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#Haikyuu fluff
emmyrosee · 21 hours
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His phone rings once, and Kiyoomi smirks down at it.
You’re calling him, of course you are, why would you not be, and he sighs and excused himself before slipping out to the front of the building and answering the phone.
“This better be good.”
“Im crawling in your walls.”
He lets out a laugh and scrubs his face with his hand, “you miss me that much? I’ve only been gone for a few hours.” You whine on your end of the line, and he chews the tip of his thumb to stop himself from laughing.
“Kiyoomi,” you whine. “I didn’t give you enough kisses this morning. I’m feeling deprived.”
He cocks a brow, “babe, you gave me a thousand kisses before I left-“
“No, I gave you forty seven. I should’ve given you forty eight. Or a thousand.”
This, has him laughing. Laughing because never in a trillion years would he expect to let such ferality be allowed. What would 16 year old Kiyoomi think if he heard some person say “I’m in your walls because I didn’t kiss you enough”?
He wouldn’t believe him. He wouldn’t think someone would care enough about him to go through such lengths to be part of his life, a part of him, and he poked his tongue in his cheek and shakes his head.
“You can kiss me more when I get home.”
“I don’t want to wait that long.”
“I’ll kiss you back?”
This, has you stopping, and he raises his brows as he waits for a response. “You promise?”
“Of course I do,” he snorts. “When have I never not wanted to kiss you?”
“True.” You go quiet again, “I miss you.”
“I miss you too, baby. I’ll be home soon.”
“…okay,” you finally sigh. “I’m gonna eat your drywall.”
He snorts again, “go for it.”
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toorurs · 3 days
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and i don't even like you that much - wait, i do, fuck. it wasn’t supposed to go like this. from countless teasing, unnecessary but amusing arguments and playful banter to blushing from ear to ear upon seeing you. rushing to your aide when he sees you struggling, reasoning it by saying that you owe him a favour and being indebted to him. but it’s quite obvious (to everyone) that he does it for one sole reason - your undivided attention. his friends tease him for the wide grin that appears on his face whenever he spots you and how you have him wrapped around your pinky. honestly kind of goes in one ear and out of the other as he stares at you in enamoredness, bewitched by just the sight of you. but shit, maybe his friends are right - he's absolutely whipped for you. 
CHILDE, lyney, GOJO SATORU, aventurine, michael kaiser, reo mikage, ATSUMU MIYA, toru oikawa, rafayel + your favs
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© TOORURS 2024. stealing, copying, translating, reposting my works on other platforms is not permitted.
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ghostlygeto · 2 days
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warnings: fem!reader, tsum loves his gf (you), never tell atsumu i wrote this about him, cutesy<3
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atsumu miya who hates it when people say to you “oh you’re atsumu’s girlfriend!” or refer to you as just “atsumu’s girlfriend” instead of your name.
atsumu miya who thinks you’re the best thing to ever happen to him, so if he’s around to hear it he always takes over the conversation.
“actually, i’m ‘er boyfriend.” atsumu gave girl in front of you a sickeningly fake smile. he didn’t miss the confused look on their face as they processed what he said. “isn’t that the same thing?” atsumu loved when they asked that question, because then he got to talk about his favorite thing: you. “nah,” he shook his head, glancing quickly between you and the poor strange that did this to herself. “she deserves to be known fer more than jus’ bein’ m’girlfriend. but ‘m just some dude she puts up with.” atsumu knew he was underselling himself (and you thought he was overselling you), but still meant every word he said. “could lose m’entire career tomorrow ‘nd i wouldn’t care s’long as she’s still there.” atsumu beamed now, a real smile. he didn’t care about the way the girl just mumbled an “okay?” before walking away, but he did care about the look on your face right after. “do you have to do that every time someone calls me your girlfriend?” you frown, grabbing onto his hand that he so kindly held out for you. “doesn’t it get tiring to tell people all that?” “could never get tired of talkin’ ‘bout ya.” atsumu leaned in to dramatically kiss you on the cheek, laughing as your shove him away. “could listen to yer laugh forever.” “shut up.”
atsumu miya who, at the end of the day, doesn’t really care who’s know for what — he’s just happy he gets to have you by his side.
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fuyuluvr · 23 hours
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that wasn’t what it sounded like! 
synopsis: you accidentally hear them say they don't like you.
characters: kuroo, suna
warnings: this was written back in 2020 and i decided to repost it so yea, be warned ig, angst to fluff!
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kuroo: 
with a sigh, you tried mustering up all the confidence you can as you trudged towards the gym. 
‘this is the day.’ you thought to yourself. you were finally going to confess to kuroo. after having numerous debates with your mind, you finally came to the decision to confess. 
your heartbeat quickened at the numerous scenarios you were thinking, most of them being rejection. 
the worst thing that can happen is rejection, right? 
you couldn’t help but fall for kuroo, how could you not? he was funny, smart, and being handsome was a nice plus. you already knew that it would be hard to just tell him about your feelings, especially knowing that he probably only viewed you as a friend. 
once you arrived by the gym, you took a deep breath before going in with a smile, waving to kenma who acknowledged you by looking up from his game.
“uh.. have you seen kuroo?” you sheepishly asked kenma who looked at you curiously before nodding to the locker room.
“hey, (y/n)?” kenma called out. “yeah?”
“goodluck.” your eyes widened as he gave you a small smile. 
you sometimes hated how perceptive kenma is despite his nonchalant behavior. with a determined nod, you walked towards the locker room, hoping to see kuroo walk out from the door. 
when you were at a near distance from the door, you hear a bunch of chatter. you didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but you perked your head when you heard your name come out from a voice you recognized as yaku’s. 
“man, kuroo. you’re lucky! you have (y/n) crushing on you.” a smack was heard after, kuroo groaning in pain followed afterward. 
your heartbeat quickened when you heard the captain laugh in response. 
“come on, yakkun. (y/n) and i are just friends!” for now. “eh?! seriously? you don’t like her in that way?” you scoot a bit closer to the door, wanting to hear his answer before you take the leap. 
“don’t be ridiculous, yakkun. we’re friends, and that’s it.” your heart dropped at his words. 
you were so caught up in evaluating kuroo’s answer that you didn’t realize the door to the locker room opened. “oh, (y/n)? what’re you doing here?” the chatter in the locker room evidently stopped. you blinked, trying to keep tears at bay. 
you looked up to kai who looked at you with a kind expression. “ah, our professor told me to give this to tet- kuroo-san.” you say, giving him a folder. “i have to go, please give this to him for me. thank you, kai!” you say before running off, passing by the freshmen who gave you a wave of excitement. you couldn’t find it in yourself to smile back as you ran from the gym.
once you were at a safe place, you let the tears fall free. you didn’t know why you were crying. 
‘you didn’t even confess, for crying out loud! so why are you sad?’ you thought to yourself, laughing as you wiped your eyes. 
you felt pathetic for ever thinking that kuroo would ever look at you that way. you were friends. he specified so clearly to one of his closest friends. that was all the confirmation you needed. 
you knew you had to distance yourself on the following days. knowing that if you don’t you’ll fall even deeper and get hurt. 
and you were tired of getting hurt. 
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“oi, chibi. why did the picture go to jail?” kuroo asked when the class was about to end. you took a while to answer him, you only answered when you felt him poke his pen by your cheek. “oi.” “i don’t know, kuroo. why?” kuroo could almost shiver at the tone you used, but he thinks it may just be a bad day. maybe his jokes could make it better? it always did. 
“because it was framed.” not wanting to ignore him, but not wanting to indulge him either you give him a short laugh that can be mistaken as a breath. 
“was it not funny?” “it was.” 
kuroo was silent for a few seconds before asking you with a small nudge from his elbow. 
“are you okay?” “mhm.” you realized that that answer was too curt, something that would possibly make him suspicious. and you didn’t want that. 
“i just need to listen to this lesson, this is very confusing.” you follow up quickly, taking down notes just to not look suspicious. 
“you know i could always tutor you, right?” kuroo said, a reassuring tone lacing his voice. you turn to give him a small nod and smile. “i know.” but i’d like to not be with you unless necessary. “thank you.” 
kuroo furrowed his eyebrows, clearly he knew something was wrong. but before he could ask, the bell rang and you immediately went out of the room. not even giving kuroo his usual goodbye. 
something was definitely wrong. 
“(y/n’s) acting weird.” kuroo couldn’t help but mention when they were on the train home. “eh?” kenma kept clicking on his console, listening intently as his childhood friend rant on about you. 
“and then suddenly they turned cold! i don’t remember doing anything to make them mad.” kuroo was frustrated to say the least, he knew that your friendship was going well, so of course he would be confused as to why you suddenly gave him the cold shoulder.
“i mean… did you reject them?” kenma asked, eyes still on his console. kuroo furrowed his eyebrows at his friend. “reject them? what?” 
kenma paused the game and looked up to kuroo. 
“so, they didn’t confess?” kuroo shook his head in response to kenma’s question. kenma sighed, “i think i know what’s going on.” 
“well, don’t keep it to yourself, kenma. tell me.” kuroo urged. 
“they heard you say you don’t like them.” kenma said, unpausing his game. “well, that’s only my thoughts. i wouldn’t know.” 
now that kuroo thought about it, when he told yaku he only saw you as a friend, the door of the locker room opened to reveal you, who gave kai a document that was meant for him before running off. 
kuroo should’ve known you’ve heard. because no matter how busy you were, you would always wish him good luck on his practices and give him a corny joke to keep him motivated. 
“fuck.” kuroo muttered, placing his hands by his eyes and tilting his head back on the window of the train, groaning from frustration. 
there was a small pause of silence, only the clicking of kenma’s console was heard before the underclassman spoke. 
“what do you plan on doing now?”
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“hey, we need to talk.” kuroo cornered you by the locker, you shut the metal door lightly before giving him an apology. 
“i’m really needed for the next class.” at this point, you weren’t even trying to hide the sheer fact that you were avoiding him. 
“we’re in the same class, and we both know the teacher wouldn’t show up until half the hour passes. try again, (y/n).” 
“i just don’t want to talk to you.” you say straight up, not even trying to put a filter and kuroo felt his heart clench painfully at your tone. 
“too bad. you don’t have a choice.” without a word, he grabbed your hand and pulled you away to a vacant classroom. 
“why have you been avoiding me.” kuroo knows the answer to his question, but he didn’t want to get ahead of himself. 
“i was busy, can i go now. please?” you say as curt as possible, not wanting to melt under his gaze. not wanting to break whatever resolve you have built up from the past few days you ignored him. 
“i’m not buying it.” kuroo says, crossing his arms and eyeing you down. you knew that you wouldn’t be able to keep up the tough act if you stayed there.
“you’re so unfair, kuroo.” you couldn’t help but whisper. kuroo’s posture immediately straightened. 
“i’m unfair?” kuroo asked with an amused grin on his face. “i don’t think i’m the one who ignored someone for days for no apparent reason.” you looked down at his words, knowing he has the upperhand. just why did you think you could escape him?
“i’m not the one who made someone think that they did something wrong.” you didn’t realize that he was getting closer, not until you saw his shoes in front of you and felt his hands on your chin, making you look up to him. 
“i’m the one who was deprived of a confession from the person i like, don’t you think it’s unfair for me?” your eyes widened for a few milliseconds before you pushed him away. 
“stop messing around, kuroo.” your voice cracked. “just let me move on. and i promise i’ll be back to normal.” you both know that was an empty promise. if kuroo didn’t corner you, then you would’ve completely tried to eradicate him from your life. but kuroo couldn’t have that. 
now that he knew you liked him back, how could he let this chance go to waste. 
“you think i’ll let you go when i finally have an opportunity to pursue you?” your throat went dry. 
“kuroo... stop. you don’t need to pretend, i heard what you said to yaku. it’s fine, really.” at this point, you wanted to get out as soon as possible. you knew you were going to break down if this keeps on going.
“(y/n), please. believe me. i truly do like you back.” you felt tears prick your eyes. this was some sick joke kuroo was playing at. 
kuroo panicked, seeing tears well up in your eyes before you blinked it away. 
“but i-” “yes. i know that i said those words that day, but it was to shut yakkun up… and to hide my own feelings.” kuroo said the last part quietly. if he weren’t holding you, you probably wouldn’t have heard. 
he lets go of your chin before sighing. “i’ve been in love with you for so long, i didn’t know how to deal with it so i kept denying it. i didn’t tell yaku the truth because i didn’t need him to make fun of me because i couldn’t get the person i wanted.” kuroo let it out, you were shocked. 
he felt the same way?
“kuroo…?” “(y/n). i’m sorry, but i can’t let you go. especially now when i know i have a chance. so please.” unbeknownst to the both of you, your heartbeats were almost identical on how fast it paced. 
“i...” you started. not knowing the right words to say. 
“i think we should… take things slow.” you look at him, giving him the smallest of smiles you can muster. “if that’s okay with you?” 
kuroo couldn’t find it in himself to suppress the wide smile that was plastered on his face. without another word, he pulled you to his chest. his laugh rang out the empty classroom. 
“god. i didn’t want to confess this way… but here we are.” kuroo pulled away and laughed. 
“don’t break my heart, kuroo.” you warned lightheartedly. he gave you a smile that was laced with all the adoration he felt for you before pecking raising your hand to his lips and kissing your knuckles. 
“i wouldn’t dream of it.”
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suna:
the whistle was blown, signaling the end of their practice. you smiled in encouragement to the members who looked like they’ve gone through hell and back. from the intensity of their training, you would probably believe so. 
“nice work.” you say, handing atsumu his water bottle. the setter gave you a pat on the head before gesturing to suna who was wiping his sweat with a towel. “go talk to ‘yer loverboy.” 
you rolled your eyes at his statement, but walked towards the middle blocker anyway.
“nice work out there, rin!” you smile, giving him the water bottle that you prepared. of course, it was your own water bottle with the liquid infused with citrus. you thought about putting it in his, but then again, the water bottles were identical and someone else might drink it. 
“(y/n)~ why does suna get special treatment?” akagi whined. your eyes widened, not knowing that the libero was watching your interactions. 
“i want manager-san’s special treatment too!” ginjima whined as well, your face heat up at the sudden attention before the coach blew the whistle once more. 
“seems like break is over, be back later, (y/n).” suna stated, giving you back your water bottle and a quick pat on the head. your face heated up with the contact. 
“yeah.” you were in a daze, staring at suna’s figure as he went back to court. 
“‘yer staring, manager-san.” kita’s straightforward voice cut off your thoughts. “huh? what?” 
a smirk formed on kita’s face. “be careful, (y/n). ‘yer not being as cautious as before.” 
“what did you mean before? kita-san. i-” “liked our middle blocker since before you were our manager? i’m well aware.” if you and kita weren’t close, you would be scared on how he managed to catch on quickly with your stupid crush. “i’m right, aren’t i?” 
“i sometimes hate you, kita.” a scoff was heard from the bicolored male. “sure you do.” 
you and the captain went on with your banter. occasionally noting down some of the notable movements the team did in their practice. 
when the whistle was blown, that was then you realized that you have forgotten to fill up the water bottles once more. with a quick bow, you ran outside to fill it up with refreshing cold water. once done, you struggled to carry the weight of several bottles at once. 
“when do you plan on confessing to (y/n), suna?” you stopped in your tracks as you hear atsumu’s voice reverberate from the other side of the wall. 
“what are you talking about?” suna retaliated, voice deadpanned as usual. “come on, suna. don’t think we don’t see the way (y/n) has heart eyes for you.” you almost dropped the water bottles in your hands. your heart beat quick, realizing that suna was well aware of your crush on him. 
“so?” the same deadpanned voice answered. you felt saddened at the lack of emotion in his tone. “what do you plan to do if they tell you?” 
you weren’t prepared for his answer, you didn’t want to know.  
“i don’t know what you want me to say, i don’t like (y/n) that way.” fuck.
at this point, your throat felt clogged and tears were forming in your eyes. you always knew that you should have never let this small crush turn into something more, now you were here. feeling sad just because of your hopeless crush on the team’s middle blocker. 
you didn’t realize that you dropped a water bottle, when you looked down, you saw lemon slices floating around the water. as if it were mocking you. 
you sigh, picking it up. ‘one last time.’ you thought to yourself before entering the gym, pretending you didn’t just get your heart broken.
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“no lemons this time?” suna asked as you gave him his water bottle. “didn’t find any.” you say as curt as possible before attending to the other members of the team to which the others found odd. 
since when was he the first one you tended to? usually you always placed him as last so you could talk to him more. maybe you just forgot? did something happen? 
either way, the team was in confusion with your sudden shift in attitude. especially suna, who has gotten used to your daily banter every training. 
the middle blocker shrugged it off before taking a sip of the plain water. maybe you just weren’t in the mood today? who knows. 
it wasn’t only today, but the next few days. suna began noticing how his interactions with you have drastically decreased, he never took notice of how much he actually craved your presence until you stopped giving him attention and began treating him like how you treat the twins. 
well, there wasn’t anything wrong with the way you treated the twins, but he thought he was special. he knows he was special, maybe that’s why he thought that you might have possibly liked him back. but why did you suddenly drift away from him? 
suna doesn’t remember anything that he could have possibly done for you to stray away from him. 
“good work.” “are we okay?” suna suddenly asked you, who was giving out his water bottle as per usual. “of course.” you say before plopping the bottle on his hand and moving on to the next member.
“relationship problems?” osamu teased as he went beside suna, sipping on his own water bottle. “shut it, miya.”
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the middle blocker hated this. he hated how all of a sudden you pretended as if the both of you were only club mates and nothing else. 
but isn’t that what you were? you weren’t obligated to keep him company during breaks and talk about your guys’ days and plans. so why was he so bothered that you weren’t beside him?
suna had a thought, but he immediately crossed it off his mind because he knows it’s impossible. 
suna likes you, and you moved away even before he could act on it. 
“good wo-” “can we talk?” suna cut you off. you raised an eyebrow at him before trying to give him his water bottle. 
“i’m not taking that.” he huffed, before continuing. “give the others theirs first then get back to me. just like before.” startled, you wordlessly nodded before giving the rest of the members their water bottles. 
once you were done, you felt suna pull your wrist and dragged you outside. a knowing smirk invaded the twins’ faces as they saw the both of you leave. 
“suna-” “what is your problem?” your eyes widened at the sharp tone that suna gave you. 
“i have no idea what you mean.” “why have you been getting distant lately?” “i was busy, suna”
suna looked at you, knowing he isn’t buying a single word you say. he wanted to cringe at the way you called him by his last name, but he couldn’t afford to lose his composure. 
“we both know that’s absolute bullshit, (y/n).” you narrowed your eyes at his response. 
“why does it matter, suna?” you bit back,  having been fed up with this conversation. “i just want to know what i did that made you act weird around me.” 
you tense up, not knowing what to say next. you knew it was unfair to make suna feel as if he did something wrong, but you knew the more you acted upon your feelings, the more you won’t be able to move on. so with a deep breath you braced yourself for your next words. 
“you did nothing, suna.” you gave him a small smile. “that is just me trying to move on. so please, give me some time.” 
suna blinked. was that a confession? he couldn’t register it fast enough before he tightened his grip on your wrist. 
“(y/n)... what do you mean?” “i don’t want to repeat myself, suna.” you say, gently trying to take your wrist from him. 
“you like me back.” suna says, more to himself than to you. you gave him a look of disbelief. “don’t be ridiculous.” 
“no, (y/n). you like me back.” a small smirk was plastered on his face, you felt your face heat up. 
“i did.” you could barely see the way his smirk faltered. “did?” 
you sigh, wanting to get this over with. 
“i heard you say to the twins that you don’t like me in that way. and it made me realize that maybe i’ve been reading the signs wrong and you only like me as a friend.” you explain, effectively pulling away your wrist the moment he faltered in his grip. 
“no hard feelings, suna. i just need time to move on, and since we’re here now. can you please tell me to move on? just so i can have the closure i need.” you say. 
unbeknownst to you, suna only said that so the twins would leave him alone. he’s always liked you, even before you were their manager. and when you suddenly gave him special treatment, he felt as if you returned his feelings. 
now that he knows you like him back, the twins be damned. he can’t let you go. 
“be with me?” “did you not hear what i said? i said i’m trying to move o-” “no.” 
suna said, taking a step closer to you. “i said i didn’t like you that way because i didn’t want the twins knowing and potentially ruining my chance with you because we both know they’d never shut up.” suna started.
“i didn’t confess because i didn’t want to assume that you liked me the way i liked you. but god, whenever you strut in the gym and give me your stupid hello kitty bottle filled with lemon water. i couldn’t help but assume.” you make a face. “my hello kitty bottle is not stupid, rin.” 
suna smiled at the returned nickname. “and you didn’t assume. i really do like you back.” 
“so...” suna trailed off. “so…?” 
“do you want to go out with me, after training?” suna didn’t know where the courage came from, before he could shy away from his question. you gave him a smile, a small blush on your face. 
“i.. i’d love to.” 
“and will you bring back the lemon water. i miss the stupid hello kitty bottle.” he was hit by the arm as you pouted. “once again, my hello kitty bottle is not stupid, rin.” 
suna smiled before placing a hand on your head. 
“sure, (y/n).” 
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note: i love suna i want him to trip on a rock
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omi-boshi · 3 days
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"I don't recall agreeing to be a glorified weighted blanket when I decided to come over." Kiyoomi chuckles from his place on your chest, legs tangling with your own, arms curled around your back. You kiss his forehead, your smile mirroring his. "You didn't? I thought it came with being a boyfriend?" "What? Crushing the love of my life with my entire body weight? I think I missed the patch notes for that update." He teases. "Oh, shut it, you loser." You roll your eyes, pulling his head closer to your chest to smother his laughter. "Just cuddle me. Please." "No," He huffs out his dissent, softened around the edges by the motions of your hands in his hair, and all the while his arms tighten around you. "You're asking for a lot after calling me a loser." You feel rather than hear his words as he mutters them into your — his — shirt. "I'm sorry, you big baby." The snort he lets out in response pulls your grin wider. "Whatever shall I do to regain your favor once more?"
You yelp when he pinches you lightly for your dramatics. "Pancakes would be nice." He says through a sharp inhale as you tug his hair harshly in retaliation, before smoothing it out in apology. "Only if we can go out and have ice cream after." "And of course, I'm paying since you'll conveniently 'forget' your wallet, huh?"
"That was one time!" He chuckles at your outburst. He turns his head just enough to leave a kiss on your collarbone, halting your tirade before the words even have the chance to form in your throat. "Of course, baby." Then, he places one last placating kiss under your chin before both of you succumb to the coziness of the atmosphere.
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amjustagirl · 2 days
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title: to rebuild a home pairing: kuroo x f! reader genre: angst / fluff, post timeskip! wc: 6.8k m.list
a/n: companion piece to the original love knows not its depth, from kuroo's perspective.
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Kuroo Tetsuro is doing alright. 
He’s deftly juggling the roles life has handed him. His tenth wedding anniversary is coming up. He’s gotten a nice pair of earrings and a reservation at Tokyo’s hottest omakase for you to celebrate. The girls are doing nicely at school - Aiko’s grades are excellent, and Fumiko’s not gotten into any schoolyard fights unlike Bokuto’s trio of sons. His bosses seem happy with him too, paving the way for him to climb the corporate ladder rung by rung. He’s earned each promotion by burning days in the office, nights in the izakayas schmoozing with his bosses, but it’s worth it, even if it admittedly comes at the expense of being with you and the girls. 
It’s a sacrifice he has to make so he can provide you with the fairytale life he’s always promised you. Not that you’ve ever complained about the trade-off.  
“She’s the best wife and mom I could’ve asked for”, he tells Kenma, when the former setter asks about you. “I don’t know how she does it.” 
Kenma frowns. “You make her sound like a video game character.” 
“That’s cos she’s amazing -”
“Kinda sucks that she pretty much has to juggle a full time job and the kids on her own most of the time.”
“She manages perfectly well”, Kuroo enthuses, oblivious to the barb in his friend’s words. “By the time I get home, the girls are in bed, the house is clean, and there’s even a lunch box packed for me each day. She’s a rockstar at work too - should be up for a promotion next financial year.” 
“Huh”, Kenma sniffs. “I wonder when she gets a break.” 
Kuroo’s too distracted by the round of beers that’s delivered to his table to think deeply about his best friend’s apprehension. When he stumbles through the front door that night, he finds you crouched over the coffee table, frantically typing at your laptop. As expected, the girls are in bed, there’s nothing out of place. 
“All good?” he asks you in passing, his mind already filing the tasks on his plate for tomorrow - organising a publicity event jointly held by the JVA and Bouncing Ball Corporation to introduce new national team members, reviewing the proposed budget for this year’s international competitions, popping by the under-19 team to see if there are indeed any promising candidates - he’s already one foot in the bedroom, ready to call it a night. 
He doesn’t notice the violets blooming under your eyes. 
“Mm.” You don’t look up. “Have a good night.”  
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Kruoo Tetsuro thinks he’s doing alright. 
Bokuto Kotaro, for some reason, doesn’t think so. “Mitsuki said you’re lucky you’re not married to her cos she’ll skin you alive”, he informs him, as if Kuroo shares his love for women capable of chomping his head off in one bite.
Maybe the Bokutos operate on a different metric - because yes, they’re the model of egalitarianism with Mitsuki the high powered general counsel for Kenma’s Bouncing Ball Corporation (based on his referral, he likes to add, cos’ it’s funny to watch Mitsuki growl) and Kotaro the part time coach, full time stay at home dad to his wolfpack of sons, but that doesn’t mean his marriage is on the rocks. 
As a child, he was the unwitting witness to his parents’ fights, which culminated in his mother walking out of the door, his father crying over a thick stack of divorce papers. His grandparents took him in, gave him stability and love and comfort but he swore to himself he’s never going to put his daughters through that. 
Sure, it’s been a while since you’ve had a night to yourself. The last time he remembers you taking time away from the girls was to go out for dinner with him to celebrate his latest promotion - his conscience stings a little that he can’t remember the last time you’ve taken a break from everything you’ve been doing for him and the girls, but he’ll make it up to you once he has time. You always understand. 
Still, just to be sure, he checks in on you again. 
“You alright?”, he reaches for your hand, when he climbs into bed that night. 
You’re lying in bed. He should find it odd that you’re still awake at this time of the night, staring up at the ceiling as if there’s something to be found there, but he falls asleep in the slow seconds, doesn't hear your response. When he wakes, you’ve already taken the girls to school. He gets himself ready for work, loops his tie around his neck, grabs his briefcase and the bento you’ve so lovingly packed for him, and hops on the train. He runs through his routine like clockwork, but there’s a niggling feeling that he’s missed something important, possibly something to do with you. 
Did you say something to him last night? 
It doesn’t matter. He makes a mental note to purchase a spa day for you - but that’s promptly forgotten when he’s greeted by a flood of emails and an invitation from his boss to go out for drinks that night. 
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Kuroo still thinks he’s doing alright. 
“You’re lucky”, his boss toasts him. “Your wife doesn’t complain like mine when I go out drinking, even though I tell her I need to do it for work.” 
“She’s an angel”, Kuroo replies, quietly bursting with pride. “Never complains.” 
“Lucky man”, his boss says. “My wife is such a nag.” 
He misses the last train home that night, drops you a text not to wait up and stumbles around Shibuya trying to find a cab. It must be a busy night because by the time he manages to flag down one, it’s three a.m. and his head is pounding from the excess of alcohol and lack of solid food and water. He fumbles with his keys, almost falls through his front door when the lock gives way. “Tadaima”, he says out of habit, too-loudly, before his stomach lurches and he has to make a mad dash for the kitchen sink. 
“Tetsuro?” 
He wants to respond, but he’s too busy emptying out the contents of his stomach. He shouldn’t have woken you up. He shouldn’t greet you with a mess for you to clean up. He shouldn’t lean so heavily on you that you stagger beneath his weight. 
He shouldn’t do all of that yet he does so anyway. You tuck him, a grown man, into bed.
Tomorrow, he’ll apologise. Tomorrow, he’ll make it up to you. 
Tomorrow comes. He wakes up. 
You’re gone. 
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Kuroo Tetsuro is not alright.
He’s ashamed to admit that he doesn’t even notice you’ve taken off until it’s way past lunch when your mother drops him a text to ask if he’s picking up the girls or if he intends to leave them with her overnight. 
“What d’you mean?” he texts her, confused.  
His heart stops when your mother responds to say you dropped off the girls at her place without much of an explanation, an overnight bag slung over your shoulder. You don’t pick up your phones, his calls going straight to voicemail. For the first time in forever, he sheepishly asks his boss for urgent leave from work so he can rush home to figure out what’s going on. 
You always take your laptop with you, but it’s sitting at home. He knows it’s an invasion of privacy, but he types in your password (his birthday), and your web browser reveals a booking for a ryokan in Hakone, where the both of you honeymooned almost a decade ago. It’s an hour away by train, far too much time for him to sit and stew in his thoughts. He wonders if you’ve become sick of your life with him, whether you’ve found someone new, and by the time he’s reached the ryokan and charmed the receptionist to let him into your room, he’s teetering on the edge of giving into his frustration, entertaining thoughts about yelling at you for being so goddamned irresponsible, cos how could you just walk out on him and the girls -
Until you walk in, thankfully alone. 
It strikes him that it’s the most refreshed he’s seen you look in a very, very long time. Your cheeks are glowing, your eyes sparkle, and there’s a spring in your step that he hasn’t seen since you’ve had the girls. 
Still, he can’t help but remain a little peeved. “I’ve been calling you all afternoon”, he informs you. “I was worried.” 
He immediately regrets his words as he watches the light die in your eyes. 
“Were you?”, you ask, as if you were addressing a stranger. “Really?” 
“Of course”, he frowns, slowly getting up to approach you, concerned when you start to sway. “You’re my wife and the mother of our girls, of course I care.” 
Laughter spills from your lips, an undercurrent of bitterness and contempt that’s threatening to drag you under before his very eyes. “If you really cared, you’d have noticed that your wife is broken”, you tell him between gasps, your shoulders caving in. “I tried fixing myself with a break, but you can’t even give me that.”  
He’s starting to realise that things aren’t alright at all. You flinch when he takes a step towards you, an action which stabs him clean through his heart because he’s your husband, your Tetsuro, your person. Tea, then, a neutral offering that manages to calm you down enough to take a seat, even if you’re still shaking, falling to pieces while laughing, laughing -
“Tell me what’s wrong”, he begs. “Tell me what I can do to fix you.” 
You take a sip of tea. It’s hot enough to burn you, but you don’t seem to notice. 
“I can’t do this anymore, Tetsuro.” 
“Don’t say that”, he snaps, his inner child recoiling because he can’t bear to have his girls go through what he went through, wondering if it was his fault, his very existence that caused his parents to split up. “The girls and I need you -” 
You don’t seem to hear him. 
“Princess”, he falls back on his pet name for you, rusty from lack of use. “Come back to me.” 
You’re unmoved, your eyes unseeing, deaf to his pleas. Sip after sip, you gulp down scalding tea, each action jerky, mechanical. Frozen, in an impenetrable placidness that he can’t read. You’re sitting right in front of him but you’re not really there at all.    
“Let’s talk when you’re back home”, he finally says. “Have a good break.” 
The immature little boy that still lives in his psyche is still unconvinced that it’s a bad idea to drag you back home with him posthaste, but you asked for a break, and it’s the least he can give to you.
You allow him to roll out your futon for you, to swaddle you in layers of blankets as if that would keep you from falling apart any further. As he kisses your forehead to bid you goodnight and goodbye, he feels the brittleness of your bones, the thinness of your skin beneath his palms and he spends the hour-long train ride home wondering how he managed to look away long enough for you to turn into a shadow of your past self.   
He goes straight to your mother’s house to retrieve the girls. As penance, he stands at the front door, head bowed, letting your mother yell at him in front of the neighbours for being a useless husband and an irresponsible father. After all, he deserves every word she flings in his face. He’s just thankful that she doesn’t ream him out in front of the girls. 
“Where’s mama?” Fumiko mumbles half asleep into his neck. “Want mama.”
He cradles her closer. “She’ll be home tomorrow”, he tells her, hoping with every fibre of his being that that does not turn out to be a lie. Aiko, older and wiser, just stays quiet, so he forces a smile on his face for her sake.  
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Kuroo Tetsuro is far from okay.
The strain of the day wears on him and he’s sure there are burning emails in his inbox for him to firefight, but there’s a long list of chores to be done in your absence. The girls’ school bags need to be packed (in the case of five year old Fumiko) or checked (for ten year old Aiko), their uniforms to be laid out, the laundry sorted and folded. He barely gets any sleep before he has to hop out of bed to throw together a cold breakfast of milk and cereal that makes Fumiko burst into tears and Aiko’s face droops. By the time he shuffles his two cranky children out of the house and into their respective schools, he’s late for work. 
He meets Bokuto and Kenma for lunch since there’s no lunch bento waiting for him in the fridge, though he regrets the decision to leave the refuge of his work desk for the boardroom of Bouncing Ball Corporation when Mitsuki joins them and, sharp-eyed as ever, sinks her talons into him. 
“You look like shit”, she says to him as a greeting. 
“Thanks”, he grounds out. The girls demanded he work their hair into the neat braids they insisted you always do, so bedhead would have to do for him today. 
“I’ve never seen you without hair gel before”, Bokuto marvels. “You look weird.” 
“I had a crap morning, okay”, he snaps, biting the head off the karaage fish in his store bought bento, which he resents for tasting worse than those you usually make for him. “So I’m sorry if I look slightly less than presentable -” 
“You look like a man whose wife just left him - “ 
Mitsuki’s just stepped right on the wound he’s tried to keep hidden, festering and bleeding beneath his skin, so like an animal lashing out when it’s hurt, Kuroo slaps the table with both palms and snarls. 
“Don’t - don’t fucking say that, okay? She’s just taking a break. She’ll come home.”
He can’t stand to see the shock and pity on his closest friends’ faces. “She’s coming home today”, he repeats softly, almost to himself, as if he’s little Fumiko in need of reassurance that the person she needs most in the world hasn’t just abandoned her. “It’s gonna be okay.” 
Perhaps it’s the maturity that comes with fatherhood, because Bokuto is the first to react. “That’s right, you’re gonna be okay”, he soothes, pulling Kuroo into his seat. “Kenma’s gonna call your boss and tell him that you’re gonna spend the rest of the afternoon here to plan some event - “
“Sponsorship for the Under-19 team, done”, Kenma snaps his phone shut.
“Guys, I’m fine - ” 
“Pretending everything’s okay isn’t going to help.” 
Kuroo deflates. “Thanks, Kenma.” 
Shelving his worthless pride to lay bare the situation he’s found himself in, that by neglecting his duties as a husband and father, he’s forced you to the brink of a mental breakdown, bad enough that you’ve left him - temporarily, he hopes. In the span of a few hours, he’s already found himself at his wit’s end, struggling to handle both the demands of the kids and his job, something that he realises he’s left you to bear, alone. 
“But I can’t figure out why she didn’t just tell me she was feeling overwhelmed”, he says, pulling at a fraying thread in his shirt. “I would’ve listened. I would’ve done better.” 
“She shouldn’t have to tell you to do your part”, Mitsuki waves away Bokuto’s desperate gesture for her not to kick a man when he’s already down. 
“But I didn’t know -” 
“Y’know, I really can’t stand men like you. You guys are amazing at work, able to anticipate your bosses’ and clients’ needs. At this point, you don’t even need to be told by your bosses  to jump, you don’t even ask your clients ‘how high’ - yet, for some reason, you manage to turn off your brain the minute you walk in through the front door at home.”
 “Maybe I should ask her for a list of things I can help her with -” 
Bokuto claps his hand over Mitsuki’s mouth. “Ehhh..you might not wanna finish your sentence or Mitsuki might really bite your head off.” 
Kuroo winces, snapping his mouth shut. 
“Maybe you can think of it in a different way”, Bokuto says. “Instead of ‘helping’ her - cos that’s just placing the mental burden on her - at least, I think that’s the term Mitsuki-chan used when she explained it to me -” the affronted lawyer nods begrudgingly, and beaming, he continues - “you gotta do your half of the work!”
“Level up”, Kenma provides, rather unhelpfully.
“Open your eyes and use your brain”, Mitsuki says bluntly, rolling her eyes, though her tone is less sharp.
“Where do I start?” Kuroo asks. 
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Step one. 
He picks the girls up from his mother in law’s place, bears with the lecture that’s awaiting him, and sheepishly asks them what their mama usually feeds them for dinner and breakfast, making a mental note of it. Tonight, he’ll cheat by feeding them gyudon at Sukiya, but he drops by the supermarket to procure the ingredients he needs for tomorrow’s breakfast and a bouquet of pink roses, even though he knows it’s probably too little, too late. He counts himself lucky that Fumiko loves bathtime, only needing supervision to wash and dry her hair, and Aiko’s responsible enough to work through her homework without prompting, but he’s still exhausted by the time they both head to bed. 
His job doesn’t end there. Running through the checklist Mitsuki begrudgingly allowed Bokuto to give him, he surveys the apartment, comparing it against the mental image of how everything was before you left it. Toys scattered, to be put back in place. Dust on floor, to be vacuumed up. A heap of laundry in the basket, to be hung, dried, ironed. 
Just as he finishes all these tasks, the front door swing opens. 
“Tadaima”, you call out, voice hushed. 
He nearly trips over his feet in his haste to relieve you of your luggage, usher you into a seat by the kitchen counter. “Okaerie”, he breathes, 
“The girls?” you ask. 
He’ll buy Bokuto lunch next time. “I picked them up from your mom”, he responds. “Don’t wake them up, I just put them to bed.” 
You peek into their rooms nonetheless. “Thanks”, you say, heading next to the fridge. “By the way, I’ll pay you back for the hotel room from my own money, don’t worry.” 
That’s the last thing on his mind. Besides, his sin is being a neglectful husband, not a miser. “It’s fine, I’ll cover it”, he scratches his head, embarrassed that you’re even bringing it up. “I should’ve realised you needed a break.” 
That makes you frown, but you accept anyway. He watches you stack bread, eggs, ham, cheese, and it strikes him that you’re already worrying about the girls’ breakfast when you look as if you haven’t even had your own dinner. 
“You haven’t had dinner?” he asks. 
You reply carelessly that you’ve had a bento on the train back. You don’t even bother to look at him. 
“I’ll take the girls in the mornings from now”, he tells you. “Sleep in and take a break.” 
That gets your attention. 
“Really?”
He plasters a confident smirk on his face to reassure you that he’s got it all in hand. 
“Oh”, you’re adorable when you’re confused, but he hates that he’s given you reason to doubt him. “Wake me up if you need my help?” 
“I won’t”, he promises. 
It’s time for him to level up.  
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Step two. 
He’s not going to lie to himself that he finds it difficult to do even half of what you used to do. Taking over the responsibility of wrangling the girls out of bed and into school, coming home early enough for dinner with you, that requires him to have hard conversations with his boss about not being able to go out for drinks or come in early anymore which probably hurts his chances for his next promotion, forces him to give up an hour or two of sleep, but it’s worth it if it allows you to heal. 
“Don’t expect a gold star for your efforts”, Mitsuki warned him. “It’s just what you should’ve been doing before, so it’s time for you to go above and beyond.” 
He takes her words to heart. You deserve to go to work well-rested, to wind down at night with a hot bath. He’ll buy a robot vacuum and pour over its manual that’s thicker than a textbook, do laundry loads while hopping on and off conference calls, wrestle the iron to press down his own shirts. 
You seem baffled by the sudden shift in the winds, but he just pretends everything is normal. Business as usual. Things are just as they should’ve been. 
In his next push to right his wrongs, he organises a Saturday dinner date with you. The girls are packed off with your mother, he makes the reservation, books the cab, compliments your dress. He asks you about your work (tiring), your boss (a micro-manager), the books you’ve read recently (nada, zilch). In the uphill battle to keep the conversation from being stilted, he makes a fatal mistake. 
“We can make it work if you want to quit your job and stay home full time with the children.” 
In his mind, that was a reasonable suggestion to make since you seem to hate your job and boss with a fiery passion. But you stare at him wide-eyed, your initial confusion hardening into anger. 
“Did the guys at work tell you it’s easier to have a housewife instead of a working wife? Are you saying this because you don’t think I’m a good enough mother to our girls?” 
You don’t give him a chance to backpedal, shooting a sarcastic apology for being selfish enough to refuse to be reliant on him, so he just slumps back in his chair in defeat. 
“I just want you to be happy”, he murmurs. “Forget I ever said that.” 
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Step three. 
To figure out step three, he schedules an emergency lunch meeting on Monday. The troops convene in Kenma’s boardroom to listen to his sorry tale with Mitsuki in charge of the post–battle analysis. 
“And remind me again, where did you two meet?” 
His face lights up at the memory of his first meeting with you. “Finance 102”, he replies. “We used to be academic rivals turned teammates after I convinced her I was smart enough for her to work with on projects.”
“What made you fall in love with her?” 
“As much as I hate it, I have to admit she’s probably smarter than me”, he says, though the fond smile that creeps onto his face betrays the fact that he loves that about you. “She’s just - her, she’s headstrong and funny. Did I tell you how she tried to stab me with her fork when I stole food off her plate -” 
“Only a million times”, Kenma interjects. 
“She’s always been independent and ambitious, with big dreams and an even bigger heart.” 
“Well”, Mitsuki says, adopting the mildest tone she’s used on him this month. “Does that sound like a woman who’d choose to stay home and depend on her husband? Not that there’s anything wrong with being a stay-at-home parent - Koutaro makes my career possible, and I’m the luckiest woman in the world to have him as my husband.”
“Babyyyyy.” Bokuto bawls, looking at MItsuki as if she hangs the moon in the sky. 
Gross. Kenma seems to agree. “Let’s get back to Kuroo’s failing marriage”,
“So I shouldn’t bring up the suggestion that she quit her job again?” 
His three person council shake their heads in unison. “Just keep what you’re doing”, Bokuto pipes up. “Sounds like you’re already doing the right things! Just gotta keep making sure she’s not holding up the sky herself.” 
He can do that. 
“And maybe talk to her?”, Kenma offers.
That’s the suggestion that he wants to dismiss right off the bat because he’s too much of a coward to even face the possibility that you might leave him. He doesn’t want to become his dad so he resolves to keep his head down and continue pushing ahead with his efforts to prove to you that he can be the husband you deserve, so you won’t wake up one day and decide to walk out on him again. 
But his subconscious fears force his nightmares into overdrive. Dreams of packed bags and stacks of divorce papers makes him yelp loud enough for you to roll over and shake him awake. He’s a terrible husband for disturbing your sleep, but in his sleep-dazed state of confusion he just sinks back into the pillow, exhaling a sigh of relief. 
“Thank the gods you haven’t left.” 
“Why would I leave?”, you mumble, turning away again. “It’s my home, isn’t it.” 
He sits up, rubs the nightmares away from his eyes. “I was afraid you left me.” 
The silence nearly suffocates him. The sudden need to know exactly where you stand eats away at him and he crawls towards you. “Are you going to leave me”, he asks, praying to all the gods in the universe that you’ll reassure him otherwise. 
His heart breaks anew when he hears a small sob, buried in the bedclothes. “I don’t know, Tetsuro”, you finally say. “I’m tired of being alone in a marriage when it’s supposed to be us working together.” 
“I’m sorry.” There’s nothing much he can say. 
A broken whisper. “I’m tired”, you exhale. “I think I deserve better.”
“I’ll make it better”, he promises. 
He will. He will. 
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Kuroo Tetsuro is trying his best. 
He takes a cooking class on the weekends to learn how to prepare bento boxes that are nutritious and easy on the wallet. He takes over the ferrying of Fumiko to her swimming lessons, work on Aiko’s art projects with her. He hires a part time cleaner to pick up the deep cleaning, so you and he have time to take the girls out on weekend outings instead of spending all day on a week’s worth of cumulated chores. A dishwasher appears in the house. He makes it a game for he and the girls to load and unload dishware each night. 
“There’s a networking wine night for finance next Wednesday”, he tells you casually. “I’ll make sure to be home so you can go, if you want.” 
You goggle at him. 
“Go schmooze so the world knows you’re as amazing as I know you are.” 
You trust him enough to leave the girls behind in his care and go. He counts that as a win. 
Some nights he still can’t get home in time for dinner, but he always makes sure he’s home in time for a bedtime story and a goodnight kiss. Aiko avers that at the grand old age of ten, she doesn’t need her papa to tuck her to bed anymore, but she sidles into Fumiko’s room everynight and sits in the corner of her little sister’s bed as the littler girl listens to his tall tales. 
“I met a princess when I was eighteen”, he says with a grin when he notices you listening in. “Instead of a crown, she armed herself with a fork, ready to cut down anyone who’d cross her.” 
His heart skips a beat when he hears your voice from the doorway. “Don’t be dramatic”, you interrupt, a small smile growing on your face. “You were trying to steal my food and didn’t stop ‘til I stabbed you.” 
Fumiko huffs, unhappy that her story’s being interrupted, but he can’t seem to tear his gaze away from you. “You left it on the table, princess. I consider that fair game.” 
“Let ‘to-san tell the story, ka’san.” Aiko grumbles. 
He savours your laughter. It tastes better than the finest wine. 
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“I can’t believe I have to fly all the way to Italy just to meet Kageyama-kun”, he huffs. “At least Hinata is meeting us there, I’ll revolt if I had to go up to Brazil as well.” 
“You know it can’t be helped”, you reply. “The promotional activities planned need your presence, and it’s only for a week.” 
“Will you be okay when I’m gone?” 
His fears melt away when you hand him his suitcase, a flask of his favourite tea. “I’ve always managed fine. Nothing’s changed.” 
His little monsters, realising that he’s about to leave, decide to launch a synchronised attack on him. Aiko throws herself at him in a bear hug. Fumiko yanks at his sleeve demanding a thousand kisses. 
“Yes, well. I’ll be home soon. Please wait for me” he says to you when the girls finally release him. The expression on your face is unreadable, but you don’t pull away when he takes the liberty of taking your hand in his. 
He feels your heartbeat accelerates. You glance up at him, almost shy. “I’ll see you soon.” 
He’s so tempted to call his boss and pretend that he’s too ill to get on that damned flight, but he’s pretty sure that would get him fired. Instead, he calls you and the girls every day, and brings home a luggage full of presents for all of you. 
When he’s home, he celebrates by putting on the frilliest pink apron he’s ever seen (courtesy of Yaku, who sent it to him all the way from Moscow as a joke) and throwing an elaborate takoyaki party, replete with customised toppings - octopus, cheese and shrimp, which the girls enjoyed even if he burnt the first batch and had to call Fukunaga frantically for tips to rescue the rest. It turns out to be such a success that he makes it a weekly event. Okonomiyaki is next, which he flips with expert confidence on a hot plate to the applause of you and the girls. 
“Itadakimasu”, you clap your hands together. “It tastes good.” 
He nearly melts into his pan. “Thank you”, he replies. “It means a lot, coming from you.” 
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His nights are still plagued by nightmares.
Things are better with you, he likes to think. The violets beneath your eyes are replaced by roses in your cheeks. He hears you humming about the house again. You pick up reading again,  the shelves in the house start to groan under the weight of books belonging to the girls and you. You’re as eager as the girls to go on the next adventure, whether it be a summer night out in the park with sparklers, or a nerf gun battle at home on rainy days. 
Still, he doesn’t know for sure what he’s doing is enough for you and he’s too much of a coward to check. So he’ll wake up almost every night, fumble in the dark just to make sure you’re there. 
You’re there, until you aren’t. 
It’s three in the morning. The space beside him is cold and empty. 
He throws off the blankets, trips on his bed slippers. He crashes through into the living room and oh, there you are - sitting at the dining table, typing furiously at your laptop while mouthing off to yourself about the ridiculous demands your client makes. 
“What’s wrong?” you frown. 
He walks towards you, trying to discern that you’re real, you’re there, not some trick of the light.. 
“You’re - you’re still here.” 
You nod slowly, eyeing him strangely. “My boss called and asked me to send out an urgent email. I was just about to go back to bed.” 
He exhales, tries to force his trembling heart back into his chest. He thinks he’s doing a good job trying to act nonchalant, smoothing back his frazzled mane of hair, but you see right through him as you always do. 
“Tetsuro”, you say slowly. “Is everything alright? 
The truth tumbles out of his mouth. “I thought you were gone.” 
Then he hangs his head, looks at his feet, afraid that he’ll only see rejection in your eyes. He’s a pathetic failure of a husband who has a decade’s worth of sins to make up for, and there’s no justification for him to selfishly to seek your absolution. 
It comes anyway, in the form of soft hands pulling him forward. 
“I’m here”, you say, pulling him into your embrace, letting him rest his heavy head in your lap.
He doesn’t allow himself to sink into your warmth. “Are you happier now? Are things better for you?” 
“Yes”, he hears you say. The tension he’s been carrying around these few months lifts. “Thank you, Tetsuro. I appreciate it. I really do. You don’t have to work yourself to death - that’s never what I was asking for. If you’re tired -”
He shakes his head at your suggestion. He’s got a long way yet before he earns any reprieve. 
“Tetsuro -” 
He sits up abruptly, takes your hands in his. 
“Promise you won’t leave me”, he pleads. “I know you’ve had to carry what must’ve felt like the weight of the entire world on your own, and I don’t have any excuse for that.”
“You don’t”, you agree. 
He accepts the blow but he takes comfort that you don’t pull away. “I know that now. I know now how fucking hard it was to do it all alone.”
“It was hard. It was so, so hard, Tetsuro. I became numb to the pain. I don’t think I was functioning, I haven’t been for a while. For a long, long while.” 
“I’m sorry”, his voice cracks. 
“I know.”  You cup his face in your hands, offers him comfort he doesn’t deserve. “That’s a chapter of our marriage that’s past, that can’t be unwritten. But the past few months have been different. You’ve shown me that you’ve changed.” 
The first glimmer of sunlight after a long, dark winter. Hope blooms with your smile. 
“I think”, you say. “I think we can make this work again.” 
He stares at you, dumbstruck. Then the fact that you’re giving him another chance dawns upon him, and he crashes forward to rest his head on your shoulder, unashamed to cry tears of relief. 
“Thank you”, he exhales brokenly. “I won’t fuck this up again, I promise.”
You press a kiss to his forehead, curl up trustingly in his arms. “Don’t thank me”, you laugh. “Thank yourself for making me believe in you.” 
 He drinks up each drop of your affection, falls asleep in the cradle of your arms. 
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“Is this what flirting is like?” 
He wakes up to Aiko’s impertinent question, her hands on hips looking distinctly unimpressed at finding her parents asleep on the sofa, entwined together. 
“Who taught you that word?” Kuroo asks, aghast that his ten year old daughter even recognises the existence of the opposite gender. 
Aiko sticks her tongue at him, and he’s too distracted by Fumiko taking a flying leap onto the sofa with them, chattering a thousand miles an hour about what’s for breakfast and whether they can go to the zoo this afternoon - though he pins his suspicions on Bokuto’s trio of sons. 
“Monsters”, he says. “Can’t even give your to-san a break to snuggle up to your pretty ka’san.” 
The girls shriek in dismay - Aiko, at being a witness to further gross displays of affection between her parents, Fumiko, at being called a monster despite being a self-proclaimed princess. You prod at the soft flesh between his ribs. 
“Don’t be mean”, you admonish him. 
He sniffs, taking the chance to draw you closer. “I’m cranky in the mornings unless I get a morning kiss.” 
You snort, swatting at him. “You make it sound as if kisses contain caffeine.” 
The girls giggle, but he protests. 
“Full of nonsense”, you tease, but you kiss him, again and again and again. 
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Things settle into a steady, sustainable pace. 
You refuse to allow him to bear the weight of the household on his back alone. There are frank conversations to be had about what each of you can realistically handle without burning out. He leads the charge in the mornings, whipping up breakfast with the aid of his two sous chefs, building an expertise in braiding and french twists that could possibly allow him to moonlight as a hairstylist. You, on the other hand, take charge of evening pick-ups, cooking dinners, supervising homework and art projects until he comes home and tags you out. 
Chores are evenly split. He doesn’t allow you to assume the mental load of organising the household by yourself. “We both have a degree in business management”, he likes to remind you, because he now knows that remembering to run errands, scheduling appointments - all of this is work too. 
You force him to take breaks. If you get to relax with your friends, so should he. “If you get too stressed, you’ll lose your hair and we can’t have that.” He yelps when he imagines himself bald and obediently complies when you call Kenma up, talk him into getting him and Bokuto and Akaashi (when he’s feeling less morose about his singlehood) to go for a round of pick up volleyball. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself”, you note wryly when he returns home crowing about how he stuffed an Olympic player with a kill block. 
“I did”, he replies, catching your hips to pull you in, cheekily ignoring your complaints that he’s sweaty. “But I enjoy coming home to you even more.”
“Gross”, you grumble, but you seem content to remain in his arms. 
It’s another small moment he treasures. Life, he learns, is made of moments, both big and small. He’d made the mistake of only focusing on the big ones - graduation, playing at nationals, the day he was lucky enough to marry you, each of his daughter’s birthdays. Now, though, he cherishes each moment, each second he has with you and the girls, no matter how little, no matter how small. 
He likes to come into the bathroom each night, leaning his elbow on the edge of the bathtub as you chat to him about your day, luxuriating in the bath he drew for you. You and he take turns to complain about life’s inconveniences as you clear emails once the girls have gone off to bed- colleagues who shirk their work, bosses who nitpick overmuch, washing everything down with steaming cups of herbal tea. 
“Are you happy?”, he asks you, night after night. 
“Mm”, you say with an impish grin. “I’d be happier if you let me put my toes on your calves.” 
“They’re freezing”, he groans but scoots over anyway. “Better?” 
“Much better”, you hum, content. “Life is good.”
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He’s not remiss in planning the big moments too. 
A year passes quickly to your wedding anniversary. He packs your suitcase, books the train tickets and whisks you back to the ryokan in Hakone, though this time he upgrades you both to their largest suite. “I feel like a princess!” you exclaim, twirling about the room. 
Your happiness is worth every yen he spent. 
You spend the day strolling down avenues lined with cherry blossoms, Mount Fuji looming in the backdrop, the evening exchanging heated kisses in the private onsen he booked. You’re older now, with laughter lines creased into your forehead, grey streaks in your hair, but you’re still the same girl he fell in love with all those years ago. 
“And you couldn’t wait ‘til we got back to our room?” you smack him. 
He also loves how there’s fire burning bright in your eyes, the way it always used to. “You kissed me first!” 
“You kissed me second!” 
“I don’t hear you complaining”, he cackles. 
You try to shush him, to no avail, as he draws the attention of everyone around him.
“What a happy couple”, an obaa-san remarks out loud. “They must be newlyweds.”  
Well, she’s not wrong. You’re as radiant as you were fifteen years ago, his spring bride, but he’s an old man doddering on, hopefully with his edges sanded off with time. “Just your regular old, married couple”, he chortles when you’re safely back in the room. 
“A happily married couple”, you reply, serenely sipping your tea. “That obaa-san definitely got that part right.” 
There’s a lump in his throat that he can’t swallow. “Are you happy?” he manages to ask anyway. 
“With you?” Your smile is warm, bright. Always.”
Both of you are doing alright.
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a/n: it's been a while, hasn't it. i've been alright - how are you guys doing?
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yenqa · 2 days
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firsts
synopsis — sakusa and you have never had a conversation, and honestly you’re terrified of the man. but one conversation turns out to be many more of your firsts with sakusa.
warnings — reader is scared of men LMFAO, not really any
pairing — sakusa x implied fem!reader
wordcount — 710
a/n — happy birthday to himm! also my first hq post in a while OOPS also not proofread sorry!
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You’ve never really talked to Sakusa.
You had been the manager of the volleyball team since your first year–and you had known him since then, but for some reason, you haven’t talked to him unless it’s volleyball related.
In fact–you don’t think you’ve ever had a conversation with him. But there's a first for everything, right?
Itachiyama has made it to nationals (not like it’s a surprise), and everyone has just arrived. The room continues to fill with people you don’t know, so you decide it’s best to stick with your team so you don’t get lost.
Well apparently that was a horrible idea to everyone else. Because you’ve lost everyone but Sakusa. 
And you’re terrified. Surrounded in a room full of men you don’t know sounded like your worst nightmare, and you were living it currently.
Frantically scanning the room for anyone that’s not Sakusa, you somehow can’t spot any of the familiar bright yellow and green jackets your team is wearing.
Everyone knows that Sakusa doesn’t like to be bothered. But when you make eye contact with him, you change your expression to a way where he understands you’re pleading for help.
And he nods once.
Your mouth breaks out into a smile, and you shimmy your way to the crowd. Letting out a sigh of relief–you lean on the wall for support, muttering a small thank you to Sakusa. 
You don’t expect him to say anything back, but you can hear his muffled voice say, “You okay?”
Tilting your head slightly up to make eye contact with him, you smile as you say, “Yeah–I’m fine. Are you nervous?”
You’re not sure why you ask the question, he probably doesn’t want to be bothered. I mean–you were still kind of shocked that he let you even be near him.
“Not really. Are you?”
You’re even more shocked when he continues the conversation. You’d expect he’d be the most rude person if he didn’t want to talk. “I-uhm I am a little bit. But we’re exempt from playing today right?”
Yeah–this definitely is the first and last conversation you’ll ever have with him.
He nods.
Then it’s silent.
Surprisingly, the silence isn't the most awkward thing you’ve experienced. It feels as if you’re just two people co-existing.
You watch as everyone excitedly hugs each other or glares at their next opponent. One person even tries to rile up the other, eliciting a small chuckle from you.
From the corner of your eye you can tell he’s curious, but he hasn’t said anything yet. This time, you take initiative to point at the players, also describing the jacket colors.
And you swear you can hear him laugh.
Not a full–hearty laugh obviously, but a small chuckle. A quiet one that you don’t even notice. But it’s definitely the first time you’ve heard him do anything resembling a laugh.
“You laughed.” You blurt out, before you even realize. 
He furrows his brows, “I did.”
Your eyes widen, “Sorry–oh my gosh, it’s just the first time I’ve heard your laugh before, Sakusa-san. I swear I didn’t mean it like that–you just have a nice laugh–”
And now he’s actually laughing–like not even hard to hear.
He’s laughing, he’s hunched over, shaking and clutching his stomach. You don’t think you’ve ever felt more mortified in your life.
“It wasn’t that funny was it?” You ask, a frown on your face.
Sakusa catches his breath, “Funnier than any of the jokes Komori tries to make.”
“There wasn’t even a joke! And I happen to like the jokes he makes!”
“Only if you’re sick in the head.”
You scoff at his remark, “Wow, Sakusa-san, you’re very hard to please.”
“Kiyoomi.”
“Another complaint?” You tease, trying to play dumb at what he’s trying to imply. 
“Call me Kiyoomi.”
You can feel heat rush to your cheeks, you tuck your hair back behind your ear and mutter, “Okay, Kiyoomi.”
And even though he’s wearing a white mask, you swear you can see his eyes crinkle and you can assume the corners of his mouth turn up ever so slightly. 
You’ve had many firsts with Sakusa today. This is the first time you’ve seen him smile–just maybe next time he’ll do it while his face is fully shown.
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yenqa © please do not copy, steal or translate.
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cr4yolaas · 2 days
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the first time they say “i love you” — various hq boys
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tags: fluff, all post-timeskip, all are already in an established relationship w/ rdr, some may be ooc, not proofread
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𝜗𝜚 kageyama tobio
kageyama’s first instinct was to run to you. albeit the heat of the artificial gymnasium lights burning scriptures on his back and the beads of sweat clinging to each crevice of skin and bone, he found himself in your arms — you, clad in his jersey, who stood at the front of the crowd as soon as the game ended. loud cheers fell on deaf ears as he twirled you around, seemingly overcome by a fit of hyperactivity and joy. you could not care any less. he was happy, and that was enough.
the setter’s hands never failed to leave your sides even as he placed you down. akin to a little boy, he grinned at you with streams of sunlight dripping from the cracks between his teeth. “i love you so much,” he exclaimed, as if announcing it to the reporters and the fangirls circling around him; as if proclaiming a never-ending devotion to the world. it was foreign on his tongue, and yet, it spilled out so smoothly, so naturally, as if he was born to utter those words solely to you.
a loud groan could be heard from his teammates — namely hinata, who stood from the side observing the scene in its entirety. kageyama paid no mind, for in that moment, he was bound to you.
𝜗𝜚 miya osamu
a loud clang reverberated throughout the building as the final customer left. as soon as the door shut, osamu heaved a heavy breath and slumped against the counter.
“‘m exhausting. this is tiring,” he complained, although you knew it wasn’t genuine, as foretold by the lazy smile plastered onto his face and the unadulterated joy in his eyes. “i dun’ know if i can do this for the resta’ my life.”
you merely hummed and sat beside him. your hand found solace on the canvas of his back, the repetitive circular ministrations seemingly doing wonders to him. “it’s okay. i’ll be here with you for all of it,” you whispered.
“really?”
“really.”
a handful of minutes passed in a shared silence before osamu turned to you. his lips quivered, as if he were preparing to let loose a truth that he had been holding onto for centuries. you could only hold your breath in anticipation.
“i love ya lots,” he blubbered, his eyes suddenly overflowing with tears. “thank you for staying with me.”
you grinned. “i love you too, ‘samu.”
𝜗𝜚 sakusa kiyoomi
“i’m home,” a small voice muttered from the front door. the clock on the microwave read 2:43 AM in bright green lettering, the first sign of sakusa’s late arrival.
the second sign came in the darkness of the apartment. all lights, save for the kitchen, had been turned off (you had a habit of leaving one light on for him). the man hung his bag carefully, his touch light against the strap and his movements in slow motion. with soft steps, he padded over to your shared bedroom, only to be greeted with the most vulnerable of sights.
atop the blankets, there you lay — donning your boyfriend’s sleep shirt, bathing in the strands of moonlight that peeked through the blinds, and light breaths falling from your lips. sakusa stood in the doorway for just a moment to soak it all in. he watched your chest rise and fall, the tips of your finger twitching against the mattress as if sensing his presence, and your head buried into the pillow on his side of the bed. slowly but surely he made his way to you, his own breathing light, for he feared that even the softest breaths would awaken you from such a peaceful slumber.
he was so sure that you were fast asleep, thus fueling his desire to unleash a proclamation he had hidden deep within the crevices of his heart and soul. sakusa leaned down against your ear, his voice, albeit raspy and a little too loud, whispering, “i love you.” nothing could have prepared him for your sleepy reciprocation.
𝜗𝜚 ushijima wakatoshi
on a warm summer day, ushijima found himself lounging with you on the couch, his legs entangled in yours and your gaze not on him, but rather, the book in your hands. he didn’t mind — he considered the scenario quite peaceful.
the look on his face said otherwise. his stare trailed far off into nowhere and his lips were cast into a small frown. his brows were furrowed ever so slightly, all evidence of some sort of frustration or concern. he didn’t notice the tenseness in his features for a while, until you pointed it out.
“what’s got you so worried, toshi?” your worrisome tone made his chest feel light, the wings of butterflies tapping against his ribcage. he adored how concerned you were; he thought that to receive such undivided affection was to be receive the highest blessing of all.
“i love you, that’s all,” he blurted out, as if it were a mention of the weather or a discussion of recent events. but it was not. you jumped from your spot and leaned towards your lover.
“you- you what?”
ushijima cleared his throat, his embarrassment evident. “i said i love you.”
if it were to witness the child-like grin that overcame your lips once more, he would express his love for you again and again.
𝜗𝜚 akaashi keiji
akaashi ushered you into his car, paying mind to the stumble in your movements as you crawled onto his passenger seat. the scent of alcohol hung heavy on your skin. you were far too delirious to function on your own, he realized.
gingerly, he removed your heels from your feet and massaged the blistered skin before making a mental note to bandage it when you got home. he then removed his jacket from his shoulders and blanketed it on top of you, as if tucking you in for bed. with a content sigh, he made his way to the driver’s seat.
akaashi would be lying if he said he didn’t find your sleepy state cute. you had just ended your “girl’s night out” — he had promised to pick you up at exactly 10 PM, and that is exactly what he did. what he hadn’t expected was this — you, nearly unconscious in his car, with little to no energy to even move a limb nor form a sentence.
he glanced over at you, his heart beating faster than usual. his voice barely carried itself into the wind as he whispered a small “i love you” onto your forehead before pressing a delicate kiss. perhaps he’d find the courage to say it to your face some other day — for now, this was enough.
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eggyrocks · 3 days
Text
𖦹track twenty-one: anything𖦹
m.list
kuroo doesn't want to see her.
he's mad. he thinks about her and it's awful, the feeling that he gets. it's this anger that locks in his jaw and tenses his muscles and it is an aching in the hollows of his chest that pricks at his eyes and constricts his throat.
he's mad at her. every day she doesn't talk to him, it gets worse.
kuroo thought that maybe he was getting to know her better. he thought that maybe that he was starting to understand her, unlocking parts of her reserved only for those who earned it.
he thought that maybe he had earned it. he thought that maybe there was something different about the way she looked at him. he thought that when her hands intertwined behind his neck and she pulled him into her, that was it.
kuroo hates being wrong. he hates feeling stupid. he hates this gash in his chest. he hates that she made him feel this way and so he doesn’t want to see her. he doesn’t want to give her the opportunity to change things, at this point.
but he's pushing through crowds of drunken, sweaty people at a bar, and looking for any sign of her. because he can't really stop himself, because there is still some wounded part of him that is still hoping she might want him. and really, he's still oddly possessed by this urge to give her whatever it is she wants.
the first thing that goes wrong is that she doesn't answer her phone. he tries to call her, get her to meet him outside so they can talk free of the swarms of people and their echoing conversations but it goes straight to voicemail, and suddenly kuroo doesn't have a voice to say anything with.
second, when he finds her, tucked into a dimly lit corner of the bar, hidden from everyone else there and still coated in a sheen of sweat from her band's set, he sees she's not alone. there's someone unfamiliar there with her, a male frame leaning over her, caging her into the corner of the room.
something ugly beats in kuroo's chest at the sight. his first thought is something resentful and jealous and petty, and it's only cut off when he can see the look in her eyes, discomfort and ease clear as the sneer she wears. the stranger reaches up and places a hand on her arm, and she jerks away from his touch.
and that's the third thing that goes wrong.
something snaps in his gut, and his feet are carrying him towards her before he can really even process a fully formed thought. it's on instinct that a hand wraps harshly around the back of the stranger's collar and yanks him backwards. kuroo can't stop himself as he steps in front of her, placing his body between her and him.
it's just instinct.
maybe kuroo used a bit more force than needed, because the stranger hits the ground hard. he can hear it over the hum of the bar, and even more clearly, he can hear her soft whisper of, 'holy shit,' as the stranger hits the floor.
"what the fuck, man?" the stranger questions, stumbling to his feet and then quickly straightening out to size kuroo up, and then taking a step back once he does.
kuroo jerks his chin back towards the general direction of the crowd, "fuck off," he instructs, firm and bold, trying not to think of her, standing directly behind him, watching the scene unfold over his shoulder.
as if hung up by his own disbelief, the stranger stares on for just a moment before shaking his head, and turning on his heel, returning to disappear into the crowd. but not before he tosses up a pointed, deliberate middle finger in kuroo's direction.
and then it's just the two of them. tucked into the corner. and kuroo has to act before he loses his nerve. without looking at her, kuroo reaches out and grabs her by the wrist, dragging her along as he storms towards the back door of the bar.
she follows with no resistance.
it's not quite raining once they get outside. when kuroo drags her into the alleyway and turns to face her for the first time a week, there's a mist of rain that delicately fills the air between them. it almost blurs her, makes her look soft.
kuroo releases her wrist and takes a step back. "why'd you sleep with me?"
the question seems to catch her off guard. she gapes for a moment, mouth hanging slightly open like she's expecting some sort of answer to just fall from it. "i-i'm sorry," is all she manages to say.
kuroo blinks at her, desperate for her to say something more. "that's not an answer," he presses, patience torn in his voice.
i'm not good at this was the warning she had given him. he can see it now as she squirms under the pressure, hands knotting together and eyes dancing to avoid contact. she's not good at this. it looks like the words are choking her on the way out. "it's complicated, i'm complicated."
this isn't like her. for as long as kuroo has known her she has been bold and confident and sure. unbothered. it's not like her to blindly follow someone that drags her by the wrist. it's not like her to wear her discomfort on her expression like this.
it waters him down a bit. it cools his rage, to see her struggle. "tell me the truth. i just wanna understand."
it's not necessarily true. kuroo wants more than to understand. he wants go back and have it mean something. he wants her to be his, to have been his since the second his lips left deep purple marks on her skin.
she takes a deep breath, trying to steady the shaking of her voice and the trembling of her hands. "i'm still getting over a lot of things that have happened to me," she says, delicately, eyes fixed on her feet. "i do a lot of things i don't understand. i hurt people on purpose and i don't know why."
kuroo watches her breathing. her shoulders are slow to rise and slow to fall. it's methodical, the way she controls her breath. fixating on it keeps his head level. she raises her head, resting it back on the brick wall behind her. "my dad left when i was a kid. i didn't have anyone but my mom. and when you're raised like someone like that, you come out wrong. you do things wrong and the way you think is wrong."
she tilts her chin down, and finally looks at kuroo. her eyes met his, and his breathing hitches in his throat. "i slept with you because i like you a lot, and when my mom showed up it reminded me that i came out wrong. and i got scared, because i knew you'd figure it out sooner or later. so i hurt you on purpose so you wouldn't hurt me. and i'm sorry."
it's jarring, to hear her to admit it. kuroo flinches when she does. and he looks at her, her tensed shoulders and wide, wet eyes, and curses himself.
this is why he didn't want to see her. because he knew once he did, that the anger would dissipate like this, steaming off and evaporating into the mist.
he takes one, long step towards her and gentle reaches for her arm, pulling her into his chest, and she falls forward, letting him take hold of her. his arms snake around her back, holding her firmly in place, and she nuzzle her cheek into his chest, arms circling around his waist. "you're such an idiot," he says into her hair.
"i know," she mumbles into the fabric of his shirt.
"i've wanted you since i first saw you," he tells her, feeling more emboldened now that she's leaning into his embrace. "i'm not about to get scared off. i'm not about to change my mind."
he can feel her heartbeat hammer in her chest, it's erratic and fast and it increases the speed of his own. "i'll do something like this again, probably. i'll mess up. i'll do something else stupid."
kuroo figures that if that's the price he'll have to pay to keep her here, with him, in his arms, away from the people who want to use her and make her feel disposable, he'll pay it gladly. he places a kiss on the top of her head. "i don't care."
an: hmmmm. okay. idk. hmmm.
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cottonlemonade · 2 days
Text
How You Met
word count: 927 || avg. reading time: 4 mins.
pairing: post time-skip Kita x chubby!Reader
genre: fluff
warnings: youths
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Kita pulled out his phone to take the obligatory picture of the first cherry blossoms of the year, angling the camera against the light of a street lamp for effect and ducking his shoulders against a brisk breeze that rocked the branches back and forth as if grabbed by an invisible hand. Pink petals fluttered through the air like snow and he took a deep breath, closing his eyes, listening intently to faint sounds of the city in the distance. When he opened his eyes again he spotted you and his heart gave a little jolt.
The first time he had seen you was around mid February when Atsumu and his then new girlfriend just started dating and were making good use of the friendly neighborhood taxi service. (Atsumu’s reckless driving had led to yet another suspension of his license so after promising Kita to help him out at the farm on his days off for a month, Kita agreed to drive him twice a week.)
One night, as he was picking up the lust-driven delinquent, his phone buzzed with a notification about a flash sale happening at a nearby boba store he liked. Seeing as he had already spent 20 minutes in the car, fruitlessly waiting for the new couple to wrap things up upstairs, he decided to take the short walk to quickly collect the promised deal and that’s when he saw you - your cute full cheeks cuddled into a thick scarf and puffy coat collar, waiting in line along with another dozen or so people. Once the boba and free snacks were retrieved, he and you met eyes for a moment. You tilted your head ever so slightly and gave a small curious smile before bowing and leaving.
After that you had run into each other every so often at that little park, sometimes over another sale at a food store of some kind, sometimes just because you were both taking a stroll in the crisp night air (one of you more voluntarily than the other) and over the following few weeks he realized he didn't seem to mind driving his former teammate all over town anymore - even going as far as to suggest additional visits to his girlfriend or to grab dinner at a restaurant in that neighborhood. Atsumu, while suspiciously squinting at him from the passenger seat every time, didn’t say anything.
Tonight it looked like you were coming from grocery shopping, readjusting a bag weighing heavy in your hand while trying to keep your purse from slipping off your shoulder. Your steps slowed for a second when you saw him standing there, his phone still in hand, blatantly staring at you and you smiled, giving the small wave that passed between you two as a routine greeting by now.
He swallowed and made his way towards you, ready to offer help carrying the bag when a lot of things happened very quickly. A group of teens dashed by on their bikes, not bothering to alert you of their presence, driving past so narrowly you were pushed from left to right, stumbling a little. He shouted after the boys to apologize but they just laughed and drove on. Kita turned around to you who looked shocked but unharmed and began to walk again when a last straggler from the group came racing along the pathway and knocked you to the ground, calling for his friends to wait.
Kita jogged over and knelt at your side.
“Are you alright?”, he asked, hesitating for a second, before grabbing your elbow, carefully pulling you to your feet. Your hands and knees were scraped, your bag torn. You nodded and he helped you to a nearby bench to sit down before swiftly gathering the scattered groceries, some beyond saving as the boys had driven over them, like splattered grapes and a split carton of milk.
“Thank you very much.”, you said and tried to shake strands of hair out of your face, unable to use your shivering hands.
Without thinking he raised his own to brush it back for you, his mouth feeling very dry when your eyes met.
After an impossibly long moment he cleared his throat and told you to stay put while he would head to the pharmacy around the corner and before you could stop him, he was on his way. You looked down at your ripped jeans - now more ripped and dirtied by the fall - and grimaced.
When he returned he knelt in front of you again, tearing open the bag of disinfectant wipes and after checking with you that he wasn't overstepping, began cleaning your knees and hands, reassuring you and careful he didn't touch you more than necessary, put plasters on the now cleaned cuts.
“Thank you.”, you said again and took the arm he had offered you to get up.
He held out a new bag he had gotten from the pharmacy in which he had stacked the few unscathed groceries and you accepted it with a bow.
You both stood there for a while, neither really knowing what to do next.
"Sorry for all the trouble.", you said finally and he looked at you, kneading your fingers, looking anywhere but at him and he saw a distinct blush creeping into your cheeks. You were even prettier up close.
"Don’t worry about it.", he said simply when his brain started to work again. A pleasant shiver trickled down your spine at his calm soft voice.
"Could I… invite you for some coffee tomorrow? As a Thank You."
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a/n: I wanted this to feel like the most cliched romance anime/kdrama meet cute imaginable.
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dira333 · 3 days
Text
Carpe Puella - Kuroo x Reader
For the lovely @misfit-megumi because she asked so nicely. I hope you're feeling as lovely as you are!!!
A/N: Convenience store romance, pure fluff
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Coffee. You need coffee. And maybe some solid food to go with that liquid lifesaver, because your stomach lining is holding on for dear life.
The doors to the Konbini swish open. You put your phone away, your fingers already itching to get back to it. Installing your work email on your mobile device has simultaneously been your best and worst decision to date. You can get so much more done. But you can also get so much more done!
“Good evening,” an elderly woman greets you. You nod and smile at her. Right. You’re taking a break. Focus on the real world.
You pay for a can of iced coffee, crack it open, and take the first sip as you trudge through the store. Do you want some ice cream? Some cake? Or rather something savory?
You spot the Buldak Carbonara easily, drawn toward its inviting Logo. Your hand reaches out to take it, but someone else seems to have the same thought, your hand knocking into theirs.
“Oh,” you both say. You blink up and up and up. The guy’s tall, dark-haired, and extremely handsome. As well as beyond exhausted. He blinks tiredly back at you. 
“Long day at work?” You ask, because he looks like you feel. He nods. His eyes flicker to the can of coffee in your hand and his sudden envy is almost palpable. You offer him the can before you can fully think it through.
“Want a sip?” You ask, surprised when he takes it. His hand is warm against yours, the chill of the drink having seeped into your skin. 
His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows and your eyes are drawn to it, the milky skin above the creamy white of his shirt, the dark red of his tie. 
“Thank you.” He looks down at the can and his face turns almost sheepish. “I think I emptied it.”
“Buy me another one?” 
-
His name is Kuroo. He’s tall, even when he’s sitting next to you at the little self-serve bar, waiting for his own bowl of Buldak Carbonara to cool down. 
“What do you do for work?” He asks, slowly sipping from a new can of iced coffee. You're still twirling yours in your hands, suddenly too aware of the way your hair must look after hours of work or the fact that you didn’t have time to put make-up on this morning. You don’t know what got into you to talk to him like that. You’re not usually this forward, which explains your status of being a long-time single.
“I work for as an agent for the JSA,” you tell him, ready to launch into the usual explanation of what that abbreviation means. Instead, his head shoots up, his ridiculously attractive hair bobbing with the motion.
“JSA as in Japanese Soccer Association?” 
You blink. “You know them?”
Kuroo grins and it transforms his features, turning him from being dark, mysterious, and attractive into warm, boyish, and even more attractive. Damn your heart that stutters to a halt.
“I work for the JVA.”
You can’t help but laugh. “You’re kidding.”
“Never.” He draws a cross over his heart to emphasize before he leans in. “How did you get into Soccer?”
“My dad taught me when I was younger. He trained our Middle School team. You?”
His smile turns softer. You can almost feel how it must be for him, diving into the past.
“My dad played with me when I was a kid. And when we moved in with my grandparents, it helped me form a friendship that lasts to this day. I know it’s hard to believe but I was rather shy as a kid.”
You feel your own lips tugging upward. It’s hard to stay in a bad mood around him, it seems.
“Does Yahito-san still work for you?” You ask, dragging your chopsticks through the thickened sauce. 
“No, she left a few months ago. Maternity leave.” He digs his own chopsticks in.
“Oh? How lovely!” 
-
“This was nice,” Kuroo says, the doors of the Konbini closing behind you.
“It was.”
His number is saved in your phone and vice versa.
Inside, this had felt like something, like a moment meant to be remembered. Just like before a goal, the air had visibly shifted. But there had been no kiss, no hug, nothing but a promise to try and keep in touch.
And now, outside on the streets, your life is pulling you in again. Your phone is vibrating in your pocket. Pretty sure it’s Ego, the new Blue Lock Project is coming along nicely, almost all 300 female Strikers have been assembled. Tomorrow, Kuroo will probably be nothing but a fond memory. Someone who could have been more, but never will be.
That thought drops heavy into your stomach. You stretch out your arm and offer him your hand to shake. You won’t be able to handle a hug now, not when you know that nothing is going to come out of this anyway.
“Until we meet again,” you tell him and make sure to smile. His own smile falters but he shakes your hand, the pressure firm and reassuring.
Not even five minutes later you’re walking down the street, eyes on the sidewalk as if you’re trying not to trip. Instead, you’re forcing yourself not to turn back around.
Your phone vibrates again and you pull it out, hoping for once that it’s a call from Ego or Anri, something to keep your mind occupied.
Instead, it’s Kuroo who’s calling.
You pick up and turn around, but the sidewalk is rather crowded and you can’t make him out anywhere.
“Did you forget something?”
“Yeah.” His voice is a little breathless. “Do you want to go see a movie?”
“N-Now?” You chide yourself right away. He probably thought about sometime next week.
“Yeah.” You can hear the grin in his voice, can picture it perfectly in your mind���s eye. “Don’t move, I can already see you.” 
And just like that, he slips out from between two strangers, dark hair crowning his proud grin and the twinkle in his eyes.
“Hi!” He breathes, phone still pressed to his ear. “Do you know the term ‘Carpe Diem’?”
“Not on the top of my head, no.”
“It means seize the day. And I suppose I’m doing just that. Or, more correctly, I’m doing Carpe Puella.”
“And that would be?” You can feel your heart bubbling in your throat. This isn’t what you expected, not something you could ever dream of happening. But he’s here and he’s grinning from one ear to the other, fondness warming his dark eyes. 
“To seize the girl.” 
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emmyrosee · 3 days
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Suguwara with 8!!!
8 with sugawara… confessions 🥺🫶🏻
He stands in front of your locker for a concerning amount of time, fiddling with the note in his hand as he ponders the pros and cons of confessing to you.
Pro: you’ll say yes.
Con: you’ll say no, laugh at him, dump your milk on his head and walk away with no regard.
Koushi doesn’t know if he should risk it. After all, you have known each other for years, who would he be to ruin such a stable friendship with feeling that may or may not be reciprocated?
“Koushi?” Your voice snaps him back to reality, and he fists his note in his hand sharply. “You’ve been standing in front of my locker for the past five minutes. Everything okay?”
He says nothing. His mouth feels cottony and dry, and when he tried to choke out words, they only come out as squeaks. His brain decides to shove the note at you, his cheeks blazing with nerves and his hands trembling as he holds it. You smile softly and take the folded note from him, unfolding it and flicking your eyes up at him.
“Koushi,” you begin, and he could throw up right now. This is it, the rejection, the heartbreak, the betrayal- “I know.”
You what. “You what?”
You snicker, “I know; Daichi told me.”
Traitor. Koushi sighs and scrubs his face with his hands, “I’m going to kill him.”
“Dont- he saved our friendship,” you say, smiling sweetly. “I thought you didn’t want to be friends anymore, with how you were avoiding me. I was so hurt, until he told me.”
He swallows thickly- you thought he didn’t want to be friends? That’s the last thing he wanted! Especially if it was hurting you, and-
“What’re you doing?”
“Reading the confession.”
“Dont!” He whines, making a mad dash for the letter, which you expertly flick out of his grip. “I didn’t know you knew, it’s so embarrassing!”
“It’s cute!” You giggle, avoiding his grabs. “Gotta kiss me if you want it back.” He tenses up and his cheeks blaze again, and you laugh and ruffle his hair, “I’m kidding. I’d be an asshole to pressure you into kissing me.”
He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and laughs, letting you pull him into a hug, your arms tossing around his neck. “I feel the same way, Koushi. I accept your confession.”
“You mean it?”
“Yes,” you snicker. “More than you know.”
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toorurs · 3 days
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i find myself running home to your sweet nothings. he doesn't remember the last time his body has felt a single ounce of comfort or tenderness. but here he is, his head resting on your lap as you softly comb through his disheveled hair and lightly massage his scalp. you're talking about your day, telling him that you spotted an adorable tortoiseshell cat, walking past a brand new café that just opened which you want to visit with him and whispering honeyed praises and sweet nothings into his ear, that sound like angelic chants to him. he's not sure if he's allowed to feel like this, to feel loved. because to love is to be vulnerable. perhaps that's why he wants to run away, escape and hide away. but he knows that such a scenario won't ever happen - it's unlikely. because at the end of the day he'll always find his way back to you. 
AVENTURINE, michael kaiser, rin itoshi, DAN HENG, SCARAMOUCHE, XIAO, kageyama tobio, ATSUSHI NAKAJIMA, dazai osamu, gojo satoru + your favs
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© TOORURS 2024. stealing, copying, translating, reposting my works on other platforms is not permitted.
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ghost-recs · 3 days
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Atsumu Fic Rec
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you're not the one by heartcondemned [ao3]
synopsis: stuck in the friendzone with suna, you have the brilliant idea of fake dating one of his best friends - miya atsumu.
i started this looking for a good suna x reader fic, but was utterly pulverized by astumu... i'm not complaining tho (option to choose either atsumu or suna at the end)!
ghost rating: 10/10
msby black jackels online! by mooshys [ao3]
@mooshys
synopsis: the crazy things that atsumu the msby black jackels want to post on their socials and the things they atsumu put you through.
mostly a good laugh and scenarios that imagine what it would be like interacting with the msby black jackels, turns into something a little more.
ghost rating: 9/10
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fuyuluvr · 3 days
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1:33am — kozume kenma
note: timeskip!
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“i’m home!” the door of you and kenma’s home opened with a loud sound as your husband came staggering through the door with kuroo and yaku supporting either side of him. 
you walked downstairs and looked at the scene in disbelief. just how much did he drink? 
“ah, (y/n). kenma went over a little past his limit.” you only raised an eyebrow at kuroo’s statement
a little, really? kenma perked up when kuroo said your name, a hazy smile on his face. 
“(y/n)..” your boyfriend drawled out, reaching forward and escaping his former schoolmates’ hold on him. the sudden motion caused him to lose balance, making him land on the hard floor with a dull thud. 
with a big sigh, you looked at kuroo and yaku who were a little less drunk than the two toned male before thanking them. “i’ll take it from here.” the two nodded at your words, obviously out of their minds as they staggered outside the door with kai waiting for them. 
“ow, it hurts...” kenma whined from where he was lying down, his forehead was still connected to the floor. you made him turn around and you bit back laughter after seeing a red mark on the middle of his forehead. 
“kenma, get up.” you say gently, trying to help elevate his heavy and intoxicated body. 
“it hurts right here...” he pouts, pointing at his nose. you wanted to scoff at the child your boyfriend was acting like right now, but you needed to at the very least make him stand up.
“if you stand up, then i’ll make it go away~” at this point it felt like you were talking to a child, at the way that he pouted and whined at you.
“no… i’ll be better when you kiss me.” you blinked owlishly at his response, knowing the sober kenma would never say that upright.
“kenma, stop being ridiculous. stand up and let’s get you cleaned up.” 
“if you kiss me, i’ll stand up by myself.” he gave you a dopey smile, thinking that he was witty with his compromise. “hey~!” he drawled out, tugging on your sleeve. “if you don’t hurry up, i’ll freeze here and get sick.” his eyes still were not in focus as he said this. 
“hey… there… hurry up!” you still resisted, the pout was deepening every passing moment. you weighed out the pros and cons of kissing your drunk boyfriend. 
you didn’t get to dwell on your thoughts too much as you felt kenma tug at your sleeve sharply, you fell into his chest as he sat up and latched his lips to your own. 
his kiss was sloppy, you can taste the alcohol that he drank earlier. his eyes were closed as he pushed his tongue deeper in your throat, you closed your eyes and let him dominate the kiss. soft moans tumbled carelessly from your boyfriend as he pressed you closer
after a few seconds of swapping saliva, you pulled away. kenma smiled, eyes still closed as he placed his head on your shoulder. 
“hehe… i’m so happy.” he said, eyes opening and running a hand on your features. you smiled at him before standing up and holding out a hand. 
“mm, you got what you wanted. now let’s get you cleaned up.” he shakily stood up, leaning on you for more support. you pecked the side of his forehead as the two of you made your way to the bathroom. 
“(y/n)...” he whined, you hummed a response. 
“i love you.” you smiled and looked at him through the mirror, his eyes filled with unfiltered love. he was smiling hazily at you as you began washing his face. 
“i love you too.”
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note: idk drunk kenma is so cute how could u not want to give him a lil kiss???
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