#5W's miniseries

[soranihimawari]

running at 6a.m.

word count: 3.5k

random, but can you believe i haven’t written for hanamaki yet, @oikawa-obvs​? tagging: @m0nstergeneration20xx​ [youse all gotta thank them for this one, fr fr]

warnings: new neighbor x makki// seijoh 3rd years x baffoonery// slightly suggestive scenes [pg 13 recommended] // rated W for woo! 

<< |masterlist| >>

Of all the times in your high school career, you did not think you’d find yourself waking up before the sun when your neighbor called you at 5:45a.m. one weekend. Your neighbor, time and time again, has been trying your patience recently seeing that his sports club was asking for extra volunteers around this time of year for the conditioning exercises. Granted, your school was considered a powerhouse all because of one high caliber setter, and now you found yourself fumbling around your bed trying to ignore the chiming ringtone of your phone. Your eyes squint to readjust for the brightness of your Do Not Disturb setting to see the fourth missed call from him. You slide your finger in an attempt to unlock your phone the second time and redial the number.

“Morning ichigo no kori,” you state rather flatly. You knew the Hanamakis ever since you moved to this neighborhood to be closer to your high school after you had convinced your uncle and aunt to let them use their spare bedroom in the loft attachment of their town house. Your father was not shocked by this development in the slightest since he did lay out some ground rules between all parties involved. You did come from a single parent household, but given the fact the company your father worked for had a position opening up overseas in the Hong Kong office, you spoke at length about how you didn’t want to move right away due to your third year at aoba josai was about to begin again.Thus here you were, three months later, laying down in a comfortable full bed hoping neither of your guardians stirred from their slumber.

“Strawberry ice?” hanamaki was amused by this development. 

He remembered the day you moved because the moving truck was pretty hard to miss; his friends from the volleyball club were walking back from the convenience store with snacks only stopping briefly to ask if he knew about the family that lived there:

“You mean Kurarun-san?” hanamaki asked. He shrugged his shoulder explaining shortly thereafter he didn’t know them very well, but maybe his mom did. She was always seen talking about her day (the daily gossip) with the wife of the homeowner. “I don’t think they had kids.”

“You might be wrong about that,” his friend in arms, mattsukawa, mentions as his eyes wondered to where you were standing. Your arms folded over your chest observing the movers lower the ramp to the pavement. Now considering you were raised by your father, it didn’t surprise your uncle and aunt to say the very least, you grew up learning how to fix dirtbikes one summer with him. Your father taught you everything there was to known about rebuilding a motorcycle from spare parts, which to be fair, was a huge bonus to the quartet of volleyball boys across the way.

“Be careful with that! I built that bike from the ground up, ok?” you instructed sternly, lending a hand to the movers who nodded grateful you were there to help them when the bike teetered too far to one side. Your aunt came out of the garage clasping your shoulder when the bike was securely out and off the ramp.

“Oh wow, that’s a gorgeous bike dear,” your aunt smiled. “You going to take it out for a spin later?”

“Yep! Right after the movers leave for the day,” you said. Your smile did not go unnoticed by the boys who not only stopped to look, but now were staring at you. It was 16:24 (4:24p.m.) when Hanamaki Takahiro first fell in love with you.

True to your word you went out the rest of the week running errands for your hosts (did a little grocery shopping while wearing your favorite backpack) on Monday, then on Tuesday you took a little joyride to the library to familiarize yourself with the layout of the neighborhood, by Thursday you already knew the earliest and latest time you should be out the door to make it to campus, so by Saturday, you were free to help with the chores around the house. It was the same day your aunt had planned a special dinner with her neighborhood best girl friend, Hanamaki-sama, as you affectionately called her. You aunt reminded you to go start cleaning up after your uncle returned from buying the last of the ice cream pops at the store down the block. You took a quick shower and changed into a pair of jean shorts paired with a royal blue loose fitting dri-fit longsleeve v-neck. You wandered into the kitchen wearing ankle socks covered by your house slippers. You were tasked with setting the table trying to get a sneak peak at the hot pot dinner your aunt was stirring. After shooing you away with a short laugh, you took a glass out of the dishwasher drying rack and poured yourself some water. 

“Hanamaki-sama is bringing her son along too,” your aunt said, silently gauging how you’d react. You just sipped your water with a curt nod pretending to simmer down your nerves. Was her son older than you? Younger? Was he nice? Etc. 

“Apparently you’re going to be in the same year when the school year starts,” your uncle’s voice echoed from the living room. He shut off the television to join you two in the kitchen.

“Oh, that’s nice.”

DING DONG DING

“Looks like they’re here,” your uncle said, holding on to your glass for you. “Why don’t you let them in.”

You nodded, brushing your stray bangs behind your ear. With a soft sigh escaping your lips, you opened the door with a swift turn of the nob.

“My my, dearie, aren’t you gorgeous,” hanamaki’s mother greeted you tapping your arm gently. Hanamaki on the other hand, for as tall and lanky as he seemed, he seemed a bit lackadaisical upon seeing your bright smile greet them at the door. He held a small bowl that was filled with tri colored popcorn with a thin cellophane cover on top. The snack was his idea because he had heard his mother speak to your aunt at length candidly mentioning how you would watch home movies with your father’s family every weekend until you started primary school.

“Hello to you too hana-sama,” you reply motioning her to come in. Then you notice her son with strawberry blond hair walking in behind her. He had dressed a little bit more formal like how he would on days leading up to an official match (solid color slacks and relaxed-fit printed shirt with a small moogen [infinity symbol] embroidered on the left sleeve) “And you must be…”

“Hanamaki Takahiro, but you can call me Makki,” he says when you close the door behind them. 

“I saw you at the store the other day buying some popcorn,“ Hanamaki-san mentions when she hands you her light jacket to hang. “You know how we talk, anyways, your aunt told me how much you like bite size chocolate squares in your popcorn I heard.”

Makki says nothing when your eyes glance toward the bowl. You had a full conversation with him when you two kept looking at each other. Your aunt had washed her hands and joined you as she and Hanamaki’s mother exchanged casual greetings as they headed to the dining area; your uncle was giving the curry a final stir. You and Makki were thankfully, left to your own devices and my gods did you two relish in it. 

Earlier that afternoon, he was speaking at length about his mother had been invited over to their neighbor’s house. It wasn’t the first time Makki had come over before, yet he had trouble easing his nerves because you were also going to be there. Makki paced back and forth trying “to get his shit together” while the company he kept on call was chuckling in what would certainly be an entertaining story for future reference.

“Makki, if you don’t date her at some point in the first quarter of the year, i will gladly dote on her out of my own free will,” Mattsun meant well, but at the same time, Makki knew the threat was an empty one. He was on a video call with his friends who shared the same sentiment as Mattsun. Soon the time approached for when his mother told him about the dinner party at your place. 

“Listen Takahiro, take it from me,” Oikawa says. “Treat Mattsun’s words as not necessarily a threat, but more of a firestarter.”

“Makki!” his mother’s voice calls from the otherside of his closed door. “C’mon, let’s go.”

He ends the call after his teammates hang up.

--

The cold piece of technological glass rubbed against your warm cheek. With your eyes closed, you recalled hearing OIkawa and Iwazumi remind the other two to spread the word to their juniors to start their conditioning regiment this upcoming weekend. Be it as it may, Makki took this opportunity to ask you if you wanted to be his running partner (this was a trap his other friends laid out for him since they’re trying their best not to meddle too much in your private affairs). 

You grumbled into your receiver imploring your neighbor to reconsider waking you up this early for a morning run. You left a note on the kitchen counter next to the landline in case your guardians woke up ahead of you to discover your now empty bed. Stifling a yawn, you meet Makki at your front door, dressed in a light jacket and a pair of running shorts. Your shoes weren’t in the best condition for running, rather, they were an old pair you didn’t mind using for this house call.

“Who runs at 6a.m. on a regular basis?” you ask him with a coy smile.

“Psychopaths and,” he holds your hand to steady yourself when you step down from the ledge of your short walkway. Makki lets go of your hand for a second to whisper an alternative answer. “Lovers.”

“Oh,” you tease, poking his cheek. An amused smile tugged your lips upward which you did not bother hiding. “Of course.”

“You don’t have to sound so annoyed by it, chisana josei.” 

Makki had since insisted on giving you the nickname because it was what his other three cohorts dubbed you one evening when you came over to return something your aunt borrowed from Hanamaki’s mother.

“Makki, who’s at the--oh hello there chisana josei,” the charming boy wearing an alien lime colored shirt and pearl sweatpants peered around the corner of the living room. You were reluctantly (read as invited inside) to disrupt the boys only sleepover being conducted at the Hanamaki household. 

“She’s cute Makki,” another disembodied voice, this time it was much deeper, spoke up this time. His curious eyes wandered up and down, yet although you were fully clothed, you felt entirely skyclad by the giant. You laughed a little bit at the compliment. 

“I wouldn’t say I’m cute,” you said when you ceased laughing, handing Makki the bowl and other tupperware you aunt borrowed from his mother a few nights ago. Makki quirked his brow at his two friends, sighing at their comments and for a split second, you saw his bottom lip jut out in a slight pout. 

“Oikawa, Mattsun, shut up,” he stated praying Iwazumi would at least straighten them out later. Unfortunately for Makki, Iwazumi was game in making his friend sweat a little bit because so far, you were able to refuse both Oikawa and Mattsukawa’s praises/favors.

“Oh ho ho,” you observed the last member of the trio to speak up. “And what would you describe yourself as anyway? It’s not like Makki to keep such a pretty secret from his friends.”

“Not you too Iwa-chan,” lime green sweater guy whined. 

“Are you three always like this to every girl or is it just the ones that don’t like you?” your eyes glazed over and Makki didn’t want to admit it, but you definitely telegraphed that you were angry. Iwazumi realized this as soon as he found himself face to face with your shorter stature defiantly staring up at him. The other boys watching the silent argument continue before Makki calmly told you they were just messing with you. Introductions and apologies were exchanged as soon as your stubbornness subsided when the four boys surrounded you rather quickly at the hallway of Makki’s front door. If it weren’t for the fact that each of them had a qualm of serenity, charisma, and stealth boosted up by plus 10, you would have challenged them to a simple game of chess. Then again, they were literal pillars loyal to the princely type who bestowed upon you your nickname.

“If they really wanted to ruffle my feathers,” you begin to say, crossing your arms over your chest opening. “They’d form a reverse harem and vie for my attention. You included Makki. I’ll see myself out.”

“I-wait, what?!” Makki finally had heard enough. 

“I have spoken,” you mentioned over your shoulder looking at his confused expression. “I’ll let you know when I’m back home. Have fun boys.”

You shut the front behind you, shaking your head whilst casting a glance to the heavens above, grinning like a wild cat.

“That went well, don’t you think?” OIkawa said, returning to his spot on the couch. “Makki, what’s with that look?” 

Mattsun and Iwazumi both shrugged when dragging their host back toward the kitchen area to gage how their friend suddenly realized something right then and there. It was 21:07 when Mattsun and Iwazumi realized their friend was in like with someone a month before their third year would commence. 

“I like her,” Makki found his voice suddenly and Oikawa had a large smile on his face. 

“Stage five, acceptance,” Mattsun states before he blocks a throw pillow aimed at his direction. Iwazumi shakes his head before laughing at the strawberry blonde’s luck.

--

When you two round the corner of your block for the fourth time, you slowed your pace while Makki turned around and began running backwards facing you. Sweat covered both of you in a glowing sheer shine as the sun was ever presently rising. 

“Slowing down already?” Makki taunted. 

“I’m not the one on the school’s volleyball team,” you explained in between your short breaths. “You submit your body to this kind of torture willingly and call it conditioning training?” 

He stopped jogging backwards for a second, instead opting to walk briskly toward you when he noticed your breathing becoming more steady. Makki might always be the first to challenge Iwazumi to an arm wrestling match and really gets along well with reading Mattsun’s expressions, but he was always reliable in helping keep Oikawa’s personality in check right behind the aforementioned. 

“Pretty much, chisana josei. C’mon,” he knelt down with his back toward you signaling to get on. You gladly accepted the piggy back ride on these mornings. It was the top reason why you didn’t mind the morning calls as much anymore. 

“I’m not too heavy for you?” you ask sheepishly, wrapping your arms around Makki’s shoulders when he stood up. 

“For the nth time, y/n, you’re not.” He shifted his arms underneath your knees, locking you in place after allowing you to shift your weight a little bit for comfort. 

“Ready when you are,” your breath fans across the back of his neck, causing his usually smooth spun cotton candy colored baby hairs to spike up. You pretended to not notice how pink his cheek was when you raised your head a short distance while he began his cooldown lap.

“Thank you Takahiro,” you say in a hazy tone, resting your head against his shoulder once again. He muttered a quiet “no problem,” internally screaming at himself for trying to not to die from the way he fell harder for you with every step he took. 

Makki glanced down a few minutes later, being greeted by your peaceful sleeping expression when he woke you up again arriving at his place once again; he was too proud to admit you were rather clingy as you got more drowsy during the third time you were invited to a film night. 

By this point, you had been living with your aunt and uncle for a week and a half, which in of itself was a delight for them. Yet it was rather treacherous for you because since the night you returned Makki’s bowls, you were often found crossing paths with either Oikawa, Mattsukawa, and/or Iwazumi. Sometimes Makki was with them or more often than nought, the boys were alone. Considering that the market was exactly in the center part of all your places of residence, the probability was rather high.

However, as a sign of good faith, OIkawa, with Makki’s blessing apparently a detail you were not aware of at the time, invited you to come along for a movie marathon the week before his birthday. Unbeknownst to you, as your eyes continued to droop during movie five of the line up, Makki froze when you decided to snatch one of the spare pillows from Oikawa’s sofa and used it as a buffer to rest your weary head on your neighbor’s lap. The boys were howling behind their eyes as they watched their friend finally succumb to the one time their newly appointed token girl friend had Makki wrapped around her finger by the simplest gesture the minute he started running his fingers through your hair. 

“Aaand here I thought Makki wasn’t going to get any sort of affection from a girl this year,” Oikawa teased. 

“Shut up and let me enjoy the movie,” Makki retorted. The other two in the living room sharing the couch with you and Makki noticed your childlike grin fade the deeper you fell asleep to the soundtrack of the movie.

Now you were sleeping again, tugging on Makki’s shirt instead, burrowing your head in between his shoulder blades causing his heart to jump to his throat. 

“Mmm, don’t want to go,” you mumbled. “Too early.” He found the spare key where his mom usually left it (in the rain gutter above the door frame) and opened his front door with ease; he coughed to clear his throat.

“OK,” was all Makki could say in the front of his peaceful hallway, kicking off his running shoes before entering the rest of his house. Upon reaching his room, he left the door slightly ajar as he laid your groggy self down on his bed. He was about to tuck you in after tracing your prominent features with his index finger, leaving a message on your cheek: “I like you my chisana josei.”

“Me too, ichigo no kori,” you murmur as you stifle a yawn, prying one eye opened allowing your selfish need to see Makki’s face turn to stone.

You pull yourself high enough to bump the tip of your nose with his, causing your lips to briefly brush past his own. Immediately upon receiving said peck, Makki regained his composure rather quickly allowing his hands to find their way on to your shoulders pulling your lips back on to his again. Her lips always looked so inviting, plump and deliciously filled with the right amount of venom and sugar, Makki thought. You inhaled a sharp breath. There was a growing rhythm between you two within the fleeting seconds you counted in your head.

“Mmph~!” you nodded in a miniscule way to keep Makki setting the pace your body reacting to the way Makki’s hand openly traced over the exposed parts of you; you cautiously looping your arms propelling him forward. Makki crawled back onto his bed the moment he guided you back down amongst the wrinkling sea of the bedding; his body now hovered above you with knees on either side of you, thus caging you beneath him. You pulled away first, revealing a hauntingly entancing smile. 

Makki’s face seemed a bit more flushed than when you started running your regular route less than forty-five minutes ago. 

“Now look who’s the breathless one,” you chastised your host in a cheeky manner. 

For the first time since July, Makki really studied your features, trying to commit every imperfection to memory tethering it to this love-drum beating in his chest. You laid there surrounded by the dark gray and black undertones of the surrounding pillows, your attire cascading a holographic reflection of the ever rising sun, illuminating your figure. Makki was the only one who got to baskin your natural face with the lack of makeup; your heaving chest; your scar above the bridge of your nose from when a crab nicked you with its claw as a child in the market. Despite your insecurities you told him about one day, returning from the store with him together, Makki saw only beauty. 

He could tell behind the way your pupils were focused on his own, the sun’s rays enhancing his reflection in them that caused his heart to bask in the light of a new day. Makki liked the way your hair was frizzy and tangled from the way his hands tousled it in his hands when he laid you down beneath him. Her hands were strong yet at the same time gentle. And her sweetened lips tasted like spun sugar fresh from the fair. Makki bent down toward your left side and whispered something before he continued to kiss you senseless.

The way I know you relented as Makki played with you hair and held you tighter and tighter, was something you craved, even if you weren’t pondering it before, you returned the seemingly unspoken gesture with a similar kindness. 

You cradled Makki’s face in your hands, pushing back his saccharinely hued textured hair again, asking him to catch his breath for a moment, synching his breathing with yours.

“C’mon Takahiro, b r e a t h e,” you advise, your eyebrows added to your pleading, moving one of your hands to rest against the middle of his chest tapping your fingertips lightly against his chest. You took advantage of this tonal shift; using your lower body to coerce his in switching positions with him. You were now the one hovering him, your hair undone, snuffing out the morning’s rays eagerly trying to sneak their way through the blinds of Makki’s room. This was not how either of you thought running at six in the morning would have ended, yet here you both were caught in the throes of your own summer enquinoxal love. Whether you two would want this to continue was entirely up to the two of you. 

As Makki’s breathing finally returned to his resting rhythym, you allowed his hand to caress the side of your face, tucking a few long strands of hair behind your ear. 

“My pretty chisana josei,” he said in the lowest register of his voice. “Finally.”

“...call me that again,” your voice has a slight lilt in it when you sigh. “I need to get used to it.”

Your natural smile could rattle the stars and Makki was determined to make sure not only knew that, his friends in arms also knew it too.

“Mine,” Makki said looking away like a child about to get scolded. 

“Uh-huh,” your retort mixed wonderfully with a chuckle harmonizing the two. You release him from your hold, checking the time on the analog clock when you quietly lept off his bed. “Get some sleep dear one; you earned your keep.” 

You tapped your fingers over your lips glancing at Makki long enough to watch him bring an arm over his eyes. Literal steam could have been escaping his ears with how your taunts drove him mad.

It was 06:59 when y/n and Hanamaki decided this was when you truly loved another.

--weekend messaging rates apply--

Suffice to say you made a mental note to make good on your word, but opted to maintain the peace seeing him outside with said dessert with a grin. 

[soranihimawari]

Okidokie!