens as he watches the little boy stumble, only for Oikawa to sweep him up, spinning him around while you laugh.

They look like a family. They are a family

Kuroo thinks to himself, maybe this could have been you both if he wasn't consumed by the thought that you both would also be horrible parents much like your families.

you notice him then, your gaze meeting his. There’s no anger in your eyes anymore, just a quiet understanding. you approach him cautiously, arms crossed. “You’re here,” you speak, trying to keep your tone neutral.

“I just wanted to see him,” Kuroo admits. “I won’t interfere much. I just… needed to see him.”

You sit beside him, keeping a respectful distance. “He’s happy, you know. Oikawa’s a good father. He loves Ruko like he’s his own.” and that breaks kuroo's heart, as much as he tries to look positively at this. He can't help but feel his heart become empty, can't help but wish to be where oikawa is right now in your life.

Kuroo nods, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I can see that. He’s a lucky kid.” you glance at him, your expression softening. “I know the truth now, about Kizumi. About what happened. I’m… sorry you were caught in that.”

“I’m sorry too,” Kuroo says, his voice breaking. He knows it's not enough but all he can do is regret it over and over again. “For everything. For not being there, for letting you down. I should’ve fought harder for us.” you look away, your gaze fixed on Oikawa and Ruko. “Maybe. But it’s too late now, Tetsuro. We’ve both moved on.” and he feels a bit happy, you used his first name, God he is so pathetic

“I know,” he whispers, his heart breaking all over again. “But I’ll never stop wishing I could go back and do it right.” and before you are able to say anything you notice a small figure approaching you, you feel at ease when you notice it's your son, oikawa stood a bit away, he felt protective over you both but he doesn't want to snatch away the closure you deserve, and he can't snatch away ruko from his biological dad. so he stays silent cause he knows ruko would pick him for sure, he loves the little guy to death after all.

“Ruko, this is… this is Tetsuro,” you say gently, getting up from the bench only to kneel beside your son.

The boy looks up, curious but cautious. “Hi,” he says softly, clutching his toy dinosaur.

Kuroo crouches down, his heart aching as he gets his first close look at his son. Ruko has Y/N’s eyes and his messy black hair. He smiles faintly. “Hey, buddy. That’s a cool dinosaur you’ve got there. What’s his name?”

“Cupcake,” Ruko replies, holding it up proudly.For a moment, Kuroo wants to giggle, pondering why a dinosaur would be named Cupcake, but he holds back, his lips twitching into a soft smile. “Cupcake, huh? That’s a pretty unique name. Why’d you pick it?”

Ruko beams, his small chest puffing up with excitement. “Well—it’s not weird, okay? It’s ’cause I love dinosaurs and I love Mom’s handmade cupcakes, so I mixed two favorite things at once!”

Kuroo freezes for a moment, his breath catching in his throat. Cupcakes. His gaze flickers briefly to you, you who look away, your expression unreadable. He remembers countless nights when he’d come over to your place, exhausted from work or practice, and the smell of your freshly baked cupcakes would make him feel like he was home. They were his favorite—a sweet, simple treat that reminded him of your warmth.

And now, their son shares that same love.“That’s… that’s actually genius,” Kuroo finally says, his voice hoarse with emotion. “Cupcake is the perfect name for a dinosaur. You’ve got great taste.”

Ruko grins proudly, going on to describe Cupcake’s many adventures and how he takes the toy everywhere. Kuroo listens intently, his heart clenching. There’s an ache beneath his chest—a mix of pride, love, and regret. He and Ruko have so much in common, and yet, this is the first time he’s learning it.

The realization stings, and he resents you a bit for that but it also fills him with a bittersweet joy. Ruko is bright, imaginative, and full of life. He’s a part of you and him—a reminder of what you both once had. And kuroo decides he can live with that. That's enough for now isn't it?

Finally ending this series, I get embarrassed whenever I reread it but it was my first series and it has been in my drafts for years. But here I ending, thank you for everyone who waited for this.

Here is the taglist (it's based on people who were waiting for it) : @reikashe @mikaela26sstuff @chita318 @mxrice @freddiemylovelg @glxar @amarinthe @rinsangel @captainchrisstan @gamacha @cheeseriz @pluviophilefangirl @bnha-bakusquad @asaitashi @lordmomourmomoness @missyasmim @macky-attoh @belle643 @on-crows-wings

“that escalated quickly”

Suna rintarou x fem!reader

Synopsis : you ask your childhood friend to show his pp due to a certain encounter.

cw : —smut, oral [f.receiving], cervix bruising, slight breeding kink, unprotected sex, fingering, degradation + praising [names called —pretty whore, doll], masochism, sadism, dacryphilia [suna likes seeing you cry], mean¡dom suna.

Note : you don't have to read the series to read the smut, stay horny friends. mdni.

↳ part : 1, ↳ part : 2, ↳ part : 3

“oh what's this?” then corner of his lips curled up, a sinister smirk and you know you got yourself tangled in a spider web, there is no backing out. “don't get shy on me now y/n, eyes on me”

Listen, it would have been really easy to keep your eyes on him but not like this

you are panting, you can't focus like this, he is so mean, suna's hand were gripped around your thighs so tightly that you know their will be marks left, both over his shoulder.

his pointy tongue has been making small circles around your bud, painfully lazily, painfully slowly. while his fingers? They held a ruthless pace, the long pale ones which were hitting you right on your gspot.

Your breaths are so shallow, with each and every strike against your gspot, with stripe of his long tongue against your perky clit, you feel the bliss, you will cum like this, your head is thrown back.

A little more push and you will be over, your eyes keep clenching due to jolts of pleasure everytime his finger moves a bit higher, and the most lustful things was how his eyes were directly observing every expression of your face.

a fox? Yeah they were smart and sneaky but suna, he isn't a fox he is a snake, his slanted eyes never leaves your face, you can see how his tongue flattens over your clit and how his lips wraps around your already swollen bud, to suck even more harshly.

he is enjoying your pain and pleasure, he is enjoying how tears were brimming in your eyes just to follow his words, he is enjoying how flustered you look every time you are about to let the knot in your stomach go, but just as it about to happen

he removes his hands, he removes his tongue and replaces your heat with a smile on his lips, a grin, a evil one.

“fuck— stop being a bitch” you stutter out, and you know shouldn't have said that when he is in control but he wouldn't mind that right he is your friend for year— his tongue is poking his cheek at your words, it seems so dangerous.

“a bitch you say?” he undoes his sweats and finally after the cruel hours of you imaging it, over and over again your eyes lands on his dick, oozing with a little precum, it looks a little bigger than last time, a little harder maybe.

“weren't you the one who was acting like a bitch in heat, all this while begging me to fuck you over” he scoffs, raising his eyebrows when you shudder hearing his words.

“don't tell me being humiliated gets you off” his hands pulls you abruptly closer by your thighs, to the edge of the bed, his lips twisted and amused, so close, a little more and you will be rubbing against him.

suna smells like being high in summer afternoon, intoxicating and mind enfulging, his one hand rests on your waist, closer to your mounds. he bents a little lower and you don't mean to whine but you do, he rubs his member on your core forming slow little shapes. “let's play a guessing game, we guess what turns us on, I will go first”

He slips in without a warning, you have imagined it more than you would like to admit but nothing could prepare you to hold his length, he isn't halfway through and you are filled, you moan loud enough that you know if you anyone was in the hallways they could hear you.

suna is not one to make noise in bed, but he can't help but curse at how tight you were, yeah maybe he was a little to big for you but that doesn't mean he wouldn't make you fit for him.

“you are a masochist” he slams in again and you scream, the stretch is too much for you, the pain is greater par with the pleasure but that doesn't make suna stop, so cute crying like that— who would have thought he could fuck his neighbors daughter so well, the one who trusted him to take care of you? Is now fucking you like you are his own personal doll.

He asks for your assumption, but your are blabbing mess the only thing you could do was moan more loudly as his pace started to increase, he is hitting your cervix already—

“moans? you got this right, pretty moans from a pretty whore” he hovers over you, leaning in right below your neck, his teeth sinks on your mound, away from your nipples but enough to make whine.

His hands move to grip you by your neck, veins popping out as he tightens it and your cloudy mind comes to a halt, he grunts feeling you clench down on him as he grips your neck more tightly, breaths shallow for you that your face becomes red, you feel like you will pass out

“choking” he seems proud, eyes intently watching your fucked out face. The tears that were threatening to come out of your eyes, once he moves faster, the water break loose and tears glides down your cheek. His hits were accurate, how could be so fast and not sloppy.

“aww are you crying?” he smirks, leaning in, mere inches away from your face, his hands that were wrapped around your neck finally let's you breath and grips your jaw, you were expecting a kiss, a slower pace when he inched more closer but he licked, he licked your tears away that escaped your eyes.

“guess your tears turn me on too” and you don't mean to shudder or clench around him at his words, but he feels the clench around his pulsating member ramming your heat, it's so hot— you like this under him, you feel friction against your walls, the knot in your stomach hanging just to let it go.

His pelvis keeps rubbing your clit, the accurate sharp hitting of his dick against your cervix leaves a burning sensation, it's bruised definitely, the muscle on his inside you keeps getting hard with each rub against your gspot, you will cum, you will cum.

“cumming” you manage to mumble out, your back is arched, and as you feel the rush pooling out of with the little rub against your clit his finger pressed on, your toe curls and you gush out against his member.

His pace gets a little sloppy as he feels your walls tightening more, his head thrown back as a small mewl of your names leaves his lips. That is gonna be painted in your mind forever.

But instead of him slowing down or rushing his escape that he feels around him, the warm hot hole which keeps squeezing him, his thumb moves to your perky nub and rubs, he lowers his face putting your nipple between in his teeth only to press down on it roughly.

“no, no too much ahh—” you moan out, slurring between your words. he sucks on your nipples more harshly, rolling the tip with his tongue, suna is clouded with being in you— the pleasure and satisfaction after having you after days and days of wet dreams

The warmth is finally satisfying, it finally feels complete and each thrust even if he pretends to be control, he is loosing it, he is loosing himself in you— fuck it,

you look so pretty under him shivering, like you are just a mess and only have him to guide you out, he crossed the friends line and if that means he gets to see such a pretty view under him, he will do it all over again.

Faster and sloppiler pace as he watches your eyes roll back due to the overstimulation all over again, he gets ready to move out and cum on your stomach but, the small mewl when you say 'inside' had his hips rolling in a new angle.

He grips your thigh, putting it over his shoulder, his thoughts stuck in his throat before it could finally reach his conscience, with another accurate push against your gspot, with another harsh hit on your cervix and with another clench by you, he paints your walls white.

Hot spurts of seed shooting inside you, the warmth alone makes you cum again with the overstimulation of your little nub, he places a sloppy kiss on your lips before pulling out.

Collapsing on the sheet beside you, you huff out— letting your breath catch, the fast orgasm still has your mind fuzzy.

You turn to look at suna, not as wrecked or visibly exhausted like you but he is panting, the hair is sticking to his forehead and his eyes are closed, the sweat is making his skin glow, he looks so hot. Did you just fuck this guy?

“hey,” you mumble, your voice comes off as a feeble sound, your throat was too strained due to the screaming, “I am on birth control so don't worry”

Suna turns to look directly into your eyes, his lips are twisted upwards, a mischievous one “that didn't bother me, you knocked up and swollen cause of me? Hot”

You almost choke yourself at his remark, and you wonder if the red bruises on your skin he left was more pigmented than your cheeks.

“one more round?”

“YOU DID WHAT?” the professor sighs once again, is yelling in his class a daily occurrence now? Atleast nobody cursed this time, he looks at the back of the glass from where the sound came and, ah yes it's the oh so familiar blond head and along with the girl who curses, again.

he takes his glasses off. “out now”

Yuuji terushima is still in shock, no he saw a mere inch of that hickey and wondered for a whole minute, did a whole fucking octopus attacked you with his suckling tentacles.

“y/n you can't walk properly, you are stumbling”

“I know” you whisper loudly, trying to keep your pace up to walk like a normal human being, the cramps in your thighs are still there. It's like you a bulldozer was drilled inside you.

But you would pay anything, anything to feel the ecstasy of his tongue rubbing softly against you. Anything to be held by his gruff hands, anything to feel him inside you.

and anything to feel the smell of his summer like hair, minty cologne he uses which was mixed a bit with the scent of cigar.

“I need details, babe” terushima yuuji stops you, clicking his tongue, a isolated place to talk about your sex life. It may sound creepy but he is your bestfriend he deserves to know. “hush, not now bitch” you roll your eyes, like what if someone hears about how suna plunged his fingers inside you, no no not safe.

“fine, then I won't tell you about atsumu's new girl” he has a smug smile, but you roll your eyes, placing your hands over your chest. “as if I care”

“oh, you will” he sounds so assure, quickly fumbling to take his phone out, he unlocks it, opening up his instagram. “its suna's ex” huh.

“knew tsumu was a scumbag, how could he fuck his bestfriend's ex” you spat out, taking the phone from his hand, you don't really care about which suna's ex this was, non insignificant. but she looks pretty.

“says the one who fucked their ex's bestfriend, and suna also did the same you know” you scoff, mumbling to reason how you were the hot ex of miya and suna was the hot bestfriend— its different with hot people apparently.

“we are not talking about this again, we are adults we can fuck whoever you want”

“but you said he was a scumbag first for doing that”

“you are supposed take my side”

“suna, tsumu went out with that half korean girl last saturday” Osamu, puts the drink for his friend on the kitchen counter, its his brother he is bitching about he knows, he is a douchebag he will agree.

but he doesn't want that bastard to have a black eye so if that means he has to apologize for him, he will do it.

“oh yeah?” suna puts his phone on the desk, eyes still lingering on the typing sign on his screen, he is least bothered, he is chewing his lips in anctipation for your message to pop up.

“can't believe he is going for your ex” Osamu sighs, waiting for a reaction but he notices as his lips are turned a bit upwards when the ding of notification pops on his screen.

“that doesn't bother you?” suna finally looks up after typing out something, nonchalant expression as he slips his phone into his jacket.

“can't really blame him while I am making his ex's heartbeat faster too” that leaves osamu dumbfounded, which ex— atsumu had tons of flings and relationship so if suna was going out one his girlfriend it wouldn't bother him. right?

“which one?” he raises his eyebrow taking a chuck of his drink, the cold liquid leaves a burn in his throat.

“y/n” Osamu chokes, spits the drink almost out, Oh that will bother atsumu miya real well.

“for real?” he stares at suna, slurring between his word, a simple nod confirms the deal, suna isn't one to joke around with stuff like this.

“never knew you were the gentleman cheesy type, making her heartbeat faster and stuff” he scoffs, sipping his drink once again.

“oh” suna pauses, a smirk tugging on his lips, as his tongue pokes the inside of his check. “the other heartbeat, down south”

que to osamu choking again

Taglist : @tojicvmslut @bluecatton @nagitosfrontallobe @antwuver @navywavy99 @bbyxxm @kazumihaitani @dearsunaa @alienvarmint @akaashis-wife @fushigur-ho @animeangel21

“that escalated quickly”

Suna x fem!reader

Synopsis : you ask your childhood friend to show his pp due to a certain encounter

Note : AHHH SIR SUNA DRIVES ME INSANE HONESTLY, READ THE OTHER PARTS FOR BETTER UNDERSTANDING, mdni

⩩ part : 1, ⩩ part : 2, current, part : 4

“FUCK FUCK” you stutter aloud in class, you turn to your bestfriend to tell him the code red news but the widen gaze of his makes your excitement to come in a halt.

with a awkward realization developing in the back of your mind, you look around yourself, as expected several eyes looking back at you and a piercing gaze just from the front of the class. shit, you just didn't do that.

“miss l/n, out of my class now” with a sharp tone and dagger like gaze thrown at your way, you feel the shudder in your spine.

“gladly” mumbling to yourself, you scramble your things with shaky hands. the shock that you got from a certain ex inarizaki bastard is making your knees wobble.

Taking a note of your, what to say trembling and flushed state, any other bestfriend would have told you need to go to the nurse immediately or to take some rest. but,

Yuuji terushima, knows better than that. years of experience gets him to the conclusion that you must have seen something which had either made you excited or disgusted. A porn maybe, a dirty text or is it a nude?

He helps himself to pack his things too, lazily standing up to follow you and listen to your code red. the professor gives him a raised eyebrow, followed with a questionable look. “where do you think you are going?”

“will accompany y/n, she doesn't look so good” the professor takes a quicky glance again at your way, yeah you do look kind of freaked out, he just nods at terushima's way and you feel relieved that you can fuss about the whole thing to him.

You remember the first time he tired to kabedon you once you entered college but missed miserably, embarrassing indeed but that was the beginning of your crack friendship, he is a great friend, a perfect listener, one who can always cheer you up and a spontaneous ride.

He can be a bit much sometimes, but trusting him was so easy after you overcame his advances, even if he is know for being the infamous playboy, he behaves like a kid with his friends around.

Stepping faster to a isolated place in the hallway, you gasp loudly turning to him, grasping yuuji by his jacket you practically shove your damn phone onto his face.

“calm down—woah, WOAH” he was expecting something nasty surely, but not from the guy who was ghosting you, and damn, those fine abs and large hands which were wrapped so well around his it— with that angle. Suna definitely was a photography major.

and he finally gets it why you have been wanting to fuck suna rintarou, he also gets why some of the boys call suna, horse cock. Questioning his sexuality somewhat, he makes a mental note to ask the both of you for a threesome.

“I know” you rasp loudly, nodding your head furiously when he returns the pleased expression, like he approves of your choice.

But you were still mad at suna. He took every chance to cut you off and you thought your horny senses really got you to break off your friendship but you wish he could just talk it out with you.

But this. THIS? It's fucking ten am in the morning, and he had the audacity to send you a nude during the class which he purposely ditched?

“what should I do?” you pull at yuji's sleeves with a loud sigh, and nag in your tone. Just like a little kid who is confused to choose which flavor of ice cream they want, for them it's a crisis at their age and for you it's a crisis for your age.

“fuck him? Didn't you want to do that all along” he removes your hands from his sleeve, yeah you aren't not wrinkling his branded shirt, smacking you softly on your head, you wince like you just have been shot with a bullet. People who walk by will probably think it's a dramatic commotion, because it is.

“HE GHOSTED ME”

“and you are desperate”

What happened to your bestfriend who supported you? He shouldn't point your horniness out, because you will return the favor and he wouldn't survive a day.

“it's not like he wasn't into you as— oh, OH” he yanks you behind the nearest pillar, looming to glance behind you, hands gripped on your forearm, he peeks leaning sideways while trying to not get noticed.

“wait what happened” you furrow your eyebrows, curious to know what you both are hiding from? His another one night stand or his two weeks girlfriend? you try to look back but he doesn't let you move.

“blond bastard on our radar” he mumbles

“you mean yourself?”

He rolls his eyes, “no, miya” followed with a fake sweet smile. You furrow your brows, it's not like he will be able to do something if he sees you so what's the fuss?

Terushima looks back at your face, a total confusion plastered, he sighs “with the bestfriend you are trying to fuck” oh. You will have to thank him for that one.

you flinch, kneeling down a little, like that's gonna hide you. you whisper to yuuji to stand infront of you and guard you until they pass by but before you could finish your sentence, you already hear the hoarse voice which rejected you that night.

“y/n, hey, do you mind if we talk back at our place”

You really ponder over how coming all the way to his dorm was actually not a good option at all from the very start, you skipped your class for him right after he offered that can both of you talk, alone at his place?

Damn, where did your pride go— you really were just going on with hormones that affected your sense of right and wrong.

With how small the place was, it was suffocating, the aircon is on but all you can feel is heat radiating off you and your surroundings.

Especially off the guy who was just five feet away from you, the way his hand was fiddling with his watch so he could take it off, the same pretty hands which were probably wrapped around something that you desperatly wanted to see again.

“y/n, take a seat instead of standing awkwardly” you stiffly look at his face again, a raised eyebrow and a plain expression he usually wear to cover his emotions but you wonder if he feels nervous and anxious as you.

You slowly moved to turn his chair around, shifting it away afrom his desk but you are stopped with a soft little, 'huh' ringing in your ears.

Snapping your head back, you see suna sitting on his bed, hands supporting his weight from behind while his face titled with narrowed eyes, eyes that shimmers with confusion that said, why weren't you sitting on his bed ?

“cmon' sit”

“on your lap?” you try to crack a joke to lighten the mood, followed with laughs. Only from you that is, awkwardly stopping, you tighten your lips into a thin line, you feel you can successfully die now.

“sure, I'm more comfortable than that chair atleast” you choke, that totally catched you off guard, widen eyes and words fumbling out your lips that you don't even comprehend.

He looks so sexy, slanted eyes which observes your every move, sweatpants which makes everything so prominent yet not enough that you want him to take it off, you want to slip it off yourself.

Suna laughs as you blush furiously, you are red to the tip of your ear, he feels bad, he didn't even tease you yet, why did he even call you over to his room, not like he had anything he particularly wanted to be done or can be done in his dorm only.

“y/n, don't need to get so flustered I was just kidding—”

“but I wasn't” you clench the strap of bag in your hands, moving on your feet before you can even come back to your sentence.

You were always called blunt, naive with the things and abrupt decisions you made, you and him, both knows making a risky step is no good for you, yet you are tempted by your so called desire you can't seem to control. No,

You don't want to control.

So before you even gave the consequences of your action a thought, your hands were already on his shoulder, your leg pressed on the mattress that you placed between his thighs, eyes lost into each other's, you felt his hot breath on your neck.

“can I see your dick please”

This time, you weren't sick or high enough to blame your stubborness or call it craziness on something— with a straight mind you dug your own grave and,

This time, suna won't take any responsibility, he decided he won't also think about the risk, not on the red mark left on you due to the way he gripped your waist when he flipped you over his soft mattress.

“go ahead and have me”

A green light

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“that escalated quickly”

Suna x fem!reader

Synopsis : you ask your childhood friend to show his pp due to a certain encounter

Note : YOU NEED TO READ A SMALL PART ONE TO GET IT SO DONT MISS IT OUT, mdni.

 ⩩ part : 1, current one, ⩩ part : 3

Mouth agape, your eyes shimmering, looking straight into his green ones, while your hands rests upon his thighs to hold yourself.

The hot breath on his tip is leaving him with tingles under his skin and just when the wetness of your tongue meets his dick, suna loses it.

He holds your jaw, and as on command, just like a obedient kitten, your lips wraps around his member tightly, mind fuzzy as his tip feels the back of your throat, he shudders, it's just halfway through.

“y/n” your eyes locks with his again, his heart is beating abruptly and even if he could feel the caverns of your mouth, it isn't warm enough.

The inexperienced swirl of your tongue even if gives him jolts throughout his body, it just doesn't satisfy the desire at the pit of his stomach and he feels the need to hold your head and mouthfuck you mercilessly.

But with the doe eyes that you look up, they look so fond of what they were seeing now, his thighs clenches, fuck he is cumming just from looking at your face—

Pants followed with clenched eyes, he is prepared to paint your mouth white yet the stimulation disappears.

Eyes shot open immediately searching for the incomplete warmth, but the only thing he sees is his dim ceiling, sheets half covering his body and how the ticking sound of the clock is echoing through his dorm.

Yet another wet dream this week, suna probably has gone crazy to think about you that way especially after he himself left your dorm, turning your sweet request down.

He is no where near a virgin but man, his wet dreams nowadays, especially about you makes him take a memory tour when he was going through his puberty. Horny and restless.

He seems like a dick, he has been called one here and there but he wasn't one to his dear friends but now even suna is rethinking if the jerk contact saved in atsumu's phone for him was really deserving.

Because he left you, no not by just telling you that you are sick and you will regret this but after leaving hickeys on your skins and with a red swollen lips of his own.

He rejected your proposal and yet he had the audacity to pull you closer, grip your waist and make out with you. It seems like he is the one who is out of his mind.

And If that wasn't enough, he has been avoiding you when you try to talk, skipping classes that had dear y/n in it too, canceling group hangouts which includes you and all sorts of stuff a person would do when they ghost you.

But shit, how could he face you when everytime he looks at your face more than ten seconds, he could feel his pants tightening, his dick twitching. he is shameless, he wants to bang his head against the wall.

Because believe him, he is not someone who cares about this type of stuff alot, or care about someone that much to hold himself back— he believed that one night stands were okay, since it's a adult thing.

But is it really okay for him to do this when you are his friend, because your parents sure trust him not to fuck their daughter or have wet dreams about you.

Fuck this is all you fault, If you just didn't, didn't ask him with those doe eyes, glimmering with desperation like a kid who wants a toy, yet those facile eyes showed lust, lust which were overcoming your senses.

The same lust that is now clouding his mind by just the thought of you. It's a lie if he said he doesn't want to wreck you on his cock, he wonders how satisfying and warmer it will feel inside you in reality rather than those empty dreams.

Your fucked out face and you just moaning his name, with the same sickeningly sweet tone you used over the years to call him.

That's cuts off to how his hands are again roughly palming himself while he sat on the toilet uncomfortably, fuck no he should stop. He really should stop jerking off to the thought of you, to the photo of you in his phone.

The photo you sent on the same night he left you being wet and restless, the night he left with a visible buldge in his pant, the night he first jerked off to you, exposed thighs visible on his screen in a way that with just a little more heists up of your skirt and he could see your heat leaking through you.

Maybe he should also let you see the dick, you wanted to see so adorably, with his pretty hands wrapped around it?

suna rintarnou sent a snap.

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