Latest Posts by anonymouskiwi - Page 2

Wrong team – Kageyama x reader wc 986 – f!reader, brother!Atsumu, brother!Osamu

Being a student could be difficult, but being a student in Osaka and Osamu Miya’s little sister had its perks. Osamu hired you quite quickly after you graduated from high school, letting you work part-time at the restaurant, which also meant you were his favourite employee to bring for job excursions.

Like this huge one, where your other brother and his team were playing against the Schweiden Adlers.

You practically bounced as you walked past the banners when entering the arena a couple of hours before the game was set to start. Chatting away with Osamu on how you thought the teams would play, the two of you enjoyed setting up the stall and preparing everything to hopefully sell a bunch of delicious onigiri.

“Okay, ya did good. Ya get…” Osamu checked his wrist watch, humming under his breath before smiling up at you again. “Fifteen minutes to roam around, then I need ya back here.”

“Thanks!” you squealed and high-fived him quickly before running off, still wearing your complete uniform. Osamu had told you it was better to keep it on so that no one thought you had snuck in, so you even had the cap and name tag on.

You first ventured around the halls for a bit, nervous to approach the actual court where you could hear them warming up. However, the nervousness eventually couldn’t stop you from peeking inside.

There they are, the gorgeous Schwe- oops, surely you mean the Black Jackals?

Smiling sheepishly to yourself, you slowly crept inside the main arena to observe. Just as you found Atsumu, he seemed to catch a break and ran off towards Osamu’s stand, probably to check if everything was okay. You frowned, wondering if you should turn back so you could wish him good luck before-

“Hi.”

It felt like your heart jumped right out of your chest at the unexpected company, eyes snapping to the Kageyama Tobio standing there with a volleyball tucked between his elbow and waist. In an attempt to hide that you had to catch your breath, you cleared your throat and adjusted your hat. “Hey! Ready for the game?”

That was smooth enough. Good job.

“Getting there, it’s our turn for warm-ups on the court in about a minute,” he told you casually. Clearly, he wasn’t aware of your clammy hands and burning ears.

“I’ll be cheering for ya! From the food stands,” you told him with an awkward chuckle.

Kageyama walked closer to you, leaning in to look at your name tag and the logo on your shirt. His eyes seemed to brighten, and you felt entranced with their oceans. “Thank you. I might have to come get some onigiri if you have any left after the game… and the signing… and the press meeting.”

You chuckled more genuinely this time, charmed by how he got more and more dejected at the realisation that he might not have the time to get onigiri today. “If yer ever back in town, ya could always swing by. We’d be happy to serve ya, maybe even add yer photo to the wall of fame.”

“Speaking of, shouldn’t you be cheering for the other team? With that last name on your shirt.” Your heart once again tried to kill you as it did a double take with Kageyama’s surprisingly cheeky comment.

“I’ll have ya know it’s not just on ma’ shirt-”

“Y/N?!”

You sighed, a headache already forming at Atsumu’s heavy footsteps. “I just came to tell ya good luck, Tsum.”

Atsumu glanced at Kageyama, who seemed to take the hint and gave you a little bow before gathering with his team to start warming up their attacks. You waved him goodbye before getting pulled back by Atsumu, all the way back to Osamu’s stall.

“It’s yer responsibility when we’re here that no Adlers get close to her,” Atsumu instructed to deaf ears. Osamu was too busy readying the register and simply waved him off. “She’s our baby sister- ow!”

After you threw a solid punch at his arm, he finally let go of you so you could return to your spot behind the stall. “Cringe,” Osamu commented, making you nod in agreement.

“I’m barely two years younger than ya.”

After Atsumu made his way back to his team, you barely had a spare minute to think much about your interaction with Kageyama. A lot of people came to watch, including several old friends of yours from Inarizaki, so you sold a lot of food before the game started and held a conversation or two to catch up where you could.

About ten minutes into the game, the line finally dispersed as everyone got back to their seats to watch the best game of the season. “Tsumu’s up to serve,” you mumbled as if Osamu wasn’t watching the same thing.

The serve was great, but Hoshiumi was on it, getting the ball up for Kageyama in a tough spot. You clutched your hands together as you watched in anticipation, ultimately cheering when the set led to Schweiden Adlers’ point. Osamu placed a hand on your head, pushing your cap down over your face. “Wrong team, idiot.”

Osamu hadn’t actually taken any of Atsumu’s allegations seriously, but maybe he should have. That’s what he thought when he watched Kageyama walk inside his restaurant one evening, hands tucked deep in his pockets and looking around like he wasn’t there for him.

“Welcome to Onigiri Miya. How can I help ya?”

“I was hoping-” Kageyama’s eyes trailed from the kitchen behind Osamu and back to him, a small pout on his lips. “I’ll just have today’s special.”

“So yer the Adler my brother warned me about, tsk tsk.” Osamu shook his head and sighed as if this took years off his life. “I’ll get her.”

Atsumu will be livid when he hears about this, Osamu thought, and that was always his greatest motivation.

masterlist

requested by @livelaughlovetoru for my event, anything for you <3 I changed your idea a little to my preference, but I hope it’s still enjoyable!

Hey Emmy hey Emmy listen

Whenever you’re having a snack or whatever osamu leans over with his mouth open expecting a bite and he calls it “boyfriend tax”

HE CAN PRY MY FUDGE BROWNIE FROM MY COLD DEAD GRIP-

You get so into the routine with him that when you take a chip out of the bag or unwrap your candy bar, you just immediately turn to give him a taste, laying the chip on his tongue while he chews happily.

Sometimes, to mess with him, you don’t give him a first or second bite of your cookie, and you hear him whine softly and gently wrap his fingers around your shirt, tugging the hem of it gently for your attention. If you continue to not listen, he whines your name softly, and you blink mindlessly at him, “yes? Can I help you?”

“Boyfriend tax, remember?” He says, opening his mouth.

You snicker, “I remember. I just don’t feel like paying for it.” You stick your tongue out playfully, and he pouts.

Then, his brows raise, “wait, c’mere baby, you’ve got some crumbs on your lip.” You lean over for him to wipe the crumbs free-

Only to dart his head down to your hand holding your snack and take a massive bite.

“MIYA OSAMU!”

He’s immediately out of his seat and making a break for it, cackling the whole time.

Hello! Can I make a request for Satori Tendou?

Where Satori doesn't know how to handle his emotions when the reader is around. So she thinks that maybe she isn't to Satori's liking.

Sorry for the English, I use a translator.

- MIXED SIGNALS -

tendo x gn!reader

Satori Tendou wasn’t the type to get nervous. Not during matches, not when facing down a spiker twice his size, not even when he was being weird in public and people stared. He liked being unpredictable. He liked the way people couldn’t figure him out.

But you—you—were the only one who made his brain short-circuit.

And it was driving him crazy.

Every time you laughed at something he said, it felt like the sun was inside his chest, like he could float out of his skin and hover in the rafters. But when you looked at him too long, or smiled at him with that softness that made his throat go dry, something in him would retreat. Not out of disinterest—God, no—but because he didn’t know how to handle it.

So he covered it up with dumb jokes and awkward silences. Talked too much. Then not at all. And every time he saw your face fall just a little, he hated himself for it.

It wasn’t long before he noticed you pulling away.

You stopped showing up to his practice as often. When you were there, you kept your distance, always talking to someone else, eyes darting past him like he wasn’t worth lingering on.

It hurt in a way he didn’t know how to name.

At first, he thought maybe you were just busy. But then a week passed. Then two. And suddenly the gym felt colder without your warmth in it. His jokes or brainrot felt hollower. The team noticed too—Ushijima even asked if something was wrong, and Tendou just laughed, too loud, and said he must be coming down with a cold.

He knew he couldn’t keep pretending.

So one day, after practice, when the rest of the team had wandered off to change, he found you sitting alone on the bleachers, notebook in hand, legs swinging slightly. The fading sunlight lit your face in a way that made his heart thump painfully hard against his ribs.

He walked up, hands buried deep in his pockets, and stopped in front of you like a glitching program.

“You’re avoiding me,” he said.

Your head snapped up. “Huh?”

He gave a lopsided smile. “Dude you heard me.”

You looked down at your notebook, fingers tightening around the edge. “I just… I thought maybe I was bothering you.”

That stung. Tendou flinched, subtle but real. “Bothering me?”

You finally looked up at him, eyes vulnerable, confused. “You stopped talking to me. Stopped joking around. I thought maybe I’d done something wrong. Or maybe I wasn’t your type.”

His breath caught.

The words clanged around in his chest like a dropped bell. Not your type.

He sat beside you, but not too close—afraid he might ruin something just by existing wrong.

“You didn’t do anything,” he said, voice quieter than usual. “I just kinda… I suck at this.”

You tilted your head. “At what?”

“Feelings,” he muttered, then huffed. “You.”

You blinked. “You suck at me?”

He groaned, dragging a hand over his face. “That came out so fucking wrong.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up—small and startled. Tendou glanced at you, a crooked smile forming.

“I like you,” he said suddenly, like it physically hurt to keep the words in. “Like, a lot. But every time you’re near me, I get so… jumbled. It’s like my brain turns to mush or something. I don’t know how to act. So I end up being weird—well, weirder—and then I overthink everything and convince myself you hate me.”

Your expression softened.

“Satori,” you said gently, “I don’t hate you.”

“I know,” he whispered, eyes on the floor. “But I was scared you would if I wasn’t perfect.”

You reached over, resting your hand on his.

He went still.

“I don’t want perfect,” you said. “I just want you.”

Silence settled between you, heavy with unspoken relief.

“Even the parts that I act all dumb and shit around you?” he asked, voice rough around the edges.

“Especially those.”

He looked up, red blooming at the tips of his ears. And then, slowly, he grinned—a real one, toothy and bright and a little crooked.

“Okay,” he said. “But you should know—I’m going to be terrible at this.”

You leaned in, shoulder brushing his. “Chat we can be terrible together.”

“Ew don’t say that.”

“My bad twin.”

“DON’T SAY THAT EITHER.”

And for the first time in weeks, Satori Tendou felt like he could breathe.

(TOOK ME SO LONG TO WRITE THIS FOR NO REASON)

Thinking of a shy!autistic!reader who sees Asahi Azumane for the first time…

You’re quiet, gentle, and overwhelmed by how tall the Karasuno guys are when you show up to bring them to the gym. You’ve been practicing what to say all day—going over it in your head like a script—but then you see him.

Asahi.

Big. Broad-shouldered. Soft-eyed.

You forget your entire sentence.

And while you manage to speak to Coach Ukai just fine, you keep sneaking glances at the third-year with the bun and the kindest eyes you’ve ever seen. You’re trying so hard not to stare, but your face is already flushed and you’re tugging at your sleeves like it’ll hide you.

Asahi notices. Of course he does.

He thinks she’s cute, but also wonders if something’s wrong. He doesn’t realize he’s staring back a little, and Daichi and Suga absolutely pick up on it.

Later, after the match, Nishinoya’s like, “Yo Asahi, your girlfriend was eyeing you the entire game.”

Asahi turns redder than Nekoma’s jerseys. “She was not!“

“She totally was,” Hinata adds, grinning.

“She literally walked into a wall watching you serve,” Suga says, just to stir the pot.

Across the gym, you are hiding behind one of your teammates, wishing the floor would swallow you whole—but also kinda hoping you get to talk to the soft boy with the pretty hair again.

LEFTOVERS — MIYA ATSUMU

content: established relationship, fluff. word count: 0,6k.

It started on your third date.

You were at a cozy little ramen shop tucked between two buildings downtown, the kind with foggy windows and handwritten menus. Atsumu was already halfway through his bowl, slurping loudly, while you picked daintily at yours, your pace slower, more thoughtful.

When you finally set your chopsticks down with a soft sigh, Atsumu’s head popped up like a meerkat. He glanced at your half-finished bowl, then at you.

“You done?”

“I think so…”

He didn’t hesitate—he dragged your bowl toward him, already fishing out the last noodles with the kind of joy that belonged to someone who had definitely grown up fighting for the last slice of pizza. You raised an eyebrow.

“You’re just gonna eat my leftovers like that?”

“Mhm.” He mumbled, mouth full. “Waste not, babe.”

You rolled your eyes, but the corners of your mouth twitched into a smile.

From then on, it became a quiet ritual.

At every meal—whether it was takeout sushi on the couch, late-night snacks, or lazy weekend breakfasts—Atsumu somehow knew when you were done. You never said anything. You’d just push your plate a few inches away, and seconds later, his arm would reach out, like a sleepy cat stretching toward a sunbeam.

He never asked. He just did, like it was the most natural thing in the world to finish what you couldn’t. And honestly? You loved it. It was kind of warm. Kind of comfortable. A little unspoken love language all your own.

Sometimes, you liked to leave things on purpose—half a fry, a bit of omelet, the last bite of a sandwich. Not because you couldn’t finish, but because it made you smile when he took them without hesitation. Like there was this tiny thread between you, this unspoken connection built from a thousand small, silly habits.

And now, months later, that thread had only grown stronger.

Tonight, you were curled up on the couch together, a blanket tossed over both of you, the flicker of a movie playing quietly in the background. You handed him the last bite of your ice cream cone without looking—just a silent offer passed between you two.

He took it, of course, with a soft “thanks” leaving his lips.

After he finished, he turned to you and tapped your nose gently with his finger. “Y’know, if you ever actually finish your food one day, I think I’d be heartbroken.“

You snorted, leaning into his side. “Maybe I’m just trying to slowly make you gain weight. Long-term plan.”

He gave you a flat look. “So this is a trap.”

“Obviously.”

Atsumu shook his head with a small laugh, slipping an arm around your shoulders. “Well… too late now. It’s already my favorite part of the meal.”

ushijima feels like he can’t get to you fast enough.

the final whistle has barely echoed through the gym when his eyes find you in the stands—already standing, already smiling, like you’ve been waiting for this moment just as long as he has. the crowd is loud, people moving everywhere, teammates clapping him on his back, but none of it registers because you’re the only thing he’s moving towards.

your face lights up when you see him heading your way, and you start weaving through the edge of the court. he meets you halfway, and before he can say anything—before he can think of anything worth saying—you throw your arms around his neck.

he grunts softly as he catches you, big hands steadying your waist like you’re the most natural thing he’s ever held. you hug him tight, nose buried in the damp crook of his neck, all sunshine and love and joy that you know he doesn’t quite know what to do with.

“you were so good,” you whisper, pulling back just enough so you can look him in the eye. “like, stupidly good. i was yelling so much i think my throat gave up on me.”

ushijima blinks, dazed from the affection, but there’s something warm flickering behind his eyes.

“you yell even when i’m bad,” he says.

“that’s because i love you either way,” you reply without missing a beat, and press your mouth to his like it’s instinct, like it’s something you’ve wanted to do since his first serve of the match. it’s a little clumsy, but it makes his hands grip your waist just a little tighter.

when you finally pull away, noses bumping, he blinks again: flushed and terribly in love. the faintest curve tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“i thought you didn’t like to be so… public,” he says, voice low.

“i don’t,” you say, pecking his lips again, “but i’ll make an exception for you.”

ushijima kisses you again, and thinks, you’re mine. you’re my exception, too.

#5. throwing their arms around the other person’s neck, hugging them close before kissing them passionately on the lips. (for @mahowaga because ushijima wakatoshi seems to follow her wherever she goes.)

Eddie is such a pitiful, simpy boyfriend—he hates your stuffed animals, they get more cuddle time than him.

God forbid you have one big one you like to sleep with, he'll roll away from you and pout, muttering out a poor, extra shrill imitation of your voice, "Oh, Eddie, I love you so much—just not as much as I love Mr. Gordo. Mr. Gordo takes precedence. If I were the captain of the Titanic, I'd tell all the officers to say, 'Women, children, and Mr. Gordo first,' just so I could leave you to drown and start a new life with my true lover."

Having turned over to watch his back shimmy as he mocks you, you're barely able to contain the laugh you so badly want to let out at your boyfriend's self-made misery. "Eds, that doesn't even make sense. The captain went down with the ship. Also, I'm a woman. I wouldn't have been a ship captain at the time."

"Oh, I'm sorry." He jerks his head back for a second, spitting out the insincere apology somewhere vaguely in your vicinity. "Forgive me—for in my moment of severe emotional turmoil, I failed to craft a compelling hypothetical tale of your infidelity!"

Softly chuckling at his incessant need to use verbose language when upset, you reach for him, gently rubbing his back.

But Eddie's feeling particularly slighted tonight, so he jumps away from your touch, contorting his abdomen outward to avoid your consoling hand.

"Don't touch me, cheater!"

Not bothering to try again, you pull your hand back, raising an unimpressed brow at his melodrama. "Eddie," you chide.

"Infidel!" he accuses over his shoulder, scooting to the very edge of the bed.

"Eddie!"

You can't believe him—he's acting like you truly offended him by simply holding your stuffy at night. Apparently, you're not allowed to hold anything but him—a version of this exact situation happened a week ago when you rolled over to hug your pillow.

Sighing, you try to reason with him. "I'm sorry, you just run so hot! Anytime I try to hold you, I end up sweating!"

At your excuse, Eddie promptly rolls over to face you—a tight, controlled motion that startles you.

"Oh, god forbid a man have a heartbeat! God forbid a man's mitochondria dare control cellular metabolism and produce a little heat!"

Rolling your eyes, you find an accusing finger hovering right in front of your face the second your attention is back on him.

"You know, if we were still in caves, that would make me the cock of the walk! Every ooga-boogette for miles would fight to be with me! I'd bring fire and body heat to the dwelling, everyone would want me!"

"Fine, go heat another dwelling! This ooga-boogette has to work tomorrow and if you don’t let me get my beauty sleep, I will find a slab of wood and bonk you over the head with it!"

Wholly offended that you're using his hyperbolic metaphor against him, Eddie pouts, nearly retreating into himself after being yelled at. Avoiding your eyes, he mumbles through his heavy bottom lip, "Don't wanna heat another dwelling. Wan' this dwelling."

"Okay," you settle, exasperated—like a mother humoring her child’s tantrum just to move things along. "Then go to sleep."

"Wan' a kiss."

You can barely make out what he said—his sulking mumble has dropped another octave. "What was that?" you prompt, locking eyes with him, waiting for a response.

"Wan' a kiss," he repeats—still pouting, still mumbling, but louder and more frustrated this time.

"Fine," you sigh, leaning forward to give him a quick peck.

"Wan' a better one..."

"Eddie."

"Wan' a better one!"

"Jesus Christ..." You roll your eyes, lifting your hand to his warm cheek and dragging him in for a prolonged, breath-stealing kiss. When you pull away, you wait for his hazy eyes to open, meeting him with an expectant look. "Better?"

A smug smile spreads across his wet lips as he hums approvingly, "Mhm."

The one-eighty in his disposition makes you shake your head disapprovingly—Eddie is such a piece of work.

Masterlist

♡ — Gojo is drunk and he misses you. He doesn’t seem to understand that you are sitting right in front of him.

“. . . and sh-she’s so talented and pretty . . . my pretty girl . . . you gotta meet her.” SATORU GOJO cocked his head to the side, grinning; his flushed cheeks and ears were a deep shade of red.

The tall man’s legs were outstretched. He was slumped over the arm of your couch, and though he looked like he was on the brink of falling asleep, he continued to ramble on, on, and on.

“Who’s pretty?” You questioned your drunk boyfriend with worry, folding your arms across your chest.

“My girl . . . my baby . . . she’s so . . . I love her. I’m in love. I miss her. I need her.” Satoru’s grin fell into a frown.

Clumsily, he fumbled around until his hand found his phone in his pocket.

“Gonna call her,” he mumbled.

His bright phone screen illuminated his glossy eyes, and it didn’t take long for him to groan in frustration over not being sober enough to find his pretty girl’s contact.

Satoru reached across the coffee table, handing his phone to you.

“Can you call her? I love her so much,” Satoru was on the verge of tears. “I wanna marry my pretty girl.”

“Who am I calling?” Your voice was shaky. As you held his phone in your hands, you tried your hardest to prepare yourself for the worst — hearing Satoru slur out another name.

Satoru’s head snapped in your direction. Strands of his messy white hair fell every which way across his face, but you could still make out his eyebrows, which were pinched in confusion.

“Hmm,” Satoru paused, giving you a slow blink, “you’re not that bright. Everyone knows . . . everyone knows Y/N is mine . . . don’t you know that? She’s my baby.”

You couldn’t fight the urge to grin, nor did you want to.

“Can you hurry?” With a whine, Satoru started to sink down until he was laid out across the couch cushions. “I’m gonna die if you don’t hurry and call her, please. Call her-call Y/N.”

“I’m right here, Satoru,” you said.

He looked at you again, processing your face for a moment. He rolled his eyes.

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

“No . . . you’re not.”

“Okay, you know what?” With a sigh, you dialed your own number and handed the phone back to Satoru. “Here.”

Satoru eagerly grabbed his phone, smiling ear to ear at the sheer anticipation of getting to talk to you.

Naturally, your phone started to ring, and you answered it, staring at your drunk boyfriend.

“Hello?” You mumbled.

“Y/N? I miss you . . . where are you?”

“I’m right here-”

“Hold on, baby.” Satoru suddenly pulled the phone away from his ear, and he shot you a tired glare. “Can you be quiet, please? I’m trying to . . . to talk to my girlfriend.”

Satoru rolled over onto his side, his back now facing you. He put the phone back up to his ear, whispering, “This woman’s so rude, Y/N. No manners . . . where are you?”

“Satoru, sweetheart, that woman is me. I’m right behind you.” You couldn’t help but laugh just a bit.

Slowly, Satoru rolled back around, his eyes locking with yours as his lips parted to, once again, tell you to be quiet, but his annoyed gaze faded away. It changed into a blank expression. Then, as he studied your face further, there was a brief frown of confusion, but suddenly, his lips broke out into a wide smile. Satoru sat upright, unintentionally sending his phone tumbling to the rug below the couch.

“Y/N?” He motioned you towards his lap. “C’mere, sweetheart. Where’ve you been? I missed you so much . . . so much, baby.”

After tapping the red button on your phone to end the call, you then got up and made your way over. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you down onto his lap without wasting a second, his hands finding your hips as you straddled him, and he continued to ramble on, on, and on.

“Baby, there was this other woman here. She was awful . . . wouldn’t be quiet. Told her I was trying to talk to you, not her.” Satoru pulled you closer. He kissed your neck. “I missed you s-so much. Don’t leave again, okay? I don’t wanna talk to no one ‘cept you, okay, baby?”

“Okay, I promise,” you ran your fingers through his messy white hair. “I also promise to throw out all the alcohol in this house, because clearly, you can’t handle it, can you?”

“I can handle you just fine, baby. Will you kiss me now?” Satoru pulled away from your neck, those lips of his falling into a small pout.

You couldn’t help but sigh and smile over him misunderstanding everything right now.

Your needy, drunk boyfriend placed his large hand on the back of your head, guiding your lips towards his, kissing you deeply. All the while, you couldn’t help but wonder if your boyfriend was this needy when he was sober, but kept it a secret.

He certainly was.

🏷️: @sad-darksoul @priv-rose @yihona-san06 @keriaonmarz @luvvmae @underworldsheiress @notgoodforlife @thewondrousdreamer @levisfavoriteteashop @preciousamethyst @iwanttohitmyself @shoyosdoll @lil-apple-pie @prettypixigrl @sonarspace @averysmolbear @starstoru @starlightanyaaa @dolphin1135 @ioveartfilm @filhadaanarquia @blackdxggr @jaegergirl @gunslxtz @he11okitty-mari @koikohib

I think this is cute

It all started with a ring. A simple, band of silver wrapped around Tsukishima’s left ring finger. It wasn’t flashy but it looked particularly new.

His coworkers, Kento and Ran, at Sendai City Museum noticed it immediately, especially when he had to take it off to clean pieces or when he needed to wash his hands.

“Did you see it?” one whispered, leaning against the coffee machine.

“Of course I saw it. How could I not?” another one murmured back, eyes moving towards the tall figure of Tsukishima, who was typing something on his computer.

None of them dared to ask. They all knew Tsukishima well enough to understand prying would get them nowhere.

Why was he wearing a ring? He never wore jewelry, so that initial theory was quickly debunked. Family heirloom? Could be, but still, it looked pretty new and he wouldn’t wear it. Then of course, the most obvious: marriage.

But, to who? Not even one of his workmates knew that he was in a relationship!

Their best bet was to observe him in his natural habitat— the museum. Maybe they could catch a glimpse of his lock screen or some text message received from a significant other. But nothing.

Until a group of students came to visit the fossils exhibit. Tsukishima was always the one who prepared and guided the students around the exhibit and gift shop, but today, he was accompanied by his two coworkers, as new fossils had been added.

“And there is the gift shop. We offer replicas of the fossils and several other objects that you may find interesting.” Tsukishima tells the children and their respective teachers. “We have a more specific area with educational resources for class.”

“Thank you so much, Tsukishima-san.” One of the teachers bows, showing him her respect and gratitude. “We’ll have a look.”

Tsukishima’s gaze lingers on something else for a moment and one of his coworkers notices the direction is going to.

“It’s no problem. If you excuse me, I need to grab something.”

The teachers nod and Tsukishima leaves their side, walking towards the front desk of the gift shop. Kento swats Ran’s arm.

“Look!”

“Kei, you forgot your lunch again.”

Their eyes looked at the shopkeeper, the lovely, bubbly (Y/N).

She stood behind the counter, holding a neatly wrapped bento with a look of fondness. The taller man sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“I didn’t forget it… Just to lazy to carry it…”

“Aha, of course…” (Y/N) rolled her eyes, stepping out from behind the counter, leaving the bento behind for a few seconds. Without any doubt nor hesitation, she reached up to fix Tsukishima’s sweater and lanyard. It looked like she had just done that for years—her touch almost familiar.

“You’re impossible,” she muttered, a smile playing on her lips as she tapped a finger against his chest. A finger wearing an almost similar ring to Tsukishima’s, adorned with a small diamond.

Kento and Ran barely held back their gasps.

This was it. This was her. The mystery wife, the lovely (Y/N) that hang out with them, went to karaoke and went out for drinks on Fridays. How long had they been together? How on Earth did they not notice?

Hiding behind a postcard display, they started murmuring about possible timelines, shivers running throughout their bodies at the haze of Tsukishima’s golden eyes flicking in their direction.

“I can hear you, you know?”

Kento and Ran scattered instantly, but not before hearing (Y/N)’s laughter and noticing the playful little smile on Tsukishima’s face.

Jealousy: Kyotani (Mad Dog)

The bar was crowded—not uncomfortably, but just enough that the air pulsed with low music and the warm scent of whiskey and fryer oil. The lights were low, warm and golden, casting soft shadows over tables cluttered with drinks and peeling coaster edges. Glass clinked softly in the background, a lazy rhythm to the Friday night energy building in waves.

You were leaning against the bar, waiting for your drinks, while Kyōtani had ducked away to use the bathroom. Your phone buzzed in your pocket, but you ignored it, eyes on the bartender shaking cocktails two seats down.

Which was, in hindsight, the exact moment the universe decided to test your patience.

“Hey there,” came a voice to your left—slurred, low, and too close. You caught the sour tang of beer on his breath before you saw his face.

You didn’t turn immediately. You’d felt it coming—like a storm you could smell in the air.

“I been watchin’ you from across the bar,” the man said, a lazy, drunken confidence in his voice. “You look like you could use some company.”

You exhaled slowly through your nose. “I’m good, thanks.”

He chuckled. “C’mon. Don’t be like that. I’ll buy you a drink, sweetheart.”

You turned your head, offering a cool, unimpressed stare. His eyes were glassy, cheeks blotched red from too much alcohol, and his grin was the kind of smarmy that made your skin crawl.

“You don’t wanna do that,” you said flatly.

The guy blinked. “What? Buy a pretty girl a drink?”

“No.” You shifted your weight, voice firm. “Hit on someone who’s taken.”

He raised a brow, like he thought you were bluffing. “Taken? Don’t see anyone here. You ditched him already?”

You narrowed your eyes. “You need to back off.”

But he didn’t. Of course he didn’t. Men like that never did.

Instead, he laughed—loudly, like he’d just heard the best joke of the night. “Relax, baby. You’re hot. I’m just tryin’ to show some appreciation.”

You turned back toward the bar, trying to signal the bartender, but the guy didn’t take the hint. You felt him step closer, invading your space. Then his hand brushed your arm—too familiar, too bold.

That was when you felt it.

The air shifted. Like the pressure dropped.

A presence behind you—heavy, hot, and unmistakable.

Kyōtani.

A shadow passed over the drunk guy’s face, but he didn’t turn fast enough.

Kyōtani didn’t speak. He didn’t posture. He didn’t warn.

He just swung.

A blur of movement exploded at your side—a crack, loud and sharp, followed by the thump of a body hitting the ground. The guy lay sprawled across the scuffed floorboards, groaning, his hand cupping his jaw as shocked silence rippled through the nearby tables.

Kyōtani stood over him, jaw clenched, one hand still curled into a tight fist, his broad chest rising and falling as he stared down at the guy like he was debating whether to throw another punch for good measure.

You didn’t flinch. You didn’t even blink.

You just looked down at the groaning man and said, with a shrug and a sip of your half-warm drink, “Told you so.”

Kyōtani turned to you, golden eyes burning with residual fury, scanning your face and arms like he needed confirmation you were untouched. “He touch you?”

“Barely,” you muttered. “He tried.”

Kyōtani grunted low in his throat, gaze snapping back to the guy on the ground. “You’re lucky I stopped at one.”

The bartender said nothing. No one did.

You grabbed your second drink off the bar, rolling your eyes. “Guess I need a new gin and tonic now.”

Kyōtani huffed, throwing a protective arm around your shoulder, steering you away from the scene. “Let’s go. I hate this place anyway.”

“You hate every place.”

“Not true,” he muttered, hand tightening at your waist. “I like the ones where people don’t talk to you.”

You laughed under your breath as the two of you disappeared into the cooler night air, Kyōtani’s hand never leaving you for a second.

And as you walked, he leaned in, voice low and unrepentant.

“Next guy that touches you,” he growled, “I’m breakin’ his ribs.”

You smirked, leaning your head against his shoulder. “I know.”

Hey so I really like your writing. Your fics are so inspiring...! Can I pretty please request a fic about Kita catching Reader off guard with a blunt love confession?? 🙏 I'd love to see what you come up with!

Aw inspiring?!! That is so sweet!! I love that I am what people were for me when I started writing (about 5 years ago!) so never give up and be proud of any work you make!! I hope you enjoy <333

--

Confessions: Kita

The thing about Kita Shinsuke is that he never does anything without purpose.

He speaks with intention, moves with care, and rarely—if ever—lets emotion get the better of him. He is dependable to a fault, calm even in the most chaotic situations, and as predictable as a rising sun. Which is why, when he turns to you one spring afternoon and says, "I’m in love with you," you nearly choke on your drink.

The two of you are sitting beneath the shade of a wide camphor tree near the back of the school, where the grass grows a little taller and the breeze feels like a secret only you two share. The breeze is soft, the air warm and sweet with the scent of new blossoms. You’d come out here to eat lunch together—something that had become a quiet ritual between you and Kita. No crowds, no noise. Just the two of you, sharing space, swapping stories, occasionally falling into long stretches of silence that never felt awkward. He always brings homemade bento boxes, neatly packed, and you bring snacks or something small to share.

You blink at him, unsure if you heard right. "Sorry—what?"

Kita is still looking at you, expression as steady and unreadable as ever. He’s holding a rice ball in one hand, his bento sitting neatly in his lap. "I said I’m in love with you."

There’s no hesitation. No blush. Just the plain delivery of truth—as if he’s pointing out the weather, or commenting on the quality of the rice today.

You nearly drop the bottle of tea in your hand. "Kita," you breathe, searching his face for a trace of humor or a tell that he’s messing with you. But he’s not. Of course he’s not.

Your heart stutters. "You can’t just say things like that out of nowhere, you know."

He tilts his head slightly. "Why not?"

"Because—" You flail for a second, grasping for something clever to say, something to make sense of the heat rising to your cheeks. "Because it’s—surprising."

Kita hums, thoughtfully chewing. "I didn’t think it would be. We spend time together. You bring me pickled plums even when I don’t ask. You save the last piece of tamagoyaki for me, even though it’s your favorite. You walk me to the gate every day, even when you’re running late. I thought maybe you felt the same."

You sputter, caught between the instinct to deny and the overwhelming realization that he’s right. You do all those things, and more. You always look for him in a crowded room. You always listen when he speaks, no matter how quiet his voice. You think about him in between classes, after practice, before bed. He’s right.

He continues, voice soft but sure. "You don’t have to say anything right now. I just thought it was time I told you."

And with that, he turns his gaze back to the tree branches swaying above you, like he didn’t just tilt your entire world on its axis. He takes another bite of his rice ball, completely composed, like he hadn’t just carved a confession into the air and left it hanging between you.

You sit in stunned silence for a moment longer, the breeze tugging gently at your sleeves. Everything feels quieter now. The breeze, the rustling branches, the distant sound of other students laughing in the courtyard—it all fades into a soft, blurred background. Your fingers tighten slightly around the tea bottle in your lap.

You steal a glance at him. He’s not looking at you. He’s perfectly calm, patient, and somehow that makes your chest ache more than if he’d confessed with nervous laughter or flushed cheeks. There’s no doubt, no need for reassurance. He meant it.

You reach over, plucking a stray leaf from his shoulder. You don’t know why—it just gives your hands something to do.

"You’re unbelievable," you mutter, shaking your head.

He glances at you, eyes curious but unbothered. "Is that a good thing?"

You let out a soft laugh, one that feels lighter than it should considering your heart is still racing in your chest. "I don’t even know. You really just said that like you were telling me we had PE next period."

He shrugs. "I meant it. I don’t think it needs to be complicated."

And you know he’s right again. Kita doesn’t dress things up. He doesn’t make things harder than they need to be. He doesn’t hide behind games or fear or doubt. He just is.

You look down at your lunch, your appetite forgotten. You can’t stop thinking about the things he said. The way he noticed your little habits. The way he didn’t need you to answer right away. The way he didn’t waver.

When you finally meet his eyes again, there’s a warmth blooming in your chest—slow and full, like sunlight rising through clouds.

"I’m in love with you too, you idiot," you say, and your voice is so quiet, so soft, that you almost expect him to miss it.

But he doesn’t.

Kita Shinsuke turns to you fully then, and for the first time all afternoon, he smiles.

Really, truly smiles.

And just like everything else he does, it’s quiet, intentional, and completely disarming.

He reaches for your hand—not suddenly, not dramatically, but gently, deliberately—and your fingers lace together like they were always meant to. You sit that way for a long time, the afternoon stretching endlessly before you, the breeze curling around your ankles, the scent of spring growing thicker with each passing minute.

Neither of you says much after that. You don’t need to.

Some things are better left to the quiet.

And Kita, as always, knows exactly what silence means.

Kenma is currently trying his best to keep his hands from shaking. He is ultimately unsuccessful when he finally gets them to hold still, just to have his leg shaking right in its place. He hates fighting with you, and to be honest he is really trying to avoid it. But how can he when he is almost certain that you are slipping away from him in favor of your new coworker. He would be lying if he said that he always felt secure in your relationship, but it was never your fault. He had always subconsciously felt like you needed someone who wasn't so introverted so you could properly enjoy dates, vacations, and parties like you deserved. He had been quite surprised when you didn't seem to mind that most of your dates were at either your or his apartment or that he was never the last one to stay at one of Kuroo's events. He considered himself lucky, but that doesn't mean he still wondered if you would ever find someone else.

Kenma's head snaps up as he hears your keys in the door. He takes a steeling breath to calm his nerves and hopefully get his thoughts in order. You come in and your eyes immediately fall onto your sweet boyfriend. Kenma can see the smile growing on your face as soon as you catch his eye and he feels bad that he has to be the one to ruin it for you. He sees the look of confusion that takes over your face at Kenma's face. "Hey baby is everything okay?" Your voice always sounds so sweet and hearing it almost makes him want to just drop this subject. How could the love of his life, with the sweetest smile and the sweetest voice ever do something as heinous as cheating? There's no way.

"Yeah, I just think we should talk." Your heart drops at Kenma's tone. He sounds as if he's a shell of a person, like whatever is bugging him has taken root and replaced your Kenma. Your voice is much shakier when you respond "Yeah, no problem." Kenma doesn't miss the fact that you stopped yourself from saying babe at the end of your sentence and feels absolutely distraught. He never thought that you withholding a pet name from him would absolutely wreck him as much as it does. He takes a deep breath before he bluntly asks "Are you interested in Hikaru-san?" You stare at him blankly as you process his words. Interested? Why would you ever be interested in Hikaru? You confidently tell Kenma "No, why would I be interested in Hikaru-san?" Kenma then responds with a cold "Then why have you been talking and hanging out with them so much?" You try to hold back your laughter at the absolute ridiculousness of this whole situation. Your boyfriend that you live with and have been with for years is jealous of the young intern that has been appointed as your trainee. The only reason why Hikaru has had to text you so often is because he has gotten lost taking the train back to his university more times than you can count. He had a big heart, but he could be a little dense. You two had also had to stay overtime a few days because he had forgotten to turn in some very important paperwork and you were scared if you left him alone to do it he would mess something up. You decide that showing Kenma instead of telling Kenma would be a much better course of action, so you unlock your phone and hand it to your skeptical boyfriend. He looks up at you for confirmation and starts looking through your text messages with Hikaru after you smile and nod at him to start the search. What he gathers from the messages is that your responses are very polite and almost monotone. It's exactly what he would expect from a coworker that you aren't particularly close to. He also notices that Hikaru's texts are anything but flirty. Almost all of his messages consist of him panicking over getting off at the right stop and missing an important meeting, or him trying to gauge how much time an important task will take so he can try and make time for his own coursework. He hands you your phone back sheepishly, but he still thinks that something has to be going on. He waits as you quickly navigate to your instagram to show him Hikaru's profile. You turn your screen around to face Kenma as you go through Hikaru's bio and posts. You see realization dawn as Kenma's face before he looks up at you to confirm to see a knowing smile spread across your face.

"Ken he has a boyfriend."

Oh.

Osamu seems so calm and reserved to most people. (unless they see him with Atsumu) None of your mutual friends would ever expect Samu to be so needy. He is constantly texting you sweet messages in between breaks at Onigiri Miya. He comes home from work and follows behind you until you both settle on the couch together to watch one of your shows. He will either insist that you rest your entire body weight onto him so he can finally feel your body heat against him or he buries his head into your lap so you can play with his hair. Osamu isn't one for talking straight away after he gets home besides the usual asking how your day was, but when you two finally head to your shared bedroom he becomes extremely talkative. In the dark of the room he will play with your fingers as he begs you for all of the details of your day before I recounts everything that went on with him. He quietly laughs when he hears your faint snoring and pulls you into his chest so he can finally get some sleep as well.

Being in a situationship with Iwaizumi where he is fully convinced you two have been dating. You and Iwa had been in what you would call an exclusive talking stage for over a month now. Your friends always teased you for how cute and clueless you and your "boyfriend" were. You hated reminding them that technically you and Iwaizumi weren't together officially. There was no labels, you two just went on dates and talked (which is basically dating but you still wanted your man to ask you to be his) You were going to finally confront Iwaizumi about where you two stood when he picked you up from work. You were slightly nervous to hear his response. What if he didn't see you as relationship worthy? You didn't think Iwa was someone who dated around to waste time, but with this generation of guys you never know. You walk up to where he's standing outside of your workplace to see him chatting to someone on his phone. You walk up to him and mouth a little hi as you wait for him to finish his phone call. Your face flushes as you hear Iwa tell the other person on the line hurriedly "I'll take to you later Shittykawa, my girlfriend just got out of work." He hangs up the phone without waiting for his friend's response, but you still hear an indignant "Hey!" before the line cuts out. Iwa wraps his arms around your waist and kisses you softly, only pulling away to excuse himself for being on the phone. Your face flushes harder as you weakly ask him "Since when?" He confusedly states "Well he called me like ten minutes before I got he-" You cut him off to clarify "Since when have I been your girlfriend?" He looks utterly lost as he processes your words. Were you not his girlfriend? "Since our first date?" You shake your head slightly and remind him "You never asked me to be your girlfriend on our first date." He looks even more wrecked as he asks "I was supposed to ask?" I guess your friends were right, you two are clueless.

Kuroo had imagined that if he ever had a meet-cute with his future girlfriend, it would be something out of a rom-com.

Maybe she’d bump into him in the hallway and drop her books, and their hands would brush as they both reached down. Maybe they’d get locked in the school’s storage closet and have no choice but to talk, discovering they had an undeniable connection. Maybe he’d do something particularly cool in front of her—like nail an impossible volleyball save—and she’d be so impressed that she’d fall for him on the spot.

You know, a great story to tell his future kids later on.

What he did not imagine was this.

He had barely settled into his seat in chemistry lab class when the teacher rattled off instructions about the elements they’d be working with today. Kuroo, who had only half-listened, glanced at the laminated periodic table on their lab station. There were a lot of elements, and he was already regretting not paying closer attention. With a sigh, he turned to the girl beside him.

“Hey, can you check which elements we’re supposed to—”

He paused.

For one, you looked a little startled, like you hadn’t expected him to speak to you so soon. Your lips parted slightly, and your fingers thrummed against the edge of the table, but you didn’t immediately respond. Kuroo furrowed his brows.

Maybe you didn’t hear him?

Before he could repeat himself, you blinked a few times and slowly turned to the periodic table. Your expression shifted into something that could only be described as deep concentration, like you were trying to decipher some ancient text rather than a chart of chemical elements.

Seconds passed.

Then a full minute.

Kuroo’s eyebrows inched up.

Still, no answer.

“Give me a second.”

Ah, there it was.

He could see your eyes darting over the periodic table, and every few moments, you squinted slightly, as if you were trying to bring the tiny printed words into focus. Another thirty seconds passed. He tilted his head, watching as you leaned forward a little, your eyes locked on the chart like your life depended on it.

You would probably set it on fire at this point from how intense you were looking.

“…You good?” he finally asked, unable to stop the curious edge in his voice.

You straightened up so fast it was like you had been caught doing something embarrassing. Which, judging by the way you suddenly looked anywhere but at him, you probably had.

“I, um—” You hesitated, biting your lip. Then, after what seemed to be an internal debate, you let out a small sigh. “I actually, uh, forgot my glasses at home.”

Oh.

Oh.

Kuroo blinked, his amusement only growing. That explained a lot.

“That bad, huh?” he asked, resting his elbow on the table and propping his chin on his hand.

“Not terrible,” you muttered, though the way you still weren’t looking at him suggested otherwise. “I can still see—just not, you know, well.”

That made him chuckle.

“Well, that’s going to be a little problem, isn’t it?”

You let out a small, almost defeated laugh. “Probably.”

Kuroo grinned and turned his attention back to the chart, skimming for the elements the teacher had mentioned. “Alright, let’s see… We’ve got—” He rattled off a few element names and their symbols, glancing at you to make sure you were following along.

Then, as if remembering you had an actual task to contribute to, you quickly dropped your gaze back on the textbook for reference. “You don’t have to—”

“Nah, it’s fine,” he interrupted smoothly. “What were the elements again? Aluminum, zinc, and—what was the last one?”

Still looking a little overwhelmed by the sheer speed at which this whole interaction was happening, you answered, “Um. Magnesium.”

“Magnesium, got it.” Kuroo tapped the page, making sure you could at least see where he was pointing. “Here, let’s work on this together. I’ll read it out, and you can double-check if I’m not mistaken.”

You let out a small, barely-there laugh—so quiet that if Kuroo hadn’t been paying attention, he would’ve missed it. But he was paying attention.

He had been ever since you sat next to him, really. He realized that he paid attention to you more than the teacher himself.

Kuroo read the information to you, sometimes exaggerating just for fun—“And this here, my dear lab partner, is the majestic zinc, element number 30, the unsung hero of batteries everywhere”—which earned him an amused shake of your head. You weren’t exactly talkative, per se, but he caught glimpses of amusement in the way you entertained his nonsense.

This must be the manifestation of that one tweet he posted, “My future wife is probably fake laughing at her boyfriend’s lame jokes rn. Be patient, Queen; a true clown is on the way.”

Now that you weren’t caught off guard, you nodded along, quickly jotting things down in your notes. It was then that Kuroo realized something else.

You hadn’t even introduced yourselves.

“You know,” he said, smiling a little, “I think we skipped a step.”

You paused, looking at him curiously, then back at your worksheet. “What?”

“The whole name thing.” He tapped his pen against the worksheet. “I asked you to do something before I even said hi. That’s pretty rude, huh?”

For the first time since he spoke to you, you actually met his gaze. And then, to his surprise, you cracked a small smile.

“A little, yeah.”

Kuroo chuckled. “I’m Kuroo Tetsurou.”

You tilted your head slightly, and then, like you were amused at how backwards this whole conversation had gone, you finally replied, “[Last Name] [Name].”

“Nice to meet you,” he said. “And don’t worry—I’ll be your eyes for today. And for as long as you’d like.”

“Are you this flirty with every person you meet?”

“Only the ones that know their way around a calculator despite not even looking at it directly.”

You rolled your eyes at that, but he could see how his jokes were getting to you. By the time the teacher walked around to check your progress, Kuroo had already decided that this was way better than any cliché shoujo manga meet-cute.

Because really, what could be more romantic than offering to be someone’s eyes for the day—and maybe even for forever?

BONUS:

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

ushijima wakatoshi is not a man of many words, and when he does talk, he comes across as pretty blunt. but it’s not with ill intent; he means well, he’s just so brutally honest sometimes, which is why you immediately shut down when you hear the words “i don’t like you,” escape his lips.

your classes had just ended, and it’s a friday afternoon when you finally work up the courage to confess to the man who stands before you. the cherry blossoms around you dance in the air, painting a romantic, picture perfect scene between the two of you. your arms are outstretched as you present to him your favorite brand of chocolates.

“i…” you look down in disappointment, avoiding his gaze as much as you could, as if it’d miraculously hide you from him.

“i don’t understand you one bit,” he says, his monotone voice unwavering.

you’re thankful you didn’t bring any of your friends along. this was humiliation at its finest. on the bright side though, it’s a friday and you don’t have any classes after. so you’re free to cry your eyes out and curl up in bed as much as you want.

but these thoughts of yours do little to distract you from the moment, and your eyes can’t help but water a little as you look down and take a shivery breath.

“i asked tendou about you.”

that catches your attention, and suddenly you’re taking a deep breath as you look up in shock. he asked tendou?! now that’s going to spread throughout the entire school!

the tears resting on your eyes reflect the golden sun above. your brows furrow in confusion, and if it stuns wakatoshi, he sure as hell doesn’t show it. “why are you tearing up? you did not even let me finish before crying.”

“what else is there to say, ushijima?” the use of his last name sends a small shock through his veins, and yet ushijima still remains unmoved. “you don’t like m—”

you’re quickly interrupted when he speaks, saying “there it is again.”

and you scoff, because he’s not listening. but maybe you should, so you look behind to see just what he was referring to, but nothing’s there.

“what are you—”

“i feel strange whenever i’m around you.” he interrupts again, before clearing his throat and quickly apologizing. “i’m sorry, i did not mean… you can continue.”

“wait, no, what?” you scoff again in disbelief, brows furrowing as your eyes fidget around, searching for something that can help you understand just what the hell ushijima was talking about.

“when you looked up at me with teary eyes, i felt a pang in my chest,” he says, before continuing like he was explaining his symptoms to the doctor, “and when you referred to me as my last name.”

and finally, ushijima’s unwavering confidence almost looks like it falters as he looks away, breathing an exhale. he speaks again, tone finally somehow… softening. “i feel a different pang though when you visit my practice matches and cheer me on…”

no way. you made the ushijima wakatoshi shy? japan’s number one best ace?

he must be rambling, he thinks, but regardless, if wakatoshi hurt you, he wants to apologize and make up for it. starting by explaining. so, he dismisses his thoughts and continues.

“but, more specifically, i asked tendou why i felt irritated when i saw you tutoring that boy in your class,” he finally looks at you now, confidence returning as he tilts his head slightly to the left, “i have a crush on you too, it seems.”

you’re at a loss for words. because, didn’t he just say, moments prior, that he doesn’t like you?!

“i do not, however, like sweets.”

and you let out a chuckle as you bring your hands up to your chest. maybe it hasn’t fully sinked in, because you still can’t talk.

“i do not understand you because you make me feel all these emotions. and i don’t like what i don’t understand, but…”

ushijima brings his hands to yours, taking the chocolate as he opens it. he takes a bite, and there’s a faint hint of pink in his cheeks.

“there are a few exceptions in life.”

and then you see it. the man before you isn’t ushijima wakatoshi, japan’s top one best ace. it’s wakatoshi, your wakatoshi, whose biggest enemy is the concept of emotions.

“my love,” nanami calls, stepping into the living room with wrinkled pjs and damp hair. you’re laying on the couch, mindlessly scrolling through one of your various shopping apps— spring sales have you adding everything to your cart.

“yes?” you reply, craning your neck to meet his gaze. he lifts your legs, sitting where they were resting before lowering them back down, in his lap. he smells like water and clean laundry— it’s familiar and comforting.

warm hands rest on your calves, you put your phone down to give him your full attention.

“you have my debit card on your phone and wallet,” he starts, “you know that, right?”

you nod slowly, giving him a confused look. “i know.”

“you haven’t used it at all. i just checked my statement.” he says, “didn’t i tell you to buy whatever you want?”

“you did,” you smile, almost laughing at the situation. “and i’m grateful, always, that you offer to pay for my things, but i have my own money too, ken— also! i did use it, actually.”

he rolls his eyes, not malicious, of course. “yeah, for boba. twice. do you know how many shopping bags you’ve hauled into this house the past month?”

he’s being sarcastic and you laugh. this has always been something you guys quarrel about, kento giving you all his money and assets, immediately throwing his card whenever you mention something you like. “why do you want me to spend your money so bad?”

kento pouts, just slightly, it’s barely even noticeable.

“i’m grateful, baby,” you say, “but you already pay for so much— this house, my car insurance, the bills and date nights… i’m already spending quite a lot, no?”

“you can spend more,” he pouts, “what i pay for already is nothing— i want to buy you more, for you to have everything you want.”

“i already have everything i want,” you tease, “he’s actually sitting in front of me, kindly massaging my calves.”

he narrows his gaze, a smile twitching onto his lips.

“we’re going to the mall this weekend— the far one,” he decides, “we haven’t been to the mall together for a while, love. i wonder why is that?”

you hum, avoiding his gaze, “maybe because the last time we went, you secretly took my wallet out of my purse and hid it in your underwear drawer so you could pay for everything?”

he laughs, recalling the moment. “i am absolutely doing that again— also, i saw that app you were scrolling on, let me see what you have, i’ll get it for you.”

notes from mei! i do have a shopping addiction actually (im dirt poor rn and in withdrawal) but i see my future (this fic) and its so so bright

Eddie imagine:

Imagine Eddie writing into every D&D campaign, a character that falls in love with your character. Or npc couples that are exactly like the two of you. You ask him one day why he does this. He just answered so casually like it was common knowledge, “because I’ll love you in every universe, time, and everything in between.”

“kei, do you ever think about how strange it is that we've never fought?” you ask, limbs tangled with his as you cuddle on his bed.

it’s 10:03 PM and you’re doing your best to fight against the chilling, icy atmosphere of tsukishima’s room. for some reason, he likes to sleep like a vampire.

“do you want to?” he offers with an arm wrapped around your shoulders. tsukki doesn’t even open his eyes when he responds, too sleepy to entertain another one of your late night overthinking sessions.

“no,” you say calmly, “but we’ve been together for 7 months. we must either be like, the greatest couple of all time or the exact opposite.”

you feel his chest rise and deflate against your head as he lets an overly dramatic sigh.

you knew tsukishima kei wasn’t one for pda. hell, it was one of the things you loved about him. he knew how to make you feel loved without having to scream it to the world.

like that one time on one of your first dates, when you had accidentally fallen asleep on the soft grass of the park while waiting for his weekend practice to end. you woke up with a hand massaging your scalp.

“how long have you been waiting there?” you giggle, rising from your slumber as you rub your eyes awake. he pulls away, casually avoiding your gaze. “why didn’t you wake me?”

kei only shrugs, “you looked peaceful.”

or that other time you got sick for a week and couldn’t make it to school, so he immediately visited you as soon as you got better and brought his backpack with him.

“i got two copies of all the homeworks due next week, so you don’t have to ask the teachers for them.” he unpacks his notes and fishes out two pens from his bag before turning to you. “come, i’ll teach you everything you missed.”

your teachers praised you for how responsible you were, and told you how much they appreciated that you took the initiative to study.

yeah, you totally did that.

or like right now, and all the other nights you’ve spent at his place. because unbeknownst to you, tsukishima kei sets up his bedroom every single time you visit. he tidies up, cleaning even spots that you would never think to look at. but most importantly, and tsukishima knows this routine by heart, he turns the a/c to the highest setting so you’d be forced to cuddle against him underneath his sheets.

“the former,” is all replies with, and you scoff, rolling your eyes.

“but seriously though. how lucky are we to never have fought even after seven months.”

tsukki sighs again, before reluctantly revealing, “we don’t fight because i make it a point to always agree with you.”

you’re taken aback by his words, sitting up slightly as you look him in the eyes, though his are still closed as he tries to focus on sleeping.

“...huh?”

“idiot,” he teases. maybe he thinks calling you names will cover up for how unbelievably sweet he’s being right now, “why would i want to argue with you?” he shifts, trying to subtly move his face away so you don’t see him fully.

“but i can’t always have my way, you know. a relationship should be 50/50, right?”

“not ours.” he presses your head back against his chest, and you hear his heartbeat fasten a little. “you’re the boss.”

BONUS: “and you’ve never paid in your life anyway. you don’t believe in that 50/50 bullshit.” “hey!” “i don’t even know what your wallet looks like.”

@kokokoula this one’s for u <3

Atsumu stands in the convenience store with pursed lips. Osamu had refused to cook for him so here he is, deciding on what he’s supposed to snack on. He scratches his head in thought.

“That damn jerk.” He mumbles under his breath.

He hears the faint chime of the doors, as they open and close. Then he’s back to concentrating. That is until a girl wraps their arms around his neck. His eyes going wide, as he stumbles a bit.

“What the hell-”

“Baby there you are!” You say a little loud, a waver in your voice.

“Please help me.” You whisper and his ears perk up.

He’s a little weirded out but he can sense the tension in your body. As if on cue a rather sketchy man turns the corner of the isle, staring you down.

His eyes narrow at the man, his arm now circling around your waist. He keeps you tight against him. The man inches a little closer, as if he’s glancing at the products. Atsumu clicks his tongue.

“Ya got a problem?” He calls out to the man.

The man glances up at him. Atsumu towers over him with ease. His unwavering glare and cold demeanor making the man step back. He gently guides you behind him.

“I suggest ya get yer sorry ass outta here. Before I make ya.” He smiles but the man knows better than to believe Atsumu is fucking around.

So with a scoff the man is leaving without another word or glance. You sigh loudly, a breath you hadn’t known you were holding in.

“I’m so sorry!” You shriek, bowing immediately. Atsumu is surprised, quickly trying to get you stop.

“S’fine really.” Atsumu hovers over you, wavering his hands like a mad man.

“Maybe next time be more careful. Don’t go trustin’ people like that.” He lightly scolds and you nod.

“Yer lucky ya got stuck with me though.” He laughs and you feel at ease.

“Please, let me treat you.” You say with a timid smile on your face.

He’s grins at your face. Only then does he really take you in. You’re beautiful and you smelt good too.

“Nah. S’alright.” He smiles, but you’re persistent.

“Please?”

Atsumu blinks and well damn it he can’t say no when you have a pretty face and sweet voice like that. Yet at the last second he pays for the things as you were reaching for your wallet.

You both walk out with different expressions. You’re wearing a pout and he’s staring down at you with a grin. You both stand outside awkwardly for a bit until you ask him a question.

“Sorry but do you know where the station is?”

He blinks.

“Want me to walk ya there?”

“N-No! You’ve already helped me so much.” You laugh nervously and he shakes his head.

“Nuh uh I’m walking ya.” He begins to walk.

“H-Hey!” You yell, falling into step with him. He smiles down at you as you pout.

“Do ya always pout like that?”

“No.” You grumble and he laughs.

You guys make small talk as he walks you to the station, making sure you’re close to him but on the inside of the sidewalk. He introduces himself and you introduce yourself as well.

“Pretty name.” He comments and you flush.

“Thanks.” You mess with your hands and he smiles.

When the station comes into view, he pouts. He didn’t think he’d be this let down at you having to go.

But just letting you go…felt so wrong to him. His heart panged in his chest.

“Well this is my stop.” You smile but it doesn’t reach your eyes.

“Right.” He mumbles.

“Thank you Atsumu, you’re very kind.”

“Don’t sweat it.” He waves his hand.

It’s funny.

Two complete strangers, bidding goodbye as if you’d see eachother the next day and the day after that.

A red thread wraps itself around the both of your hearts. And as you both are a distance away.

It tugs.

Causing you both to lock eyes, for what seems to be the last time.

You send him a warming smile and his eyes soften.

With that you’re gone.

Atsumu is left standing there, the bag in hand. He feels rather empty. He walks the rest of the way home with a complete frown on his face.

The next day he’s walking with Osamu through the halls, on there way to volleyball practice. As Atsumu rambles about his sets, his words get caught up in his throat.

And there’s that tug again.

He stops in his tracks.

His eyes scanning everywhere in the hallway. When he looks behind him he finds you there, as if time has stopped.

You both mirror eachother, but Atsumu is quicker.

His eyes sparkle, his smile growing.

And that red thread finally ties its knot.

Your boyfriend Eddie never fails to amuse you, whether he's jumping on tables to rant about conformity or he's dramatically confessing his love to you.

"My love, I can not go on without you. I will simply waste away if you do not return my affections." He grabs your hands and looks up at you from his position knelt before you.

"Then perish." You say flatly and flick him on the forehead.

He throws himself on the floor, wailing as if he's dying.

"They do not care for me. Oh, what a cruel, cruel world."

You snort at his antics and hop over him to carry on with your day.

pregnancy cravings with miya atsumu.

Pregnancy cravings never really made sense to Atsumu. Then again, he never got to the part of anatomy and physiology when he was studying physical therapy before he decided to go pro as a volleyball player.

But that doesn’t mean he isn’t supportive; no, he prided himself on being a great husband. And now, with you, his wife, pregnant with your first child, he was determined to be the most supportive, loving, and accommodating partner ever.

Nothing was going to stand in his way—not distance, not logic, and certainly not impossible cravings.

It started simple. Like it always did.

You wanted a specific pastry from a bakery on the other side of Japan? Done. He booked the fastest delivery service he could find, and when that wasn’t an option, he flew there himself, picked it up, and brought it back.

Talk about rich.

Homemade food? Good thing Osamu had drilled the basics of cooking into him, though he still got yelled at by his twin when he accidentally burned rice. But hey, effort counted, right?

Then, the cravings started getting weird.

You’re sitting on the couch with a blanket over your lap when you look up at him with serious eyes. “I want Osamu’s cooking.”

Atsumu blinked. “Alright, I can ask him—”

“But I don’t want to eat it. You eat it.”

He frowned, confused.

“Huh? Ya want me to eat ‘Samu’s cookin’?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

Atsumu scratched his head, wondering if this was some kind of test. “And that’s gonna make ya feel better?”

“Yes.”

“… Even if ya don’ eat it?”

“Uh-huh.”

Atsumu blinked. “That doesn’t make no sense.”

“Atsumu, please don’t question me.”

“Yes, Ma’am!” He grabbed his phone and immediately dialed Osamu. “Oi, ‘Samu, I need ya to cook somethin’—no, not for [Name]—for me.” There was silence on the other end before Osamu sighed heavily and reluctantly agreed.

That night, Atsumu sat at the dining table, stuffing his face with his brother’s food while you sat across from him, smiling in satisfaction as you watched. Osamu just did his part as a supportive brother for his twin.

The next day was even worse.

“A seedless mango,” you murmured, rubbing your belly.

...

“A what?”

“A seedless mango. I want it.”

“… [Name], sweetheart, baby, I love ya, but that don’t exist.”

“It does.”

“It doesn’t.”

“I want it.”

Atsumu groaned. “Where am I gonna get a seedless mango?”

“Figure it out, please?”

He spent hours searching online, calling fruit vendors, and even asking Osamu if his suppliers had some secret black market seedless mango (Osamu asked him if a volleyball that was going 120 km/h hit his head).

No luck.

In the end, Atsumu cut up a normal mango, carefully removed every trace of the seed, and handed it to you with a hopeful grin.

You took one look at it and frowned.

“It’s not the same.”

Atsumu wanted to cry.

-

“I need you to wear a face mask.”

Atsumu blinked at you from your bed. “Huh? Why?”

You huffed quietly, fidgeting with the sheets. “Because your face is annoying.”

Atsumu gasped, hand clutching his chest. “My face?! The one ya love so much?!”

“Yes.”

“The one ya vowed to look at forever in sickness and in health?!”

“Yes.”

“The one ya called ‘beautiful’ when I asked ya if I was hotter than ‘Samu?!”

“I love you, but right now, your face is irritating me.”

Atsumu stared, utterly betrayed, before sighing in defeat. He got up, went to the closet, grabbed one of the disposable masks he’d bought during flu season, and put it on.

“There. Happy now?”

You smiled sweetly. “Very.”

Atsumu flopped onto the bed with a groan, pulling the blanket over himself. As he lay there, sulking, you scooted closer and rested your head on his chest.

“I love you, you know that?” you murmured.

He grumbled. “Ya sure? Feels like ya hate me sometimes.”

You chuckled. “No, I love you. My hormones just don’t.”

He sighed. “Yer so lucky I love ya more than life.”

“I know. Pregnancy is so weird.”

And the worst has yet to come.

-

Atsumu should be asleep by now, but no, he had to be individually popping popcorn. One kernel at a time, as per your request.

He initially told you, “Yer kiddin’.”

You were not.

And that was how Atsumu found himself in the kitchen at three in the morning, painstakingly popping one kernel at a time in a tiny pan. Every time he accidentally popped more than one, you, who were sitting on a stool with your hands on your belly, would click your tongue disapprovingly.

“You put in two, Atsumu.”

“This is torture,” he grumbled, but he kept going.

-

“I want ice cream,” you said.

Atsumu perked up. “Oh, easy. What flavor?”

“I don’t know.”

He tilted his head to the side. “Uh… okay. I can get a few different kinds?”

“I need to taste them all.”

Atsumu frowned. “Like… all the flavors?”

“Yes.”

“… Babe, there are like fifty flavors at the ice cream shop.”

You nodded. “And I need to taste all of them before I decide which one I want.”

Atsumu let out a long, suffering sigh, but being the devoted husband he was, he marched straight to the ice cream parlor and ordered a ridiculous amount of sample cups. The poor employee stared at him in disbelief.

“You… want every flavor?”

“Yeah.”

“Every single one?”

“Yeah.”

“Sir, that’s—”

“My wife is pregnant, and if I don’t do this, I might not make it to the end of the week.”

The employee, upon hearing this, immediately started getting to work.

When Atsumu got home, you took one spoonful of each, nodded, and, after going through every single cup, announced:

“I don’t want ice cream anymore.”

Atsumu fell to his knees. Defeated.

-

“I need you to stand in the corner for a while.”

Atsumu looked up from his phone, confused. “Huh?”

“The corner. Stand there.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I just feel like you should.”

Atsumu squinted. “Babe, are ya makin’ me into a damn decoration?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

Atsumu sighed but did it anyway. He stood in the corner of your living room for a full ten minutes while you sat on the couch, happily watching TV. At some point, Osamu FaceTimed him, took one look at the scene, and hung up.

-

The next day, you called him while he was at practice, which was rare in itself because you did just leave messages whenever you knew he was practicing.

“Babe,” you said in a tone that made his stomach drop.

“… Yeah?”

“I need you to bring me a cheeseburger.”

He let out a relieved laugh, wiping the sweat off his brow. “That’s easy! I’ll grab ya one on my way ho—“

“But replace the buns with pancakes.”

Atsumu froze. “Come again?”

“You heard me.”

“I dunno if I did, sweetheart.”

“Pancakes. Instead of buns. Oh, and I want honey to go with it.”

Atsumu nearly dropped his phone.

“Yer messin’ with me.”

“I’m really not.”

And you weren’t. That evening, he stood in the kitchen, flipping pancakes with the precision of a professional chef before assembling the most unholy creation he’d ever laid eyes on—a cheeseburger with pancake buns, honey drizzled over the meat.

You took a bite and hummed softly. “Oh my god, this is better than sex.”

Atsumu, who had spent hours perfecting his technique in the bedroom, felt personally offended by that.

-

“Atsumu,” you murmur. “I need you to switch sides of the bed with me.”

He sighed. “No.”

“Atsumu.”

“[Name], baby, darlin’—I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because my side is closer to the door in case of an intruder.”

You chuckled quietly. “Tsumu, please. I need to sleep on that side.”

Atsumu stared at you, conflicted. He had never—not once—slept on the other side. It was unnatural. Wrong. It went against the very foundations of your marriage.

But you were looking at him with those tired, hormonal, pleading eyes. And he was sure you’d tell him you could barely see your feet now and often experience heartburn, all because of his unborn baby.

With a heavy sigh, Atsumu switched sides with you.

“You’re a good husband,” you whispered, patting his cheek.

Atsumu, lying in the unfamiliar position, staring at the wrong wall, whispered, “I’m a broken man.”

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

walking around downtown hawkins with eddie on a friday night, his arm slung around your shoulder. he’s making you laugh and pressing sweet kisses to your mouth any chance he gets cause he literally cannot get enough of you

You know that Eddie Munson hasn’t had that much softness in his life. Lost his mom so early, his dad’s an ass, no grandparents (not even indifferent ones) to care for him, and the town treats him like garbage. Yes, Uncle Wayne is a prince among men. But He is gruff. He never meant to be a father - he does the best he can - but he’s not a hug-it-out kinda guy.

One day you find Eddie asleep in your bed holding your favorite stuffy, which YES you still have even though you are an adult who pays taxes and votes and so on. Why wouldn’t you keep your soft little friend??

Eddie has it pulled to his face -holding it in tight -almost white knuckled - fists. So you lay down behind him, big spooning against him until he relaxes a bit and softly snores.

You bring your stuffy friend to his house and hide it under his pillow and it’s never discussed out loud that you did this, but when you first spend the night at Eddie’s- he kisses the stuffy’s face and then kisses your cheek.

When you move in together you get the stuffy back because it goes where Eddie goes.

love will always find you when you're ready. you might question the universe why isn't it around the corner like everyone else has but when you truly find it, you'll realize why it took so much time to finally knock at the door of your heart.

the only exception ! | ft. hq boys

-> pairing: miya atsumu, suna rintarou, hinata shoyo x gn!reader | sfw | cw: quick blurbs! | mlist 

-> synopsis: you’re the only one who can get your boyfriend to do certain things. 

₊˚ෆ MIYA ATSUMU dislikes people cheering while he serves. His infamous topspins and floaters are renowned in the volleyball world– for good reason. To stake his control over the court, he refuses any distractions, and he silences the crowd with one flick of his wrist. He’s been known to give death glares to anybody, even his own fans, who disobey his command for quiet. 

So when you, his newly minted significant other, shatter the careful still Atsumu has crafted by bellowing out his name in an otherwise silent stadium, gasps ripple through the stands. 

Atsumu’s teammates freeze, interest piqued at how he’d react. Sure, you’re dating now, but Atsumu’s a very harsh guy. Nobody would put it past him to scold you on the spot. The ball bounces against the court once, twice, and then three times, like a ticking bomb. The crowd shifts uncomfortably, waiting for his anger to explode.

It never comes. 

Instead, he serves the ball as normal. It’s an ace. And when it’s over, he looks at you with a knowing grin of appreciation instead of his usual glare. 

Atsumu hates the shrill sound of cheers when he’s about to serve, but he’s come to find that if it’s yours– he doesn’t quite mind. 

₊˚ෆ SUNA RINTAROU is a generally expressionless guy. It’s gotten him into trouble more times than he can count.

When he sprained his ankle in middle school, he barely winced. When his little sister was born, he yawned. When he landed his first spike as a professional athlete, he hummed.

No matter the scenario, a disinterested look is permanently etched into his features. (The only exception is the upturn of his lips when he sees his friends doing something particularly idiotic.) 

It’s not that he doesn’t care– it’s just how he is. This is a truth that all those close to Rintarou have come to understand. 

This truth is why, when he introduces you to his loved ones for the first time, they’re stunned. They’re shocked when they see the bright red his face burns after you give him a kiss on the cheek. They’re floored by the smile that possesses his lips as he steals glances at you from across the room. They’re surprised by the look of absolute adoration in his eyes whenever you do really anything. 

Rintarou’s always been difficult to read, but for you, he’s feelings are entirely transparent.  

₊˚ෆ HINATA SHOYO always stays late to practice. Being the dedicated player that he is, he will train until his legs shake and his breath gives out. His teammates know never to approach him when he’s in his groove; otherwise, he’ll find a way to coax them into another round of drills. He’s an immovable force, immune to persuasion, and entirely impossible to convince to slow down.

“Leaving early” is not in his vocabulary. 

So when, one day, his teammates see him trek into the locker room before the sun has even set, they worry he’s gone ill. 

But when Shoyo reassures them, with a bright smile, that he’s just leaving early to meet with you, the new person he’s been seeing, for dinner– his teammates think he’s lost his mind. Their expressions of concern morph into ones of complete disbelief. 

What curse have you placed on the rigid player to compel him to act in such an uncharacteristic way? Have you threatened his family? Are you blackmailing him? 

The answer is none of the above. 

Shoyo doesn’t stay late to practice out of obligation. He does it because he adores what he does. There’s nowhere else he’d rather be than on the court.

But recently, he’s come to discover that there’s one place he loves being just a smidge more. 

With you. 

–a/n: just smth quick i wrote to procrastinate studying! LMAO

shoyo tag: @cherrysurf

Writing Tips

Punctuating Dialogue

✧

➸ “This is a sentence.”

➸ “This is a sentence with a dialogue tag at the end,” she said.

➸ “This,” he said, “is a sentence split by a dialogue tag.”

➸ “This is a sentence,” she said. “This is a new sentence. New sentences are capitalized.”

➸ “This is a sentence followed by an action.” He stood. “They are separate sentences because he did not speak by standing.”

➸ She said, “Use a comma to introduce dialogue. The quote is capitalized when the dialogue tag is at the beginning.”

➸ “Use a comma when a dialogue tag follows a quote,” he said.

“Unless there is a question mark?” she asked.

“Or an exclamation point!” he answered. “The dialogue tag still remains uncapitalized because it’s not truly the end of the sentence.”

➸ “Periods and commas should be inside closing quotations.”

➸ “Hey!” she shouted, “Sometimes exclamation points are inside quotations.”

However, if it’s not dialogue exclamation points can also be “outside”!

➸ “Does this apply to question marks too?” he asked.

If it’s not dialogue, can question marks be “outside”? (Yes, they can.)

➸ “This applies to dashes too. Inside quotations dashes typically express—“

“Interruption” — but there are situations dashes may be outside.

➸ “You’ll notice that exclamation marks, question marks, and dashes do not have a comma after them. Ellipses don’t have a comma after them either…” she said.

➸ “My teacher said, ‘Use single quotation marks when quoting within dialogue.’”

➸ “Use paragraph breaks to indicate a new speaker,” he said.

“The readers will know it’s someone else speaking.”

➸ “If it’s the same speaker but different paragraph, keep the closing quotation off.

“This shows it’s the same character continuing to speak.”

I want to cover you in weighted blankets, light some candles and lay beside you. Let me play with your hair while you tell me the things you don't share with anyone else. I want to know your secrets, your dreams. Tell me what hurts when it's 3am and you can't get to sleep because you just can't move past it. Knowing you is never a burden. Let me be a place to rest. I will never judge you and I'll never knowingly hurt you. I want to keep you safe and hold your pain next to my own. I'll return the favour. What's mine can be yours too. Trust that I mean what I say to you. That it's been a long time since I saw some light between the storm clouds. That I want to be that beacon for you too.

HIII can i request something abour Aone and Kunimi! Id love to see how you woukd write about them!

Oooh I can definitely do that heheh Thank you for your ask!! --

Aone was used to people avoiding him.

It wasn’t personal—at least, he didn’t think it was. He knew what he looked like. Tall, broad-shouldered, his expression unreadable even when he tried to seem approachable. And, of course, there was the fact that he had no eyebrows, which only seemed to add to the whole 'intimidating presence' thing. He had overheard people whispering about it before, speculating whether he was just naturally that way or if something had happened. He never corrected them. It wasn’t worth the effort.

He didn’t mind it, not really. It wasn’t like he needed constant conversation. If anything, he preferred the quiet. But that didn’t stop the occasional pang of irritation when someone flinched at his presence or whispered about how scary he was. He never let it bother him for long. It wasn’t worth dwelling on.

But then there was you, who never seemed to get the memo.

You greeted him every morning with a bright “Good morning, Aone!” as if it were the most natural thing in the world. You sat next to him during team lunches, never asking if it was okay, never making a big deal out of it—just plopping down beside him, completely unfazed. When the team joked and teased each other, you always made a point to include him, nudging his arm playfully or throwing in a comment like “Right, Aone?” as if it was obvious that he was part of the conversation.

At first, he thought maybe it was an accident. That you just hadn’t realized how others saw him. But when weeks passed and nothing changed, Aone started to realize something.

You weren’t scared of him. Not even a little bit.

And for reasons he couldn’t explain, that made his chest feel warm.

It started during practice one afternoon.

The team was running drills, the gym buzzing with the sound of sneakers squeaking against the floor and volleyballs smacking against hands. Aone was focused, blocking each spike that came his way, his body moving on instinct. He wasn’t paying much attention to anything else until he heard a sharp gasp from the sidelines.

He turned his head just in time to see you stumble, tripping over someone’s stray bag. It was one of the first years', carelessly left near the edge of the court, and you hadn’t noticed it in time. Your arms flailed slightly as you lost your balance, and Aone’s body moved before his mind could catch up.

In an instant, his hands were on your arms, steadying you before you could hit the ground. His grip was firm, grounding, keeping you upright with ease. You blinked up at him, wide-eyed, caught off guard by the sudden proximity. For a long moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, to his surprise, you laughed.

“Wow, you’re really strong,” you said, your voice light, as if you hadn’t just nearly faceplanted in the middle of practice.

Aone swallowed. He wasn’t used to compliments—especially not ones directed at him. His ears burned slightly, but he managed a stiff nod, gently letting go of you once he was sure you were steady.

You dusted yourself off, still grinning. “Guess I should stick close to you, huh? Might need you to save me again.”

Aone blinked.

Most people avoided standing too close to him. You were… different.

Slowly, he nodded again.

Your smile widened. “Good. That settles it.”

And just like that, you carried on, moving as if nothing had happened, as if Aone catching you had been the most natural thing in the world. But Aone felt a little different now, his hands still tingling from where he had touched you. It was a strange, unfamiliar feeling, and he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

Later, when practice ended and the team started gathering their things, Aone noticed you walking in his direction. Without thinking, he shifted slightly, making space for you beside him. It was subtle, instinctive, but you noticed immediately, plopping down next to him with an exaggerated sigh.

“I think today’s the day I finally die,” you groaned dramatically. “Tell my family I love them.”

Aone huffed a quiet breath through his nose. It was barely anything, but you must have caught it because you turned your head and grinned at him.

“Was that a laugh?” you asked, eyes bright with mischief. “Oh, we’re making progress.”

Aone shook his head, but he didn’t deny it.

You tilted your head slightly, watching him curiously. “You know,” you mused, “most people get freaked out by you, but I don’t see why. You’re like… a human security blanket.”

Aone blinked at you, unsure of what to say to that. He had been called many things before—scary, intimidating, weird—but never a security blanket. He felt his ears burn again.

“I mean it,” you continued, stretching your arms above your head. “It’s nice having you around. Makes things feel a little more solid.”

He swallowed, staring down at his hands. He wasn’t sure how to respond, but before he could even try, you stood up, stretching out your back with a groan.

“Anyway, I better go before they make me do more work,” you said, nodding toward the rest of the team. “See you tomorrow, Aone.”

And then, like always, you left just as easily as you had appeared, leaving Aone sitting there, his mind spinning with thoughts he wasn’t sure how to process.

Maybe, for the first time, he didn’t mind having someone stick close to him after all.

ushijima gives the bluntest compliments. you two will just be walking together, hand in hand, and he’ll randomly blurt out something like, “you look very beautiful today.” or “i like when you smile like that.” he never sugarcoats his words, but that’s exactly how you know he is so genuine with everything he says. nothing he tells you is anything but the complete and honest truth. and through every fleeting moment where he acknowledges his inner thoughts out loud, one thing is clear—he’s so deeply in love with you.