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palbabor-writes · 3 years

Text

Latibule pt. ii

Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, kinda heavy petting? we still going slow up in this ride, adult language, eventual SMUT, oh & Kiyoomi being a blunt asshole

Words: 12,880

His usual spot at the cafe is taken, and he’s already decided to keep walking on, but somehow, somehow, he manages to catch your eye.

His feet are slowing, a stuttering breath stagnating in his lungs, all at once hopeful and bewildered, but before he can examine his fluttering emotions, you’re alongside him on the noisy sidewalk, passing him his usual evening drink, a pleased smile on your soft lips.

Suddenly, the world smells like velvety pine and heady bergamot, and he can’t stop staring down at you.

Notes: me: try to keep it at 7,000 words, also me: what’s a word count?

i owe my life to @wickedfaerytale & @albinoburrito for their edits and suggestions on this monster. i love you both & appreciate you to the moon and back.

Latibule

pt. ii: Four Set

a high set to the strong side/outside hitter

[ pt. i: an opening ] ||

[ You: 4:35pm ]

Hey! It’s me– from the coffee shop. Wanted to see if you were busy this evening? Maybe we can meet up when I get off?

[ Sakusa: 5:02pm ]

I know. Sure.

[ You: 6:21pm ]

Great! I’m off at 9:30. Want to meet at the shop?

[ Sakusa: 7:10pm ]

Read at 7:10pm

“Is he coming?” Kane asks, following you out of the coffee shop and pausing under the shallow awning, twisting his head, watching your back as you turn the key in the door. You tug against the handle, testing the hold, your hands heavy against the cool metal.

“I don’t know,” you sigh, eyes peering into the darkened depths of the cafe lobby. “It says he read the last text, but he didn’t respond. He’s likely busy. I have no idea how long they practice; he’s a professional athlete, and after seeing that game...well, I can only imagine how intense his training schedule is. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone move like that before it was so fluid, like watching quicksilver.”

“Eh? Quicksilver? What is this, a poetry slam? Who describes people like that? Still, I bet he does, like, 20,000 sit-ups a day. You can tell, even under that baggy jacket, that he’s crazy fit,” Kane ruminates, leaning against one of the stacked sets of metal chairs. “Damn. It’s kinda crazy to think about, you know? You and a hot pro athlete going out on a date.”

You huff out a laugh and give him a playful scowl. “Ugh, shut up, you’re so rude, Kane. And I wouldn’t say it’s a ‘date.’ We just exchanged numbers. That’s all.”

“Oh? I’m sorry. You’re totally right. All those googly eyes must have happened with someone else. Definitely not you and that six-foot monster of a man. I mean, usually the guy just sits at his seat and ignores us, watching those videos on his computer and taking his notes, or he gets his coffee and is on his way, but today he was practically sitting on the hand off plane, and staring at you.

Don’t gimme that face! You know I’m right. And–awe, look at you! So bashful! Oooh, you like him, don’t you? That’s so cute! Come on (Y/N), that’s so––ow!”

“Didn’t you say you had a paper to write?” you grumble, shoving your knuckles against his shoulder again. “There was so much whining from you tonight. Way worse than usual. So many, ‘hurry up, (Y/N)! I need to get home. What if this makes me bomb my paper! What if I fail the class because of this?’ What happened to all that? Huh? Suddenly you’ve got time to suss’ me out on the sidewalk?”

“Yow! So touchy! And this is totally workplace harassment, ya’ know! Jeez, that’s a mean right hook you’ve got. You didn’t even warn me! Eee, I’m gonna be bruised tomorrow!”

“Oh, shut up. You completely deserved that. Now go away and go finish your paper, you soon to be fail––”

“You said 9:30, right?”

The sound of Sakusa’s low voice startles you and you spring away from Kane, head whipping around and eyes wide. He’s standing a few feet behind the two of you, his shoulders curved into their usual hunch, eyes dark behind his fringe of curls. Under his golden jacket, a crisp white shirt is stretched across his broad chest, the bottom tucked carefully into the front of his jeans, and his MSBY bag is hanging against his back. His onyx hair looks heavy and you can see some lingering moisture, no doubt from a recent shower, glistening against the raven waves.

“Hey!” you call, unable to bite back the elated grin that’s suddenly curving the edges of your lips. Kane is right about one thing, you think, stepping closer to Sakusa’s stiff form. This is kinda surreal. “We just finished closing up. Uh, this is Kane,” you wince, gesturing to the smirking face of your coworker.

Shit. Stop it. You sound like an idiot. He knows who Kane is. You’ve seen them talking at the register before, but the rambling introduction keeps tumbling out of you. “He works here. He’s usually at the register, he’s learning, um, the bar and–uh. I don’t know why I’m telling you this, you’ve seen him before, uh, probably...definitely...ha, but, er–”

“And that’s my cue,” Kane chuckles, shaking his head at your janky attempts to introduce him properly to a man that he’s known, in passing, for over a year. “Nice seeing you Sakusa-sama,” he bows, tossing you a cheeky wink from his polite curve, “you guys have fun.” And with that, he’s gone, leaving you and the impassive Sakusa alone on the empty street.

A hushed quiet falls over the two of you as you adjust the straps of your purse, eyes lowered. Stop freaking out, you chide yourself, taking a deep inhale of air into your lungs, fingers padding aimlessly over the leather slings of your bag. Just talk with him. It’s always easier when you ask the questions first, since he’s not much of a talker. So ask him about something he can answer.

Volleyball. Yeah, ask him about that. It’s not exactly a groundbreaking conversation starter, but it will work.

Strategy set, confidence mounting, you open your mouth.

“So, how did your practice–” “How was your day–”

He speaks when you do, and the two of you clatter directly into each other, words smattering into nothingness as you both fumble into an uneasy silence again.

Hopeless, you’re both hopeless. It’s kinda funny, in a horrifically awkward way.

“Uh,” you grin, eyes finally lifting to his. “You first?”

The gentle thud of his heart echoes against his ears and his breath is hot under the cover of his mask. You’re so close. If he wanted to, he could reach out and touch you, could drop his hand from his pocket and let it slip into yours again. That thought makes his palms feel itchy, and he scrapes his nails down the skin, easing the ache.

Not yet.

He watches you as you shake your head, a glowing smile breaking across your lips. You’re not just pretty, he thinks, unconsciously drifting closer, you’re captivating. It’s like you’re some kinda homing beacon.

He’s a cautious guy, always has been. But something about you makes him want to blindly reach, to be nearer to you.

“Practice was fine. Where did you want to go?” he murmurs, fingers lifting, tugging his mask down his face.

He wants to kiss you.

It’s been on his mind all day, through the training, through the practice games, hovering over him, shrouding him with the foggy remembrance of the pressure of your lips. He’d fucked your first one up and he wants to try again, to do better. But it’s different when you’re expecting it, when he can see your gaze following the downward pull of his hand, your eyes hooded and watchful as he reveals the lower portion of his face to you. When you bite your lip into your mouth, teeth pressing before slowly letting the plump flesh spring free again, he nearly groans aloud.

He wonders if you’ll let him do it, let him kiss you, and that thought makes him feel lightheaded. You’re so close––No, he gulps, jaw clenching and shoulders straightening, his back arching upward and right foot jerking a step, pulling away from your tempting openness. It’s too much, it’s too soon.

Just wait, he reminds himself, be patient. Not now, not yet.

You notice his shift and look up at him curiously, popping your weight onto your other leg, one hand braced against your hip, but you still smile up at him, acknowledging his unspoken cues for distance. “Well, I was going to see if you wanted to get a drink.”

“I don’t like bars,” he blurts.

Your eyes widen and you suck a sharp breath into your lungs, lips falling into a half-formed ‘oh.’

No. He didn’t mean it like––Damn it.

Kiyoomi flinches, nose wrinkling and mouth pulling into a thin line. He’s not good at this.

“Mm, well, this is less of a bar and more like a gastropub. It’s small, laid-back. Plus, it’s a Tuesday night, they’re gonna be slow, and if they’re not, we can leave and try something else...”

“It’s fine,” he rectifies sharply. Again, he sounds too harsh. “I don’t care about any of that. If it’s slow or not. If you want to go, we’ll go. I didn’t...I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“Don’t worry about it. Besides, I didn’t think it was rude.”

Kiyoomi jerks his chin up, his mouth pressing into a pursed frown, peering skeptically at you, eyes narrowed. You let out a laughed exhale and tilt your head, quickly shrugging your shoulders, attempting to mollify his mistrustful stare. “I mean it!” you insist, waving your hand. “I’ll take someone who’s blunt any day of the week. It’s exhausting trying to read people who are good at hiding behind smiles, or false facades. You always know where you stand when someone is straightforward. Seriously,” you continue, grinning up at his abashed expression, “it doesn’t bother me. Be yourself. Besides, I like it. It kinda makes me jealous…”

“Jealous?” Kiyoomi echoes, watching you step past him and down the darkened street. His heart is beating out that uneven tattoo again, and it feels like he can’t catch his breath. What do you mean, ‘you like his bluntness’? No one’s ever told him that. No one’s ever told him to ‘be himself’ either. And, as if that wasn’t enough for him to chew on, now you’re casually saying that you’re jealous of his unapologetic retorts. It doesn’t make any sense.

“Sure,” you nod, slowing your footfalls, letting him catch up with you as you stride down the sidewalk. “I always lean on the polite side of things, likely because I’ve spent too many years in customer service, haha. So it’s refreshing to hear someone just speak their mind. Besides, you don’t strike me as someone who’s careless with what they say to others; you’re candid, but careful, you just don’t mince your words. Nothing wrong with that. Anyway, I’m babbling, again. Looks like you kinda have that effect on me, huh?”

His lips quirk at your admission and he steps a little closer, the fabric of his jacket wicking across your clothed arm as he matches your pace. “Is it far?” he asks after a time, watching as the lights of the main street twinkle between the lumbering edges of the buildings.

“Not much farther. But you might wanna put your mask up, we’ll go past the cross street and that area is always a little busy this time of night.”

[ Damn. That’s––The fact that that thought would even cross your mind–– ]

His hand is out of his pocket before he can blink, seeking the soft warmth of your curled fingers, cupping over your knuckles as he heeds your advice with his other, tugging his mask up and pinching it securely over the bridge of his nose. He can feel your eyes on him, but he doesn’t pause, doesn’t look down. He likely should have asked. After all, he doesn’t know you that well. But you ease your digits against his, your thumb curling over the joint of his ring finger, and his lips twitch into a smile.

You greet the girl behind the hostess stand with a hug and a few other members of the staff walk up to the table that you select, big grins and booming voices calling out jovial ‘hello’s’ and ‘good to see you’s’.

“You come here a lot?” Kiyoomi inquires, slouching against the cushions of the booth, obsidian eyes peering around the space. The table is off to the side, tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the main dining area and bar, and is half covered by a glass wall that provides the two of you with an extra buffer of privacy. It’s an ideal spot, and he’s inwardly grateful that you’d chosen it.

“I used to work here,” you answer, lifting your purse onto your lap before fishing around for something within the depths of the leather. “I–ah! Here it is. I always lose stuff in here, it’s like a black hole, no matter how many times I organize it, it goes right back to being a mess. Price you pay when you have a big bag, I guess.” You lift a small bottle of hand sanitizer out and dollop some onto your palm. He blinks, following the rapid motions of your hands as you clean them off with the solution. That’s...nice. Nice feels like a strange word for this observation, but it’s true. You spy his gwaping expression and hold the bottle out, nodding your head at his coiled fingers. “Want some?”

“Thanks,” he rumbles, mimicking your motions as he eases the cold sanitizer against his chapped hands. “So you worked here?”

“Yeah! I did this and the coffee shop for a while. I was behind the bar, mostly. It was a good job, but when things picked up with my degree plan, I had to drop it.”

“Ah,” Kiyoomi hums, pulling his mask off and tucking it carefully into the pocket of his jacket. “That’s why you knew it wouldn’t be busy.”

“Yup! Tuesdays and Wednesdays are always slow. This is likely the busiest it will get. They have food here too, if you’re hungry. Got some good sushi and the agedashi tofu is one of the best in the city.”

“I already ate.” [ Shit. ]

“Ohh-kay. Well, I’m probably going to get something. They’ve got non-alcoholic drinks as well. Should be at the bottom of the menu.”

“I said I don’t like bars, not that I don’t drink.” [ Fuck. ]

“Fair enough,” you shrug, cocking your head at his clenched jaw and averted eyes. “You see anything you want?”

“Sorry,” Kiyoomi sighs, lifting the paper menu and scanning the side that lists the specials.

“I told you,” your voice is soft, and he glances up at you, glad to see that you’re still smiling happily at him, “I don’t mind. Tell you what, if you go too far I’ll let you know, sound good?” You stretch your hand toward him, bunching your fingers, except for your pinky, which is waiting, outstretched, and reaching toward him.

“What?” he asks, chin dipping and heavy brows furrowing as he eyes your hand suspiciously.

“Whaddya’ mean, ‘what?’ It’s a pinky promise. You’ve never done this before?”

“I’ve never done this before,” he deadpans, blinking slowly.

You guffaw and the burst of joyous sound makes him snicker too, his shoulders easing from that all too familiar hunch, his head ducking, the faint stain of a blush seeping over his cheeks. It’s just a laugh, he reasons, annoyed by his flushed skin and twitching fingers. Why is he getting worked up? He takes a second to refocus, but when he does, you’re still waiting for him, your pinky wiggling, blithely enticing him.

“It’s easy,” you promise. “You just hook your smallest finger with mine and we shake once on it and boom, that’s an unbreakable promise. And, well, if it kills you then I guess you’ll go down in a book of world records or something.”

Kiyoomi scoffs at your jab and lifts his arm onto the table, holding his pinky out, waiting for you to make the last move, rolling his eyes at your dramatically slow approach.

Your touch is gentle, finger ghosting over the middle joint of his pinky, curling slowly, teasingly, before it wraps around the width of his digit. Then you give him a quick squeeze, swiftly bobbing your joined fingers in a mock shake. It’s over in an instant, but you maintain the touch, gradually untwining your crooked digits. “Your fingers are long,” you observe, eyes catching his before traveling back to that lingering connection, distractedly easing your fingertip down the line of his hand and pausing against the base of his wrist.

It feels like his entire arm is electrified and a fine shiver of goose flesh breaks across his warm skin. His mouth is open, lips parted as he sucks in a shallow drag of air and he can’t stop staring, wholly enraptured by your flirtatious strokes. When your eyes rake upwards to playfully find his, that pleased smile soft against your lips, he thinks he might just lurch forward and grab you.

“There,” you beam before pulling away. “Now that that’s done, what are you gonna’ order?”

He lets you place your drink order first, saying he needs to keep looking, that it has been a while since he’s had a drink, and he’s never been all that sure of his preferences, anyway.

It’s an unexpected admission.

If there’s one thing that you’ve been relatively sure of, it’s that Sakusa is a man who doesn’t hesitate. In the two years that you’ve known him, granted from the other side of the counter of a coffee shop, he’s always known what he wants and is confident in his selections. He can rattle them off by rote, by flavor, by taste, by temperature, so seeing him this off balance, a little frazzled and out of his depth, is a bit of a surprise.

He’s not fidgety, his hands are resting placidly in his lap, feet evenly placed on the floor, but you can tell there’s an underlying thrum of agitation behind all those half ducked glances he keeps giving you, his obsidian eyes sharp, gleaming like flints each time they linger against you. He’d laughed once, before you’d squeezed his pinky with yours, and then promptly fallen back into that sullen silence, answering your questions with one word quips or hushed murmurs.

It made you feel guilty.

He said he hated bars, so maybe you should have taken that admission a little more seriously. But out of all the places the two of you could go, this late at night in downtown Osaka, you’d figured that this was likely the quietest, the one where he’d feel the most comfortable.

“So you’ve played with them for two years?” you ask, giving your server a quick thanks as they sit your drink down. “That’s impressive. But you said you went to school for four? That’s different. I bet most players skip college and go right for the pros, so why didn’t you do that?”

“Volleyball isn’t everything,” he answers, tone clipped, matter of fact, as he watches you take a sip of your drink, waiting for the clink of the ice and the gentle clatter of the glass as you set it back down on the table before he continues. “I’m not invincible. Someday I won’t be able to play. And it makes sense to have a backup, something that I can do later.”

You pop your chin into your upturned palm, lips resting against your curled fingers. “True. You’re very thorough, you know?”

Sakusa’s forehead creases, and those two perfectly stacked moles lower over his right eyebrow. “I like to do things properly, that’s all. It just feels right. To take things one step at a time. I do that with everything. I guess most see it as something repetitive, or monotonous, all those basic tasks that you do day in, day out, but I like it. And if you think of them as mindful tasks, rather than mindless, then you can get to that point where those little things become pleasure, instead of drudgery. I know that I’m not guaranteed anything, but, if I’m lucky, I’ll be able to go out, to leave volleyball, satisfied. Knowing I did my best.”

It sounds stupid to his ears, pompous, and as soon as he finishes his preamble, he lets out an inaudible sigh, teeth worrying against the soft flesh of the inside of his mouth. Damn it. Why did he say all that? What’s the point? You’d only asked him about college and here he is, rattling off his ideologies and distant thoughts. Why did he–

“That’s...that’s a cool way of looking at it.”

His jaw is gritted, his face covered by a sheen of impassive blankness. But he looks up when you say that. He wants to see you, even if it’s only to take in your bewildered amusement. But you’re not giving him some piteous smirk, no, you’re looking at him like he’s helped you solve a long awaited puzzle, and your face is filled with the softest, haziest glimmer of ardent happiness that he’s ever seen. Your smile broadens, and he looks away, fingers feeling blindly for the pulse in his lowered wrist.

His heart’s pounding.

How do you do that? Then, as he tries to steady his shaking breaths, you lean back, lifting your glass to your parted lips to take a quick sip, a distant look in your eyes.

“You know, I’ve never really thought about it that way, but you’re right. I always have so much trouble explaining that mindset to new hires. Like, how do you tell them that, yeah, while this seems like a stupid thing we have you do, to keep busy during the slow period of the day, it matters in the long run. Take our cleaning routines, if you don’t clean something, and clean it diligently, then the gunk and grime builds up, and it’s harder to get out later. Things harden, become set in their ways, and I guess the same thing can happen to the pros too. It seems like most don’t go to school. They just slip right into the sport–after all, if you’re good enough to make it onto a division ranked team right out of high school, then there you go, that’s your end goal, right?

But I like that you took the little steps, the ones that people ignore, or try to bypass. It’s another sort of preparedness, really. Others may not see it that way, might think of it as wasted time, but you did what felt right for you and I know it’ll pay off. It’s–oh! Sorry! I’m babbling again! Ha, God, I’m gonna stop, okay?”

“You don’t have to,” Kiyoomi utters, arms lifting from his lap, pressing against the smooth wood of the table, ignoring the racing of his heart. “I liked it. I’m glad that you...I liked it. Keep talking. I like hearing you talk. And, uh, can I try your drink? I know nothing about gin, or whiskey, or whatever that is. I usually just stick to beer and sake.”

You bite your lip, a soft chuckle falling between the two of you, and press two fingers bashfully against your nose, covering your giddy smile and pushing your drink forward, toward his open palms. “It’s kinda nice to know that I’m not the only one who’s flustered. Hmm, but here. If you don’t drink much, then you may not have had this before. Sorry if it’s strong. Also, I go for brown liquor, so it’s got rye for the base.”

“Rye’s a whiskey, right?” he asks, pushing the tiny black straw aside and taking a careful swig from the rim of the glass. It’s got a smooth flavor, almost like the caramel notes of his doppio con panna, but without that cloying sweetness that sometimes sits against the back of his tongue when he’s finished. Instead of the hum of sugar, there is only a shiver of bitterness and then the quick bite of the alcohol is gone, passing over his teeth and down his throat in a single gulp.

It’s good.

Better than he expected. And he passes the glass back, his fingers holding against the cool surface, waiting for yours. “I’ll get that,” he tells you, an impish smirk lifting his lips. “It’s perfect.”

After that-and a second round of drinks-the night went a little smoother. He did his best to not lapse into unsociable silences and you did just as he’d asked of you and kept talking.

You traded the basics, where you were born, talked about your family, your education, degrees, pets, and, slowly, the uncertainty simply faded away.

You were easy to talk with, impossibly so; always ready with another question, a congenial quip, or an antidote about your own life. Soon he was regaling you about his cousin, Motoya, the latest antics of his teammates, his hopes for the upcoming season, for the 2021 Olympics, for anything that he could think of, anything to keep you in that seat, to keep you chatting with him for just a little longer.

[ It’s late, but that doesn’t matter. Keep talking, ask her something else. ]

Is it supposed to feel like this?

He’s never really had a relationship; not when he was in high school or college, and any of his half-formed attractions always fizzled out before they ever really started. He was too busy, too one track minded to notice, [ to care ] to find the time [ to make the time. ]

It’s certainly not love, [ Tch. Love at first sight, who believes in stuff like that anyway, this isn’t some movie, plus he’s known you for years, so it’s not first sight either ] not yet, but there’s another feeling that’s laced within this humming excitement that keeps bubbling to the surface, that has him hanging onto every word that passes from your lips.

It’s want.

He wants more, greedily so, and he hasn’t experienced that feeling, outside of volleyball, in a long time.

“I’m not too far from here. I’ll just hop on the train and then be back in my district. Easy-peasy.”

Sakusa nods at your jovial reassurances, hoisting his track bag higher against his shoulder, following you toward the lights of the street. It’s late, later than he’s used to, and his eyes feel heavy. The lull of the alcohol isn’t helping either, so he shuffles closer, bumping unevenly against you every few steps. You twist your head toward him, a faint smile on your lips, eyeing his lumbering form skeptically. “Sure I don’t need to walk you to your station, Sakusa? You look dead on your feet. Sorry I kept you out so late.”

“You didn’t,” he sighs, his words rasping past a yawn. “I wanted to stay. I’ll regret it tomorrow. For now, I’m fine.”

“Pfft, okay, well, I’ll look forward to receiving your annoyed text about me keeping you out past your bedtime in the morning then.”

Huh? Text? You want him to text you in the morning? Can he do that? Be the first person you think of when your notification lights up your dark screen, the first one that you reply to. Shit. What–what does that mean?

Sakusa slows, his hand reaching for you.

He misses your arm and snags your purse instead, jerking the straps, and by association you, a little harder than he intended. [ Damn it. His coordination’s off. ] You stumble backwards, shoulders bracing against his broad chest, and you blink up at him. You lift your face, looking at him curiously. He’s already peering down, and the glow of the distant street-lamps makes the onyx of his irises morph from jet to a rich blue. For a long breath both of you simply stare, content to watch the other, waiting for some kind of advancement in this stalemate.

You cave first. “Um, you alright?”

“What are we?” he asks pointedly, large palms running up the sides of your arms, his head tilting, dropping raven curls over his brow.

“Friends?” you reply, but it feels more like a question than an answer and you let the word hang, unsure what else you can say, what else he wants to hear. You feel a bated breath leave his lungs. It dips you back as his chest falls, slipping you minutely closer even as his hands droop limply from the curve of your shoulders. His eyes shift from yours and his lips fade into a thin line as he steps away, letting you slip from his grasp. The air between you changes, hardening back into that early uncertainty, and by the time you turn to face him fully, his hands are re-tucked into his pockets and his slouch has returned.

“What’s wrong?”

You know, but you don’t want to assume. You’d warned him after all; you’re not good at being blunt.

He gives you a frank stare, dark brows creasing, furrowing his expression. “Friends means I can’t kiss you.”

For a moment you can’t feel your heart. You know it’s beating, still diligently pumping blood through your body, but as that declaration leaves his lips it’s like your entire world has narrowed. He wants to...how can he just say that? Just blurt out whatever comes into his head and not care what happens after. Where do you find confidence like that?

You flash your gaze upward and he’s still looking at you, his unmasked face open as he stares, dark eyes watchful, half veiled behind his lashes.

He waits. He’s good at that, you think, feeling a smile creep across your face as your tongue passes over the swell of your lower lip. He instantly tracks the movement and takes a shallow step forward. You can hear his fingers coiling and uncoiling inside of the slick lining of his pockets, but that simple, near silent admission of his nervousness makes up your mind.

“Well,” you begin, eyes lowering, easing closer, pressing until you can almost feel the heat of him against you. Your hands lift tentatively, passing over the flat, honed planes of his chest until they come to rest against the top of his stomach. His nostrils flare at the tempered stroke but the rest of him remains stock still, wholly rooted to the spot, listening, observing, a glimmer of distant hope cresting against the back of his mind.

[ Yes. Keep going. Don’t stop. ]

Then, those final, all important words are leaving you, cast into the air.

“I wouldn’t say that.”

Before you can look up at him, his hands are hovering beside your ears, the ghost of his touch urging you upward as he lowers himself over you.

His lips meet yours with a gentle tap and you can feel his unsteady exhale pass over your mouth as he allows himself to linger against you. It’s more like a press than a proper kiss, but you indulge him, gripping your impatient hands against the thin material of his jacket, giving him time to adjust. He’s featherlight, his lips scratchy, but the lubrication that your swiped tongue has left behind eases the touch and he gasps when you lift to meet him, your lips gliding over his.

Then he’s wavering; like he can’t decide.

He shifts away, only to return moments later, lips never fully leaving yours, caressing until you’re doggedly chasing after him, a poorly concealed groan slipping from your throat. He hums appreciatively at your enthusiasm and steps impossibly closer, his fingertips tapping under your jaw and down your neck.

On one of his shuddering pulls you slip your tongue over his lips, tracing the seam, wordlessly asking for him to deepen the kiss. The sound he makes in return is garbled, caught against his throat and lost in the shuffle of his hands, his breath, his want.

His arms are like steel cables as they twine around your waist, holding you to him as he finally opens, his teeth clattering against yours in his rush. You smile against his eagerness and pop onto the tips of your toes, hands releasing his jacket, sliding up his face before you let your fingers coil into his obsidian curls, your teeth nipping against his dampened lip. He lets out another hushed gasp, the flat of his palm warm against your shoulder blades as he urges you upward.

“You’re — mmm, you’re too tall, Sakusa,” you complain, finally easing away from his greedy kisses, and grinning when he follows.

“Kiyoomi,” he insists, hands cupping, thumbs tracing the edge of your jaw, dropping another kiss against your upturned lips. “Call me that. I want to hear it.”

You laugh and he huffs impatiently against you, brows folding into that deep crease. “Not joking,” he grumbles, lips and breath hot against yours, “I want to hear you say it.”

When you manage, at long last, to pull away from him again, your eyes bright, lips kiss shined and swollen, he knows this image of you will be etched into his mind for weeks to come. It’s perfect [ you’re perfect ] and all he can think about is that he wants so much more.

“Kiyoomi,” you call, head canted at his staggered expression, eyes glittering with fond amusement. “You’re kinda bossy, aren’t you?”

He scowls at your question and tugs you back, kissing you until your laugh fades away and his name comes a little easier.

[ You: 9:18am ]

You sure you want to go there? I don’t care if we do something else instead, your call.

[ Kiyoomi: 10:54am ]

Got the tickets. See you after your shift.

“Bringing your phone onto the court–ballsy move Omi,” Atsumu leers, dropping his bag beside Kiyoomi’s, a troublesome smirk on his face.

“Shut up,” Kiyoomi snaps, darkening the screen with a click and placing the device beside his trainers. “At least I know how to keep it hidden. And you’re the reason we’re banned from bringing them out here at all. You and your stupid snapchat stories.”

“Omi! Ya’ big jerk! Be quiet, ya’ know yer’ not supposed to mention that app where the coaches can–”

“Miya!” a booming voice calls from across the gym, “You better not be doing what I think you’re doing! If I catch you on that phone, you can expect to do a hundred serves at the end of this practice match! Got it?”

Kiyoomi scoffs, a lackadaisical grin ghosting over his lips as he neatly dodges Atsumu’s elbowed jab. “See? I’m not the problem here.”

“Such a jackass. It’s a miracle (Y/N) is even giving you the time of day.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kiyoomi bristles, heavy brows creasing.

“Means I don’t know what she sees in ya,’ you big dummy. Where you taking her this week?”

“Why do you care?”

“Damn it. Why do I bother? I mean really, am I some kinda masochistic or something? Yer’ terrible to talk with, but here I am, attempting some harmless small-talk. Cut a guy some slack, would ya’?”

“What are you talking about?” Kiyoomi stares, onyx eyes narrowing at Atusmu’s haggard expression.

“You! I’m just trying to have a conversation, you know, checking in, seeing how yer’ doing. Making sure you haven’t screwed things up yet. Ya’ know, being polite!” Atsumu glowers, golden hair falling over one umber eye as he flashes Kiyoomi a fixed glare.

“What would I screw up?”

Atsumu lets out a heavy sigh and shakes his head. “Tell you what, ask me that question again when you do, how’s that sound?”

“Miya–”

“Bringing your phone to practice, coming in late, or right before things kick off, yeah, you got it bad, don’t cha’? You better watch yer’self Omi.”

“The hell you talking about?” Kiyoomi sneers, chin lowering, steeling himself for one of Atsumu’s long-winded tangents.

“God, yer’ so dense, especially with shit that’s not volleyball. Come on, Omi, use your head. The coaches, the managers, they’re all gonna try and make you pick. That’s what they do. She’s a nice girl, and I’d hate to see her get caught up in all of that bullshit. Stop gaping at me like that! Like I’m not making any sense! I’m trying to look out for ya’! Not that you deserve it, being such a prickly asshole, and all...”

Kiyoomi sighs, lips pursing into a sharp point, his shoulders slumping forward, arms hanging limply against his sides. Fine, he’ll engage. Whatever. If it’ll get Atsumu to explain whatever the hell he’s talking about before the practice match, he reasons, then it’ll be worth it. “We’re going to the museum in Tennoji Park.”

Atsumu stares. “Damn. You agreed to go to a public park? In the daytime? That’s real big, if true.”

“I’ll serve every ball directly at the back of your head, don’t think I won’t.”

“Alright, alright,” the setter laughs, propping his hands against his hips. “Shocked yer’ not just staying close to that one restaurant. You seem like a, ‘this is what I like and I’m sticking to it’ kinda guy. Not one to branch out. You know, boring.”

“How do you know about the restaurant?”

“She told me about it?”

Kiyoomi curls his lip over his teeth. “When did she do that?”

“The other day, went by for a coffee.”

“Ugh,” he huffs, swinging one arm across his chest, stretching out the muscles of his biceps. “What else did she say?”

Atsumu grins, bracing his forearm against Kiyoomi’s shoulder, waggling his brows mischievously. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Fine. I’ll just ask her.”

“Ughhh, zero fun. That’s what you are. Tell me, ya’ got a mode that’s not: ‘Sakusa Kiyoomi, ‘the world’s most boring man’,” Atsumu groans, head dropping as he lets his body hang limply off of Kiyoomi’s stiffened form.

“Shut up. What we do isn’t your business anyway, so enough with the questions. You’re just poking your nose in shit that doesn’t concern you,” Kiyoomi accuses, shrugging Atsumu’s heavy arm off of his, glaring.

Atsumu straightens, a quiet scoff puffing between his smirked lips. “Fine. So touchy today. And you think this crap ain’t gonna bleed into your playing? Yer’ way–”

“Line up!” the assistant coach booms, silencing Atsumu’s bristled retort. Kiyoomi opts to hold his tongue, letting the setter pace away from him, eyes narrowing while sucking in a steadying breath before he follows.

Damn it. He got so caught up in––Atsumu never told him what he meant.

It’s early afternoon and the broad concrete pathways of the park are mostly empty. The spring flowers are in bloom and the ginkgo trees sway in the crisp breeze that dips in from the sea. It’s a beautiful day, but Kiyoomi can’t shake himself out of his head.

He’d stared dutifully at the portraits in the museum, read the placards that rested below the painted screens and pottery, and listened when you asked him questions, or answered his own. He shouldn’t be like this, he fumes, adjusting the ear straps of his mask as the two of you step out into the bright sunlight once more.

Who cares what Atsumu was trying to imply. It was vague and unhelpful; likely meant to get under his skin, something that–

“You alright?” Your voice shakes him out of his thoughts and he looks down at you, brows unknotting, eyes softening as they rake over your curious face.

“Yeah. Miya said something at practice that I’m having trouble forgetting.”

“Oh? What?”

He tells you, and it feels like some of the tension leaves his shoulders. It’s nice.

Usually he’s guarded, quiet. Sure, he’ll let others know what he’s thinking with little finesse, but that doesn’t mean they know the truth of what’s on his mind. This is different. With you it’s easy to disassemble, unexpectedly so. It’s only been a month since the two of you started seeing each other, but in that time he’s opened up more to you than he has to anyone, outside of his family, and he’s still not sure if he likes that.

[ That’s a lie. He likes it; he does. He’s just not used to it. ]

“Make you pick?” you ask, skimming your hand over the red railing of the bridge, head cocked thoughtfully to the side. “He actually said that?”

“Mentioned it. Like I said, Miya talks in circles. I usually just tune him out, but this felt...different.”

“Hmm,” you ponder, easily keeping up with his long strides, your body close to his. “Well, maybe he means they, the coaches that is, don’t want you to be distracted? I could see that. I mean, you are playing at an extremely high level and next year is the Olympics. Damn, it feels strange to say that. I know someone who’s playing in the Olympics…”

“I know that. And I’m not distracted,” his tone is clipped and his chin ducks, his side swept curls fanning over his left eye.

You look over at his tensed expression and puff out an exhale of air. “Well, maybe he’s just messing with you? You said he likes to do that.”

“Told you, this felt different.” The words are sharp, punctuated by his clenched jaw and the forward roll of his shoulders, and you suck your teeth softly, staring across the shimmering surface of the pond as the two of you cross the last stretch of the bridge. You’re on the back foot here, a little unsure of how to reassure him, but you can tell he wants to shake this off, so you press the issue, hoping it’ll help ease that stiff tension that’s building in his shoulders.

“Okay, it felt different. How so?”

The words come without hesitation. [ This isn’t normal for him, but it’s also so damn nice to know that he can be this comfortable with someone. ] “Miya usually babbles. Goes on and on about the most inane things. But he also loves to chatter about his reasoning, and this time he didn’t. Instead of answering my question, he gave me that shitty smirk and changed the subject to something he knew would distract me––why else would he say he’d gone by the coffee shop?”

“I mean, I don’t know him as well as you do, but he seems like the kinda guy who likes to provoke–to see if he can get a reaction out of you and...I know it’s not much of a reason, but maybe that’s all that it was?”

Kiyoomi gives you a curt nod and picks up his pace, his hands coiling into clenched fists within the confines of his pockets. You follow him, unsure if you should strike up another line of conversation or let him simmer for a bit. You opt for the latter and turn your attention to the scenery of the parklands, quietly studying the picnicking couples and laughing clusters of children that jostle beside a nearby set of monkey bars. No matter his mood, it’s a lovely day and you’re still glad he’d agreed to come with you to the park.

But when the trail reaches the main street, you pause. “Hey, you wanna call it a day?” you ask, a soft smile on your lips. If he needs time, you rationalize, then you can give him that.

Kiyoomi jerks to a stop, his heavy brows furrowing as he stares down at you. “What? No,” he grumbles, voice muffled by the fabric of his mask.

You raise your hands in a gesture of supplication, palms facing his looming form. “It’s just...you seem like you’re upset...”

“I am upset,” Kiyoomi answers frankly, his breath heavy.

His honesty never fails to catch you off balance, and you laugh cheerfully at his stoic expression. Kiyoomi promptly fixes you with a perturbed stare, his eyes narrowing. “Kiyoomi, if you’re upset, then we should head back. You don’t have to stick around me if you want space, I totally–– ”

“I don’t want space. I want to be here, with you,” he bites, stepping closer, watching as your grin fades into a perplexed gape.

For a breath you’re flabbergasted, lips parted, eyes wide, but with a shake of head you step forward, your arm twining with his, and dipped forehead pressing against the sleek material of his jacket. “Alright, then stay with me,” you smile, hands squeezing against his coiled muscles, a pleased warmth spreading up your joined arms before flowing downward, into the pit of your stomach.

The contact, as muted as it is by the shell of his track jacket, makes him shiver and he can feel the thump of his heart speed up. It presses against his ribs and makes his chest feel tight and his head light, and when your fingers slip into the warmth of his pocket, your smooth digits tracing the knuckles of his hand, he lets out a contented sigh before lightly brushing his chin over the top of your bent head.

“Come on,” he murmurs, the rich tone of his deep voice dampened by the stretch of his mask, but you can still hear the creep of his smile within the clipped words, “I’ve got an idea.”

You’ve walked past the training facility plenty of times, so many that it’s a blip on your radar now, its jagged silhouette falling into the category of mundane, but never, not in a million years, did you ever see yourself actually passing through those glass doors.

It’s a massive space.

The blazing down-lights scatter brightness over the finely polished elastic flooring. You’d worn comfortable shoes to the park, but they still scuff loudly against the unfamiliar material so you stop gawping and look toward Kiyoomi’s arched shoulders.

“Uh, are you sure we can be in here?” you ask, trying to keep your voice down, but it reverberates around the vast space and you wrinkle your nose at the sharpness of the sound.

“Yes. I work here,” Kiyoomi answers simply, tugging his mask down and stopping just short of one of the white lines, cocking his dark head at your question.

“Okay,” you snicker, rolling your eyes playfully at his static features, “let me rephrase that, are you sure I can be here?”

“Why would you being here be a problem? Practice is done for the day. It’ll be fine. Worst case, Bokuto or Miya might show,” he replies, shrugging his shoulders, a faint smile passing over his lips. “So what do you say, you wanna try to play?”

A full-throated laugh bubbles out of you, and you shake your head frantically. “No way! You’ll either kill me with one of those terrifying spikes, or be bored out of your mind trying to teach me the ropes. Besides, I haven’t played volleyball since middle school, and even then, I’m, uh, not sure a quick rotation in a 40 minute P.E. class counts as playing. It was more like all of us kids screwing around and testing out how many times we could annoy our teacher.”

He snorts at your explanation and strides over to a dark red cart, digging one of his long arms into the depths before straightening and returning with a yellow and blue Mikasa ball that’s perfectly balanced within his broad palm. “Humor me,” he smirks, one brow quirking upward.

“Tch, I’m not wearing the right clothes...or shoes,” you bemoan jovially, but you’re already letting your purse slip from your shoulders.

“So whiny,” Kiyoomi tuts, stepping away from the cart and tossing the ball rapidly between his spread hands. “That doesn’t matter. Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you.”

“Oh, you will, will you?” you tease, a beguiling smile lifting your lips. He looks so good in here, you think, admiring the flex and bounce of his hands, the lean coil of his powerful neck that peeks from underneath his track jacket, so different from the stoic man who walked beside you in the park.

As soon as he touched the ball, his entire demeanor changed. Within the space of a few seconds he’d gone from hunched and brooding to dauntless and firm, all of his early agitation and uncertainty forgotten as he slipped into the comfort of his element.

“All right, coach,” you sigh with mock dejection, “where do you want me?”

“On the other side of the net. See that line? The first one past the netting? That’s the attack line. Stand there.”

He’s clear-cut in his instruction, telling you where to plant your feet and how to stand with the correct form. You listen intently, nodding or asking one or two clarifying questions, and he’s patient with your queries, answering you swiftly and thoroughly, obsidian eyes keen as they follow your movements across the net.

“Alright, that looks good. We’re going to do a simple drill, the catch and throw. Don’t worry about setting the ball, or receiving it with your arms, see how it feels to position yourself under it, just make sure it never gets behind you, and catch it with both hands and toss it back to me. Try and keep it in an easy arc.”

You blink at him, pulling your lips into an exaggerated frown. “Just catch it? That sounds too easy…”

“It’s meant to be. It teaches you how to see the ball. If you’re wanting something harder, I can always up the speed as you get better at it. Now, you ready?”

You nod and the ball lifts from his fingers in a flash, gliding over the net cleanly, and you shift back, arms outstretched, feet planted firmly against the slick flooring. You catch it neatly and mimic his overhand toss, sending it back to Kiyoomi’s half crouched form. But the arc isn’t controlled and the ball paps against the tape of the net, screwing up the trajectory and sending it shuddering toward the gym floor.

“Shit,” you curse, wincing at your clumsy return, but he’s already moving, his form a blur. He slides under it easily, back curved under his well-muscled legs, all ten fingers spread, as he neatly catches the ball, sending it prettily back to your side.

You’re so mesmerized by the fluidity of his supple form that you completely ignore the returning ball and it slaps against the floor with a crack. Always the professional, he’s intently watching the ball’s trajectory and doesn’t notice your open stare at first, but once his dark eyes flash back to yours a faint blush seeps across the well-cut apples of his cheeks and he ducks his head, obscuring his flush with a cascade of onyx curls. “That’s one point for me,” he sighs, his voice low, tone gruffly catching over the words as he studiously avoids your awed expression.

“Points?” you repeat dumbly, snapping your mouth closed before popping your hands on your hips, forcing yourself out of your stupor. “Hey! You didn’t say anything about points.”

“It’s a game,” he counters with a shrug of his broad shoulders, “of course there’s gonna be points.”

“Pfft,” you chortle as you walk toward the discarded volleyball. “What happened to this is just a drill?”

Thirty minutes later your hands are aching and you move sluggishly as your feet squeak over the polished flooring of the court. Kiyoomi, on the other hand, looks perfectly at ease, his eyes hungrily stalking the track of the ball as it flies to his side of the court. When you miss the next lightning quick toss that he sends your way, you drop your head and lift your hands, palms flattened and facing toward him, signaling your defeat as a heaving exhale leaves your straining lungs. “I think that’s it for me. I’m about to collapse onto the floor, like seriously. This is not a joke.”

Kiyoomi huffs out a bemused laugh and ducks under the netting, pausing beside your half crouched figure. He peers down at you through the lazy waves of his hair. You look staggered from the constant shuffling and overhand tosses, but you smile up at him and he can’t help but return it.

“I may be down for the count, but it looks like you wanna keep going,” you say coyly, eyes shining under the brilliance of the lights. [ You’re so pretty ] He [ wants to kiss you again ] sucks in a shallow breath and mutely nods at your assessment. [ Don’t go. ]

“Well,” you begin, lips falling into a thoughtful pout, arms twisting behind your back, “In that case, I’ve got some things that I need to finish up, anyway.”

[ No. Don’t go. Not yet. ]

“I left my laptop at the cafe, so I’ll head that way. Maybe I can see you–”

“Use mine.” The words leave him with a sigh, his voice hushed, but you hear him and your head whips up.

“What–I’m sorry, what?”

“Use my laptop. It’s here, in my locker.” [ Should he have said, please? He’ll say it, if that will get you to stay a little longer. ]

“You don’t...that’s not necessary–– ”

“I know. I want to,” he closes the distance between the two of you, his hand ghosting up the line of your arm. “Stay. If you want to.”

You contemplate his request, tapping a finger against your bottom lip, the flicker of a grin catching at the corners of your mouth. Finally, you nod.

[ Good. ]

He can feel his pulse against his eardrums and he feels jittery now but through that excited haze he tells you he’s going to change into his gym clothes and grab it, that there’s an outlet under the scorer’s table that sits at the edge of the court, and that he’ll be right back. He’s not sure why he feels the need to elaborate, that’s not like him, but he’s doing a lot of things that don’t feel like him these days.

He likes you; he thinks as he steps toward the double doors that will take him into the locker room.

He likes you so much.

When he returns, he’s wearing a dark pair of shorts and a bright yellow shirt emblazoned with the words Itachiyama VBC across his left pectoral. The laptop is propped under his muscled arm and he walks slowly toward you, dark eyes watching you thoughtfully. But you’re not meeting his gaze. No, your regard falls to the curve of his calves and the sharp jut of his ankles before you track back up to his thighs and linger over the ripple and pull of the corded brawn that peeks from under the line of his shorts, and it takes him clearing his throat to lure your eyes back up to his burning face.

You’ve seen him in his MSBY uniform, and you’ve seen him in various outfits over the last month, but the way you’re watching him right now makes his skin prickle and the air around the two of you feels charged, like the smallest push could create some kind of reaction.

He pauses beside the table and waits for you to sit before he leans down, one leg shaking restlessly under him as he clacks his passcode across the black keys. He’s lifting his right hand to click ‘enter,’ when you cup your hand under his jaw.

Kiyoomi quavers under your touch, a low shiver slipping up his spine as he twists to face you, his heavy brows arched and onyx eyes wide. He’s perfectly level with you and so close he can faintly smell your lavender shampoo. It’s a nice scent, lulling and woodsy and he wants to shift closer, but before he can act on his instinct you’re already leaning upwards and using your fingertips to dip his head forward, your lips pressing a chaste kiss against his topmost mole, breath warm against his heated skin.

“Thank you,” you purr, delicately resting the tip of your nose against his curled hair.

It feels like his body is sputtering to a halt, his arms heavy, his head desperately following your touch as you shift back, a half groaned sigh tight against his split lips. His fingers are twitching against the cool surface of the table and he knows he must look like an absolute idiot when he lifts his eyes back to yours, but he doesn’t care.

He’s glad you’re going to stay.

“Question for you,” you ask from your perch on the scorer’s table, your fingers flying over the computer keys as you clatter out another email. “How the hell do your hands do that?”

Kiyoomi smirks at your curious amusement and flips his wrists deftly upwards, easing onto his haunches, flicking his fingers out and rolling his newly stretched wrists as he finishes his final cool down routine. “It’s called joint hyper-mobility. Most lose it when they get older, I’ve been lucky.”

The two of you have been at the training facility for hours. You’d dutifully finished up some last-minute work enquiries and partially outlined the basics for your upcoming grant proposal, while Kiyoomi worked on his spin rotation and spikes.

You’d watched him intermittently, teeth plucking at the swell of your lower lip each time he lept into the air for a jump serve, or dropped low to the ground as he dug another ball up from his hit to the nearby wall, so you’d noticed when he’d finished his first water bottle. He’d set the plastic down, the tap ringing hollowly over the quiet gym, and rose from your folding chair, making your way over, already asking him where a water station was.

When you’d returned, passing the newly filled bottle back to him, your fingers stroked up his arm and swirled faint patterns against his clammy skin as he steadied the plastic in his grasp. And later, when you’d refilled his second water bottle, you’d pushed some of his raven waves back, lifting onto the balls of your feet to tuck the dampened strands behind the shell of his ear.

He was a sweaty mess, but that didn’t bother you.

Usually he didn’t like for others to touch him when he was like this. Something about the sheen and prickle of the salty perspiration bothered him, [ disgusted him ] so he actively shunned his teammates when they sought high fives during a game, but this was different.

The instant your fingers alighted against his skin he’d felt a jolting lurch of electricity, but instead of pulling from it, he’d leaned into it, draping his broad palm over your tracing digits, or resting his warm cheek against your open hand, eyes half lidded as they watched for your reaction.

He liked this.

“Hey, Kiyoomi? Uh, hello, Earth to Kiyoomi! You listening?”

The sound of your voice jerks him from his musings, and he glances at you. “Hmm?”

“I said, how do you feel about a low-key dinner?”

“I’d prefer it,” Kiyoomi replies, easing from his haunches to his feet, rolling his long arms over his head as he stands.

“Yeah, but I mean...low-key, low-key.”

He fixes you with a flat stare, his face falling into that well practiced blankness, obsidian eyes dimmed. “What does that mean?”

“Well, I’ve got some things that I’ve been meaning to cook and, uh, I guess what I’m trying to say is...did you want to maybe have dinner at my apartment? I know you’re picky about how your food is prepared, so if you wanna go out instead, that’s fine too. I won’t be offended. I just wanted to– ”

“I’d like that, but...can you cook?” he rumbles, a teasing smile coiling against his lips.

“Oh, I see. No, you got me. Totally can’t. I just wanted to know if you’d suffer through burnt rice, and then lie and tell me you’d liked it, or some shit,” you threaten, sticking your tongue out and scrunching your face at his blatant leer.

“Don’t worry, I’d definitely tell you.”

“Pfft. You’re the worst, you know that? Now go shower. If we wait too long, we’ll hit rush hour at the station and I bet that’s pretty high on your list of things to avoid at all costs.”

Your apartment is small.

Well, compared to his. But his place is an empty shell, brittle, almost sterile in its vacant emptiness. He’s not there often, so why fill it with more than the bare essentials? It’s got what he needs, and he’s never been bothered by the Spartan coldness of the tiles and dark wood, that is, until he steps into your space.

There’s so much color.

The living room is blanketed in a mix of cheery yellows, warm reds, and deep purples. It’s not displeasing, but it makes him pause within the confines of the genkan, onyx eyes wide under his raised brows. It’s a difference. Now there’s an unexpected worry that’s pricking at the front of his mind.

“You coming?” you ask, poking your head around the cut of the wall that divides your living room from your kitchen, peering curiously at his tense expression.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, easing his trainers off of his feet. This place reminds him that there’s still so much about you he doesn’t know.

So, to alleviate himself from his lingering trepidations, he peers curiously around the apartment.

Most of your furniture is Western. And while there is a traditional chabudai beside your kitchen and a familiar kotatsu that rests beneath the glass doors of your balcony, the rest of the room is decorated with cushioned couches, stiff-backed chairs, neatly organized shelving units, a large tv and stand, and several side tables that hold a mixture of lamps, artfully stacked books, picture frames and candles.

He’s still gazing over the plethora of things when you appear beside his elbow. “I’m going to shower. Make yourself at home. The remote for the tv should be on the kotatsu. You alright with soba stir fry and okonomiyaki for dinner? It’s easy, well, quick...”

“That’s fine,” Kiyoomi breathes, voice muted as his eyes rake over one of your bookshelves. “You could have taken one at the gym, you know...a shower.”

“Oh-ho, sure! Like a shower at your gym doesn’t come with the awful possibility that one of your teammates or, god forbid, coaches could have walked in. Yeah, no thanks,” you chuckle, shaking your head as you pad over to the small hallway that separates your kitchen and living space from the rest of your apartment. “I won’t be long. Please do not rob me, kay’?”

Kiyoomi blatantly scoffs at your remark but doesn’t look up until he hears the click of your bathroom door. Instantly, his feet carry him toward your collection of books and miscellany, one long finger tracing up paper spines. He will not miss this opportunity.

He’s curious, ravenously so.

There are small bowls that are filled with a mismatch of silver and gold jewelry, peeling bound novels with English titles printed down their spines, and asymmetric jars that carry the weight of seashells that gleam translucent and bright against the dimming sunlight.

Beaming smiles radiate from your collection of pictures. Some are snapshots of you and others who look enough like you he assumes they must be your family, while other images are older, with people dressed in vintage clothing, the photos sheened in dull greys and time blown sepia rather than vibrant, modern colors.

Then there are the books. The room is littered with them. Most are organized within the confines of the shelves, but a few are stacked on the kotatsu and he flips open one cover, eyes scanning the orderly lines of Japanese that dart down the pages.

There’s just so much here, so many little pieces of you that are scattered about, and he wants to see...no, he wants to ask you about all of it.

Dazed, he leaves the open space of the living room and steps toward the kitchen. It’s less cluttered in here, and he can smell the faint tang of bleach and lemon as he moves onto the dark tiles. Clearly, the fastidious habits you’ve displayed at the cafe are ingrained into your daily routines.

Cleanliness and routine. You’ll always have that in common.

His roving observations falter at your fridge. It’s covered in a scattered array of playful magnets, pinning down lists and newer Polaroids and he steps closer, index finger extended once more as he glides the digit down the faded ink and shine of the photos. Resting atop one of the larger check-lists is a crisp slip of cardstock. It’s clearly been given pride of place and Kiyoomi curves himself downward, somber brows wrinkling as he reads the print.

The departments of Anthropology, History, Languages, and Education invite you to attend:

The Deans Meeting

10th Annual Conference & New Faculty Welcome Event

Thursday, April 23rd

6:30 - 9:30 p.m.

Graduate School of Human Sciences, Osaka University

(Number Attending: ____ *limit of one guest per invitee)

Kiyoomi straightens, raking a hand up through his loose curls. The 23rd? That’s a month...no...almost five weeks away. He slips his cellphone out of his jacket, thumb tapping over to his calendar. It’s a Friday...but good, there’s no game that day–however there is a team meeting. If he asks now, he should be able to be excused from the meeting and maybe the mid-day practice as well. You haven’t mentioned this event to him, he muses, fingers rapidly tapping the date into his reminders, but it looks important and he wants to go with you, if you’ll let him.

He hears the telltale shudder of your shower’s cut-off valve and he turns, ready to walk back to the neutral safety of your living room when he spies a haphazardly cracked doorway that clearly leads into your bedroom. His feet are carrying him around the low base of the chabudai, and before he can justify his impulsive [ curious, hungry ] reasoning he’s already leaning in, unabashedly looking over the space.

The room is dark; the dusky light of the sunset is muffled by the curtains that drape over the large window, but Kiyoomi marvels, obsidian eyes whisking over the small space, greedily taking in the neat folds of your downy comforter, the soft pillows that nestle under the headboard, and the fan that sits atop the tatami mats. It smells like you in here; the chilled air holds the gentle scent of rich florals and spice and he wants to step closer, but then his hand is catching against the doorframe and he jerks back, hurriedly gulping down a sharp breath as his black hair slumps over his hooded eyes.

It’s...it’s not...he shouldn’t have looked. It’s not polite, but damn, he almost doesn’t care.

What would it be like to step past that threshold? To walk into something that’s so saturated with you? He feels like his skin is too close, too heavy, and he wants nothing more than to stretch out on the cool sheets of your bed to ease that simmer that’s thrumming under his heated flesh.

Wait. A bed. You have a bed.

Shit.

Kiyoomi’s always been content with his futon, satisfied with the simplicity of it. He’s always considered beds to be a waste of space, unnecessary, after all, he’s just sleeping on it. Why did it matter?

Unanswered questions whir around his half cocked head. What if you don’t like futons? If you think they’re uncomfortable, or inconvenient? Besides, now he’s picturing laying with you on a bed, [ this bed ] not a futon. Kiyoomi wants to see you stretched out beside him, comfortable and happy, with that tantalizing smile and those playful eyes watching him, waiting for him. What side do you prefer? Right? Left? And then? What happens when you’ve picked your spot and settled in?

Would you want him to shift closer? Could he run his palms past your arms and down the sloping curves of your hips? Would you do the same for him? What would your nails feel like as they scratched faint lines along his sides, over the muscles of his abdomen, or down his back? You’d be so close. So close that every sigh that passed between your lips would be shared with him and he’d inhale every sound, his lips rough against yours. And if you arched into him, your hands urging him to straddle himself over your intoxicating softness, your thighs spreading as he lowers his hips––

The bathroom door clicks and the fevered daydream fades, his feet cumbersome and tangled as he lumbers back to the living room, his heart pounding in his ears. He doesn’t like this breathlessness, doesn’t like that his hands are trembling as he stuffs them into his pockets. Any second now you’ll be in front of him and he wants to hold you, to let the pull of your hands and the sleek drag of your lips satiate the feel [ throb ] of his unexpected [ visceral ] arousal.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to take that long, I just–– ”

The distance between the two of you is closed within a heartbeat, and his outstretched fingertips glide down the smooth line of your neck. You suck in a sharp breath, your body rigid under his hold, [ damn it, too fast ] and he drops his hands, easing you into the suddenness of his movement with lazy kisses against your warm cheek and neck, grinning when you lean into him at last.

[ Yes. Perfect. ]

You want him to kiss you properly, and you do your best to chase his lips, your arms folding around his bowed neck as you tap a few impatient kisses against his lowered forehead. But he ignores your temptations, not ready to move away from the intoxicating fragrance of your freshly cleaned skin. That soothing smell of peppermint and fresh lavender is near ambrosial, and he greedily digs his nose against you as his muscular arms drape over your sides, and his broad hands pause against the small of your back.

His sharp exhales against your shower dampened neck make you shiver but he maneuvers you closer, rubbing his lower lip against the dip of your shoulder before lifting to catch his teeth on your pulse. He knows just what you like now; he thinks smugly, tracing the flat of his tongue over a line of gooseflesh that bursts over your slicked skin.

In the last month he’s gained a steady mastery of your preferences when it came to his kisses. You preferred to start things slowly, to have him cup your face and stoke you up steadily, but once he eases down the intricate line of your neck, well, all that softness and coy sweetness would bleed into something else entirely.

You liked it rougher then; liked for these caresses to be charged with lightning fast pushes and pulls, your fingers alternating between the sides of his jaw or the coiled thickness of his hair as you swayed him closer, and that shift never failed to set his heart racing and often sent his tightly reigned control spiraling. But that’s not what he wants, not right now, so he’s careful to keep you at bay, distracting your breathless twists with a fresh set of nips and unhurried pecks against your throat.

He wants to lose himself in you; to blank out all the other worries. The differences don’t matter, not when he can hold you like this.

“Hey, Kiyoomi,” you gasp and only then does he stop his incessant assault, arms tensing as they clutch you to the broad slope of his chest, his dark waves falling heavily against your kiss glistened shoulder.

“Hmm?” he murmurs, his voice reverberating against your wet skin.

“What...what’s gotten into you?” you falter, distracted by the hum of his low tone and the soothing pass of his hands as they curve along your spine.

“Dunno, just felt like kissing you,” he lies impassively, lifting his head from you, obsidian eyes shielded by his mussed curls, the tops of his cheeks aglow.

You exhale a tight laugh at his serious, but utterly flushed expression. “Okay–so why did you stop?”

“Liked it that much, huh? I’m hungry,” he clarifies, a smirk curling his erubescent lips and you laugh, melting that jaunty grin into his usual straightlaced frown. “Tch,” he tries again, sliding his dark eyes away from your open bemusement, a pink blush staining the bridge of his nose. “It’s not that I...hmph, come on, don’t act like you’re not hungry, too...”

You were an excellent cook. Not that he’d fully meant his droll quip at the gym; after all, why offer to do something if you’re not good at it? But he’s glad he agreed to a home cooked meal.

Besides, there is something soothing about the whole thing.It was nice, watching you deftly maneuver around your tiny kitchen, turning on burners, setting timers, and arranging the ingredients in simple bowls and plates; it reminded him of the coffee shop. And he’s always liked watching you work. Your movements were always smooth [ elegant ]. You kept your hands close and your elbows in, so confident in the motions of your ingrained routines and the tidiness of your space, that you could easily carry on a conversation with him, your eyes careful to meet his over the top of the espresso machine.

But this is better than watching you in the coffee shop. There’s no divider now. There’s just you and him. It’s comforting and he wants to experience it again and again.

You let him set the plates out, chop the vegetables, prep the soba, and asked him to pick out some beer from your fridge, saying you trusted his choice and chuckling good-naturedly when he padded back to your side, four cans sticking icily to his palms as he asked a few [ five or six ] clarifying questions about the brews.He enjoys your cheerful teasing; he thinks as the two of you sit at the low chabudai; it makes him feel like he fits in, like he can be part of this side of you. You tuck your legs to one side as you sit, your shoulder gently bumping against his as you ease into a comfortable position on the tatami mats and Kiyoomi leans closer, indulging himself in the press long after you’ve picked up your chopsticks–a shared meal of of cabbage and onion okonomiyaki and salmon stir fry resting between the two of you.

It’s a simple thing, all of this touch, but Kiyoomi can’t get enough of it. Every time your arm brushes against his, or you ask him to pass you something from his side of the table, he wants to prolong the contact, to keep his fingers beside yours, or feel the warmth of your thigh and the jut of your hip as he shifts nearer.

He didn’t think he enjoyed being touched.

He always did his utmost to avoid it, shunning the clapped backs and constant high fives that always seemed to be prepackaged and expected in the contact heavy sport of volleyball. Not because he didn’t like his teammates [ sure, sometimes– eh, most of the time ] they were too much, but he genuinely liked playing with them. But he didn’t enjoy the balmy heat of skin on skin contact, or the worry of shared germs. Touching meant weakness. It allowed things to spread from person to person; it created variables, and more variables always meant things could slip out of his control. No, Kiyoomi valued the predictable, the known, the cleanliness and routine, and touch threw most of that out of the equation.

He doesn’t like touch.

Yet he’s craving yours.

It’s another thing that isn’t like him, he contemplates, passing his empty bowl to you, already missing that pleasing closeness you’d shared with him as you walk back into your kitchen and that stark absence makes him stand. It’s an urge, a compulsion, and it’s not something he wants to question so he listens to his instincts, feet planted firmly beneath him as he follows you, his hands lifted, reaching for you. When he tugs you against his chest, his dark head dropping beside yours, jet curls fanning beside your cheek and along your neck, he feels the ache within him settle and he lets himself wallow in the familiarity of crisp peppermint that sits against your skin. [ There. He can worry about the rest later, right now this is all he wants. ]

“I should go,” he whispers, the tip of his nose cool against you. He locks his forearms around your waist and sighs when you rest your temple against his.

He [ doesn’t want to ] should go.

“Yeah,” you echo, cupping your fingers over his crossed arms and stroking them over his goose-fleshed skin. “I work in the morning. So I need to be up early.”

His steady breaths match yours and he pulls you closer, humming contentedly as the curve of your back falls into the hollow of his chest. “I’ll go,” Kiyoomi stalls, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the slope of your neck. He really should. There are only a few more trains tonight, but he can’t let go.

So he lingers, his heavy body leaning against yours, full lips dragging along your pulse as his arms loop tightly around you. You twist your head and he lets you return his caresses, groaning against the sweet pressure of your lips. You’re gentle with him, your kisses filled with restrained desire, and the gossamer touch makes him reach for more. When you pull away, your eyes shining in the gleam of your kitchen lights, he brings you back, his broad palms turning you to him as his chapped fingers tilt your chin, his arms cupping you so close he can feel the thud of your heart against his.

He [ doesn’t want to ] should go.

notes: @kugutsuu made me these lovely lines. aren’t they pretty! (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

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1plus1kiyoomi · 4 years

Text

Chapter 11: Still Kyo

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[masterlist] [kia’s slambook]

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“No. Kia, just no.”

“But I want to!”

“Kia, I already told you, no.”

“Why not?”

“Why would you?”

“Because I want to!”

“Kia for the last time. Miya Atsumu can not be your boyfriend.”

“He is. He’s my boyfriend.”

Kiyoomi and Kia stare at each, their arms crossed, Kia is pouting and Kiyoomi is glaring. They have been arguing for 30 minutes now, since Kia mentioned wanting Atsumu to be her boyfriend.

You just continue to make lunch, acting as if they’re not fighting over nonsense. What’s funny is that Sakusa is so worked up about this. Why can’t he just go along with Kia’s fantasies?

“He’s old,” he tells the little girl. Kia glares at him, tears on the brim of her eyes.

“So what! He’s my boyfriend!” Kia argues back, not backing down either. “He’s handsome, tall, and nice!”

“He’s ugly, Kia,” he rebuts. Kia starts crying and that’s also when you serve them their food.

“Mama, tell Kyo! Tell Kyo that my Mu-chan is handsome!” Kia demands you, crying harder. To stop her tears, you sigh. Kiyoomi gags as he hears her call him hers.

“Yes. Atsumu is handsome.” You glance at Kiyoomi and he’s staring at you with a look of betrayal. He looks down to his food and stabs the tempura on his plate.

“See even mama likes him!” Kia pushes, making Kiyoomi roll his eyes.

“Fine. Date him. He’s a jerk anyways,” Kiyoomi states, not looking away from his food. Kia gasps at his words and widens her eyes at you. You tell her to eat and she does.

You want to eat in peace but the anger radiating off Kiyoomi is too overwhelming. You eye his face and you notice how burrowed his eyebrows are. You wanna ask him if he’s jealous, but that would be digging your own grave.

You finish eating and Kiyoomi offers to do the dishes. You nod, not wanting to fuel his already burning anger by arguing about the dishes. “I’ll shower. Watch Kia.” He hums, continuing to wash the dishes.

After he washes the dishes, he goes to the room, Kia following him around. He takes a box of a phone out of his drawer, then goes back to the living room with Kia. He sits her down beside him on the couch, opening the new box of phone.

“What is this?” Kiyoomi raises the phone. Kia looks at it then points at it.

“Phone.”

“Good. What is it for?” He asks and she thinks deeply at his question.

“Mama use it to call Kenken and Keikei,” Kia answers, hoping she gets it correct. Kiyoomi pats her head as approval. “Pictures too.”

“Yes, pictures also. But I have something important to show you.” Kiyoomi pulls Kia into his lap, one of his arm wrapped around her. He holds the phone near her face where she can see the screen and go to the dial pad. “You only use this when there’s an emergency, okay? Now, listen.”

“Okay,” Kia nods, her eyes stuck on the screen, but her ears are waiting for Kiyoomi’s words.

“You long press number 1, and then you can talk to your mama,” he explains. “Number 2 is me. 3 is your grandma. 4 is your grandpa. 5 is your uncle Keikei. 6 is your uncle Kenken.”

“How about Mu-chan?” Kia asks and Kiyoomi squints his eyes in disapproval. “I also wanna call Mu-chan.”

“This phone is for emergencies. Not boyfriends.” Kiyoomi huffs continuing to show her how to make an emergency call. “Okay now try calling me. It’s numb-”

Before he can even finish his sentence, Kia has long pressed the number 2 button on the screen. His phone starts ringing and Kia gasps in awe. “Answer! Answer!” Kiyoomi picks up the call then Kia says hi. She giggles upon hearing her voice on the other phone.

“You only use this when you’re in an emergency, okay? If you feel unsafe, you call immediately. If you get lost, you call. If you are injured, you call.”

“What if I miss you?” She looks up to him with her doe eyes and Kiyoomi’s heart softens. He looks away, not wanting her to see him smile.

“Is that an emergency?” He gives her a serious look and she frowns. Her attention goes back to the phone, her lips forming into a pout.

Kiyoomi places his chin on Kia’s head, then opens the camera app. He snaps a photo. The photo turned pretty well, despite it being rushed and taken at an awful angle. Kia is still pouting at the photo and only his upper face could be seen.

Kia continues to sulk, so Kiyoomi gives in. “You can call when you miss me.” Her face lightens up and she turns, to wrap her arms around his neck. She stands on his thighs, smiling widely at Kiyoomi. “Now repeat what I have said.”

“Press the green button. Number 1 is for mama. Number 2 is for Kyo. Number 3 is for grandma. Number 4 is for grandpa. Number 5 is for Keikei. Number 6 is for Kenken. I should only call for emergencies and when I miss you,” she recites, and this time Kiyoomi doesn’t hold back a smile to show his appreciation towards her correct answer.

“I’ll put this phone in that drawer.” Kiyoomi points at a drawer below the television. “When you leave the house, make sure you put it in your bag.” Kia nods.

“Can mama call you too if she misses you?” Kia says, her hands on Kiyoomi’s cheeks. He answers with a hum and Kia gleefully giggles. “Kyo...”

‘Why am I still Kyo and not papa?’ Kiyoomi sighs in disappointment. “Yes?” He responds to her and she leans into Kiyoomi’s face, kissing Kiyoomi on his lips. His body freezes from the contact, surprised by Kia’s actions.

“I love you,” she claims, pinching his cheeks. A smile is still on her face, as she continues playing with his cheek. Kiyoomi doesn’t know what to respond.

Does he love her too?

Kia wakes up from her afternoon nap and doesn’t see you. She goes out of the room, dragging her blanket with her. Kiyoomi, who is preparing to leave for a training camp, sees her. He carries her in his arm.

“How was your sleep?” Kiyoomi asks Kia but doesn’t respond. Her face is resting on his shoulder, still in a daze from her sleep.

“Where’s mama?” Kia asks instead, not feeling your pressence anywhere in the house.

“She’s harvesting vegetables at the garden. Do you wanna go to her?” Kia shakes her head, leaning her head back on his shoulder. She spots the bags on the living room’s couch and she wiggles out of Kiyoomi’s grip. She runs back to her room and Kiyoomi continues to pack.

Kia grabs a backpack and stuffs anything that she can hold into her bag. She slings the bag on her shoulders and goes back to the living room. Kiyoomi is back in his room, checking if he’s left anything. Kia opens the drawer where Kiyoomi placed her phone and she places the phone in her bag. She climbs on the couch, sitting beside Kiyoomi’s suitcases.

“Where are you going?” You ask Kia as you see her from the hallway. She doesn’t answer you. You go to the kitchen, and start to prepare dinner.

Kiyoomi finally comes out of his room, ready to leave the house. He places a kiss on top of Kia’s head then her forehead, before bidding his goodbyes to you. “I’m leaving now.”

“Take care and have fun,” you respond, smiling gently.

You continue to wash the vegetables, not noticing Kia who is following Kiyoomi leave the house. Kiyoomi doesn’t notice too. He only sees her when he puts his bags on the trunk.

“Kia, why are you outside? Get inside or your mama will worry,” he tells her. She runs to him, hugging his knee. He picks her up and walks back to the front door. As they get near, she starts wailing. “What’s wrong?”

Kia knows he’s leaving, because every time she sees Kiyoomi leave the house with that one particular duffle bag, he doesn’t return for days. And she doesn’t want him to leave. If she can’t stop him from leaving, she’s going with him.

Kiyoomi and Kia enter the house once again, and you stop what you are doing upon hearing Kia’s wails. You rush to them in the entrance and see Kia death gripping on Kiyoomi’s shoulders.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” You ask her. Kiyoomi shrugs, also confused of what’s happening.

“I wanna go with Kyo,” she says in between cries. He attempts to give her to you but Kia tightens her hold on Kiyoomi. “No! No! No! I’ll go with you! I promise I’ll be a good girl!”

You feel hurt seeing Kia like this. She’s never thrown a tantrum like this so you don’t know what to do. She didn’t even cry when you left her in Kiyoomi’s hands for 3 days.

“Kia, you can’t go with me. But I promise you that I’ll bring you something when I return,” Kiyoomi convinces her.

“No! No! No! No! I want Kyo!” She cries, her eyes red from crying too hard. You take a look at Kiyoomi, worried that he’s irritated from her tantrum. Surprisingly, he looks relaxed, a hint of pain seen in his eyes.

Kiyoomi takes his shoes off, then heads to your room. He sits on your bed, settling Kia on his lap. He makes her face him, wiping her tears away from her cheeks. You spectate them from the doorway.

“Baby, I’m sorry I can’t bring you with me,” Kiyoomi apologizes, his sweet and soft tone calming Kia down. You couldn’t help but smile from the nickname.

“But I will miss you,” she replies, sobbing. He wipes her snot using his handkerchief before pulling her close to his chest.

“You can call me every night with the phone I gave you,” Kiyoomi comforts her, caressing the back of her head. She quiets down, but her hold on his shirt doesn’t loosen. “I’ll come home as soon as I can.”

“But then I don’t get hugs and kisses from Kyo!” She reasons, tears forming on the corners of her eyes.

Kiyoomi cups her cheeks, then kisses her forehead. “That’s for tomorrow.” Then another one on her cheek. “That’s for tomorrow tomorrow.” A kiss on her nose. “Tomorrow tomorrow tomorrow.” And finally, a kiss on her lips. “Tomorrow tomorrow tomorrow tomorrow.”

Kia giggles, her sadness washing away thanks to Kiyoomi’s kisses. She hugs him, giving him a kiss on his lips once again. “I’ll see you tomorrow tomorrow tomorrow tomorrow.”

Kia finally lets go of him and climbs down the bed. She heads out, probably going to the front door to see him out. Kiyoomi leaves as well, but stops in front of you at the doorway.

“What?” You raise an eyebrow at him. Suddenly, he wraps his arms around you, giving you a quick tight hug. You blush. “What are you doing?”

“I’ll miss you, too,” he tells you. He steals a kiss from your lips and quickly runs to the door where Kia is waiting for him. You groan, running after him as well.

You and Kia wave to him good bye at the front door as he enters his car. He puts on his mask and his seatbelt on. Before he can even drive away, his phone starts ringing.

‘Kia 👼🏼 is calling’

Kiyoomi smiles, then answers it, “yes?”

“I miss you already.”

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Facts:

Kia also called Akaashi and told him some good news

Kia begged you to put Atsumu’s number on the 7th speed dial

Kiyoomi’s new phone wallpaper is the photo he took in Kia’s phone

Kia still thinks Atsumu is her boyfriend

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Note: this is probably my fave chapter just because AHHAHAHAHA i hope you all enjoy it

Taglist: @elianetsantana aoi-turtle ptv-hades aquzairus a-applepi justoneofthefangirls arianna-r13 morenabambinii chaelysian loser-keiji mxngy ne-kuroo n1fangirlsblog d-efend missalicebaskerville marvelousbakugou @agaashesmilktea bonkyandloki kimi09 ntimacy @mkazuyuh ushi-please minty-mangos-world @dearest-kiyoomi

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smau #haikyuu series #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu sakusa #hq sakusa #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x you #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa smau #sakusa sc

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fayeimara · 3 years

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Sakusa Kiyoomi || Small Moments

SUMMARY. You're looking forward to the first date you and Sakusa have had in a little while thanks to both of your busy schedules when Kiyo seems reluctant to go.

PAIRING. Sakusa Kiyoomi x you

GENRE. Pure Fluff

WARNINGS. Potentially suggestive

Sunlight filters through the sheer curtains of your bedroom's bay windows, casting a glow over your eyelids just before you completely rouse from your sleep. Eyes still closed, as your awareness slowly slips in, your hand curls back in towards you, seeking the warmth emanating from the arm wrapped tight around your waist.

The unmistakable heat of your boyfriend becomes more prevalent, urging you to wiggle backwards ever so slightly and close the remaining gap between your bodies. Sliding your hand from its landed spot on Kiyoomi's toned forearm down to his hand to twine your finger with his, your eyes finally open to the rays and land on the rainbow pattern splayed on the white silk of your pillow.

Today you and Sakusa will be spending a long awaited day together, out on a classic date that you have both been denied in recent weeks thanks, in part, to each of your demanding schedules. Just as a lazy but delighted smile stretches your lips, you feel him stir behind you only to giggle as he leans his head to nuzzle into your neck with a light groan.

His hand shifts against you when you turn to face him, sliding just to help his arm keep its position around you as you move, and then you're looking into shadowed eyes that study you in return. He doesn't say anything for a minute, long enough to make you feel uncharacteristically shy and duck your head down into his chest, burrowing into what has long become your favourite place to hide in these small moments.

But it seems that's the spark which finally compels Kiyo to move his arm from his coveted spot around you, but only for a moment, as his fingers find your cheek and feather down to follow the curve of your jaw before tilting your head back up to face him. You don't provide any resistance, already reaching up with your face and hands, the latter seeking purchase in his soft locks as he places the lightest kiss against your wanting lips.

Both of you pulling away, Kiyoomi with a small smile and you with a flirty smirk, you bid each other good morning. Another one of those small moments you cherish, to be able to enjoy the constant familiarity of your boyfriend waking up next to you but this time during a rare, slow morning where you both can indulge in its indolence.

The moment passes seemingly as quickly as it swept in as restlessness soaks into your skin, compelling movement as you once again begin to contemplate your planned activities for your date with Kiyo today. You're looking forward to spending the day with him in the sun, having planned a spot for a picnic lunch before taking a stroll through the sprawling park. You also have reservations for the night at a special, upscale restaurant that will meet both his standards and yours, with a stunning view of the city laid out beneath you.

You pull away from Sakusa with another chaste kiss, even as he gently tries to persuade you to stay a little longer, and pad into the washroom to brush your teeth and wash up for the day. Eyeing Sakusa's features in the mirror as he follows you in, you don't address his hesitant but prickly demeanor, smiling at him brightly instead as you finish up before heading out through the room and halls and into your kitchen.

A pot of French press is prepared without thought, the motions an ingrained habit by now, as you pull out ingredients from the fridge to prepare the smoked salmon eggs benedict for your brunch. Setting up the mise en place, Kiyo is soon beside you to help with the hollandaise and eggs, nudging you out of the way with his hip until you give in and retreat from the stove.

Perching on the bar stools lined up with the kitchen island, you pour out the coffee into two mugs, doctoring each to your respective tastes before pushing his across the counter towards him with the tips of your fingers at its base.

You've barely exchanged more than whispered words of good morning but you're so attuned to him, you know there's something waiting at the tip of his tongue, a reluctance that's tangible to you due to years of picking up on his tells.

Sakusa stares into the pale yellow swirl of the sauce he's stirring as he debates how to bring up the thought on his mind. You've been looking forward to this day for weeks, he has as well, it's just that now it's finally arrived... he'd like nothing better than to follow the pace that seemed fated from the very start of your day together.

His schedule has been grueling and he wants nothing more to curl up with you at home and enjoy a lazy day indoors, not head out into the crush of the weekend crowd in uncontrolled environments where he'll likely be on constant guard. Here, everything is safe and comfortable, clean and devoid of all distractions but the woman he loves.

Low on energy and conflicted at the thought of being selfish by voicing his own desires, he decides to keep quiet and follow the activities you have planned for the two of you today. If nothing else, the breathtaking smile of joy that lights your face will be worth the compromise.

Turning away to the island to place the poached eggs on the English muffins, he can't help but glance your way to study your expression. He doesn't expect to meet your eyes, finding you watching him with a small, wry smile as you stand and lean forward to add the smoked salmon atop the eggs, so he freezes momentarily before turning back to exchange the items in his hand for the pot of hollandaise.

"Omi." Your voice breaks the easy, thoughtful silence permeating the kitchen as he spoons the sauce over the salmon and sprinkles a dusting of chives to finish the brunch you'd started. You only call him by that nickname when you're neutral, likely coaxing for information that you're sure he's withholding.

After another beat, his deep voice finally filters at its usual calm, steady volume, "Yes, sweetheart?"

He still doesn't meet your eyes and you resort to your most cajoling tone, softly and sweetly asking, "Is there something you want to tell me?"

"Brunch is ready?" His eyes lift to yours then, with a teasing glint and a slight smirk to match curving his lips.

"Hm."

He takes your plate and his to the breakfast table in its spacious nook, surrounded by windows on three sides that allow the warm sunlight to caress your skin as you follow to your seat with the coffees and cutlery.

The first bite melts in your mouth with perfect heat, the mix of flavours prompting you to close your eyes and hum in appreciation. When you open them again, you catch Kiyo with his fork paused on its ascent to his mouth, staring at you with widened eyes before blinking as if to unfreeze.

You let out an amused laugh when his own hum follows shortly after. It's a nice moment but-

"Kiyo-"

"I don't know where you picked this up as a favourite, but I'm so glad you did." Cutting in, he compliments your choice of meal between bites.

You can't help it when another smirk slides over your lips, "Well, I am a loyalist. I hold on tight when I find something I love.

You and Kiyo connect eyes yet again and share a sweet smile at your words in yet another small moment that exists just for the two of you.

The third time's the charm, clearly, because his deflections work and you drop the subject for the rest of your brunch. Considering the scarcity of the time you were able to steal away together these past weeks, your morning meal is soon filled with funny anecdotes that slipped between the cracks and thoughtful insights regarding the events of your friends and family that you both continue to be looped in on.

It's not until early afternoon, as you've slipped into a breezy summer outfit - complete with a flowing thigh-length dress, floppy hat, and strappy sandals, you find Sakusa slowly packing your purse with his small trove of sanitary supplies.

You lean against the door frame to study him as he moves so fluidly, elegant even in the sweats and shirt he still hasn't changed out of since his morning shower. Your plans for your date flicker through your thoughts for a moment, pulling at you with an intense mix of longing and excitement.

It's not as powerful as your new desire though, as you want more than anything to continue seeing Kiyoomi's smiles today. That's what you had in mind when you planned your date, to have him find joy and contentment with you in the quiet, private corners of your world.

Sakusa looks up behind him when he hears the bathroom door shut. He didn't realize you'd stepped out and wonders if you'd forgotten something. Finished with packing your purse with both his and your supplies, he moves to the closet to prepare his clothes for the outing when the door opens again and you exit with a smile on your face. But instead of the expected outfit for your date, you're wearing your most comfortable lounge clothes.

"What's wrong, love?" He moves towards you without hesitation, concern deepening his tone.

You raise an eyebrow and ask him with a soft smile still curving your lips, "You tell me, Kiyo."

Stopping with his hand cupping your cheek as he looks down to meet your warm, inviting gaze, he breathes out a low, "How did you know?"

"Oh, baby... I've told you never to hold back your true feelings." You softly admonish.

What if you hadn't picked up on enough of the right cues? What if you enjoyed a date that only made Kiyo miserable because he sacrificed his urge to honour the plans you'd made together for the day even though what he wanted had changed?

Sakusa feels a mix of guilt and relief like a hit to the gut as he realizes he only just confirmed your suspicions. What could he have done differently so you wouldn't have realized his change of heart? So you wouldn't have to be the one making the sacrifice instead?

"Kiyo.." Your voice calls him out of his thoughts and he catches the loving smile that hasn't left your face once since you exited from the bathroom.

"Baby.. You know what I'm thinking?" Your eyes sparkle with a new excitement, no- with a mischievous, playful intent.

"What?"

"I'm thinking we have a certain season to binge watch and some new video games to try. I'm thinking of how good the takeout was from the sushi restaurant that delivered to us last month. And I'm thinking today would be a perfect day to cuddle on the couch like we have nowhere to be and time is infinite in our little bubble."

Sakusa still hesitates, even though there's no doubting your genuine tone he still can't help but ask, "Are you sure, love?" "I'm absolutely certain."

Using the hand still resting gently on your cheek, he tilts your head as he leans down to drop a soft kiss to your lips. The two of you don't pull away until you're both breathless and unable to stop your mutual smiles from spilling onto your lips. This was it. This smile of his that you so badly wanted to draw out.

That's how you both end up spending the rest of the afternoon painting exactly the picture you envisioned. You bring another round of coffees to the couch as he selects the show you mentioned and, pulling one of the plush throws over your legs, you snuggle into his side to watch.

Over the course of the next couple hours, you two easily push and pull like magnets every time you readjust your positions, from the upright one where you're tucked into him to you both stretching out for you to lie down on him, his chest pillowing your head as his arm returns to its favourite place. When hunger begins to intrude in the late afternoon, you put together plates of both his and your favourite snacks, sitting back up to consume them as the sun begins to peek in through the windows on the opposite side of your house.

When you take a break from the TV, sitting at the table with your respective beverages of choice, you play one of your favourite board games with music from your shared playlist filtering in the background. The lights in the house are slowly turned on as you both move about, from the kitchen, to the living room, to the dining table in between, over the course of your unhurried hours.

By evening, you've started a puzzle together but leave it on the table unfinished when Sakusa still hasn't returned from the kitchen, going in search of him instead. When you find him washing the dishes that have begin to neatly stack on one side of the divided sink, you have him drop everything and clean his hands before tugging him away.

"No chores, Kiyo!"

"They're dirty."

"It's a lazy day." You give him a pout that he can't refuse and he's the one to give in here.

Instead, he whips the towel on the counter and, as the song just changes into a slow one you would have usually skipped, he grabs your hand to pull you into him. You don't resist at all, reaching around him to return the hug you think he's giving, but his other hand comes to rest on your waist and it's soon joined by the first. You're the one to find yourself frozen this time, hands having risen to rest on his chest by pure coincidence even before you fully realized Sakusa Kiyoomi is slow dancing with you in the kitchen.

"Wha-" You stop the question ready to drop from your lips when you meet his eyes. The answer is as obvious as the mirth mixed with something softer in his replying gaze.

He would only ever do this for you. Step out of his comfort zones in ways that would have been completely inconceivable before he met you. Before he spent the years he has with you. Before you made him realize making these small choices for the ones you love, to be able to share these small moments that he could never have previously dreamed, aren't actually a sacrifice after all.

It's likely not a long time the two of you spend dancing between the kitchen, dining room, and living room, but at least three songs have passed before he gently tilts you back onto the couch just as the doorbell rings to indicate the arrival of your dinner.

Leaving you to clear the space on the coffee table, Kiyo arranges the food into various plates that are then loaded onto a tray to be brought into the living room. So begins round two of your TV binge, picking up mid-season to finish the latter half of the show while you enjoy feeding each other. Another feat that would be impossible for him with anyone else but a true joy to be able to share with you.

You clean up after the two of you finish, leaving him to pick the next game. When you return to the couch and see he's picked your favourite, you can't help but challenge him with a smirk.

"Oh, baby, you know I'm going to ruin you. Are you sure you want to play this?"

His dark eyes meet yours and even though his expression is almost unreadable, his eyes express the same teasing light that soaks his tone, "Sweetheart... you've already ruined me."

You don't know whether to laugh or not because as much as he intends to tease there's definitely truth there, but also a benediction that conveys what he truly means.

So you respond instead by adding your truth to his, "We've ruined each other, haven't we?"

"Only in the best ways, love."

Holding his warm gaze for another small moment, you bite your lip to hold back the wide delighted smile that threatens to spill out before he reaches for your wrist to finally tug you down to him. You end up sprawled on his lap but fix your position when he hands you the second controller.

Soon after the game starts, neither of you can say who poked whom first or nudged the other's elbow, or even who was the first to boldly tickle the other in order to gain advantage in the game. You're laughing as he pulls you onto his lap, arms coming around you to restrain your own movements as you call out to the unfairness of his tactic.

Throwing your weight back on him to push him deeper into the soft cushions of the couch, you strain to reach his neck with sloppy kisses and little love bites, your only counter to his cheating measures. Neither you nor Sakusa end up winning the game when your endeavour succeeds in pulling his attention from the screen to your sparkling eyes and that perfect smile he so desired to see.

This time, when you kiss, it's before either of you have even thought of or committed to the action, so naturally do your lips simply meet between you.

The remainder of the night is marked by these simple, lazy exchanges of your love. The TV eventually falling to rest and allowing the music still crooning in the background to create its hazy ambience yet again.

The last thing you remember as you lie entwined with Kiyo on your living room couch, exploring each other with kisses and caresses, intimate gazes and whispered words, is the final small moment of the day. A small kiss just behind your ear preceding the three little words that he faithfully declares every day since the first time they fell from his lips.

"I love you."

A/N: Sorry for kind of tricking you @yourstarvic! I know you requested either date or lazy day and I thought.. what if I wrote you and Sakusa on a date and then enjoying a lazy Sunday following? Then, I thought... what if you didn't get the date you expected but the lazy day was all the more special for it? Slightly inspired by mine and my bf's lazy days that we've never let each other regret therefore not completely original but they say write what you know lol so I hope you like it! And because you have a special place in my heart as my very first scenario request ever, I have a little surprise for you here :) <3

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plus-ultra-oof · 3 years

Text

Pretty | SakuAtsu | Haikyuu!! | Tickle Fic

A/N: Ok hi so I wrote this a little while ago bc my SakuAtsu brainrot never stops and I figured I might as well share it. This is my first time posting a T-fic so please be kind lol. Also, sorry if the formatting is a mess I am on my phone.

Disclaimer: This takes place post timeskip so minor spoilers for Haikyuu! It’s nothing to major other than some vague things mentioned in passing. Also includes swearing and centers around tickling within a romantic setting (all sfw).

Summary: Sakusa’s stubborn as hell, but Atsumu is more than willing to get his boyfriend to go to sleep by whatever means necessary. Especially if that means he gets to see that pretty smile of his.

——————————————————

“Ya know, yer hair is really soft Omi,” Atsumu said, breaking the calm silence that had settled over the room. It was actually Kiyoomi’s room in his apartment this time. Atsumu was lying on his bed, running his hands through Kiyoomi’s dark curls as the other man laid across the bed, head placed conveniently in the setter’s lap as he attempted to read a book. He was far too tired to do so, in Atsumu’s professional opinion. The way his eyes kept falling shut for longer between blinks and how his grip on the hardcover kept shifting until he was barely holding it open where it lay against his propped up legs supported it too.

“You already- said that,” he replied, trying for flat and uninterested but the cute yawn that interrupted his sentence completely contradicted his unbothered persona.

It’d been a long practice for everyone, but especially the spikers. Both Bokuto and Sakusa had to run an insane amount of cut shot drills on top of their usual work. Just watching it had made Atsumu tired, so he could only imagine how Omi was feeling. The man had been practically dead on his feet when they’d gotten back to their complex, so the way he had melted into their bed upon finally brushing his teeth was unsurprising. His attempts at staying up were though. Atsumu blamed that on his insistence on keeping his routine no matter what.

The stubborn bastard could barely keep his eyes open, but sure, making it through a whole chapter of that thick ass book was totally plausible.

“It’s true though,” Atsumu was quiet for a moment and then, when he got no response he added on, “and it’s so pretty too,” For that he received a half hearted glare that was dampened by the way he could feel the man leaning into his touch as his fingertips scratched lightly again his scalp. The twin smiled, his boyfriend really lost his filter when he was this tired.

Gone were the biting remarks and cold expressions, leaving him far more pliant than he would ever admit to. Hell, here he was, letting Atsumu play with his hair and letting out little sighs of contentment. His eyes were even gradually falling closed as he relaxed into his boyfriend’s touch.

The harsh lines of his face were softened by the low light in the bed room, and with his brows uncreased by any worries and his hair pooled around his head like a dark halo, he looked almost angelic. Like something out of one of those fancy paintings.

“Yer so pretty Omi,” Atsumu murmured absently, the words falling from his lips easily. It was a statement to him. A simple truth of life.

The sky was blue, volleyball was the best, and Atsumu’s boyfriend was a damn masterpiece.

This was only proved further when his cheeks began to warm, the pink flush only complimenting smooth skin and pouty lips, twitching down into a petulant frown despite his flustered state.

“Shut it,” he mumbled in reply, unable to come up with a proper comeback in his half asleep state. Atsumu smirked. Another thing he loved about sleepy Omi was his inability to disguise any of his reactions. It always made messing him even more fun.

“Omiiii, Yer so cute m’gonna dieeeeee,” he teased, leaning down to admire his expression more closely. The new angle let him see the minuscule twitch of the corner of his lips, a sign that his adorable boyfriend wasn’t really as grumpy as he was trying to appear, “Aw is that a smile I see?” Said boyfriend had abandoned all hopes of reading his book in favor of moving off of Atsumu’s lap and onto his side of the bed, laying back and closing his eyes.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about Atsumu,” he stated, his voice still managing to stay level and unaffected, a true testament to Sakusa’s insane amount of self control, “Now its late, let’s go to sleep,” Too bad Atsumu was too much of an asshole to let him be. And, he knew him well enough to chip away at that carefully crafted mask until his boyfriend was puddy in his hands.

Miya pouted and moved closer, letting his right hand come back up to rest in his curls again and the other land at his back, rubbing slow circles into it the way he knew Sakusa liked.

“Oh c’mon baby don’t be like that, I just want ta see that gorgeous smile of yers,” he let his chin rest on Kiyoomi’s shoulder, pressing close to his back as his arm trailed down to wrap around his waist. He placed a light kiss against his boyfriend’s temple. The first in a trail that led down his cheek to his jaw and then took a detour down and up his neck to reach his ear again, earning soft sighs and hums as he went. Atsumu smiled, his Omi really was sweet like this: All peaceful and relaxed and unassuming, “Do me a favor and lemme see it?”

He shifted from kissing at his neck to mouthing lightly and letting his lips graze the expanse of soft pale skin at his disposal and the reaction was immediate, even if Sakusa tried to hide it. Sure, he stayed quiet, but Atsumu could feel the shivers that ran through him when he started and how his shoulders began to shake the longer he went on. He felt him jump when he let the fingers at his waist trace lazy shape into his toned stomach.

“Atsumu-“ His name was rushed out in a breathy way that only Atsumu got to hear.

“Yes Omi?” He purred, directly into his boyfriends ear, savoring the little squeak that came from the man shaking in his arms.

“N-no,” he whined, actually whined, shaking his head in an attempt to rid himself of the tingly sensations that were quickly perforating his sleep addled mind and making him want to give into the bouncy feeling rising in his chest.

“Why not Omi? M’just tryin ta kiss ya?” He followed his movements easily, continuing the playful torment of his boyfriend.

“You- you know exActly whehy not!” The squeak was louder this time and Kiyoomi even let a few titters loose as Atsumu started using his other hand to lightly scribble at the other side of his neck while simultaneously blowing into his ear.

“Ooh was that a giggle there Omi? What’s happenin’ baby? Somethin’ funny?” Atsumu knew that if he could, Sakusa would be griping about the teasing and how this whole thing was immature and unfair. For now though, he was too busy trying (and failing) not to devolve into a ticklish mess, so Miya was content.

“Nahaha stahahap yohuhu bahahastard!” He forced out through his giggles. The sound was light and filled with gasping breathes and squeals. Kiyoomi hated it, but it was one of Atsumu’s favorite sounds. Especially when he knew he was the cause of it.

Whether it came from unraveling him like this or timing a sarcastic joke just right, he savored it each time he got to hear it, so he didn’t appreciate it when both ungloved hands flew up to muffle it.

“Hey what’dya do that for?” He asked, his own pout forming on his lips as he leaned up to see his boyfriend’s face. His eyes were squeezed shut again and the flush was even brighter now. What was really captivating though, was the way his whole face seemed to brighten, even with his open mouth smile covered up.

Atsumu couldn’t help but stop and stare for a few seconds before remembering the task at hand. To see that pretty smile for real.

“C’mon Omi, just pull yer hands away or m’gonna haveta resort to extreme measures,” Atsumu increased his effort at leaving barely there kisses along Kiyoomi’s neck, feeling his heart race against his lips when he reached the pulse point. This got a cacophony of muffled squeaks and giggles before he finally gave into instinct and moved one of his hands away to push at his face.

As soon as it came up, Atsumu saw his chance and took it.

The hand that was drawing shivery patterns over sharp hip bones immediately skittered up Sakusa’s side to find its mark just above his ribs, sending the arm crashing right back down with a muffled shriek.

“Pffft phmp uff,” Came the dampened response as the other hand stayed stubborn in its quest to deprive Atsumu of his happiness. He decided to take it up another notch, because despite his tiredness, his Omi-Omi was still able to put up a good fight. He wouldn’t have him any other way: As headstrong as he was talented.

“Fine, don’t say I didn’t warn ya,” Atsumu leaned back just enough to leave some space between himself and Kiyoomi’s back. For insurance and safety purposes, he threw a leg over his waist to make sure he would fall off the bed.

Then all bets were off.

He started actually scratching at his armpits in tandem with leaving sloppy kisses along his spine and shoulder blades and any other part of his back he could reach at the moment, and the reaction was instantaneous and oh so satisfying.

“Mmmmphhhuhuhuck AtsuhuHU! NaHAHA STAHAP!”

“What babe? Somethin’ wrong?” He made sure to speak against the skin of his back, his words sending ticklish tremors through Kiyoomi as his worst spot was attacked.

“NOHOHOT THEHERE AHATSUHU!” Something seemed to switch off in his brain as his arms finally fell limp at his sides and he threw his head back against the pillows, laughing fully now. When they did, Atsumu immediately toned it down, abandoning his underarm in favor of leaving feather light scratches down the sides of his boyfriend’s back, making him shiver and keeping him caught up in his giggles without torturing him too bad.

Omi could never say that he was anything but nice about this....Well at least at this particular moment. Sakusa definitely kept a dated list of the times that his boyfriend had ruthlessly abused this specific weakness, but that was besides the point.

“Ahatsuhuhu,” Atsumu looked up at the sound of his name falling from upturned lips and found himself mesmerized by the sight.

Now that Kiyoomi had given up on stopping him he’d shifted to flop down on his stomach, bracing his head on his arms as he tried to contain the shaky laughter still spilling easily from his mouth. His hair was tousled from the struggle and his eyes were teary from laughing so hard and he was in an eternal state of flushed and fuck he was beautiful.

Too pretty for his own good. And Atsumu’s. At this rate, he was gonna die before he got to the Olympics.

He could just see it now: Miya Atsumu, beloved son, brother, boyfriend, and teammate. Cause of death: Seeing his godlike boyfriend laugh his heart out.

Shit, ‘Samu was right, he was whipped.

“Tsuhuhuhumuuu, m’tired,” Whiny giggles followed by a familiar yawn brought him out of his thoughts and he let his fingers slow to a stop, moving up in the bed to be beside his still giggling boyfriend. He turned him over onto his back before placing his book onto the nights stand and turning out the light.

“A-asshole,” Sakusa groaned, through breathy pants, giving him a half-hearted shove as he turned to face the blonde.

“But ya love me,” he teased moving in closer to lay his head on the dark haired man’s chest, listening patiently as his heartbeat finally started to slow down.

“You suck,” he murmured in response, his tone empty of any real malice. Plus, the way he was snuggling closer and lacing their hands together across Atsumu’s waist contradicted his words anyway.

Atsumu smiled and took a final look at his boyfriend before closing his eyes to follow him into sleep. And as a man of a limited vocabulary when it came to most things other than volleyball, his last thoughts prior to drifting off were as simple as they were true: Omi’s so pretty.

#sakuatsu #ticklish!Sakusa #haikyuu! tickle fic #tickle fic #tickle #tickles #tickling #fanfiction #haikyuu!!#thanks for reading

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princess-of-inarizaki · 4 years

Note

Oh hi there it's me again ヾ(＾-＾)ノ I just finished all of my essays and projects I mean almost all of them . So can you do hcs of first date with Sakusa, Atsumu, Suna, Kenma and Oikawa? Like how far they'll go far for affection, pda, etc? How they'll make the date fun and enjoyable? Smthn like that.

I finally got to your request @k-sakusa-old !! (So very proud of you for completing those essays hehe, eventho it's a bit late; congratulations!!)

I really hope you enjoy this, it took me quite a while because I wanted it to be perfect. Love you!! 💖💖💖

First dates with the boys!

Characters: Oikawa, Atsumu, Suna, Sakusa, Kenma.

Warnings: none

Oikawa

(Oikawa bby!! It's so funny, he's one of my favourite characters, and yet this is the first headcanon I'm writing about him. I hope to do it well)

Oikawa would be very thorough. He prides himself on being a romantic who's able to sweep anyone off of their feet, so when he realizes he has a crush on you, he wastes no time!

Corny pickup lines, and exceptional romantic gestures, and he's always trying to touch you! (Not in an uncomfortable way, more like, holding your hand, and small hugs.)

One day, he just confesses his feelings and asks you out on a date, with the sweetest smile on his face. He's just looking at you with this expression of pure love on his face, you can't help but say yes immediately.

He tells you he'll pick you up in the evening, with a wink. Though he seems very suave and cool, internally his heart is just beating so fast and he can't wait to spend time alone with you.

The time comes and you hear your doorbell ring. Your parents answer, and Oikawa is just casually chatting them up and talking to them.

Your parents seem to really like his carefree and charming attitude, and passion towards volleyball. Not gonna lie, they're proud of your choice.

You come down, after a while, and Oikawa breaks out in a huge smile whilst ruffling your hair. “You look gorgeous, y/n-chan. I'm going to take care of you so no one dares look at you.”

Your parents laugh whilst you're just a blushing mess!

Eventually, the two of you leave and get into Oikawa's car. His arm is slung around your seat, and he's singing along to songs on the radio, persuading you to join him.

You finally reach, and Oikawa, ever the gentleman, helps you get out of the car, and holds your hand leading you to an ice skating rink.

He rents two pairs of skates, and gets down on his knees to help you lace them up. (He's such a sweetheart, honestly)

When the both of you are laced up, you carefully make your way on the ice together, hand in hand. Oikawa is pretty good with controlling his skates, but it's your first time so you're pretty nervous.

He gently leads you across the ice, and makes sure to never let you go. Sometimes, his hands are on your waist to ensure you don't fall, and slowly as the evening progresses, your hands, because you're more confident.

Will definitely twirl you on skates and spin you around when he feels like you've got the hang of it. Thinks you look beautiful with your cheeks flushed and huge smile.

He can't resist pecking you on the cheek, to feel your cold skin immediately heat up beneath his lips.

Takes you out for dinner at a fancy restaurant after ice skating, and definitely stares at you like you're the most beautiful girl he's ever seen, the warm candlelight illuminating your face.

You're to flustered to eat, with him staring at you like that, but he laughs and feeds you, much to your embarassment.

Makes sure to bring you home before your curfew, and kisses you in the car in front of your house. A soft song is playing in the background, and his lips are gently pressing on yours.

He walks you to your doorstep, and thanks you for having such a fun night out with him, and pecks your forehead once more before leaving.

Atsumu

Two favourite characters, one after the other? Alright luv, I'm on a roll 👉👈

I think Atsumu genuinely has a soft spot for you. Everyone may think of him as a jerk or an asshole, but when he sees you, he hates that image of himself, and desperately wants you to see him in a different way.

He's so gentle, and you can tell that he tries his best to use sweeter words, and be more affectionate. He's trying to let you know he cares, and really really likes you...

And honestly? You like him too. You love how he seems to try so hard for you, and you ask him out on a date (quite bold, go you!!)

He freaks out on the spot when you do, and asks you to leave it up to him, since he was just about to ask you out too. “Can we do it this Saturday, y/n? I'll take care of everything!”

He has the softest blush on his face, and you two bid farewell to go to your classes on the opposite directions. Osamu jabs his twin in the ribs and teases him for not being the first to ask you out.

“But at least she liked me enough, so shut up 'Samu” he's just so smug!

It's Saturday, and you're up bright and early. Selecting a cute sundress, you tie your hair up and wait by the park, where Atsumu is supposed to meet you.

He walks up to you, and takes in a sharp breath when he sees what you're wearing. He thinks you look beautiful, but he really just doesn't know how to say it. “Yer pretty” he mumbles.

But he knows the word "pretty" doesn't even come close to what you are. Is ethereal the word?

He has a bag with him, and he begins taking out bento boxes and other assorted snacks. “I uh— I had 'Samu cook this for us, but I helped too, so let's eat?”

The park was quiet and clean, since it was early in the morning and no one else was there. Atsumu leaned against a tree, (and took a huge breath for guts) before pulling you close to him.

He melted after seeing you look at him and smile as you popped a piece of takoyaki in your mouth.

The date progressed with Atsumu feeding you at random intervals, and laughing at how you seemed to have the cutest reactions to each of the dishes.

I feel like Atsumu would also be the type to let you have the last dumpling, or sushi, because that's how much he really adores you! :(Sorry this is so soft hhh)

You feel really happy after the meal, and snuggle closer to Atsumu, his arm wrapped around you and thank him for it. His heart is just beating so fast, and he slowly strokes your hair.

You suddenly get an idea, and get up, pulling him up with you. He stares at you whilst you open Spotify and play a song.

“Let's dance, 'Tsumu” you say softly, as you wrap your arms around his neck and place his arms around your waist. He's not used to being this close to you, but he really likes it.

As the music softly plays from your phone's small speaker, you sway aimlessly, staring into Atsumu's eyes as deeply as he is into yours.

You reach up, feeling bold, and kiss his lips gently, a small smile playing across your face, and you instantly feel his body heat up beneath your touch.

“I think you're perfect for me, Atsumu.” he has never felt more in love, than he is with you right now.

Suna

You and Suna would be the type of really tight best friends who everyone thinks are dating, but really aren't.

And it's driving people crazy! Like, he naps on your lap all the time, you wait for him to finish practice, and he's always recording you. You guys are obviously in love, but somehow you don't ever admit it?

Your friends and his are so tempted to just force you to get into a relationship already, but they're too scared of the blackmail Suna has on them xD

You want to ask him out too, but you're just really shy, and scared of putting your friendship on the line. He's the exact same.

So it goes on, torturously. Being so close, yet so far.

Until one day, you and Suna are hanging out in your room. You're studying, whilst he's watching volleyball videos. You keep sneaking glances at his beautiful side profile next to you.

The volleyball videos are a façade to him too. He really wanted to confess to you today, and thought today's study session would be a good opportunity.

Pulling your chair to face him, he takes your hands and brings it close to him. “Y/n... I'm not really good with things like this, and I know we're best friends, but I really like you.”

“I'm really sorry, I don't know if this will affect our friendship, but you're just too damn perfect to ignore.”

“Every single second I spend with you is excruciating because I want you to be mine so—”

He's interrupted with your soft lips pressing on his, as you lean forward in your seat, hands cupping his face. He's stunned, and his eyes widen, but he's just so happy, he kisses you back.

He laughs and looks at you, you're shy, after the outburst, and look up at him, eyes sparkling and cheeks so red. He gently holds you in his arms, and places you on the bed, getting on next to you.

Normally, if a guy did this, you'd be wary, and absolutely freaked out, but this wasn't a stranger. This was Suna. Your Suna.

He turns to face you and holds you in his arms as you bury your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent.

Softly stroking your hair, and tracing patterns on your back, he asks “So is this how our first date is going to go?”

You laugh and nod, “our first date is mutual napping. As expected of my boyfriend.”

Suna's words are caught in his throat when he hears you say that. Boyfriend? It sounds so good coming out from your mouth like that. Overjoyed, he pulls you closer.

The afternoon goes by lazily, as Suna falls asleep shortly after you do. You have naps together often, but none like this. None as intimate as him holding you, and peppering small kisses on you whenever he felt like it.

None as nice as being able to whisper “I love you, Rin.” everytime you jolted up, and feeling his presence, his warmth, and undeniable love for you.

You definitely take a picture of him, and post it on your social media, much to your friends' delight. Atsumu comments “Finally. I would've thrown Rintarō in the trashcan next time I have to hear how amazing you are. Now he can tell it to you straight 🤚”

A smile plays on your lips as you gently kiss your boyfriend's sleeping figure, loving him all the more.

Sakusa

Sakusa wants to do things properly with you. Like, he's very old school romantic, and he wants to take his time to sweep you off of your feet.

So you're in art history class, and as he sits next to you, he sees you focusing on a certain page of the textbook, mesmerized.

His cheeks grow warm beneath the mask, because you look so cute and focused, eyes shining as you try to memorize all the information on the page.

Being observant, he quickly concludes that an art gallery would be the best place for a first date. After all, Sakusa wants things to be perfect. He wants you to enjoy this date more than anything, and that starts with finding out your interests.

He slowly pushes down his mask, leans over to your side of the table and asks you if you'll let him take you out on a date this Sunday. You're so flustered, because you never thought Sakusa saw you in that way.

He looked serious, with no hint of it being a joke, so you nodded and told him you'd meet him Friday late afternoon.

Your mind was whirling, it seemed too good to be true. You've always had a crush on Sakusa, and ever since he was assigned to sit next to you at the start of the year, you've always hoped it would be a good chance to get closer to him.

You never knew he thought of you in the same way, and suddenly, the smallest things he did for you, like helping you with your questions, or sharing his sanitizer with you made so much more sense.

Friday, after school, your room was messy and strewn with clothing. After settling on a comfy outfit, you walked to the gallery, to find Sakusa, clad in jeans and a turtlenecks waiting for you.

He didn't have his mask on, and your heart somehow flipped, seeing him in all his beauty, without something covering his face.

The place was less crowded than usual, because it was still a weekday. Feeling bold, you decided to gently pull his hand and hold it. He intertwined his fingers with yours as you pulled him to check out an exhibit.

A few exhibits later, Sakusa was more in love with you than ever. The way your eyes shone with delight whenever you stared at something you particularly liked, or how you squeezed his hand tighter after feeling excited, causing his heart to squeeze a little bit too.

Deep down inside, he admired your beautiful figure staring up at a beautiful piece of art. The entire room was filled with canvases of different sizes, each more gorgeous than the next, but Sakusa's eyes were only on you.

To him, you were more stunning than any of the pieces in the room.

The two of you settle in front of a painting of two lovers, kissing each other passionately. You sigh softly when you see the painting.

Sakusa smirks and pulls you to him, his hands on your waist the exact same way as the lovers in the painting. His lips reach down to yours, capturing them in a passionate kiss. You're a bit startled, but you kiss him back, placing your hands on his chest.

It wasn't a long kiss, but you felt out of breath when he finally pulled away. “I thought you wanted to recreate that painting” whispered Sakusa in your ear, sensually.

You were a huge blushing mess, as you leaned up and kissed his lips one more time. “Oh hush, you.”

Once you were satisfied with how much time you've spent looking at the art, Sakusa smiles at you, asking you if you've enjoyed spending the day with him.

“I did... And honestly, I don't want it to end” you say shyly. His eyes widen, and a small smile settles on his face as he holds your waist, pulling you closer to him.

A few minutes later, you're in Sakusa's room. You know it's special because he didn't seem like the type of person to invite people to his house, much less his room. He held two paper bags of baked pastries and passed you one.

“How did you know these were my favourite?” you asked, as you took a bite of the flaky pastry as it melted on your tongue. “I just do, after all, I want to treat you perfectly because you are perfect.”

Your heart skipped a few beats as you shifted closer to him, wrapping his arms around you. You snuggled closer to his chest and felt his heart beneath you. “You're perfect too, Omi-kun.”

He gently holds you close as the taste of butter, pastry, and your Chapstick lingers in his mouth.

Kenma

You're Kuroo's best friend, and you inevitably also get extremely close to Kenma. (No offense but they are a package deal :( I couldn't bear writing him without Kuroo)

You've recently noticed that Kenma has been becoming more distant and shy than usual. It breaks your heart, because you really like him, and you're worried you've done something wrong.

You finally ask Kuroo why Kenma has been acting that way recently. “Don't sweat it kitten. I think he likes you, but he doesn't know how to deal with his feelings.”

You're a bit shocked, but nonetheless very happy. At first, you thought the warm feeling in you whenever Kenma smiled, or did something cute was platonic, but as you spent more time with him, you realized it was anything but that.

One day after school, Kuroo texted you, asking you to come over to Kenma's house. “We'll game together.” was his exact words.

But when you arrived, Kuroo was no where to be seen, and a blushing Kenma perched on his gaming chair looked very flustered.

“I'll go, I'm sorry. Maybe Kuroo was just pulling a prank on me.” you said nervously, not wanting to make the boy uncomfortable. But Kenma grabbed your wrist before you were able to leave.

“Maybe you could stay? I like having you around.” he said softly, his eyes not fully meeting yours. You smiled and nodded, getting into the gaming chair next to his.

“Would you like to play with me, then?” you asked, as you set the game up, the loading screen displayed on the computer.

The afternoon progressed with you and Kenma exhibiting perfect teamwork, as you levelled up together. He kept sneaking glances at you during the game, and loved seeing your small face enveloped by the huge headphones.

He thought you looked absolutely adorable. And hated how he could never tell it to your face. He really wanted to tell you how pretty you looked, or how much he liked you, but he was just too scared to.

Feeling his gaze on you, you gently took off your headphones before staring at him. “what's wrong, Kenma?” your eyes shone with concern as you studied his face intently.

What happened next was a blur to Kenma, but next he knew, he was kissing you, his hands on your shoulders and yours tangled in his hair.

He wasn't good with words but he wanted to show you how he felt. Show you how you made him feel, like the butterflies in his stomach couldn't calm down. He poured everything into that one kiss.

When he finally pulled away, his cat-like eyes took in your appearance, flustered smile, red cheeks, beautiful eyes. He was scared you might reject him, but the look on your face didn't show any of that.

You looked at him the exact same way he looked at you, with suppressed emotions and rushing love. Could it be that you liked him too?

“Uh, y/n... Do you maybe like me too?” you laughed softly as you tucked his hair behind his ears, pulling his headphones off his head. “for someone so incredibly smart, you are pretty daft.”

He sighed happily, and pulled your hands closer to him, placing them on his cheeks. “This is too much for my heart, I think we should continue gaming now.”

You laughed. This quirky boy never changed. Spinning the gaming chair, you turned to face the screen.

He brought snacks, at some point too, and insisted on feeding you. To tease him, you kissed his fingers whenever he did, causing the poor boy to blush.

Somewhere, in his house amidst his science study books, Kuroo laughed. “They're probably making out now.” (ah Kuroo is the cutest wingman!! And no I don't accept criticism >:)

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heyaeolus · 4 years

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HQ boys and their kids when they leave home

Contains: Kenma, Miya A.

A/N: Part three of my self-indulgent baby fever series!

Iwaizumi’s and Sakusa’s here! Kuroo’s and Oikawa’s here!

Kenma

We all know Kenma barely leaves the house even if he needs to. As much as he can, everything is done within the comfort of his home or, through video calls online

When you guys produced your cute and scarily-alike-to-Kozume son, Kozume’s eyes twinkled in wonder

He doesn’t really show it often but you would catch him watching his son intently a lot of times. And even though most of their time together is spent in complete silence or with the accompaniment of game music on the background, they get along spectacularly.

Your son didn’t even flinch when Kozume sat him through a rated 18+ game which consisted of murdering people You peeked into his gaming room, initially adoring them while your son cuddled his father. Only to rush to your son when you heard cussing over the speakers, bolting out of the gaming room

You gave Kozume one week’s worth of silent treatment then. If not for him weeping before you, begging you to stay and not take away his son. You honestly don’t know how your husband arrived to that conclusion or maybe it was kuroo

Given the mishap of the past, you were reluctant to once again, leave your son to your husband when you needed to visit a friend two hours away from home

Kozume assured you not to do anything which would further harm his baby, traumatized by the thought of the two of you leaving

Kozume fumbled with the controller, leading Mario’s victory. He let out a huff as he set the controller down while he peeked at his son’s face which is as blank as his. His son’s ipad is playing an episode of Cocomelon which he had been watching for the last two hours. Which explained the long yawn he let out, stretching his limbs then gazing at his father. The two remained silent, but thankfully, the older cat chose to initiate a conversation.

“Want snacks?”

His son nodded meekly to his question. Kozume stood up and got a pack of biscuits from the cupboard. He stopped before the counter, watching your son. The little boy calmly watched in his iPad, paying no attention to his surroundings. Just then, Kozume thought of a great idea.

He snuck into the laundry room quietly, careful not to make a sound. He hid behind the curtain, peeping through a hole on what his son would do next. About five minutes had passed before Kozume finally heard a series of soft footsteps padding on the floor. Kozume froze in his spot, anticipating the clueless figure of his son trotting into the kitchen.

Instead of finding it funny though, his heart broke at the sight of his weeping son. The poor kid who is the subject of his dad’s prank walked around aimlessly the house shouting “Papa!” over and over since he can’t find him. Adding to the anxiety of your son was the video Kozume showed him yesterday of a video of a man transporting into another dimension. Your son honestly thinks Kozume was somehow trapped somewhere as he banged his little fists against the walls, “Papa! Get out, papa!”

Kozume can’t take the sight anymore and rushed inside, scooping his son into his arms. “Baby, I’m sorry,” he apologized. His hands are stroking his son’s back in an attempt to reduce his sobs. His son nuzzled deeper into his shoulder. When he looked at his dad’s face again, his eyes were red and lips puffy.

“Papa, don’t leave.”

“I won’t baby.”

Kozume paid the price for the prank later that evening when you arrived when your son told you the story of his papa disappearing into another dimension.

Miya, A.

You were weirdly fond of bananas when you were pregnant of the twins so Atsumu came up with the brilliant idea of nicknaming your twins B1 and B2. He always earned a smack on the head from you when he calls them that when he just came up with it but as time passed by, it eventually grew up on you

True to his words, your husband calls his twins B1 and B2 when they were born even until now that they are six. But mostly, he calls them that when he wants to piss them off

Before, the cause of your headaches were mostly the twins – Atsumu and Osamu. Now, it was still twins but they are your twins.

Your twins, much to your luck, inherited their father’s uncharacteristically competitive nature. Out of all his traits, really. You thought it would be good for them later in life to have that innate. But in current times, it just brought chaos in your household.

Your twins and their father always find things to compete with. Like how they competed on who could eat more hotdogs among them. Your supposed to be one month’s worth of hotdogs disappeared over midnight. Worse is they all suffered from indigestion the next day so you had to nurse to three babies

When the three of them put up a whiteboard on the wall before the door, you knew pandemonium would soon ensue.

Atsumu glared at the twins as he finished his morning coffee. The twins gladly returned it, a similar smirk painted on their faces. You shot the three of them a warning look, “You better not break anything this morning or the three of you would not taste ice cream later.”

“Mom!”

“Y/N!”

The three of them whined in unison, looking at you as if pleading for their lives. “Finish that and we’re off,” you told mainly the twins but looked at your husband as equally stern since he has practice today. The four of you geared to go out. The three were quick to get their shoes, fixing it while they talk among themselves. “Dad,” the elder twin cooed with sarcasm dripping in his tone, “Looks like we’ll win more hours today.”

“Not like he’ll win the other days,” the other one smirked at his father.

Atsumu sneered at his sons. “I’ll get home faster than the two of you can,” he declared, standing up. The elder twin scoffed, patting his father’s back, “Nice try, dad. But have you ever thought about the fact that mom fetches us from school?” Atsumu’s face fell, finding a possible solution to his dilemma.

“What is this?” you came, glaring at them.

They all stiffened on cue, “Nothing!”

You shot the whiteboard on the wall a malicious stare. You were still trying to figure out what the green sticks under their names symbolize. The sticks under the twins’ names were currently more than of Atsumu’s.

That afternoon though, you get to discover what is it. Before you could even step out of your house to fetch the twins, Atsumu along with the boys you were supposed to get came rushing to you. Atsumu seized your hand, immediately pulling you to his embrace. You gasped, catching a glimpse of his smirk before crashing onto his chest, your nose suffering the blow. Atsumu barely acknowledged the squeal you let out, wincing against his chest. “HAH! Eat that banana boys! B1 and B2 can never win more hours with Y/N. I’m the main man!” Atsumu rambled giving you an idea of what the hell those green markings under their respective names on the whiteboard were.

“B2, is that dad spilling the beans to mom?”

“Yes, indeed, B1. He has yet to receive the wrath of Mother Earth.”

Atsumu was still surprised when his eyes met your sharp ones, ready to beat him into pulp for yet another competition, and also for your aching nose.

#haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu #hq #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #kenma kozume #Miya Atsumu #kenma x y/n #atsumu x y/n #kenma fluff #atsumu fluff #aeolus bouts #aeolus breeze

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terushimas-n1-hater · 3 years

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𝙒𝙃𝙄𝘾𝙃 𝙃𝘼𝙄𝙆𝙔𝙐𝙐 𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙍𝘼𝘾𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝙒𝙊𝙐𝙇𝘿 𝙃𝘼𝙑𝙀 𝙇𝙂𝘽𝙏 𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙀𝙉𝙏𝙎 𝙊𝙍 𝙎𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙇𝙀 𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙀𝙉𝙏𝙎

[I've been thinking about this alot. Also disclaimer this is just a headcanon and my thoughts. Also!! I changed my style bc im bored asf but anyways Enjoy (ﾉ´ з `)ノ]

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

• KAGAYAMA Either has two dads or two moms. They would be very loving and sweet and supportive in everything he does.

• HINATA Has a single hot mom. That's it that's the whole headcanon. Okay his mom would be kind but does have energy like her kids. Like a regular mom nothing too much. But she's definitely hot.

• YAMAGUCHI Would have divorced parents and lives with his mom? OR he has two very loving and sweet moms. One would be energetic and loves to go on adventures and likes to go hiking. And the other one is like really open-minded and calm and loves to bake.

• SUGAWARA Has divorced parents. Mostly lives with his mom. His mom would be pretty wealthy and rlly hot too like basically the definition of #girlboss but also pretty strict. He visits his dad on the weekends since he's more free at that time. His dad would be sweet and kind just like him and is the type of dad who takes you out to get ice cream literally out of no fucking where. Like they are both watching the news on TV. And he looks at suga and just goes “Hey kid! Want to go get ice cream?” Also, the type of dad who lets u eat candy right before dinner.

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• KUROO Also has divorced parents, but he stays at his moms house since his dad is like kinda careless. (I don't know why people headcanon him having mommy issues like no he would be such a mommy's boy.)

• YAKU Has two moms. And one of them is like short and the other is tall. And of course the tall one always teases yaku and her wife 🙄

• LEV Has a single dad. Like? I don't know he just does?? Like the strict and smart rich dad, and he's like kinda serious but definitely has a soft spot for his kids.

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• AKAASHI Has two calm and loving moms who would do anything for him. One is definitely on the strict side and the other is laid back and open-minded. Also, I have a feeling one would work and the other is a housewife? Also, they are very attractive just like their son.

• BOKUTO Has a single energetic mom!! One that would kill for her kids and always matches bo's energy. Always there to comfort him whenever needed. Overall a very sweet nice mom.

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• KITA Cottage core lesbian moms. Both of them are very sweet, although one has a similar personality to kita and the other one is just a sweetheart who's favorite thing to do is like take care of plants and bake cookies 🍪 milfs definitely milfs.

• ARAN I really don't have an explanation, but he just has a very sweet and caring single dad. Who's like kinda hot 👀 is the type of dad who loves to cook and definitely likes cooking with osamu. Also!! He laughs at atsumu's jokes even when they aren't funny or out of pocket. Buff manz is definitely buff and gives the warmest hugs. Basically a dilf 🤑

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• SAKUSA Has two dads. Those type of dads who have the worst humor and love kids. Even if Sakura seems like he's annoyed by them, he loves them very much. His dads love animals and has a lot of pets! And they are careful with that they do and make sure their son sakusa doesn't feel uncomfortable in any way. And sakusa really appreciates that :(

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whosaskingwrites · 4 years

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I Remember (Bokuto x Reader)

A/N: Bokuto is my absolute favorite in Haikyuu so this physically pained me to write. But I personally love this one its my favorite and its told entirely from Akaashi's point of view. Also this one ended up being the longest one so there's that.

WARNINGS: ANGST. Hospital is mentioned so mentions of needles. There's fluffy moments scattered in but do not be fooled it is angst.

Date: Sunday October 25th, 2020

Details: 7 pages 2,518 words

Theme: Hanahaki Disease- The victim begins to have flowers grow in their lungs leading to them coughing up flowers petals this continues getting worse until it causes their death. There's a surgery option to get rid of the flowers but it comes at the price of never feeling love again.

Angst Masterlist

I was twenty three years old when the first petal appeared. It was a pure white rose petal as it sat in my palm. That was the same day I told my best friend Akaashi.

I answered the phone holding it to my ear and before I could say anything Y/n’s voice came through. “Keiji I’m panicking I don’t know what to do and I’m scared-,” I interrupted her talking trying to understand what was happening. “Y/n slow down what’s wrong?” She took a deep shuttering breath as she responded “…I’ve got Hanahaki Disease Keiji,”

I was twenty four years old when I had to be rushed to the hospital during a MSBY game. I was hooked up to machines Akaashi by my side. He held my hand when I cried and admitted the cause of the flowers.

“Keiji I really love him…And I don’t know what to do…,” I sighed looking at her before I spoke “You two have been friends for years im sure you’ll be okay no matter what,” She shook her head eyes wide in fear “Keiji…loving him is different I can’t tell him!”

Bokuto was the reason for those snow white rose petals.

I was twenty four when the first petal appeared. It was a f/f petal clutched in my palm. That was the same day I told my friend Kuroo.

“Kuroo I’ve got something to tell you,” Kuroo heard Bokuto’s voice over the phone speaking as soon as Kuroo had answered the phone. “Aw are you about to express your undying love for me?” He snickered at his own joke but Bokuto didn’t laugh with him “I’ve got Hanahaki Disease...,” Kuroo took a sharp inhale of breath when Bokuto told him what was wrong. “Oh fuck,”

That same age I was rushed to the hospital during my match. I was hooked up to machines with Kuroo by my side. He sat next to me when I admitted the cause of the flowers.

“Kuroo it hurts. Why does it hurt so much?” Bokuto’s hand was pressed against his heart a fresh trail of blood on his face and trashcan overflowing with f/f petals. “Bokuto…,”Kuroo said staring at his friend feeling sad just watching him. “I love her Kuroo so why does it hurt?” Bokuto looked up then locking eyes with Kuroo and Kuroo gasped as for the first time he saw Bokuto’s normally bright gold eyes were now dull and lifeless.

Y/n was the reason for those f/f petals.

They fell in love with each other at different times. She fell slowly not willing to jeopardize everything they’d have for years.

“Keiji I can’t tell him! It’d ruin everything even if he felt the same,” She was nervous as I spoke her eyes looking everywhere but my face. “It wouldn’t ruin everything Y/n,” I soothed her rubbing gentle circles in her hand “I can’t risk everyone’s friendships for this,” she whispered finally looking me in the eyes. Her eyes had lost their normal spark and I knew she was missing him.

He fell fast but unwilling to put their relationship on the line.

“Kuroo I’m not telling her,” Bokuto’s arms were crossed over his chest his iv needle jostled slightly causing him to hiss in pain. “Bokuto nothing will change!” Kuroo mirrored the arms crossed position as he looked at Bokuto. “Everything would change!” He threw his hands up trying to emphasize his point.

It was a funny thing though back in high school everyone always assumed they were dating.

“Y/n!” She turned in her spot her eyes catching Bokuto’s “Kota!” she cheered as he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her up in a hug “Aw they’re so cute together,” A first year said while everyone nearby stopped to watch. “There goes Fukurodani’s power couple,” Konoha said from next to me with a chuckle. “I wish I had a relationship like theirs,” Another third year girl said. “We aren’t dating!” Y/n claimed still holding on to Bokuto. Its not like he helped though “Yeah!” He yelled pouting as he rested his chin on top of her head. “Yeah right,” A second year whispered nearby.

Those last few days in the hospital though…Those would stick with them forever.

I walked her to Bokuto’s room she had finally cracked and decided to tell him her feelings. We walked in her holding onto me and she held onto the pole holding her I.V bag. She looked at him he was sitting up in the bed looking no better than she did.

Both of them looked so tired. With eye bags and skin discoloration everywhere. They both bruised so easily now and were malnourished and dehydrated. Both had been unable to really eat or drink anything since they often threw up flower petals.

Bokuto’s hair was down and messy and I shivered at the depressing aura in the room. She moved forward and nudged his feet to get him to move them. Both of them seemed aware of the other’s fragile states being very soft in their touches. It however was very obvious both of them wanted to hold each other.

She sat when he moved his legs and Kuroo went to stand by me. I noticed he was taking pictures and he smiled when I noticed. “So they remember how dumb they are,” he whispered. She reached forward and took his hands holding them lightly “Bokuto please listen I love you,” He pointed at me then and offered her a shaky smile. “No...You love him Y/n,” he was trying to convince himself she didn’t and she knew that.

“No Kota I love you,” his eyes widened then knowing she was telling him the truth. She never lied to him when she used his nickname. He would have been able to tell if she was lying anyway. For once his gold eyes returned to their normal brightness as he leaned forward.

I remember how they hugged sobs falling past their lips and tears running down their faces.

“Kota I’m so sorry!” her head was buried in his chest as she cried arms wrapped around him. “It’s okay I’m here…and I’m sorry too,” He placed a kiss on top of her head as he whispered his response. I didn’t know why they were apologizing to each other but then again. I didn’t need to know they were happy and that’s what mattered.

I remember how they kissed hushed I love yous falling past their lips and their tears mixing together everytime they kissed.

“I love you so much Y/n,” Bokuto said pressing soft kisses to her face and multiple against her lips. “I love you too Kota…so so much,” she had replied back in-between the kisses. Her hands were in his hair running her fingers through the silver and black strands. “I feel like we shouldn’t be here,” Kuroo whispered to me as we looked at them.

His hand was holding tightly to her hospital gown the other hand was on her hip rubbing small circles into it as she sat on his lap. Their foreheads rested together at this point both of them closed their eyes basking in silence and finally being able to hold eachother.

“Maybe…But they deserve this Kuroo-san,”

I remember her sitting between his legs as they talked about the future. They talked about their future son.

“His name is gonna be Keiji Tetsuro Bokuto!” Bokuto had exclaimed Y/n was leaned back against his chest. His arms around her waist and she was holding his hands. Bokuto would occasionally press kisses to her neck and shoulder blade but it never seemed to bother her.

“Wait wait wait! Why is my name the middle name?” Kuroo asked looking at the pair. “Because Keiji is mine and Bokuto’s best friend,” Y/n responded with a smirk. “So will they be a middle blocker since Y/n chose his first name?” Kuroo asked wanting something besides a middle name.

“I think he’d make a good setter,” I voiced smirking at Kuroo while he glared at me. “You’re both wrong! He’s gonna be a wing spiker like his father!” Bokuto exclaimed looking at us with a proud smile.

I remember how all four of us argued and how they described how their son would look.

“He’s gonna be 6’1 and just as cheerful as me!” Bokuto said with a smile gold eyes bright as he talked. “I hope he has s/c skin like me,” Y/n said leaning back against Bokuto’s shoulder while he hummed looking at her. “I think he’ll have shiny h/c hair like you!” Bokuto suddenly said looking at Y/n with a bright smile. “Well Kota I think he’ll have big golden eyes just like you,” She said as she turned back to look at him.

A hand hit my shoulder causing me to flinch as I looked away from the paper I was writing. Kuroo stood their a small smile on his face. “Ready to go Akaashi?” He was wearing a dress that barely reached his knees unlike myself where I was in a suit. Normally we didn’t dress up on weekends but this weekend was special.

I remember how Bokuto proposed on his hospital bed a thin silver ring placed on her finger when she accepted.

Bokuto was laying down now Y/n pulled on top of him. His arms were still around her and the sun was setting. Kuroo and I had assumed by the soft breathing that the two of them had fallen asleep. Until Bokuto spoke up breaking the peaceful atmosphere

“Hey Y/n marry me?” He whispered. She lifted her head up and looked at him her eyes were wide in shock as she spoke.“W-what?” “I want you to marry me,” He said again looking at her with so much affection in his eyes.“Kota I…Of course I’ll marry you,” She whispered kissing him he reached beside him and put a small silver ring on her finger. Sakusa had brought it for him earlier when he asked.

“Can we get married in the spring? The cherry blossoms always look so pretty then,” She requested as she placed her head back on his chest. “Anything for you Y/n,” He whispered burying his nose into her hair.

We reached the hill that the two of them had met on. I always remembered that day too unaware that in a few years we’d be back for a different reason.

“Bokuto-san slow down!” I called watching him run towards a hill. He turned to face me now running backwards his school tie fluttered out behind him and a wide grin was on his face. “I can’t Akaashi! I’ve been sitting still ALL DAY,” He shouted back towards me. I saw behind him a girl with h/c hair walking by seemingly unaware of her surroundings.

“Bokuto-san watch out!”I called pointing behind him with wide eyes. He turned suddenly but couldn’t slow down in time “Wha-?” He ran into the girl knocking them both down. I winced as I got closer hearing a groan from them. Bokuto sat up suddenly looking at the h/c girl “Ah! I’m so sorry!” He shouted helping her back up. The girl rubbed her head and waved a hand at the apology before speaking. “No um it’s okay really!”

“Hey what’s your name?” Bokuto had a curious look on his face head tilted to the side. He was staring at the girl with wide gold eyes and yet she didn’t seem bothered by it in the slightest. “Me? Oh I’m L/n Y/n!” She chirped smiling and holding a hand out. “I’m Bokuto Koutarou!” He said matching her smile before he shook her hand. “Nice to meet you Bokuto,”

I sighed as I got there looking at the cherry blossom petals that fell down around us. “Today’s the day huh Bokuto-san and Y/n to of course,” Kuroo came up next to me.

I remembered them talking about the wedding wide smiles on their faces and holding onto each other tightly.

“I think we should have a dog bring the rings!” Bokuto stated throwing his hands up from where the rested on Y/n's back. She scrunched her nose at that. “No Kota the dogs should be the flower girls!” She said back her voice clearly indicating she was tired. Bokuto hummed in thought it must have been pleasant as she burrowed closer to his chest.

“I like that! Can Kuroo be the ring bearer?” Bokuto asked putting his hands back and tracing soft circles into her skin. She sighed in content at the action while Kuroo scoffed. “Wait why me? Why not Akaashi?” He stated with arms crossed “Im Bokuto’s best man that’s why,” I answered the question for them as the fatigue was beginning to wear on them both.

“Yeah and Yukie is my maid of honor! So you can be the ring bearer,” Y/n mumbled from her position. “Can I be a bridesmaid instead? I’ll even wear a dress,” Kuroo called. “Fine but only if you find a replacement ring bearer,” She whispered and I stood “Good night you two,” I said looking at Bokuto and Y/n.

Kuroo got up as well as Bokuto and Y/n whispered a good night. “See you tomorrow,” Bokuto mumbled nuzzling closer to Y/n his eyes barely open as he looked at us. “See you tomorrow,” Kuroo called back. Bokuto’s eyes closed then and he sighed. The last thing we heard before walking out were Bokuto and Y/n talking to each other quietly.

“I love you Kota,” “I love you too Y/n,”

“Sorry we were late there was some traffic!” I turned seeing my old volleyball team and the MSBY team everyone in suits or dresses. Sakusa had a pair of rings in his hand after he was made the ring bearer. Iwaizumi had brought Oikawa, Matsukawa, and Hanamaki. Each of them had a dog with a basket of flowers. “Well let’s get this started then,” Kuroo said as he took his place on Y/n’s side while I moved to Bokuto’s side.

Two hours later all of us were leaving to go a restaurant. I sighed as we left Bokuto and Y/n behind their rings sparkled in the sunlight. We left them with a bouquet of white roses on Y/n’s side and f/f on Bokuto’s side. I stood for a minute facing the two grey slabs of marble side by side like they deserved and let my final memories of them go as I stared at the photo of them Kuroo had left.

It was of them holding each other with tears running down their cheeks and smiles on their faces.

I remember how they admitted their love for each other when it was too late to save them.

I remember them at twenty four leaving the world curled up in each other’s arms unaware that they wouldn’t wake up again but they left knowing one thing.

They knew they loved eachother.

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TAGLIST: @wonhomarshmallow

#haikyu #haikyuu!!#haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader #bokuto koutarou #bokuto x reader #bokuto angst #WhosaskingAngst #bokuto fluff

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multi-fxndom446 · 4 years

Text

Never Forgotten

Bokuto Koutarou X Reader

Warning: angsty

Word count: 1.9k

Summary: don’t wanna give anything away so just read😁

Also can’t tell if I hate this so please leave your feedback<3

It felt weird to him. Being here felt weird to him. He had hoped he wouldn’t have to be there ever again after what happened but of course he would have to come back. It was his home.

The Black Jackals were all gathered around the court after there practice had ended. There first game was in a few days and usually he’d be hyped for this time but today felt different.

Hinata was next to him bouncing on his feet in excitement as he listened to the coach. “We’ll be leaving tomorrow night to get to the hotel on time. Please be here on time. Does everyone know what time you should be here?” He asked and there was a series of yes’s. “Alright get home and get some rest.”

The team split up and went there separate ways except for Atsumu and Hinata. They followed after Bokuto who was packing up his stuff to head home but before he could Atsumu stopped him.

“We’re going out tonight, Hinata and I, you wanna join?” Atsumu had his arm around Hinatas shoulder as he often did and he had his usual smirk. Hinata was beaming up at him but it fell when Bokuto shook his head.

“Nah I’m good, I just want to go home.” He grabbed his bag and threw it over his shoulder. “Thanks for the invite though.”

Atsumus eyes widened in surprise for a split second before Bokuto walked away and he shrugged. Hinata watched after him, his eyebrows drawn in confusion when Bokuto walked out the door without another word. “I’m sure he’s okay, let’s go.” Hinata nodded at Atsumus words and let himself be dragged away by Him.

Bokuto shifted the bag on his shoulder as he walked the familiar path towards home. He knew every path of this city because he walked almost every path with you. Walking with you and spending time with you was one of his favorite parts of his day.

He released a breathe of air and looked up at the sky. You loved the sky, more so when it was dark. He remembered how you loved to look out at the stars and how you always pointed different stars out to him.

The two of you grew up together, you were best friends all throughout your life and going into your second year in highschool you were more. You found it easy to get along with his volleyball team and that was another thing he loved about you. The team supported you both through everything because all of Fukurodani loved you too, you were so kind how could they not.

He took a right turn, leading to his house where his parents were waiting for him. Your house was just right down the street from his he could even see it when he finally got to his house. But he knew you weren’t there. The house was different, your parents weren’t even there anymore they moved a few years after what happened.

He stood on his doorstep and spared a few more seconds before he sighed and went inside into the arms of his awaiting parents.

The next day some of the Black Jackals decided to practice before they would leave and Bokuto was one of them. Although he was only planning on staying for an hour or so.

He kept to himself while he practiced. Politely dismissing anyone who asked him to join in on there practice. Bokuto was hitting a few more serves when Hinata, Atsumu and Sakusa came up to him but he just continued on with his practice.

“Bokuto-San, do you wanna come with us to get food?” Hinata asked after Bokuto hit another serve. Atsumu and Sakusa were beside him, waiting for his answer.

Bokuto tried his best to give a smile but ended up shaking his head no. Hinatas smile dropped again like the night before. “I was actually going to get going now. Sorry, I just need to go say bye to someone before we leave tonight.” Hinata watched Bokuto leave just like the night before.

“Do you guys think he’s okay?” Hinata asked the other two, who just shrugged in response.

“Are you ready to go?” Atsumu asked but Hinata started following after Bokuto. “Hinata!”

“Yeah I’ll meet you there.” Then he was out the door. Atsumu turned to Sakusa with confused eyes.

“He doesn’t even know where we’re going?”

Bokuto once again walked down the road that he had so many times before. But unlike the night before he turned left. He never walked this road until after highschool and he had hoped he would never have to.

He walked down the road just a little ways before he got to his destination. His eyes were downcast as he walked through the freshly cut grass. When he knew he was close he looked up again only to see someone standing by his destination.

“Akaashi?” Said male looked up at his name, smiling softly when he saw Bokuto making his way to him. “What’re you doing here?”

“Today marks 5 years.” He told Bokuto what he already knew. “I come see her every anniversary. We must’ve just never run into each other.”

Bokutos eyes widened when he saw Akaashis knowing gaze before he looked down at the flowers. Guilt was running through him but he couldn’t dwell on it as Akaashi put his hand on Bokutos shoulder. “She’d understand. You’re living your life, you’re busy.”

“I still shouldve made time.” He said quietly and Akaashi squeezed his shoulder slightly.

“She would understand if you moved on.” Bokuto clenched his jaw and shook his head.

“I won’t ever move on.”

Akaashi sighed, letting his hand slip from his friends shoulder. He took a few steps to leave but stopped right beside him. “I’ll be watching your game tomorrow. Do your best.” Then he was gone and Bokuto was left alone.

He turned so he could face your headstone and he kneeled down in front of it. His fingers skimmed across your name. He felt the tears he had held back threaten to fall as he scanned your name over and over.

Y/n Bokuto

Loving daughter, friend and wife

“Bokuto-San?” Bokuto jumped at the sudden voice. He turned to the person and relaxed when he saw it was just Hinata.

“Hinata what are you doing here?” But Hinatas gaze was locked on the headstone in front of him.

“Y/n?” He remembered you. He had seen you with Bokuto at multiple practice games, tournaments and training camps. You were so kind to him and everyone else.

He remembered how lovingly you and Bokuto looked at each other. How happy you both made each other. He had known you were his girlfriend but he didn’t know you both got married and he definitely didn’t know you died. He assumed Bokuto kept what happened close to heart.

Bokuto looked between Hinata and your headstone before he understood. “We got married a year after highschool.” He explained as he sat down right beside your stone, Hinata joined by his side.

“What happened?” Bokuto was silent. He hadn’t talked about you for along time but he knew he could find comfort in Hinata.

“I knew her my entire life. We grew up together. She was always so kind, always put others before herself. I had a crush on her throughout middle school.” Hinata glanced at Bokuto who had an almost nostalgic smile on his face as he thought back. “It wasn’t until second year in highschool that we figured out that we both liked each other and then everything was perfect. We wanted to spend the rest of our lives together but then a few months after we graduated she got really sick. The doctors said she wouldn’t have long, a few years at best so we decided to get engaged.”

“Bokuto..” Hinatas voice was soft as he saw tears roll down the older males cheeks.

“She wanted the wedding to be perfect so no matter how much I begged her to let us get married sooner she wouldn’t allow it. And so a year later we were married.” Bokuto quickly wiped away his tears as he looked down at the grass. “She died a few months later. Today is the anniversary of her death.”

That’s when Hinatas gaze locked onto a chain around Bokutos neck. “That necklace-?” Bokuto looked down at him before he clutched onto the necklace through his shirt.

He pulled it out and Hinata saw the rings hanging from it. It was yours and his wedding ring. “She gave me her ring a few days before she died. Told me she wanted to give me something to remember her.” He laughed humorlessly. “Like I’d ever forget her.”

“You only take it off for games?” Hinata finally realized and it was confirmed when Bokuto nodded his head.

The two of them sat in silence for awhile as they looked over your gravestone. Finally Hinata broke the silence with a quiet voice, “she was a really nice person. When I first met her she was helping me by tossing me some balls to spike.” Bokuto smiled slightly. he remembered that. He had to come drag you away and that was saying something because every night of that camp he was training later then anyone else. Well anyone except for Hinata.

“She couldn’t stop talking about how adorable she thought you were.” Bokuto told him, chuckling lightly when he saw Hinata blush.

“Even Tsukishima warmed up to her after a few days.” Hinata was smiling as he remembered. “She was a very kind person.”

“She was.” The silence lingered in the air for a moment before Hinata turned to him.

“And she loved you.” Bokutos eyes widened a little. “It was the first thing I could see when I first met you both.”

“Thanks Hinata.”

Hinata nodded his head slightly with a bright smile. He stood up from his spot and held a hand out for Bokuto. “Well let’s get going, you need to get something to eat before we leave.”

Bokuto reluctantly took his hand and let Hinata help him up. “Oh and Bokuto-San?” Bokuto hummed in question. “Tomorrow, let’s win that game for her.”

He took a deep breathe at that and smiled down at Hinata, nodding his head. Hinatas smile grew as he took the lead to walk out of the graveyard. He stopped halfway though when he realized Bokuto wasn’t following. He looked back towards your grave where he could see Bokuto saying his goodbyes. Bokuto kissed your headstone before he caught up with the younger male.

He played with the rings around his neck as he watched Hinata realize he didn’t know where Sakusa and Atsumu went to get food. He thought it was quite a funny sight when Hinata started panicking about it. When Hinata heard him laugh he looked up at him and smiled softly, at least he got Bokuto to laugh.

And that night as he sat in his seat on the bus he knew Hinata was right. Everything he said today he was right and so was Akaashi. But he wouldn’t ever forget you and even if he didn’t want to admit it he would knew he would eventually move on.

But for now all he wanted to do was win this game. For you.

#haikyu #haikyu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#Bokuto Koutarou #Bokuto X reader #haikyuu bokuto

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1plus1kiyoomi · 4 years

Text

Chapter 20: This Time I’ll Stay

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[masterlist] [kia’s slambook]

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You hold the white item in your hand, staring at the two red straight lines on the small screen-like box. Tears run down your cheeks, a wide small on your face. All types of emotions washing over you like a big tide. Your trembling hands take your phone off the marble, calling the first people who you want to share it with.

“(Y/N)? What’s wrong?” Akaashi asks you worriedly, hearing your sobs over the phone. Kenma joins the call, shocked to hear your short breaths.

“Why are you crying?” You hear Kenma shuffling on his bed. “Do you want me to go to you?”

“Keiji... Kenma...” You call them, crying even harder, the happiness in your heart overflowing. “I’m fine, I’m fine. I’m jus-”

“You’re what? You’re worrying me so much right now.” Keiji sounds like he’s mad so you stop yourself from wailing to be able to talk.

“I’m crying,” you say, not able to form sentences properly.

“Yes, you are. Why?” You feel Kenma roll his eyes even if you don’t see him.

“I’m pregnant.”

There is silence for a while until you hear Kenma’s chuckle. Keiji then follows. Your cries are tampered with laughter even though nothing is funny.

“Congratulations. I didn’t expect another child from you this early,” Keiji tells you, Kenma humming in agreement.

“Me, too. I can’t believe I’m pregnant again.” You hear a small gasp from the side, making your head whip to that direction. You see Kia standing at the doorway of the bathroom door. She’s staring at you with her mouth gaped and eyes widened.

“Mama’s pregnant...” She mutters, taking slow steps back. She runs out of the room and you quickly follow her, knowing what she’s going to do. She goes to the living room and opens the drawer where Kiyoomi keeps her phone that she uses for emergency calls.

Speaking of Kiyoomi, your fiancé, is in another city in the country for game. He’s supposed to go home the day after tomorrow. You plan to tell him that day, in person.

“Kia, put your phone down. Now.”

“No. I have to tell papa.”

“Kia...”

“Mama...”

“Kia, no.”

“Kia, yes.”

“It’s a surprise for your papa. We’ll tell him together.”

“No surprises.” Kia shakes her head, pressing the number 2 button in the dial pad for a long time. You hear the ringtone from a far so you quickly grab it from her hands.

“Kia?” You hear Kiyoomi speak from the other line, you push Kia’s face away with your empty hand, the other bringing the phone to your ear.

“Omi,” you speak awkwardly.

“Why are you calling me using Kia’s phone?” He asks in suspicion.

“My phone died and I had an urgent question, but it’s okay now,” you reason. “Good bye, baby.”

“(Y/N) wa-” You end the call. You look at Kia and she is glaring at you.

“Papa has to know!” She whines, folding her together and pressing them on her chest.

“He will, when he comes back home.”

2 days pass by fast, especially if you have to constantly stop Kia from spilling the beans to her father who calls at least 5 times a day. Kia waits for Kiyoomi to arrive, standing by the front door. You also stand behind her, securing that she won’t say anything. The door finally opens, KIyoomi getting surprised to see the two of you standing like dogs waiting for their owner to come home.

Kiyoomi lifts Kia first, then gives you a kiss. “Why are the two of you so tensed?” He asks you as the three of you go to the living room. You watch Kia, giving her ‘don’t-you-dare’ look.

“I’ll make dinner. Go take a bath,” you tell him, ignoring his question. You kiss his cheek, taking Kia away from his arms. He raises an eyebrow at you, but goes to the bathroom anyways. You sigh in relief when he’s not in sight, thinking that you are able to keep the surprise from him.

But Kiyoomi knows, because of Akaashi.

Sakusa was on a break, sitting on bench. His phone rang, so he checked who was calling. ‘Akaashi?’

“Hello, Sakusa-san,” the former setter greeted. Before Sakusa could even say anything back, Akaashi continued, “Congratulations on baby number 2.”

“What?” Sakusa cleared his throat, his mind going blank. Did he hear him right? He said baby number 2. He was sure he said that.

“I don’t think (Y/N) has told you yet,” Akaashi laughed awkwardly. “Can you pretend that you don’t know until she tells you? She’ll kill me if she finds out I told you before she did.”

“Okay,” Sakusa let out, still in shock. The call ended, but his phone was still on his ear, his body not able to move.

“Hey, it’s time to go back to pratice,” Atsumu called him, but he didn’t answer. The blonde setter goes to him, waving a hand in front of Sakusa’s face. “Are you dead?” Suddenly, the dark haired spiker pulled him into a hug. “What the fuck? Did you reprogram or something?!”

“Thank you for being a good setter to the team,” he told Atsumu, patting his back. “Do you want to eat out dinner later? Just to relax before our game tomorrow.”

“Is the world ending?!” Atsumu gasped dramatically.

“No, not at all. I think the world is doing great to be honest,” Sakusa responded, showing off a smile. Atsumu froze on his spot while the other man went back to the court.

The practice started once again, Kiyoomi playing better than ever. He was smiling the whole time, his teammates were creeped out. “Why is Omi smiling like that?” Bokuto whispered to Atsumu. Hinata leaned in also, wanting to join their conversation.

“He even hugged me a while ago,” Atsumu murmured back, side eyeing Sakusa.

“I’ll ask for a hug, too,” Bokuto claimed. He walked close to Sakusa, then poked his shoulder. “Can you give me a hug?”

“Sure,” Sakusa responded with no hesitance, taking Bokuto in for a hug. The grey haired man was astonished. After that, Bokuto went back to the other two, still stunned.

“Is Omi dying? Why is he so nice? Are his days getting counted,” Bokuto blurted, dazed.

“Maybe he’s repenting for all his sins, so he can go to heaven,” Hinata added, agreeing with Bokuto’s theory.

Sakusa heard all of their words, but all he could feel is happiness. He couldn’t explain what he emotions he were experiencing. All he could of at that moment was the growing child inside your stomach, your child.

Sakusa finally comes out of his shower, acting like usual but inside he is screaming. He already wants to tell you about the names he has come up with. He is so excited to shove it to his teammates that he’s having another child that will no longer consider them as boyfriends.

“Omi, you’re spacing out,” you point and he shakes his thoughts out of his head.

“Ah, sorry,” he says then continues to eat. You notice his little mannerisms: constant tapping of fingers on the surface, bouncing legs, hair running through hair. All of that means that he wants to say something. ‘Does he know?’

After dinner, he puts Kia to bed, you watching closely. He looks so smiley and excited. You lie down beside him, and he looks like he’s going to burst. Now you’re sure he knows. “You know, don’t you?”

“The what baby?” He asks innocently, suppressing a smile. You pout and he starts laughing. “I can’t do this anymore!” He comes to you, protectively wrapping his arms around you.

“How did you know?” You ask him, burying your face on his armpit. He smells good so you sniff even closer. ‘It’s kicking in. The weird pregnant things.’

“That’s a secret,” he chuckles. He pulls away from you and you whine, your nose wanting to smell him. “Don’t you want a kiss?” You kiss him then stick your nose back to his armpit. “This is already weird and it’s just the start!”

“Shut up. I was supposed to surprise you.” Your voice is muffled but he hears you clearly. His hand rubs circles on your lower stomach, his lips planting a soft kiss on your forehead.

“Can we name him Kin?” he blurted out so you snicker at how excited he is. “What? Don’t you think it’s a cute name?”

“We’re not even sure if it’s a boy. Why are you so excited?” You push your upper body up, so you’re looking down on him. A pout forms on his lips, squinting his eyes at you.

“Are you not excited?” He pulls you back down. Your face is pressed on his chest, his hand returning on circling your stomach.

“Of course I am!” You reply to him, hugging him tightly.

1st Trimester

“Are you done yet?” Sakusa yawns, holding your hair for you while you vomit on the toilet. The moon’s still shining yet you’re already in the bathroom throwing up. “Why do they call it morning sickness when you throw up any time of the day?”

“If you’re gonna complain you should not have asked for another child!” You growl at him. He sighs, not wanting to argue. He knows that when he says anything in disagreement, you’ll start crying. Your hormones are playing with not only you, but also him.

You feel less nauseous so you stand straight, panting. He gently pulls your hand, leading you to the sink. He takes your toothbrush and starts brushing your tooth for you. He insists on doing that ever since the first time you experienced morning sickness with him around. He thinks it’s disgusting but it’s the least he can do for you.

“You want to eat something?” He asks as you spit the foam out of your mouth. He wets his hand and wipes the foam on that got stuck on your chin.

“Are you really asking me that after brushing my teeth?” You complain as he wipes your mouth with a dry towel.

“I don’t want you to go to bed with an empty stomach,” he reasons, fixing your hair. You hum, thinking about his question. So far, you have not been having weird cravings yet, which Sakusa thanks for because he won’t feed you disgusting combos of food.

“Just ice cream,” you finally answer, and he nods. The two of you go to the kitchen quietly, not wanting to wake Kia up. You take a seat at the dining table while Sakusa scoops an ice cream for you. As he hands it to you, the soy sauce bottle catches your eye. Something inside you tells you that you want it, so you point at it, but he doesn’t get it. “Soy sauce.”

“No,” he tells you in disgust. You feel yourself tearing up and Sakusa immediately grabs the bottle and hands it to you. You clap in excitement, pouring a good amount of soy sauce on your ice cream. Looking at you makes him want to vomit but at the same time the smile on your face warms his heart. ‘7 more months.’

2nd Trimester

You and Kia wait for Sakusa outside the gym. You are scheduled for your 18th week ultrasound today, and Sakusa insisted on going with you. You’re finally gonna find out about your child’s gender and he doesn’t want to miss any ultrasounds. He wants to make sure you and your child is healthy and in great shape.

“Are you excited to spend some time with Mu-chan?” You ask Kia and she excitedly squeals. Kiyoomi decided not to bring Kia at the appointment with you so you can surprise her at her birthday which is in a week.

You see his teammates come out, and Kia greets them one by one. Sakusa and Atsumu finally arrive, so you and Sakusa head out, parting ways with Kia. Before you leave Kia, Sakusa threatened Atsumu that if something happened to his daughter, he’ll drag his body around the court during practice.

“What do you our baby will be?” Sakusa asks you, intertwining his fingers with yours. He plants a kiss on the back of your hand, his eyes on the road.

“To be honest, I feel like it’s a girl,” you answer.

“You know what that means,” he teases and you let go of his hand. “What? You said we’ll not stop trying for a son.”

You stay silent, the smile on his face halting your anger. You can tell he’s excited and it’s hyping you up, too. It feels like you’re through your first pregnancy again. You arrive at the hospital and you walk to the clinic hand in hand.

A nurse greets you and heads you inside the clinic where the OB is waiting for you. She gives you a hospital dress and you change into it. You lie down the reclining chair. The doctors splatters gel over your lower abdomen, the coldness of the fluid making you giggle. Sakusa is standing beside the chair, his fingers playing with your scalp.

“Oh... you see that? Your baby is a...”

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“Happy birthday, Kia!” Everyone cheers after singing for her. Kiyoomi lifts her, then blows the candles of the cake with her. It’s her first birthday with her father.

“Before we start eating, we want to tell Kia what her sibling’s gender is,” Kiyoomi announces. He takes a box where either a girl’s clothes or boy’s is in. Kia excitedly rips the box open, gasping at the item inside the box. She lifts the dress up, showing it to everyone.

“A baby sister!”

Third trimester

“Kiyoomi!” You scream, your voice echoing through the whole house. He rushes to you and sees the liquid dripping down your legs.

“Shit! Shit! The baby is coming! The baby is coming!” He panics. He calls your midwife, notifying her about your condition. He runs out of your shared room and heads to Kia who is scribbling in the living room. “Kia, your sister is coming. You know what to do.”

Kia immediately takes her phone out of the drawer, prepared on what to do. She and Kiyoomi has been practicing for weeks for your birth. They panicking but prepared. Kia calls her grandparents first, telling them you’re finally giving birth. Next, she calls Akaashi and Kenma. Then, she goes to you, helping you calm down by holding your hand. She’s telling you bedtime stories and rubbing circles on your stomach from time to time.

While Kia is comforting you in your room, Kiyoomi’s in his bathroom, running a bath for you. You have opted for water birth at your home, which Kiyoomi had convinced you to do since it was said to be less painful than normal birth.

Your pregnancy have been nothing but smooth thanks to Kiyoomi. He never complained about your mood swings or 3AM cravings. He went to every appointment with you despite his busy schedule as a pro-athlete. He and Kia were there all through-out and you couldn’t be more thankful.

Minutes later, your midwife arrives, helping Sakusa transfer you to the tub. You take your dress and panty off, then wear a comfortable sports bra. They guide you into the tub, making sure you don’t slip and fall.

Kia waits on the bed, just like how she was trained to. She wants to go to you and hold you because she know you’re in pain, but she’s afraid that she’s going to be a nuisance to your delivery.

“Omi, can Kia go in the room?” You request in between pants, the contractions getting even stronger. He nods and calls her in. She slowly goes to you, sad that you are crying because of hurt. She caresses your sweaty forehead, then plants a kiss on it.

“You can do it, mama,” she cheers you up, grinning at you. She’s trying her best to calm you down and it magically lessens the pain. You hold onto her tiny hand, Kiyoomi standing by your side the whole time.

3 hours later, you hear voices from outside of the bathroom. You take a glance at the doorway and see your best friends waving at you. You manage to let out a smile, your weak hands waving at them. The Sakusas have also arrived, not wanting to miss the opportunity to see the new family member. You hear Akaashi’s parents voice, and it soothe you.

“Do you want me to join you in the water?” Kiyoomi asks, brushing your hair off your forehead, his other hand has been holding you for hours now. You nod eagerly, letting go his hand. He takes his shirt off and gets in the tub with you. He positions himself behind you, his legs on your sides. You lean your back on his chest, your skin contacting with him. He intertwines your hands again, placing it over your bulging stomach.

Kia enters the room with Akaashi and Kenma, a drink in her hand. She holds it out you with both of her hands. “It’s your favorite juice mama. Drink.” You take a sip from the straw, the drink hydrating you. Then she holds it out too, Kiyoomi. “You too, papa. You’re working hard, too.”

“You’re working the hardest, Kia,” Kiyoomi tells her, patting her head. You can’t speak now, but you definitely agree. Kia is just a child, but she’s trying her best to understand what’s going on. She’s comforting you as she knows you’re in pain. She’s helping Kiyoomi in handling the matters just like how she promised him. She’s working so hard for you, Kiyoomi, and her soon to be born little sister and it’s all paying off.

After a few more hours, you see your baby’s head. Your midwife tells you push, so you do. But it’s painful, it hurts so much. You stop pushing, crying hard due to too much pain.

“Baby, you can do it,” Kiyoomi whispers into your ear, holding your hand tightly. He kisses the top of your head, wanting to take the pain you’re feeling. If he could, he would definitely transfer the pain you’re feeling to himself. But he can’t so he’ll try his best to soothe you. “Look. Our baby’s almost out. Don’t stop pushing...” You gain motivation from his words and with one last push, your baby girl’s finally out.

The midwife catches your child quickly, then brings it on your chest. Kiyoomi’s arms wraps around your stomach, looking down at your child that is on top of you. The midwife gives him a pair of umbilical scissors. He gets to cut the umbilical cord for the first time ever. It’s something has been looking forward to. He tears up as his cuts the cord.

“Omi... she’s finally here,” you cry, hugging your newborn.

“Yes, she is. And it’s all because you did a great job.” He kisses the top of your head again, his hand softly landing on the back of your child. His hand is wider than her back it’s scaring him that she’ll hurt him.

“What are you going to name her?” The midwife asks the two of you. You stare at your child, waiting for Kiyoomi to answer.

“Mina. Sakusa Mina.”

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Kia finally wakes up from her nap, missing the rest of delivery. She quickly gets up, her blankie still in her hand. “Is my sister here?” She asks Kenma and Keiji who are in the living room. They nod at her with a smile.

They lead her to Kiyoomi’s bedroom where you are sleeping in. Mina is on the crib beside your bed, also sleeping. Kiyoomi sees Kia enter so he gently wakes you up. You had told him that you didn’t want to miss Kia and Mina’s first meeting. “Kia’s here.”

“Kia, come here,” you pat on the space beside you. She slowly climbs up the bed, not wanting to hurt you.

“Where’s the baby?” She asks you softly. You look at Kiyoomi and signal him to take Mina out of the crib. You put a support pillow on Kia’s lap, your daughter nervous and excited to meet her new sibling.

“Mina... your big sister is here,” Kiyoomi coos at the newborn as he lifts her out of the crib. Mina squirms, waking up. He puts her down on the support in Kia’s lap.

“Kia, it’s your little sister. Mina,” you tell Kia, softly petting the side of her head. Kia stares at the baby on her lap. The first thing she does surprises you and Kiyoomi. She places her blanket over her little sister, then softly cups Mina’s small cheeks. Kia places a gentle but tender kiss on her forehead. She starts crying, and so do you and Kiyoomi.

“Hi, Mina. I’m your Kia-neechan.”

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Facts:

Newborns has been hearing sounds since way back in the womb. Mother's heartbeat, the gurgles of her digestive system, and even the sounds of her voice and the voices of other family members are part of a baby's world before birth

Water birth might help you relax and help you feel more in control. Floating in water helps you move around more easily than in bed, too. Some science suggests that the water may lower chances of severe vaginal tearing.

Only 5% of babies are born on their due date. 50% are born within a week of the due date. 90% are born within 2 weeks of the due date.

The most popular day for babies to be born is Tuesday, followed closely by Monday

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