emmyrosee:

Listen. Listen to ME.

Are ya listening?

Give me Kita who is stupid playful. I’m talking grabs-your-ankle-to-drag-you-across-the-bedwhen you’re pouting levels of playful. I’m talking goes-out-of-his-way-to-kiss-you-there because you’re ticklish levels of playful. He won’t be a pest or anything, just a playful boy in love who knows how to bug ya juuuuust enough.

Give me Suna who gets excited about dogs and iced coffee and frogs on the sidewalk, who picks little flowers for you ‘cause they’re pretty and in the same sentence can call you a roach bc you could survive the apocalypse.

Give me Iwaizumi who cries at romance movies and screams at horror movies, who plays with your hair during tense scenes to calm down, and also yells at the screen when protagonist make dumb choices.

Give me Sakusa who cannot cook to save his life, and has tried on so many occasions to surprise you with breakfast and just can’t. You wake up to the smell of burnt bread and eggs and when you walk into the kitchen, he just stares down at his blackened breakfast with a pout “made you breakfast…”

Give me Oikawa who is extremely smart and gets so beyond excited when you ask him about science and history because he watched the coolest documentary or read it in an article he was interested in and would love to tell you about it.

Give me Ushijima who’s love language is secretly being a menace and the bane of your existence. Blankly staring at you after you tell a joke, or placing whatever he’s holding in his hand when you think he’s trying to hold yours, all before smiling and complying because he just wanted you to pout a lil.

Give me Osamu who has the UGLIEST laugh you’ve ever heard, it’s snort-y and loud and wheezy and it’s absolutely ridiculous, but it’s so unlike him, and it’s perfect and you always get a little proud when you’re able to make him howl like that.

Give me dorky losers who are so ridiculous and cute that you have no choice but to adore them for more than their canonical blessings and fanon norms pls

Please, more of this!!

Reader:F
Character:Hajime Iwaizumi, Daichi Sawamura
Rating:G
Summary:It was hard not to be overwhelmed with anxiety sometimes. It felt like everything became overwhelming and it was hard to stop crying. Bu the love your life was always there to comfort you.
Warning:Fluff, Anxiety
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It started with the shake of your hands. Then your mind became a jumbled mess and then finally the tears came. You were sitting in a quiet part of the university with your head in your hands, your entire body shaking. 

It was just animal biology, why did it make you so anxious. But the idea of a buzzer test made the fear bubble up inside of you until it was spilling over. You rubbed your eyes and tried to calm yourself down from the anxiety. But every time you thought you calmed down, the fear came back and you were crying again. 

Nestled in between lockers you were crying quietly to yourself, but it didn’t take long for your boyfriend to find you. The squeak of his sneakers as he walked down the hall, calling your name until he found you. 

He said your name quietly under his breath before he rushed over to you and slotted himself beside you. His natural instinct was the wrap his arms around you tightly.

  “Hey, hey.” He said as he strong arms lopped around you, “I got you, I got you. You’re safe. I promise.”

You sniffled and rubbed your cheek against him. You croaked, “Hajime.” And your boyfriend just held you tighter. Not letting you go as you started to settle down from the wave of anxiety. 

  “What’s wrong?” He asked, “Why are you crying? We couldn’t find you in the club room. I got worried.” He looked down at you and pushed your hair out of your eyes. You looked so small and fragile against him. You shivered like a leaf and whimpered like a puppy. 

  “Stupid animal bio. We have a buzzer test today and I’m freaking out. I’m going to fail this. I know I am.” You sighed, “I don’t want to have to retake the course, but I don’t know what else to do. I feel hopeless!” You cried.

Iwaizumi continued to hold you and rub your back. He kissed the top of your head lovingly. He said, “You can do it, baby. I know you can, I know it seems daunting but you can do it.” He encouraged as he pulled away and looked down at you.

  “I just don’t know what to do. I get the shakes every time I think about the exam. It makes me feel like I’m going to throw up.” You stammered, your throat felt clogged and your hands felt shaky. 

Iwaizumi let go of you and shrugged off his varsity hoodie. He pulled it over his head and quickly put it on you before you had a chance to say anything. He pulled up the sleeves of you and kissed your inner wrist. He said, “Tomorrow, go into the exam with this hoodie, and any time you worry or get anxious, think about me.” your eyes met and he smiled, “Remember if you pass this course, your one credit closer to us living our dream.”

Your heart raced for a different reason when he mentioned your shared dream. The future you planned together and finishing university was the first step. He leaned in for a kiss, your lip balm smeared across his lips as he deepened the kiss. 

When you pulled away you cupped his cheek, the sweater felt a little warm but it was comforting nonetheless, at least enough to calm you down from your anxiety attack. You swallowed back the last bit of tears and nodded, “You really think I can do it.”

  “Of course, I’ll even help you study. I don’t know a lot about animal bio, but I can try.” He gave you a grin. He laughed when you playfully pulled at his cheek. He knew you were calming down. 

  “Thank you, Hajime.” You said. 

  “Anything for you, because I love you. I have my water bottle in the club room and you better finish it before we start. Looks like you’ve been crying for a while.’ He rubbed your left eye to get the tears off your eyelashes. 

You rested your head against his chest for a moment and sighed, “Okay, sounds good.” And curled up beside him. He let you rest there for a moment, letting the last bit of anxiety wither away to a promise of new confidence in your performance tomorrow. You felt Iwaizumi kiss the top of your head and you felt a sense of peace. You had to keep pushing forward and with a reminder of your boyfriend at your side, you felt a little better to do the exam tomorrow and try your best. Because passing this course meant one step closer to a future you two will have together. 

The crash of lightning woke you up from your sleep. You looked at the clock and saw it was three in the morning, but the thunderstorm had already hit your small town. The trees were shaking, the wind was wild, the heavy drops hit your window. All along with the crash of thunder. 

Another streak of light made you clutch onto the covers. You let out a small whimper and wanted to bury your face under the covers but you felt too still to move. Your heart raced in your chest, you felt a cold sweat through your body and then the tears started. 

You managed to pull your knees to your chest and bury your cheek into your left knee. You choked out a sob, only to jump when there was a loud rumble of thunder. The anxiety raced through your body like a locomotive. You clutched onto your legs and tried to settle down by yourself.

Another crash of thunder sent you under the covers and loudly crying. The anxiety around thunderstorms made you cry, you felt like you were drowning in it. As the heavy drops hit the window you cried harder. Loud enough for your husband, Daichi to hear. 

He rolled over and opened his eyes at you. He slowly reached out and tried to pull the covers back but you quickly covered yourself with them again. Whimpering gently. He sighed and ducked his head under the covers and reached out for you.

  “Sunflower.” He said, “What’s wrong?” He pulled you gingerly into his arms. He rubbed your back and kissed the top of your head lovingly. He was starting to wake up more as worry formed in his gut for what was wrong with you.

  “The storm. It’s scaring me.” You gulped. 

He sighed, “I see.” He pulled you tighter, “No storm is going to get my baby.” He yawned, “That’s a promise. Now let’s get back to sleep.”

Another bright light crossed the sky and you jumped in Daichi’s arms. You shook like a leaf, anxiety overcoming you. You felt too awake from the adrenaline to fall back asleep. Not while all you could focus on was the storm outside. 

  “I’m really scared of it.” You admitted. It felt so childish to be scared of storms, even as a grown person you still felt anxiety around them. It was something you couldn’t help. It just overcame you like a wave. 

  “I know. But I promise it won’t hurt you. You’re safe inside, perfectly safe in bed.” He kissed you again. He worried about your crying. Your rapid shaking from the anxiety taking a hold on you. 

   “I don’t know.” You gulped. You felt

Daichi kissed your forehead to calm you down, “The storm won’t hurt you.” He said, “I promise. You’re safe inside.” 

  “What if lightning hits the house or a tree, and we lose our house. Or it starts a fire or it breaks a window. Or the rain makes the roof collapse.” You rambled off but were silenced with a kiss. 

  “Shh.” Daichi said, “None of that will happen.” He let go of you and rolled out of bed. He stiffly walked to the window and closed the dark curtains. He yawned, “There, you don’t have to see the lightning anymore.” 

  “What about the thunder?” You asked meekly. You pulled the covers to your nose and looked at him in the dark room. You watched him in the very low light walk to his phone and turn on a playlist he has for relaxing. He turned the volume all the way up and climbed back into bed. 

  “Now you won’t hear it. It’ll be like it isn’t even there.” He assured as he pulled you back into his arms, “Now, shhh.” He said, “Time for rest.” He kissed you, “No need to be anxious, I promise the storm won’t hurt you.”

You tried to close your eyes. You finally stopped crying, but your eyes felt wet and sore. You snuggled up against your husband’s broad, clothed chest and held onto him like a stuffed animal. 

  “Nothing will ever heart you, beloved.” He said, “Not while I’m alive. I’ll fight the heavens just to protect you.” He kissed you again, “No one hurts my baby.” 

  “Promise, Dai?” You asked as you continued to hold onto him tightly. He wasn’t worried about you letting go anytime soon. 

As the soft music played through the bedroom, as his arms remained rested on you. He kissed you again, so tenderly as if you were made of glass. A precious object that he must protect with his life. He smiled at you and said, “Of course, it’s a promise for the rest of my days. I’m your husband after all. If a husband doesn’t bend the earth for his partner, is he really a husband?”

You smiled a little, finally settling down from the wave of anxiety. You continued to hold onto him and press your cheek against his chest. This felt safe and comfortable. When Daichi started to notice that you were settling down, he started to rub your back gently. 

  “That’s it. Time to go back to sleep. The storm will be gone by morning.” He said softly. And with that you felt yourself let go of the anxiety and start to drift off to sleep. The storm long forgotten. 

Reader:F
Character: Ryūnosuke Tanaka
Rating:G
Summary: His kisses tasted like chocolate ice cream. When you snuck out of your house to go skateboarding with Tanaka and Nishinoya, you alway got ice cream from the freezer of the corner store. 
Warning:Fluff, Confessions
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His kisses tasted like chocolate ice cream. When you snuck out of your house to go skateboarding with Tanaka and Nishinoya, you alway got ice cream from the freezer of the corner store. 

So when you kissed Tanaka he tasted like his favourite swirl flavour. He often let the remainder of the ice cream to kiss you under the streetlights in the park. Meanwhile Nishinoya was grinding across the edges of the fountain. 

  “Maybe one day she’ll get it.” You said as you cupped his cheek, “You’re pretty remarkable, Ryū.” You wiped some ice cream off the corner of his mouth before you went in for another kiss.

He kissed you again. You two weren’t technically together, you just existed in each other’s orbit. You spent far too much time together, that all you had to do was say the words and you’d be together. But you tried not to get your hopes up about the situation. You saw the way he looked at Kiyoko and in all fairness you could never compete with that. 

You could never be her, so you just existed in this grey zone until he got tired of you. But as the school year started to wind down, what started out as a few kisses here and there has turned into this long term position in this grey zone. 

Tanaka placed a hand on your bare knee and continued to kiss you. Your hand carded through his short hair. You wanted to be with him, even though he was loud at times, a little over the edge. He made you melt like the ice cream he forgot about tonight. 

The sound of a skateboard hitting the concrete as you kissed under the low light of the park. You didn’t understand what he wanted, or his intentions. You were in this limbo that pained you but the thought of losing Tanaka hurt more. This could end tomorrow but you’d still cherish the moments you spent together.

How he smiled when he bought you ice cream, how he invited you over the study. How you helped him in English and he tried his best to help you with math. It was like a little fantasy you lived that had a habit of breaking when he ever Kiyoko’s name left his lips. 

You didn’t hate her, you weren’t that pathetic. But the green monster inside of you often sprouted up whenever she was around. You were nice, friendly actually. You just wished she finally saw what you saw in Tanaka. 

He pulled away and laid out on the grass fully, his skateboard beside him. He pushed it back and forth with his hand as he looked up at the blank sky. “So, uh.” He said, refusing to meet your gaze. 

  “Yeah?” You asked as you pulled your knees closer to you. It was never a good sign when he got nervous. 

  “We gotta talk about something.” He said. 

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. About this, um. The kissing and junk.” He said, still not meeting your gaze. His eyes firmly connected with the night sky. He continued to roll his skateboard back and forth. 

Your heart started to clench. This was it. He was going to break things off. This was all over. You felt yourself grow cold as he remained silent for a few moments. You managed to respond, “Yeah about it.”

There was a long stretch of silence between you two. Nishinoya’s skateboard was farther away now, obvious out of ear’s reach as to not hear your heartbreak. He knew what was going on and how you felt about Tanaka. 

  “It’s been really fun. I like kissing you a lot.” He started then stopped. He swallowed, “Why is this so hard to say.”

You laid there in silence for a moment. You wanted to cry, you knew this was going to happen but it didn’t make it hurt any less. You were losing him, he was leaving once and for all. He was finished with you. You should’ve known but still it left an ache in you. 

  “I understand Ryū.” You said, “You want to put your efforts into Kiyoko. I can’t blame you, I-”

He reached out and looked over to you with his other hand and grabbed your wrist, “Who said anything about her?”

You blinked at him, “Isn’t this about you not wanting to do this anymore. You want to be with her and whatever.” Your heart was racing. What was going on?

He shook his head, “No, she’s actually dating someone else. She told me to keep it quiet, but it’s not someone on the team. That rejection put some stuff in perspective.”

  “And what’s that?” You asked, your heart lodged in your throat. 

  “That I want to be with you.” He responded, he sat up and continued to hold your hand, “I’ve been a real jerk and I should be treating you better. I like you, and I want to keep doing this but make it official. Like a real couple. I want you to be my girl.” And he squeezed your hand, “So what do you say?”

You blinked at him, “Is this a joke?”

He shook his head, “No, I mean it. I was so obsessed with her that I didn’t seen the one I wanted to be with. You’re not a second pick, I was just stupid.” He leaned closer, “I mean it.”

You blushed deeply, “Oh, Ryū!” You threw your arms around him and pulled him into a deep hug, “Of course I’ll be your girlfriend!” And you felt him hug you back, “Of course! Of course!”

He beamed and kissed the side of your head then held you for a few moments. He snuggled up beside you, “Yes! Yes!” He howled as he threw his head back and the laughed.

You then kissed once more and you heard Nishinoya skate back towards you two. He was laughing too, having heard the confirmation of Tanaka’s confession, his two best friends were now dating. He threw himself on top of both of you and the three of you laughed. 

This was the start of the most mega awesome cool perfect relationship between you and Tanaka. 

Reader:Gender Neutral
Character:Rintarõ Suna
Rating:G
Summary:“If you’re so cold, why didn’t you say something? Come here.”
Warning:Fluff, Cuddling
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Wasn’t May supposed to be warm? So why was there a frost warning on the weather channel, and why despite that did Suna have to leave the window to the bedroom open when he came back from his work out. 

As you laid in bed with the thin, summer blankets wrapped around you in an attempt to find some warmth. You watched your husband move around your shared bedroom to change into some casual wear to start a lazy Sunday at home. 

He hummed to himself and pulled on a new pair of briefs, usually the sight of him in nothing but briefs was enough to get you out of bed. But you were shivering like a leaf under the blankets. 

  “Baby.” He said, as he looked over his shoulder at you on the bed before he pulled a dark t-shirt on, “What’s going on under those covers?” Usually you were up by now, wanting to touch his toned body before you started the day. 

You grumbled to yourself as you shivered even more. Why did it have to be so cold today? How could Suna not notice it was so cold? You buried your face further into the pillows and didn’t say anything.

Suna sighed, “Baby.” He said again, “What’s going on? Are you sick?” Worry ran through him for a moment. Did you catch a spring cold? Or maybe something worse. 

He walked over to the bed and sat on the edge. He rubbed your shoulder and felt you shiver under his touch. His worry only grew when he asked you what was going on, “Baby, are you okay? You’re so cold.”

  “You left the window open.” You whined, “How are you not cold?” You looked at him with a worry in your brow, Suna hated to admit it but you looked cute even if you were shivering. 

  “If you’re so cold, why didn’t you say something? Come here.” He chuckled as he got into bed and laid beside you under the thin blankets. He cuddled you up in his arms. He pressed your head against his warm chest and asked, “Better?”

You sighed and curled up against him, stealing his body heat, “Yeah… Better.”

Suna chuckled and kissed you on the top of the head, he then asked, “Want me to close the window? I’d hate for you to catch a cold, baby.” 

  “If I get sick it’s your fault.” You grumbled against his clothed, warmed chest. You whined when he got up to close the window, thankful for him to shut out the cold and let the heat come back to you.

He laid back beside you and said, “Don’t worry, I’ll make you a massive cup of tea to warm up the cold hands.” He rested you on his chest and let you rub at the fabric of his shirt as you stole his body heat. 

  “Good, it better be caffeinated to hell and back.”

Suna couldn’t help but laugh, always the dramatic princess. He rubbed your head with a calloused hand and said, “Don’t worry, it’ll be the biggest, warmest, more caffeinated tea we could make.” 

You snuggled up closer to him, kissing him on the pec, “Good. Thank you Rin.” You added as you clutched onto him gently. 

Suna laughed again and gently kissed you at the very top of your head, “Oh, baby. Anything for you, now how about we actually get up. I’ll give you a sweater to wear and we can start our day.” 

  “With a big cup of tea?” You asked as you leaned your head up to look at him. You really wanted to warm up.

He smirked and said, “Of course. We’ll start the day with tea and a sweater.”

Reader:Gender Neutral
Character:Tetsurō Kuroo
Rating:M
Summary:Sometimes you just wanted to get high with your boyfriend after a long week at work. And there was nothing better than making brownies. 
Warning:Fluff, Recreational Drug Use
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In the small apartment you lived with Kuroo, you two were seated on the couch. He was dressed in a pair of sweatpants and one of his button up shirts with all of the buttons undone. You were in a pair of his boxers and an old white t-shirt. 

You had spent the afternoon making edibles. Your personal favourite, brownies. Kuroo multiple times had to stop you from licking the spoon. To save it for the finished product. And now a few bites in of a bit corner piece (the best piece), you were starting to feel the high come over you.

It started with becoming a bit too aware of your hands as you scrolled through your phone. Then a weird sensation in your nose and then the high set in. You felt loose, happy and so deeply in love with your boyfriend of the last few years. 

You put your phone on the coffee table once more and leaned over to the table to grab the plate with the brownie on it. You took a bit bite and melted a little at the chocolate chunks that Kuroo haphazardly threw into the mixture before baking. 

You made a pleased noise and Kuroo chuckled. You felt his dry lips on your face as you took another smaller bite before you put the plate back down. Kuroo’s voice was in your ear soon after, “Don’t overdo it, kitten. Don’t want you greening out on me.” 

You giggled a little and gave him a big grin, hints of chocolate smeared across your teeth, “I’ll be fine.” 

He just chuckled and kissed you on the lips. His hands on your shoulders as he continued to kiss you, bit by bit the kiss became deeper. He thought you looked really beautiful right now. In nothing but his clothes, eating the brownies you made together, getting high after a long weekend. 

When he pulled away from the kiss, you yawned a little bit. You had a little too much and were starting to get a little sleepy. Kuroo smiled at you and moved a little bit so you were more comfortable on the couch. He watched you kick your legs up onto the table and snuggle into his side. 

He was starting to feel the effects of his high as he held you close to him. He yawned a little bit and scratched his jaw a little bit. The weight against him felt comfortable, you also looked adorable as you tried to stay awake as you got higher.

Your eyes drooped a little bit as you watched television. Your yawns were big and loud as you snuggled closer to him. The fabric of his sweatpants felt so comfortable against your hand as you brushed the side of his thigh lovingly. 

  “Sleepy baby?” He asked with a grin.

  “No.” You grumbled as you buried yourself further into his arm. Another yawn left your lips as you felt the sense of drowsiness overtake you. He thought you looked so adorable.

You two watched television together, Kuroo spaced out for a little bit as he switched between the weather channel and the local kid’s network. He occasionally looked over to you and kissed you on the lips gently. 

You made a little noise at the kisses but looked like you were fighting to stay awake. Your eyes occasionally closed but would instantly open again. But then closed again eventually. It made Kuroo chuckle and kiss you more. 

He eventually zoned out at the high set in. He moved a little closer to the arm of the couch and rested against it. He couldn’t decide if he was hungry or tired. He let out a small yawn and his stomach growled. 

Yeah he was both at the same time. 

  “Babe?” He eventually asked as he looked down and saw you fast asleep beside him, your mouth slightly open and softly snoring. He took one look at you and chuckled, “Someone had a little too much.” 

He moved away from you and let you occupy the couch fully. You laid out carefully, sleepily grabbing the throw pillow and putting it under your head. Kuroo licked his lips, thinking about what to snack on while you fell asleep. Maybe if he didn’t eat the entire bag of chips, he’ll leave some for you. 

Reader:F
Character:Takanobu Aone
Rating:G
Summary: You told nobody about your haircut. You left Date Tech one afternoon with long hair and returned the next day with boyish short hair. There was barely enough to tuck behind your ear. 
Warning:Fluff, First Kiss, Confessions
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You told nobody about your haircut. You left Date Tech one afternoon with long hair and returned the next day with boyish short hair. There was barely enough to tuck behind your ear. 

As you walked through the halls, all eyes were on you. You tried not to pay too much attention to the stares, but it was hard with the amount of them. You found yourself playing with your hair, running your fingers through it as you walked to your locker. 

What you weren’t expecting was the reaction Aone was going to have. When he saw you approach your locker with your short hair, he nearly dropped his books and his cheeks went bright pink. 

  “Hello Takanobu.” You smiled as you opened your locker, “Did you get too much sun yesterday, you’re looking very flushed.” You reached over to touch him on the shoulder but he nearly flinched.

  “Your hair.” He said in his quiet tone.

  “Oh yeah. I got it cut yesterday.” You shrugged, “I hated the bob the hairdresser was going for so I just asked them to chop it all off. It’ll grow back.” You smiled as you patted him on the shoulder, “Are you sure you didn’t get too much sun?”

Aone swallowed and clutched his books tighter, “I’m okay.” He turned back to his locker. His hand shook a little. He didn’t understand how you could look cuter? He already thought you were the utmost beautiful, but this sudden lack of hair made you seem more adorable. 

You scratched your head, feeling the lack of length, then grabbed your textbooks for your first class, “It’s not too short is it?” You looked over to him, “People have been giving me far too many stares.”

Aone blushed deeper as he looked down, “You look great.” And then stilled when you shoved him playfully.

  “Oh, Takanobu! You’re such a sweet talker. I still don’t understand how you don’t have a girlfriend yet.” You laughed as you got your books and closed your locker. 

Aone’s words became a jumbled in his mouth, a mix of wanting to thank you for the compliment, tell you he doesn’t want a girlfriend and confess his undying love for you. Instead he remained silent with the tips of his ears feeling hot. 

  “Well, buddy, I’m going to head to class now. I’ll see you later, we’ll meet at our spot for lunch.” You playfully bumped your hip against him before your beautiful laugh left your lips as you walked off to your first class. 

Aone sighed and closed his locker. There was no way a girl like you would end up with him, you were just too perfect. Even now with the short hair that complimented every beautiful feature of your face, there was no stopping every guy at Date Tech from wanting to date you. 

You were just too beautiful now. 

When lunch time rolled around, Aone’s thoughts were about your haircut. He couldn’t get his mind off of the sight of it. How beautiful you looked with the short cut, it was something so new for you that he was surprised you hadn’t tried it before. 

When you met under the willow tree on campus, he was already sitting there with his lunch in hand. Which was usually water, a milk carton from the vending machine, a protein bar, a salad, and usually some kind of leftover from the night before. 

  “Taka!” You chirped. 

He waved to you, becoming flustered once more. You sat beside him, too painfully close for him to not become more flustered. He swallowed back his emotions and went back to eating. He watched you open your lunch bag and get your food out. 

You chatted about your first three classes as you picked at your food. Even at one point, stealing some of his fish from his container. He could’ve melted at the sight of you eating the food that he cooked. He wanted to cook for you all the time, he wanted to do all kinds of things with you. 

  “And then I said, there was no way that was possible. That sounded so fake, but you know how she is. Totally fake!” You laughed, “But then again she gets all the guys.” You sighed and laid down on the grass, “I wonder what that’s like.” 

  “There’s guys who like you.” Aone said as he put his container down and laid beside you. He blushed further when you reached over and took a hold of his hand. 

  “Well, they’re being very quiet about it.” You squeezed his hand, “Like if you have a crush on someone, let them know. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Aone swallowed, “Well.” He trailed off. 

You looked at him, “Yeah, Taka? Do you have a crush on a girl?” Your eyes went wide, “You’ve never had a crush on a girl before! Who is she? Is she in our year?”

Aone blushed further, “Well. You see.” 

  “Tell me! I have to know everything. You’re my best friend after all! I gotta approve of her first” You chirped as you squeezed his hand and got closer, “Tell me.” 

  “She is-”

  “Spit it out, Takanobu!” You exclaimed.

  “It’s you!” He said loudly. Probably the loudest he had ever been with you. He let go of your hand and gripped the grass under him, “It’s you. And you’ve only gotten cuter with that haircut.” 

You blinked at him, “It’s me? You have a crush on me?” You crowded his space and looked at him from an odd angle. 

  “Yes.’ He spat out, “Ever since first year. I’m sorry.”

  “Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!” You said as you sat up and looked down at him, “Don’t apologize. I just didn’t know. Wow. This entire time. Why didn’t you say anything?”

He let go of the grass and sat up with you. He sighed as his eyes casted downwards, “I didn’t want you to hate me. I value you too much- “ And before he could finish the sentence you kissed him. Your hands on his face as you touched lips with him softly. 

His eyes were wide for a moment before they fluttered closed and he returned the kiss. His hand rested on your wrist. You stayed like that for a while, kissing one another as the birds chirped and your food was left forgotten. 

When you pulled away, you ran your fingers through your short hair, “I like you, Takanobu. For a long time now.” You smiled at him and placed your hand back on his cheek, “I mean it.”

He could’ve died at that moment. He asked, “Does this mean-”

You smiled, “yes!” 

  “Perfect. And you’re keeping the haircut right?” He asked as he took you in his arms softly. He kissed the top of your head.

You held onto him gently and nodded, “Yes, plus it’ll be a bitch to grow out. I’m glad you like it.” You combed your fingers through it, “It feels nice. Touch it, it’s so soft now!” 

Aone chuckled lightly and touched your hair, you felt perfect in his arms. His heart felt like it was going to burst, but he was content if not beyond happy. He held you as you started to ramble about your potential first date. 

This was bliss, this was heaven. This was perfect.

Reader:F
Character:Rintarō Suna, Kentarō Kyōtani
Rating:G
Summary:Your boyfriend was a punk and since you’ve been dating so long. You wanted your own jean vest and customize it to your liking.
Warning:Fluff, Punk AU
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Suna noticed that you always played with the spikes on his vest when you sat in his lap when you hung out at the Foxhole. His baby girl in his arms while he wore his ‘battle vest’, his lips against your cheek while you played with the dull spikes that he meticulously attached to the vest.  

  “I should make you one.” He remarked one evening while he drove the both of you home from the clubhouse that the rest of the so-called foxes hung out in after hours. 

  “One what?” You asked as you looked up from your phone, your bag in your lap. Your long sleeves pushed up to reveal the tattoo of Suna’s name on your forearm. The only tattoo you had. 

  “A vest.” He replied, “Something you can wear to the Foxhole. I’m pretty sure Atsumu and Osamu would be impressed by it. Make you one of the guys.” 

  “That sounds awesome!” You chirped, “I’ve been collecting pins at all of your shows and the roller derby games. Maybe we can make patches too!” You looked giddy at the idea of your own vest. 

Suna reached over and pat your thigh, “Anything you want, precious. It’s your battle vest.” And thus started the hunt for a battle vest. There were many trips to the local thrift store. Suna was very particular about the type of vest he wanted you to have, he didn’t want something flimsy and could fall apart with age. He wanted something sturdy, even a Levi’s jean jacket that you could cut the sleeves off. Eventually you two found a light denim wash jacket for a reasonable price.

Before you could pull out the thousand yen bill to pay, Suna already had enough change out on the counter to pay. You couldn’t get a word in when he said, “Just let me pay for it, it’s what a good boyfriend does.” Before he took the paper bag that held your new jacket that’ll become a vest. 

And the construction of Suna’s girl’s vest began in the Foxhole. Suna bought you some paints from the dollar store to make your patches from the left over denim material from the sleeves, he found some Sharpies in drawers and you brought a hot glue gun from home and the pins you’ve been collecting. 

Everyone was lingering around the Foxhole, smoking, eating a late dinner, blasting music. You were on the floor assembling your vest while Suna looked on. He fed you fries while you drew outlines of patches on leftover material. 

You outlined the logo of you and Suna’s favourite band and then filled in with paint. You stuck pins on the front pockets and Suna helped you cut put the fabric of what used to be the sleeves. He didn’t want his baby girl to use sharp scissors.

  “You should put a fox on it, then no fuckers will mess with ya.” Osamu suggested as he lit another cigarette, “But make it grey, then they’ll know for sure.” He winked. 

Suna flipped him off, “I’m not branding my girl with your shit.” 

Atsumu laughed, “Yeah, Samu, get your own girl.” Then took a bite of his sandwich. 

  “I’m going to make my own fox, the red fox.” You smiled, “I’ll be the red fox with my vest.” 

Suna chuckled and kissed the top of your head, “Sounds good to me.” Then watched you attach the last pin on the vest. You held it up in front of his face and he said, “Perfect, put it on.”

You slipped it on your shoulders, it was a men’s jacket turned vest so it was a little baggy in some areas. But otherwise it was perfect for you and with all the deep pockets you had now, you could keep all kinds of things in them. 

  “I could get rid of my purse now.” Your eyes lit up, “I have so much room now!” 

Suna chuckled, “Perfect. Now you got your own battle vest. You’re one of us, precious. Now c’mon, let’s take it out on the town. You guys want anything at the 7/11?”

  “Bento.” Kita responded.

  “You’re paying for yourself.” Suna said as he got up from the floor then helped you up to your feet, the vest still on you. He leaned in for a kiss, before Kita and Osamu threw some bills at him. He smiled at you lovingly, his punk rock girl. That had a ring to it, and as time goes on you’ll have more to add to the vest.

Kyōtani liked to think that his vest was a visual statement of his beliefs. From the dyed black denim, the weight of all the pins, to the craftsmanship of your name hand embroidered over the heart. 

Whereas a lot of the crew slapped together their vests, Kyōtani took the time to learn skills to improve his. It was his most worn piece of clothing, he wanted to make sure it stood out, the way his blond hair or sharp eyeliner did. But in all honesty, it was the snake bites that made people cross the street when they saw him. 

You were his baby girl, his precious little flower that he loved so much that it almost pained him. He never had a girl like you before, and since you had been dating for long enough, it was time his girl got her own vest. 

  “You want one, baby? A vest of your very own.” He asked one afternoon after he took you out to a cafe. He was watching you dig your fork into the strawberry shortcake you were sharing. 

You looked at him, “That would be cool, but won’t it be super hard.”

He chuckled, “Thrift stores are wall to wall jeans. We could fish something out of the piles, I’ll even show you all my tricks to making it the best jacket. Don’t listen to Oikawa for tips, Iwaizumi had to help him.” He smirked a little bit.

You giggled, “I’d love my own vest, it would beat having to steal yours to look tough.” 

He reached across the table and wiped some cream off your cheek, “You’re tough to begin with, the toughest princess out there.”

The following week and an adventure across the city to almost every thrift store you eventually found what you were looking for, a well fitted jean vest. Kyōtani thought you looked stunning in it and couldn’t wait to customize it to your liking. 

  “All you need is a needle and thread.” He took up sewing as a means to fixing his clothes to his liking, and that meant a large collection of thread. He had to thank his grandmother for all the thread and for teaching him the basics.

You soon found yourself in his bedroom, band posters everywhere, the stereo on playing the music he loved. The loud, brash lyrics and the thump of the rhythm that had him nodding his head along as he found some pins to put on the vest for you. 

  “Hold open your hand.” He said as he turned to you. He watched you open your hand and he placed a button of a cat in your palm. When you looked at him, he said, “It’s good luck to have your pin given by someone. C’mon, put it on.”

You took the pin, looked at it in awe as you stuck it right on the collar for all to see. Kyōtani then got the fabric paint from his desk drawer and sat with you. He kissed the side of your head and you giggled. 

  “I need a pencil to sketch out the kitty cat on the back.” You said as you tried to imagine how the cat would look on the back. Soon a pencil was placed in your hand and you started to sketch it out. It took a few tries before you got the shape you wanted.

You decided that unlike Kyōtani’s vest, yours was going to be more cute. His was a loud statement about politics, beliefs and ideologies, that all aligned with his punk nature. But you wanted to take a smaller approach, something that contrasted the black and white with splashes of red and blue. He had enough fabric paint to make something pretty cute. 

 “Can I draw something too?” He asked as he sat with you shoulder to shoulder, his ratty old sketchbook was in his lap as he watched you outline your design, “I promise it won’t be too graphic.” He was referring to there not being something like the melting skull he painted on his jacket. 

  “Sure, tomorrow when I work on it some more. It’s going to get late soon and I’m getting hungry.” You stretched out your back before you hunched over once more to get the paint sorted out. 

Kyōtani continued to sit beside you and sketch out ideas. He kept showing you designs. One of them was a pair of cute angel wings, another was a cactus in a pot with a pastel flower coming out of it. There were many options and he noted which ones you reacted to more positively than others. 

 “They all look good.” You mentioned.

 “Gotta find the best, only the best for my girl.” He said. 

By the time you finished the sun was starting to set. He hung up the vest in the bathroom with the fan on to circulate the air better to dry it. He smiled at you as you stood in the cramped bathroom admiring your handy work. 

  “Good job, kitten. Final step is to put my name on it.” He winked at you.

You playfully nudged him, “We’ll see. Maybe if you’re a good puppy.” Then turned away and left the bathroom. You heard your blonde boyfriend chuckle and follow behind you to hug you from behind and kiss you on the neck. 

  “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be a good pup. Just for you, my punk rock kitten.”

Reader:F
Character:Atsumu Miya
Rating:G
Summary: You didn’t often wake up cranky which was something that Atsumu was quite thankful for. He hated when his baby got too cranky. But last night you got into his supply of Swiss Chocolate flavoured Monster Energy drinks, thought it tasted like chocolate milk and then stayed up till around five in the morning. 
Warning:SFW Little Space, Fluff
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You didn’t often wake up cranky which was something that Atsumu was quite thankful for. He hated when his baby got too cranky. But last night you got into his supply of Swiss Chocolate flavoured Monster Energy drinks, thought it tasted like chocolate milk and then stayed up till around five in the morning. 

You were so hyper, even after Atsumu tried to make you drink water, gave you some crackers to munch on and even some sleepy warm bedtime milk. You were a hyper little thing until you were in the middle of watching Sailor Moon and crashed on the couch, curled up beside you cat pillow. 

Atsumu carried you to bed and made sure you were tucked in before he brushed his teeth and got into bed beside you. He thought that was the end of his problems, until you woke up still in little space and very grumpy. No matter what he did you were still far too grumpy to be reasoned with. 

  “Want pancakes?”

  “No.”

  “Want a bath?”

  “No.”

  “Playtime?”

  “No.”

Atsumu didn’t know what to do. You were bundled up in your blankets on the bed, with your stuffed animals scattered around you. You looked like his normal baby girl, but you were so crabby. 

  “Are c’mon my little crab apple, why don’t you get out of bed. I’ll make you a little omelette and you can have some milk to drink.” He sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed your arm over the blanket.

  “I don’t wanna get up.” You grumbled into the pillow, “I don’t want to do anything!” You grabbed one of your stuffed animals and hit him with it and then made a small ‘hmpf!” noise. 

 He grabbed the stuffed animal and put it beside you once more, “We don’t throw things little one, you know the rules. So why are you so cranky my little milk carton?” He asked as he continued rub your arm. 

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” You huffed as you buried yourself further into the pillows and gripped onto one of your bigger stuffed animals for comfort. You didn’t even know what was wrong, you were just cranky and sad. You woke up in a mood and you didn’t know how to solve it. 

Atsumu sighed and got back into bed with you and held you in his arms. He rubbed you gently, his lips up against your neck as he left soft wet kisses. He wanted to soothe you, get you out of whatever bad mood you were having.

  “Does baby not feel well from all the Monster Energies you had last night?” He asked softly. That was the only thing that changed between last night and now. The body can only have so much Monster Energy or energy drinks in general.

You grumbled something into the pillow and gripped onto the stuffed animal tighter. You looked like a crabby little baby. He kissed the top of your head and let you hold onto your stuffed animal. He knew that you needed to soothe yourself with little space, maybe it was because you crashed so hard.

  “Does baby want some apple slices? Maybe a pear with some peanut butter?” He cooed at you. He was surprised how well he took to playing the role of a daddy dom, when you first started dating you had to guide him, but now he knew all your tricks and tips to be little. 

You rolled over to face him, still clutching onto the stuffed animal in your arms. You looked up at him lovingly, “Apples?” 

  “Yeah, it’ll help. You need to eat and I know how much you like when I do an apple smile.” He suggested as he cupped your cheek for a moment and moved down on the bed to kiss you on the lips. 

You melted into the kiss, the affection was something you couldn’t stay mad at. No matter how grumpy you got, you always loved the taste of sweet apples and daddy’s kisses. 

He soon got off the bed and handed you another stuffed animal to hold onto. You wrapped your arms around both large stuffed animals and nuzzled them affectionately. He gave you one last smile, happy you were coming out of your cranky state. 

He went to the kitchen and chopped up two of the biggest red apples that he had in the fridge, a dollop of peanut butter on a plastic plate and served it to you. He brought it back to the bedroom and found you still lying there with your stuffed animals still in your arms. He sat on the edge of the bed and said, “C’mon baby, sit up and eat your apples.”

You got up, still a little grumpy and tired. You made grabby hands towards the plate and Atsumu handed it to you to sit it on your blanket covered lap. Sleepily you started to eat the slices while Atsumu rubbed your head. 

  “Does my baby feel cranky still?” He asked as you were almost halfway through the slices. 

You nodded your head and pouted around the slice that was in your mouth. You had a bit of peanut butter on your chin and your eyes were still full of sleep. You rubbed them with the back of your hand.

  “Aw, keep eating and then we’ll settle down for some more sleep. But how about we never have Monster energy ever again, okay? Let’s only stick to regular chocolate milk. That’s what my baby needs more.” He kissed the top of your head. 

You rubbed yourself up against him as you continued to eat. You were started to feel less cranky but you were still sleepy. You crashed pretty hard. Once you finished eating, Atsumu patted you on the head. 

  “Alright, do you want some more sleep, baby cakes?” He asked as he took the plate and put it on the nightstand. He then went back to rubbing your head as he got back into bed with you. 

You yawned loudly and nodded your head. You felt him wipe the peanut butter off your chin and lick it off his thumb then he got comfortable beside you on the bed. 

  “My sleepy little baby.” He chuckled, “Too small to have energy drinks.”

You nodded, “Little baby.” And yawned again. 

He held you in his arms and kissed the top of your head, “No more energy drinks for you. If you want chocolate milk, you can have chocolate milk, but no more Monster. Even if you really, really want it.”

You nodded like the good little girl you were and held onto him gently, “Okay, daddy.” You then closed your eyes and let yourself drift off to sleep, being held by your beloved daddy.

  “After nap time, we’ll have some proper pancakes.” He promised with another kiss before he got settled for a small nap. 

got a thing about you… (and it won’t go away)

akaashi keiji x reader, 17.3k

SUMMARY: At the beginning of each summer, when school finally let up, they would all meet up in a beach house at Hamamatsu for a week. It didn’t matter if you had a bad year. It didn’t matter what side of the country you were on. All that mattered was that the five of them promised to find their way back to each other, even if it was only for a while.

Akaashi looked forward to it every year.

Except this year, he dreaded it. And it was all because of you.

WARNINGS: suggestive themes (fwb to lovers) but nothing explicit.

“Keiji,” you murmured sleepily against his bare shoulder, the place where you’d been pressing kisses all morning.

“Y/N,” Akaashi tried to say in warning, but all that came out was a sigh, feeling the growth of your smile on his skin.

Akaashi tried to arch away, but he couldn’t move when he felt you pressing more kisses. “Y/N,” he breathed out, trying again, “we have to get ready soon or we’re going to be caught up in traffic.”

And there were other things he needed to do. Like discuss what they’re doing right now and what they will notbe doing once they get to the beach house. He closed his eyes to gather all his strength, before cupping your cheek and gently pushing away. “Okay, come on,” he stressed, “we have to be responsible now.”

You only kissed his thumb in response, but allowed him to push you away slightly. “You always want to be responsible.”

Akaashi finally rose from the bed, ignoring you to put on a shirt. He felt like that was the proper thing to do before having the conversation he wants to have. He shouldn’t be naked, you know? When he turned around, he saw you cuddling his pillow.

“I have to be.” is how he started it. “And speaking of responsible, we should talk about this.”

You bit your lip, holding back a smile, “What about us?”

You bit your lip, holding back a smile, “What about us?”

You bit your lip, holding back a smile, “What about us?”

He pursed his mouth, and annoyingly enough, you copied him too, puckering your mouth like you were asking for a kiss. He glared at you, “Be serious.”

“I am serious,” you rolled your eyes, “you’re the one who can’t even say it.”

Akaashi’s known you far too long to miss the challenge in your tone. “I’m trying to be delicate. But I should have known that it’s better to be direct when it comes to you—”

“It’s only been eight years, Keiji,” you added with a smirk.

“What I’m trying to say is,” Akaashi cleared his throat, “is that considering how annoying our friends are, I think we should stop doing this. They’re going to catch on and then god knows what I’ll have to do when they start teasing us.”

You laughed, “We can be subtle.” your laugh settled into a smile. “We can keep a secret.”

“You are the opposite of subtle.” Akaashi replied, thinking about all the times they sneaked out to go for midnight walks back in high school and how terrible of a liar you were whenever your parents would catch you sneaking back in. He tried to be stern, “We need to stop.”

You groaned, turning your face to bury it into a pillow.

Akaashi focused on being understanding, instead of the other things his brain was filing for further investigation.

(Like the way his bed smelled completely of you. How right that felt. How good you looked in his bed. How much you both avoided this conversation of stopping. Why he didn’t really want to stop—)

His brain settled on what was safe, simple and true: hooking up with each other felt too good. Who would want to stop?

If not for the impending beach house trip, Akaashi wouldn’t think to put a stop to it either; so he let you have your moment, before going to you and sitting beside you on the bed.

“You’re silly,” he said, letting himself give in to impulse and pull you closer. “You like my body that much? I’m thisgood in bed?”

From this close, he can see you roll your eyes. “You wish. As if you could keep your hands to yourself. Why stop when we both know we can’t? Why set ourselves up?”

“It shouldn’t be that hard.” he retorted in response.

And it shouldn’t be. You’ve known each other for eight years, and have gone for almost the same amount without all of… this. Besides, you’re not even dating.

.

.

.

It just happened. At least, when Akaashi tried to think about how he ended up here, that was all he could find. It just happened. There was alcohol involved. Maybe mercury was in retrograde. Post-midterms stress was probably a factor. All in all, the circumstances were vague.

But a couple things were clear:

You, for one. He knew who he was falling into bed with. He wouldn’t be able to miss the familiar colour of your eyes. The feel of your hand, even in the dark.

The lack of regret was another. There was panic, of course, but no part of him had recoiled away in disgust or horror when he woke up wrapped around you tight. Instead, it felt right.

So much so that when you opened your eyes, all Akaashi did was fall back into you, against your mouth.

Both of you wanted it, that became clear when you kept falling into bed together with no discussion whatsoever of when to stop.

Until today— and Akaashi admits it was hardly a proper conversation at all. He meant to continue it in the car, he swears, but it was a long drive from Tokyo to Hamamatsu. And on the off chance that it went south, he didn’t want to be stuck in the car with you for that long. But then you fell asleep, and by the time you had woken up, they had already arrived.

Akaashi had missed his timing, and now, as they rolled in through the paved driveway of the beach house, he could only pray for mercy.

No, not from god. But from the bastards he calls his friends.

They spoke for themselves:

The windows of his car are rolled down, so he can hear them loud and clear.

“There he is!” came the teasing voice of Bokuto, “Akaaashiiiiiiii!”

Beside him, you stuck your head out of the window, “Hey, what about me? Are you guys not excited to see me?”

He saw Kuroo and Kenma immediately school their faces into something bored, “No, not at all.”

You didn’t even wait for Akaashi to put the brakes on. The car was still moving when you took off your seatbelt and stepped out of the car. You marched over with the most debilitating pout, and Kuroo and Kenma only managed to hold out for another second or two, before they both broke out into a grin.

You tackled them into a hug, “I missed you guys!”

You squeezed them hard before letting go and launching yourself at Bokuto. Akaashi didn’t know how it was possible, but Bokuto only seemed to have gotten broader over the past few months they didn’t see each other. He smiled when he saw how small you looked in his arms.

You were always going to be smaller. A constant that Akaashi loved.

He finally got out of the car too and called out, “Y/N, don’t forget to grab your bag!”

But all he got was a wave of your hand, “I’ll grab it later.”

Akaashi grabbed it now, because he already knew how the future was going to unfold. You were going to lie down on the couch, forget, and then somehow needle him into getting it for you. He shuts the trunk of his car and locks it.

As he pocketed his keys though, he immediately made eye contact with Kuroo’s shit-eating grin and already, already, he knew what was coming. “Shut up,” he said preemptively. Even swings his bag to hit Kuroo for good measure.

Kuroo just laughed, grabbing one bag from him, “You know, this is exactly why you get made fun of.”

“Shut up,” Akaashi said again and escaped him by entering the house. He took his shoes off, replacing it with one of the pairs of house slippers by the door.

A cool breeze greeted him at the door. He breathed in and some of the tension, left over from the school year, started leaking out of him.

This house and its familiar bones. Its walls and their constant shades of beige and blue. The summer house welcomed him, and something in him settled.

He was at the beach house with his old friends. All else aside, he felt at peace.

.

.

.

The peace obviously didn’t last long. It was expected, considering how well Akaashi knew his friends and their meddling ways (yes, like some Scooby doo villains).

The moment you stepped out of their sights to use the bathroom, Akaashi immediately got pulled into an impromptu meeting in the kitchen.

“Akaashi Keiji,” Kuroo began, voice low and eyes monitoring the bathroom door, “I see there has been no progress on the sad state of your love life. I knew this would happen. We can’t keep letting this go on. It’s pathetic.”

“Hey,” Akaashi said, insulted, “Who says my love life is sad?”

Bokuto carefully reached out to pat his hand, “Oh, Akaashi. If you were dating someone, we’d know. If you were dating our beloved friend, we would definitely know.”

“It’s getting sad, Akaashi,” Kuroo said, putting his hand on top of Bokuto’s that was still on top of Akaashi’s. Kenma, feeling a little left out, also joined in by setting his hand on top of Kuroo’s. “We’re staging an intervention. You need help.”

Akaashi took his hand out of this weird hand sandwich it ended up in, “I don’t need help.”

Kuroo sniffed, “We’re not doing this for you. We’re doing this for ourselves. I’m tired of having to see you guys act all gross and then say you’re just friends. Just kiss already. It’s sick.”

Kenma added on, “Don’t you get tired of being Y/N’s ‘yes’ man without getting benefits?”

He stopped himself from mindlessly blurting out that he was currently receiving some benefits, which wasn’t that difficult considering the annoyance that rose in him at Kenma’s statement. “Um?” he raised a brow, “What do you mean ‘yes’ man? I am not a yes man. What does that even mean? I say no to her all the time.”

His statement was met with blank stares and raised brows.

“Akaashi, please. We’re all yes men when it comes to her,” Kuroo eventually snorts, looking right through him, “Who do you think can say no to her here?”

Akaashi took a look at his friend’s faces, Kenma’s exasperation, Kuroo’s resignation, and Bokuto’s sheepishness standing out.

“I’m sure there are people in this world who can say no to her,” Kuroo continued, “but not us. And certainly, not you.”

Akaashi’s mouth moved through a handful of words. None of them ever got a voice.

Kuroo smugly leaned back as you came back, oblivious to the smackdown he just delivered.

You patted your drying hands on your shorts and looked straight at Akaashi first, “Keiji, why do you look so stressed?”

Kenma, the only one of them with a mouth that worked as fast his brain, immediately bounded to you with a smirk, “Don’t worry, we just told him he’s cooking dinner tonight.”

You gasped and then started lecturing with a frown, “Stop making him cook every time. We had a long drive from Tokyo. Let him rest.”

Akaashi bit his lip. That was cute. It was really cute of you to say that. But whatever smile that threatened to come up died when Bokuto put his arm around his shoulders. They watched you try to smack Kuroo, but was held back by Kenma’s arm on your waist.

“Aww,” Bokuto whispered to him, “Look at her defending you. That’s good girlfriend material right there. For you. Don’t worry, Akaashi. We are not letting you come out of this vacation single. We’ll be the best wingmen ever. You’ll see.”

Akaashi meant it wholeheartedly when he said, “Bokuto-san. That is the single most terrifying thing you’ve ever told me.”

.

.

.

Akaashi didn’t even have to spend that much time thinking about what exactly Bokuto meant about being wingmen. He doesn’t even make it to dinner before the wingman-ning began.

You had managed to save him from being in charge of dinner, but Akaashi didn’t completely escape it.

Kuroo made a ridiculous show of looking at the fridge and then proceeded to gasp so loud, you jumped in your seat beside Akaashi. “I cannot believe we forgot tomatoes. Somebody needs to go to the store and buy them,” and then pointedly looks at Akaashi.

Akaashi’s brow furrowed as he shrugged, “I mean, sure, I can go get them. There’s still that small shop down the street, right?” He made a move to stand up and grabbed a light jacket, but before he could even leave the vicinity of the living room, Bokuto stopped him, “Woah, woah, woah, you’re going alone?”

God, Akaashi already knew what was coming. At the risk of alerting you, Akaashi played along, “Yeah?”

“Dude, it’s late. It’s dangerous out there,” Bokuto said, putting on his big watery puppy dog eyes and directed it to the person weakest to it; you. “You should go with him.”

This is some weak wingman-ning, Akaashi decides. Hamamatsu is arguably one of the safest cities. Akaashi was more likely to suffer from gifted kid burn out syndrome than getting hurt, walking alone at night.

But you clearly didn’t care that Bokuto just gave the flimsiest rationale on why you should go get tomatoes together. You only threw your head back with a laugh, before standing up with a salute, “Yeah, I’ll make sure our old man gets to and from the grocery all safe.”

As you both walked out, he was absolutely certain he could hear those gremlins giggling, behind their hands. They think they’re so slick. They’re so lucky you were oblivious. Actually, Akaashi’s the one who’s lucky, because if you knew, he would never, ever, be able to live it down.

The moment you’re out on the main road, you casually slipped your arm around his and looked up with a cheeky smile. “This is okay, right?” you asked with an exaggerated shiver. The ocean breeze didn’t even reach here. “I’m just doing this because it’s a bit cold.”

“Yeah,” Akaashi said with a sigh, “It’s fine.”

“It’s not like they can see,” you reasoned, “It’s fine as long as they don’t, because we can just carry on, right?”

“Y/N.” He warned.

“It’s still a secret,” you said, pressing your cheek against his shoulder, “I don’t see why we should stop. It’s nobody’s business but ours. I don’t understand why we have to stop because of what other people might say.”

Akaashi couldn’t exactly say anything because, well… you’re not wrong. It’s just every part of him shudders at the thought of everybody knowing. Especially, their friends knowing. He hasn’t settled on the answer to why exactly that is. But he does mention what he knows you guys have been suffering through together over the years, “It’s just a hassle. You know the jokes our friends already make about us. Think of how much worse it will be when they find out what we’ve been doing.”

You don’t say anything, only making a soft vague noise. He couldn’t tell if it was made in agreement or in protest. With the weight of the day pressing down on him, he dropped the convo and opted to change the topic, “Is it just me or did Bokuto get really big?”

And that set you off, “Right! Not only that, but he’s sturdy. A little thick, you know what I’m saying?”

The phrasing made Akaashi laugh, “Never thought I’d hear that coming from your mouth. Remember back in high school?”

The conversation took them down memory lane and carried them all the way to the grocery store, where they didn’t even bother getting a shopping cart. Akaashi didn’t expect you guys to be there for that long.

They get to the fresh produce section where the refrigerator blasts cold air on the color vegetables. He scans among the greens to find where the tomatoes were, when he accidentally bumps you beside him. “Sorry,” he said, touching the small of your back absentmindedly.

“It’s fine,” you said, shivering. “Let’s hurry. I’m freezing here.”

“Want my jacket?” Akaashi offered, but he’s already taking it off before you could protest.

“It’ll be big on me,” you muttered, but already halfway through putting it on. “This is why I should start going to the gym. I need to get thicker too.”

It is big on you;. it looks like you’re swimming in it, hands hidden by the sleeves. “I thought you wanted to go to get prettier,” Akaash reached over and fixed the collar of his jacket, pinching your nose in the process before he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, “Come on. You can pick which tomato we get to eat tonight.”

“I hate tomatoes!”

“I know.”

.

.

.

When they got back and you settled back on the couch, he was immediately pulled towards the kitchen.

“You need to monitor,” Kenma said as he washed the tomatoes they bought. Bokuto joined in, and Akaashi half-expected Kuroo to join in. He didn’t. His job was clearly to keep you occupied by trashing you at Wii Sports.

“So,” Bokuto started, “Give us an update I see you made a move.”

“What move?” Akaashi sighed. These gremlins have watched too many romcoms, it’s starting to poison their minds.

Kenma looked at him like he was stupid, “The jacket. That’s a classic boyfriend move.”

“Yeah, weren’t you wearing that jacket when you left?” Bokuto added.

Akaashi frowned, fighting the urge to look at where you were still wrapped up in his jacket, “She was cold. Was I supposed to let her freeze?”

Kenma shook his head, “You’re so hopeless. What’s annoying is you’re doing everything right without even trying. Go sit on the couch. Perform some self-reflection.”

Akaashi pouted, even as Bokuto patted him like a stray dog in the park, and stalked all the way to the living room. He walked past the television, and he ended up getting yelled at by you and Kuroo too for blocking their view. It only worsened his mood.

“Akaashi!” Kuroo complained, falling to the floor in defeat, while you cheered, “Suck it, loser.”

Akaashi settled grumpily on the couch and wished dinner would come soon. You burrowed at his side, “Are you hangry?”

He shrugged.You reached over to fiddle with a piece of hair behind his ear and murmured, “You must be.”

You took on Kuroo’s challenge for a rematch and funnily enough, Akaashi missed your presence immediately.

His frown deepened. Maybe he should self-reflect.

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.

.

He performed zero self-reflection, but he did eat dinner. As always, food solved everything. Well, not everything, but he figured sleep would take care of the rest.

It’s only when he began brushing his teeth that he felt the weight of the day fully hit him. There was the four hour drive. The excitement from reuniting with his friends. And then the stress of having to deal with his friends’ matchmaking schemes.

All he wants to do now is lie down, twist to the side to hear his back crack, and maybe scroll through his phone until he passes out. Just like any other self-respecting young adult under late stage capitalism. No thinking. Just vibes.

It’s his main thought as he brushed his teeth.

He heard a knock on the bathroom door and when he opened it, he saw you standing there in pyjamas, a toothbrush in hand.

“Wait your turn,” he said, the words coming out garbled because of the toothbrush in his mouth.

You only smiled sheepishly, coming into the bathroom and lightly kicking the door closed. Akaashi raises a brow when he hears you lock the door.

In response, you only shrugged, “Can I borrow some toothpaste?”

Akaashi spat in the sink and washed his mouth. He gestured at the sink, “Go ahead then. Did you intentionally forget?”

“I knew at least one of you guys wouldn’t forget. If not you, then Bo would for sure have it. You boy scouts,” you shrug, grabbing the toothpaste and squeezing it out.

Akaashi knew he should leave. That he should stop standing there stupidly, watching you wet your stupid toothbrush. What was he waiting for?

He moves, but all he does is lean against the door, his hands behind him—clutching at the door knob but not turning it. What was he waiting for?

He should say goodbye, but all he said was, “It’s because he had braces too. You would never understand.”

“It’s not my fault I was born with perfect teeth,” you smirked at him through the mirror. Thrill ran through him.

Akaashi ignored it, “Perfect, my ass. I remember when you got all your wisdom teeth taken out. You were crying so much.”

You raised a brow before turning on your electric toothbrush. It buzzes noisily, as if to say, what’s your point? Akaashi shook his head. Unlike Bokuto, he felt like you would never change. There’s a certain softness in your cheeks that’s still there. A certain spark that’s never dimmed despite what life’s thrown your way.

He knew you too well, has known you for so long. A part of him, one that’s fearful and anxious at the future he’s hurtling towards, hopes that whatever happens, this never changes.

He’s too caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t even notice you’ve caught him staring. He’s startled when your mouth curls into something bright. It has him looking away, his hand coming up to rub his neck.

Akaashi heard you hum. It sounded annoyingly pleased.

A hand comes up to cup his cheek, forcing his gaze back.

“Now,” you said, suddenly a breath away, dragging his attention down to your mouth. Voice coming down to a low whisper, you ask, “It’s time to see how serious you really are. You really don’t want to sleep with me tonight?”

Akaashi bit his lip. “We shouldn’t,” he said, in a voice he hoped was firm.

You pouted. A debilitating thing that has his hand curling at your hip to push you away. But he’s not quick enough, because you go to hold his wrist. He tries again, “Y/N, we shouldn’t do—“

His voice cracked when you brushed your nose against his. Embarrassment floods him. He’s seen you through your puberty phase. You shouldn’t have this much of an effect on him.

“Baby, come on,” you whispered, guiding his hand under your shirt. Desire burned through him, especially as he felt the heat of your skin. As warm as he remembered it. As smooth as he remembered it. He’s lost, and you know it.

“Don’t baby me,” he said, cursing up a useless storm. In the end, it didn’t matter. He’s already leaning down to capture your lips with his.

You whimpered against his mouth, which only set him off further. He wrapped an arm around your waist, pressing you close as he kissed you hard. All thought left his brain. It was just you, you, you,consuming him.

You ended up pressed against the bathroom counter, hands tangled in his hair. When Akaashi nipped at your bottom lip, you tugged at it. He groaned, pulling away.

“Okay,” You panted, leaning back against the counter, “Baby me instead.”

“I baby you enough,” Akaashi rolled his eyes. “Some might say too much.”

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, “Forget them. I like it when you take care of me. It’s not overbearing. You don’t do it, because I’m helpless. I don’t see the problem.”

But the more Akaashi thought about it, the more it felt like there was a problem.

“Come here,” You said, dragging him between your legs. Akaashi’s hands came to rest on the bare skin of your thighs, where your sleep shorts have ridden up.

“Y/N,” Akaashi whispered, his hand inching further up. “Are you trying to prove a point?”

You giggled, “Is it working?”

It’s working too well. Akaashi couldn’t find it in himself to mind. Here it was again. The lack of regret. Just desire hitting him over and over again.

Everything about this reminded Akaashi of the first time they ever did this. At this random party, in some stranger’s bathroom. Judgement clouded by alcohol. Lack of judgement intensifying want.

Now, under the soft yellow light of this bathroom, they are in the same position. But this time, he doesn’t have the excuse of alcohol.

He hasn’t had that excuse every time in between since then.

And he hasn’t had the time to think about that. Too distracted by your perfect mouth, perfect hands, perfect body to think about when he started thinking of his best friend like this. It should be wrong. This was you.

You with your moon face and round eyes, wide with innocence.

Something between you has changed, and it’s quite possibly irreversible.

He blinked when he felt a kiss pressed against his forehead. “You look worried. Wanna talk about it—“

A knock interrupted them. You’re already rolling your eyes, “What!”

“What do you mean what?” came an annoyed voice. It was Kuroo. “You’ve been there for ages. Some people want to get ready for bed too.”

“I’m taking a shit!” You yelled back, and Akaashi had to cover his mouth to keep himself from laughing out loud.

He heard a thump against the door. “Fine! You better fucking spray after. I don’t want to brush my teeth in that stench.”

“Yeah, yeah,” You said dismissively.

Akaashi waited until he heard footsteps recede before detangling himself from you. Reality literally knocked on the door and said, is this reason enough?

He wanted to hit his head. He was such a hypocrite. He really should’ve left the moment you stepped into the bathroom.

You pouted hard and tried to reach for him again, “We should go to bed.”

Akaashi was better at avoiding this time. “I agree,” He said, before specifying, “Separately.”

“You’re so lame.”

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.

.

He woke up the next day, feeling like he didn’t sleep at all. It’s because he didn’t. He slept piss poor the whole night, a punishment he thought he didn’t deserve. Not that he thought refusing to sleep with his best friend should be rewarded, but—you know what he means.

He was so goddamn tired, he couldn’t even speak a single word during breakfast until he finished his first cup of coffee.

And to make matters worse, you looked completely okay. Refreshed even. You came trampling through the backdoor; the sand, the sun, Bokuto and Kenma following behind. The sound of your bright laughter irritated his sleep deprived brain.

“Akaashi, you’re awake!” Bokuto said, bounding up to him.

If it were anyone else, he would have grumpily responded. But it was Bokuto, who even at his most annoying was hard to be mad at. He gave him a small smile, “You guys had fun all by yourselves?”

Kenma, on his way to the bathroom, chimed in, “We tried waking you up, but you were dead to the world.”

Bokuto laughed, “You were lying face up, but your pillow wasn’t under your head. It was over. Y/N thought somebody murdered you in your sleep.”

“I was the only one concerned,” You shook your head, grabbing a pitcher of water from the fridge, “Remember that when you’re choosing which one of us is your favourite.”

Bokuto wasn’t concerned, “Do you remember when we used to pass out at his house after a party and he would somehow wake up out of his blankets, legs in the weirdest positions? I still think we should record him sleeping, just to see something.”

You visibly gulped down water and wiped your mouth, “He just needs to be held down. He sleeps very peacefully when he’s being held.”

Akaashi wished you were joking, but he literally stopped breathing. There’s this brief moment of silence where he’s pretty sure Bokuto was wondering if he heard that right. He’s never been so grateful that two of his friends weren’t in the room. They would never let him live it down.

“Hey,” Bokuto coughed, but his smile was so cheeky Akaashi knew whatever was coming next could not be good, “How do you know this? Have you tried it? Is this first hand experience?”

Akaashi does him better and pretends he has phlegm stuck in his throat. Anything to avoid being part of this conversation. He hacked it up so good, it didn’t feel like pretend anymore. You worriedly came up to him and smacked his back, “Keiji! Drink some water.”

It’s enough to distract everyone.

And then, Kuroo unintentionally did him a solid by walking out wearing the ugliest outfit known to man. (Okay, it’s not that ugly. He just looked like he’s dressed like a middle schooler. Like, come on. A sweater vest and yellow shorts?) By then, everyone’s too concerned about missing out on delivering sick burns.

Akaashi internally cheered. Sometimes, bad bitches (masculine) won.

For now, at least.

Hours later, life tried him again.

Peace never truly lasted. Ws always eventually turned to Ls. He’s been truly put on this earth to suffer.

And of course, the loss was personally hand-delivered by those most beloved to him.

After a huge lunch, they all had food-induced comas and decided that the best way to recover from this was to spend the rest of their day watching movies. (Actually, Bokuto suggested taking a walk by the beach, but he was immediately vetoed by Kuroo, Kenma, and you—who all claimed they needed to be rolled out of the restaurant and back to the beach house.)

Here was the kicker though: after diagnosing himself with onset food coma, all his defenses were low. He went to the restroom to relieve himself a little, change into sweatpants so he didn’t feel like he couldn’t breathe, and when he came back, he found that all the seats in the living room were taken. Even the floor, where Kuroo was sprawled out like an overheated dog, had no space.

There was really only one spot open, and that was the one right next to you.

With a sinking feeling, Akaashi thought, he’s been bamboozled.

None of the rats he called friends would meet his eyes, but they all looked a shade of smug as he walked on over to his seat of honor for the day. Of course, Akaashi thought. You’d both wound up sitting together on a loveseat.

He willed himself to act natural. He can sit next to his friend, all casual. No big deal. He would not give his friends the reaction they wanted. He cleared his throat, “So what are we watching?”

“I think,” Kenma suggested, “we should watch that new show on Netflix? Alice in Borderland or something.”

Kuroo grunted from the floor, “I don’t want to watch that. Let’s watch Midsommar instead.”

At that, Akaashi protested, “I’ve already seen Midsommar. You’ve seen Midsommar.” Akaashi knew that for a fact, because he was the one who bullied Kuroo into watching it.

“Don’t be selfish,” Kuroo retorted, “Bokuto, Y/N, and Kenma haven’t seen it yet.”

“Ugh,” Kenma groaned, “I’m going to have trouble sleeping tonight if we do. And if that happens, I’ll make it your problem.”

Kuroo rolled to his side, his head propped up by his hand, a stupid grin on his face, “Don’t worry, you can come sleep with me if you get scared tonight, Kenma.”

“You—“ Kenma bit out, and then Akaashi got the glorious privilege of watching him turn red. He felt like he should shake Kuroo’s hand or something. Rarely does anyone get to do that to Kenma, and for Kuroo of all people—well. Akaashi was simply impressed. Just for that, Akaashi was willing to rewatch Midsommar.

Bokuto, as always, came between the two as peacemaker, “Why don’t we just vote?”

“Okay,” Kuroo raised his other hand, “Who wants to watch Midsommar?”

Akaashi raised his hand, and you casually did too, “I don’t care either way.”

Kenma snarled, “Then fucking put your hand down.” Bokuto held his hand, laughing, “It’s okay, Kenma, I’ll cover your eyes for you during the scary scenes.”

Kenma softened, “Fine.”

Kuroo cheered, pulling himself up to fit himself onto the couch beside Kenma who looked at him with wariness. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s a good movie.”

“You just like it when I’m scared,” Kenma grumbled, and then Bokuto cut in again, “Do I have to sit in between you guys?”

You snorted, “Just get it set up, guys,” and even though Kuroo started navigating to the movie on screen, the three of them continued arguing.

Akaashi heard you sigh and lean your head against the couch cushions. If they were back in his dorm, you would have leaned against Akaashi’s shoulder instead. Akaashi was glad that you finally stopped making this hard for him. He glanced towards the tangled mess that was Kenma, Bokuto, and Kuroo and frowned. How come they got to cuddle in peace? Meanwhile, if Akaashi put an arm around you, he would never hear the end of it. What kind of double standard is this? This is so…sexist? Akaashi-phobic? Whatever it is, it sucked. Cuddling can be platonic.

Some sick voice in Akaashi’s head snidely added: kissing and sleeping with someone can be platonic too. But is platonic what you feel when you do all that with your best friend?

Akaashi shook his head and got comfortable instead. He put his head on your shoulder and thought nothing of it. It’s summer; there was no room for complicated things.

“Don’t fall asleep on me,” You said, resting his head gently on Akaashi’s head.

“I won’t,” Akaashi said, though the mention of sleep made him yawn.

You hummed, “You looked pretty tired though, this morning.”

“I was,” Akaashi said and left it at that.

You didn’t say anything for a while, and Akaashi thought that was the end of it too, right as the movie opening sequence launched, You said, “I couldn’t sleep either.”

“Is that why you were so loud this morning?” Akaashi chuckled lowly.

“That was the coffee I drank this morning. I couldn’t even sleep in,” He couldn’t see it, but he could definitely hear the pout in your voice. A tiny part of him rejoiced at hearing it, the one who never got tired of teasing you. And another part of him relaxed at the thought that it wasn’t only him that couldn’t sleep well.

Good thing the movie finally started. “Be quiet,” He finally said, “You have to pay attention, so you don’t end up confused later on.”

“Mean,” You muttered, but did as he said.

There’s something fun about rewatching movies, especially with people who have never seen it before. You catch a lot of things you didn’t notice before, foreshadowing, easter eggs, plot twists. You understand things a lot better the second go around, especially for these psychological horror type movies. Even better, the scares aren’t as scary as they were the first watch.

Of course, for the first time watchers…

It’s quite fun watching their reactions. He could tell Kuroo felt the exact same way by the way he kept glancing over at Kenma’s and Bokuto’s reactions (more Kenma’s really, he’d been watching some scenes with his hands covering his eyes). Meanwhile, you just looked intrigued. Grossed out at worst.

Akaashi rubbed his face against your shoulder. “Hey,” he whispered, “What are you thinking?”

“They’re so nice to her, comforting her, telling her things she wants to hear,” You said, “Everything her boyfriend is not. She’s going to end up killing him at the end, doesn’t he?”

“Hmm,” Akaashi teased, “I don’t know, you’ll just have to wait and see.”

You huffed, “That means I’m right.”

“You’re so impatient,” Akaashi laughed softly.

You sighed, like you were putting down a heavy weight. After a moment, he felt your hand on top of his. Fingers absently playing with his. “I’m more patient than you’ll ever know,” You said quietly, the words almost drowned by the movie.

He didn’t know what to say. Maybe he shouldn’t say anything. Maybe he wasn’t even meant to hear.

The movie neared its end.

On screen, there’s a pire burning. There’s a girl dressed up in flowers, a breathless content smile on her face. “Good for her,” you said, happy to get it right. “What a happy ending,” Akaashi laughed.

Akaashi has seen this all before. Had the same conclusion you uttered. And yet, this time around…he’s filled with this weird sense of dread. Something’s not right.

Everything is cathartic-induced bright. The credits played.

Everybody stretched their arms up to the sky, legs outward. Akaashi stretched too, neck to the right, to the left. Eyes out to the beautiful summer sky. It’s bright. It’s so bright.

He glanced back at you and swallowed the awful feeling.

Just a remnant of the movie.

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.

.

He’s cornered again. This time, by Kuroo as the two of them washed dishes together.

“So,” Kuroo started, and Akaashi didn’t even hesitate to flick soap suds at him. Kuroo swipes his wet hand against Akaashi’s hair and he shivered in disgust. He immediately covered his head and glared, “How could you—“

“You literally started it!” Kuroo retorted. “Anyway, I saw you and a little someone cuddling on the couch earlier.”

“Oh, shut up,” Akaashi said, rolling his eyes. Bold of Kuroo to say, considering how handsy he was with both Kenma and Bokuto. Akaashi didn’t even bother calling him out. Kuroo was a different breed of shameless. “Don’t make it weird.”

Kuroo raised a brow, “I don’t need to make it weird. You guys make it weird. Like the vibes… you guys are giving off.”

Akaashi frowned, “You’re not making any sense.”

“I’m not explaining it right,” Kuroo said, drying a plate, “I mean, the vibes, right? You guys have always been closer than any of us—no, don’t give me that look. You guys have. I always chalked it up to the repressed feelings you guys have for each other. But this time, it’s different. I just can’t tell if it’s good or bad.”

Akaashi froze. It’s that noticeable? What did weirder than usual mean? Fuck, could he tell they were hooking up?

He forced himself to act cool, shrugging his shoulders, “I literally do not know what you’re talking about, dude.”

“Don’t worry,” Kuroo smirked, “I’ll point it out the next time I see it. I promise I’ll be subtle.”

Spoiler alert: he was not fucking subtle.

Akaashi swore there was absolutely no weird vibes when the group of them were enjoying dessert in the middle of the night. Some ice cream cake they bought to celebrate their reunion. They were laughing about something stupid. Half of them were lounging on their side on the floor, the other half was leaning against the couch. You were the only one left with the fork, taking turns to feed Bokuto, Kuroo, and yourself.

The ice cream-cake enthusiast triangulation.

You usually ate in such small bites. Maybe it was because you were feeding two big-mouthed eaters, but you actually ended up eating such large bites of the cake. Cream on the edges of your mouth while you continued talking and laughing without wiping it away.

Listen, it didn’t mean anything. You looked messy. Akaashi hated messy. Friends helped out friends. Akaashi was also a friend.

He didn’t think much of it, when he reached over and swiped the cream with his thumb. Thought nothing of how it might look when his other hand steadied your chin. “You look like a fool,” He had even laughed as he leaned back, absentmindedly sucking the cream off his thumb.

You look wide-eyed and red-cheeked in his hands.

It wasn’t until Kuroo had taken Bokuto’s chin and loudly exclaimed, “Oh, Bokuto, let me gently wipe your mouth too,” that Akaashi felt extremely self-conscious of his actions. The situation only got worse when Bokuto puckered his lips, which had Kuroo literally laughing on the floor. Kenma, thankfully, only rolled his eyes.

Akaashi couldn’t even look at you after that. He didn’t think it was weird. But now, because of everyone’s eyes, it felt weird.

You ended up standing up and putting the cake away, sounding annoyed, “I think you’ve had enough cake. Go to bed.”

Kuroo made eye contact with him and smirked, as if to say, now, do you see what I mean?

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.

.

Akaashi wanted to be alone after that. He felt somewhat transparent and unreadable at the exact time. Like everybody was seeing something that he himself couldn’t see inside of him.

Well. That wasn’t completely true. He knew there was something different…he just didn’t want any of their friends to know. He wanted to figure it out himself, before they started doing what they did earlier. It made him feel weird and ashamed. Like what was going on between you two had morphed into something wrong.

Which didn’t even make sense, considering all the stupid pushing his friends were doing to ‘set them up.’

The best thing to clearly do next is to sleep it off. But as he laid in bed, he found that he couldn’t sleep again. He was uncomfortable in this bed, and it didn’t matter how much he twisted and turned, he couldn’t make himself feel right. But he couldn’t stay awake either, not with his head all jumbled up.

He was tempted to suffocate himself when his phone buzzed beside him. He frowned, he was so messed up over this that he didn’t even put his phone on silent.

He sighed and reached over. A text message from you.

Sleep with me tonight, the text said.

Akaashi places his phone face down on his own bed and holds back a scream. This was the last thing he needed tonight. Sense told him that he should stick to his rule. Sneaking into your bed wasn’t a good idea. Maybe if you were sharing a room, he could manage it, but they all got their own rooms. It would be hard to sneak back to his own bed without getting caught. It would be tougher to have to explain if he got caught.

His phone buzzed again and when he looked at the notification, he immediately groaned, rolling in bed so that he could bury his face in his pillow. After taking a moment to compose himself, he opened his phone to the message.

It’s a dark picture of you, blanket pulled up to your chin, pouting at the camera. It came with a simple message— I’m cold.

And then another message, I sleep better with you.

His chest ached. He bit his lip, running a hand through his hair. He shouldn’t do this. But Akaashi was struggling too. Sleep-deprived and confused, all he wanted was to rest. And the last time he slept well was when he was with you.

Akaashi sighed, slowly getting up. He never did figure out how to properly say no to you.

He carefully opened his door and crept out quietly when he saw the hallways were clear. Your room was thankfully close; he reached it with only a couple steps.

He turned the knob and saw you mid-rise. He expected some teasing and a smug smile, but there was only relief on your face.

As he climbed onto your bed, you welcomed him with open arms.

“Thank you,” you whispered against him, pulling him down. Akaashi’s face almost crashed against the headboard. “Easy, easy—”

You both adjusted to each—smooth and natural to them now—until you were comfortable. “Thought you weren’t going to come,” you said, tightening your hold around his waist. “I was going to come to you instead.”

“How are you cold?” Akaashi asked instead. His hand ran through the strands of your hair, “It’s the height of summer.”

“Always am,” You said. “Too used to sleeping with you. You’re always warm and I’m always cold…” you trailed off and into a mumble, “Even back when I slept over at your dorm.”

Akaashi hummed, “Didn’t matter if we had a pillow between us. You’d always find your way over.”

You huffed a little laugh, “You just gotta get used to it at this point. It’s the way we work.”

Akaashi snorted, “The way we work…”

You hummed sleepily, “So perfect…”

His hand paused mid-stroke in your hair. Perfect. It’s not the first time that word’s been said between you, but never like this. Usually it’s panted, thrown heatedly against skin, mid-fuck. Never quite as innocent as this. Resonating bone deep.

He didn’t know what to do with this. This feeling that sits in him, beautiful and aching, until seen by somebody else. He could hold onto this as long as nobody else knows. It’s theirs. Inexplicable, uncomplicated; it’s his.

With that he forced himself to relax. He closed his eyes.

He heard the sound of the waves, crashing against the shore. He could smell the salt in the air. Your breaths evening out, the scent of your shampoo against his nose.

He exhaled, finally letting himself relax against the soft comfort of the pillow under him. It’s the kind of sigh that felt less like giving up but giving in.

To this. To them. To whatever you can both call this.

.

.

.

Akaashi woke up late.

Dangerously late.

The sun woke him up, filtering through the thin curtains of the window. It was the kind of sleep most people yearn for. The type where you feel absolutely well-rested, where you wake up naturally. No alarms. No nothing. It’s beautiful, Disney princess-like.

It’s sleep he wanted to stay cocooned in forever.

And that’s when he remembered where he was. Whose body he was wrapped around. Whose scent, whose warmth had lulled him to sleep.

He pulled away—abruptly enough that it woke you up too.

“Keiji…” You mumbled, one foot still in a dream. You reached over, hand searching for the heat of his body. “What’s wrong—“

Akaashi shushed you softly. Better to let you sleep. He leaned down, brushing the hair from your forehead, “There’s nothing wrong. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

You made a noise of protest, hands tightening around Akaashi’s shirt, “Stay with me.”

Akaashi kissed your temple in apology, “I can’t. We’re going to get caught if I stay.”

He pulled your hand from his shirt and set it on the bed. This time, when he stood up, you let him go.

When he reaches the door, he’s as careful as he was the night before. Except this time, he looked back. And he lingered at the sight of you curling into the space he left.

God.God.

He softly closed the door, unable to bear the sight.

He turned and nearly died from shock. “God,” He said, clutching his chest, “What are you doing here?”

“Uh,” Bokuto raised a brow, before glancing at the door Akaashi just exited. “What are you doing here?”

His eyes narrowed, and Akaashi immediately knew he was fucked. “It’s not what you think,” He said, putting a hand up.

“Oh my god,” Bokuto said, eyes widening, “Are you guys—“

“No, no,” Akaashi yell-whispered, going up to Bokuto and covering his mouth. “We can’t talk about it here.”

Akaashi looked around and was relieved to find nobody else. He dragged Bokuto towards his room, before anybody else could see.

Bokuto crossed his arms over his chest and pouted, “Okay, explain. Are you guys dating? Is this why Kuroo was saying you guys have been acting weird—“

“First of all, Kuroo does not know what he’s talking about. Let’s get one thing straight,” Akaashi clarified. His heart was pumping hard in his chest. Heat was creeping up his neck. “We’re not dating,” He said.

Bokuto’s brows furrowed, “So you guys are just…sleeping together?” Bokuto scratched his chin, shrugging, “I guess it could happen. I’ve slept in the same bed as Kenma several times, and it wasn’t weird.”

“Yeah, yeah!” Akaashi enthusiastically agreed, giving him a bright smile, “You got it—“

“It’s not like you guys are doing anything further than that,” Bokuto added, nodding. “It would only be weird if you guys were actually sleeping together,” Bokuto said, his hands gesturing quotation marks.

Akaashi’s smile froze, “Totally not.”

Bokuto paused, “Akaashi…you didn’t….”

See, Akaashi thought with pain, this was the worst part about hanging out with your old friends. They can read you, just with one look. There was never a possibility he was going to get through this vacation without getting caught. He was fucked from the moment he parked in the driveway.

“God,” Bokuto said with disgust, which has Akaashi steeling himself for the worst. He hated disappointing people in general, but disappointing someone as good as Bokuto? It made everything feel much worse. But then he said something unexpected, “I can’t believe you guys are having sex under our shared roof—“

And of all the things Akaashi could say, his stupid brain said this, “We’re all in different rooms.”

Bokuto looked at him with horror, “Dude. Not the point.”

Akaashi corrected himself, “I’m sorry, I mean, we weren’t doing that. At least…” Akaashi scratched his head, “Not here.”

“Akaashi,” Bokuto sighed, his hands going up to his temples. God, he was causing Bokuto stress. “Can we talk about this? This feels like something we should talk about. Unless you’re talking to somebody about this already? Your therapist?”

“Dude, I’m not sharing this with my therapist,” Akaashi said firmly.

“Why not?” Bokuto put his hands on his hips. It reminds Akaashi of Bokuto’s mother. “You already talk to them about the trauma of growing up with divorced parents.”

Akaashi raised his hand, “I don’t talk to them about that.”

“Then what do you talk to them about?” Bokuto said, confused. “I didn’t know you had other traumas.”

“I can’t talk to them about that,” Akaashi said, “She can only handle my perfectionism issues. Anyway, the point is I don’t want to talk about it.”

Bokuto frowned, “Listen, I know you still think I’m immature and maybe that’s why you don’t want to talk about your sex life—“ Akaashi opened his mouth to argue, but Bokuto raised his hand to stop him, “I’m not naive, okay? I know people do that kind of thing without strings attached all the time, but it’s you two.” Bokuto said it straight, “There’s too many years between the two of you. It’s too much just for casual sex.”

Akaashi sighed, his gaze falling to the ground. His hands clenched at his side, “I know exactly what’s at stake.”

“Then why this?” Bokuto asked.

“Because,” Akaashi said simply. There’s so many ways he could follow it up, all of it damning. Because I’m selfish. Because I like it. Because you want it too. “Listen, we’re handling it. It’s between us, and I’d really appreciate it, if you don’t tell the others.”

Bokuto looked like he had more things to say.

Akaashi shook his head, “Please. It’ll be okay.”

It has to be.

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Bokuto thankfully kept quiet. Though their conversation that morning had him feeling on edge the whole day.

He’s been too relaxed this whole time, clearly. First, Kuroo had mentioned something. And now, Bokuto knew there was something going on between them. It was only a matter of time before Kenma descended on them, and he didn’t know if he had the strength for it.

The best thing to do, he was certain, was to lay low.

And that meant, staying away from you.

It would be easier if they stayed home that day, but it was too nice to stay holed up in their rooms, the group decided. They wanted to explore town today, despite the fact that they’ve been going here for years now.

There were only five of them. Akaashi knew it was going to be difficult to avoid you, but for the sake of your relationship, he had to try.

It wasn’t too bad in the beginning. Whenever they walked together, Kuroo, for all the length of his legs, walked the slowest, and you always ended up walking with him. So he doesn’t get lonely, Akaashi remembered you saying once. Though if you asked Akaashi, he thought it was because you couldn’t keep up with Kenma’s brisk pace. No matter what the real reason was, Akaashi was grateful.

But then, they’d stop by at places to shop around, and that proved to be a problem. You would quietly follow him around the store, saying things like, that looks good on you, when Akaashi was inspecting a shirt. Things like, do you want me to buy it for you, when Akaashi said it was too expensive. No, no, it’s okay, Akaashi said to no avail, watching as you swiped it off his hands to pay for it at the register.

He knew how it looked. Only couples did that. He avoided Bokuto’s gaze, though he couldn’t avoid Kenma and Kuroo’s whispering from pricking his ears.

He felt monitored, and he hated it. It made him absolutely irritable, sensitive to touch. The glare of the sun on his back made him worse. And unfortunately, you got the brunt of it.

It wasn’t your fault, Akaashi knew. Kuroo was right, you guys were always touchy. You had this habit of clinging onto his arm, an old habit you never outgrew. Akaashi didn’t mind it; in fact, most of the time, he liked it. Liked feeling needed. But today, all it did was make him more paranoid—that his friends would see it and come tease him about it. Every time you touched him, spoke to him, looked at him, his entire body tensed, preparing himself to be called out for it.

The first time he stiffened you gave him a confused glance. The next couple times raised concern. It got to the point where you pulled him aside, a pocket of a moment while their friends were in the restroom, and asked, Keiji, what is up with you?

But Akaashi couldn’t give you a straight answer. You pushed, Akaashi pulled. He insisted it was nothing. And eventually, you left him alone.

You didn’t try to touch him at all after that.

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His mood only worsened after dinner. The day’s events had built up on him, and the only thing that he wanted to do was sleep.

His friends had other plans though, and his stomach churned when he saw Kuroo walk out of the kitchen with several bottles of sake, coke, and iced tea. Dear god, alcohol was the last thing he needed tonight.

“Kuroo,” He said, flatly.

“What,” Kuroo said, putting the drinks on the floor where everyone had begun to gather around. “You don’t have to drink if you don’t want to. But I think it would relax you.”

Kenma grabbed a bottle and started shaking it, “Somebody grab some ice too. The coke isn’t even cold.”

“I got it!” Bokuto said, standing up. He patted Kenma’s head as he went. Meanwhile, Kenma pulled Akaashi down by the hand, “Sit down. Even if you don’t want to drink, you can still help make it.”

“Fine,” Akaashi said with a sigh, “Who’s drinking?”

“Me!” Came Bokuto’s answer from the kitchen. Akaashi didn’t really have to ask Kuroo and Kenma, which really only left…you, who had quietly sat in front of him.

Akaashi busied himself with opening the bottle of iced tea, “You drinking, Y/N?”

“Yeah,” You said, a heaviness in your voice. When Akaashi glanced at you, he saw you fiddling with a fraying thread on your shorts, “It’s been a long day.”

The response sent waves of guilt through him.

“Don’t worry, Y/N,” Kuroo said, wrapping a comforting arm around your shoulders, “Nothing a little drink won’t solve.”

You laughed, “It worries me. You’re saying that when you’re planning to be someone’s boss someday.”

“Oh,” Kenma teased, “He has more pressing things to worry about. Like passing calculus.”

Akaashi tuned them out, focusing on making the drinks. Bokuto came back with the ice, and Akaashi took the ice trays, cracked the ice out of the moulds, and placed them in all the drinks.

Against his judgement, he ended up making himself a drink too. Something he was immediately grateful for whenever he felt your eyes on him. It was good to have something to do, even if it was to sip his drink to avoid your gaze.

The alcohol did its job too. He felt tension leak out of him with each sip. His thoughts became muddled too, which was the blessing he needed. All day, he prayed his brain would shut up. To stop giving a fuck for just a moment, so he could catch his breath.

On his way to tipsy, he finished his drink and decided—another one. He got teased for it too. “Look at him,” Kuroo said, highly amused, “The only person who said they weren’t drinking is the first person to get another drink.”

Akaashi snorted, but said nothing. See, he told himself. If this was an hour ago, you would have been absolutely irritated at that. Aren’t you glad you started drinking?

“Me too,” You said, cutting through his internal monologue. Akaashi turned to you and saw a glass pushed towards him, “Make me another one too.”

“Sure,” Akaashi said, taking the glass. Your fingers briefly touched, and he hurried to pull away. He swallowed, determined not to think anything of it, even though his fingers felt the heat of contact as he mixed drinks.

When he handed you the finished drink, he was careful to avoid your touch. He wasn’t as careful avoiding your gaze though, which was a mistake. Your eyes were narrowed, and Akaashi felt arrested by your gaze.

“Thanks,” You said as he finally looked away. He cleared his throat, “Should we play a drinking game? You guys are taking so long to drink.”

“Don’t worry,” Kenma said, “We’re all lightweights here. Except Bokuto. We just need to force Kuroo to take a shot or two and he’ll be there.”

Bokuto shrugged, “A game could be fun. We could watch a movie and take a shot every time somebody did or said something.”

Kenma shook his head, “I don’t want to get alcohol poisoning. And at least one of us will fall asleep halfway.”

“Hmm,” Bokuto thought out loud, “I mean, the only other games I know are Never Have I Ever, Spin the Bottle, and Truth or Dare—“

Akaashi laughed, “What kind of parties have you been going to?”

Bokuto laughed too, but Kenma defended his friend’s choices, “To be fair, those are the easiest ones to play. I’m too lazy to set up beer pong or even King’s Cup.”

“Never Have I Ever…is going to be boring,” Kuroo piped up, “We all know each other. If we did anything, we’d know it by now.”

“That’s not true,” You said, amused, “I could say, never have I ever puked in a public pool, and only you would have to drink.”

Kuroo gave you a sharp look, “That’s a traumatic memory, Y/N. I would appreciate it if you didn’t bring that up.”

You mocked him by copying his words. Kenma cut in before the conversation could devolve into outright smacking each other, “So I guess Truth or Dare, it is—“

“Wow, you’re not even going to entertain Spin the Bottle,” Kuroo said. He puckered up, “You don’t want to kiss me, Kenma?”

Akaashi watched as Kenma didn’t even act like he heard Kuroo, and immediately wished he could be as cool. Kenma smiled, turning to Bokuto who sat between him and Akaashi, “I’ll start. Bokuto, truth or dare.”

Bokuto shrugged, “Dare.”

“Excellent,” Kenma grinned, “Knew you would say that. Go out into the water and stand there for thirty seconds before going out.”

Bokuto gaped at him, “Why, you—“

Meanwhile, everybody laughed. Kenma added, “If it helps, you could go in naked—“

“Thanks for the great idea, Kenma,” Bokuto said, standing up. “I’ll remember it when it’s your turn.” To his credit, Bokuto didn’t even try to get out of it. He just put his hand on his hips and asked, “Is anyone going to time me?”

You raised his hand, “I can do it.”

The two of them went outside, while the rest watched from the back porch.

“You’re so evil,” Kuroo said, but he was chuckling as Bokuto bravely walked into the water. They could hear you loudly counting down from thirty. It was a bit evil, but all of them laughed when Bokuto shivered, and even more, when Bokuto immediately raced out of the water when the count ended and hugged you.

Your shriek was loud and you looked disgruntled walking back, meanwhile, Bokuto was laughing so brightly.

They let Bokuto get changed into something warm before restarting the game. “I feel so alive,” Bokuto said, good-natured. He gave Kenma a playful glare, before turning to Akaashi. “Your turn, Akaashi. Truth or dare.”

“Uh,” Akaashi scratched his head, unsure, “I’ll choose dare too.”

Bokuto smiled, “Great, go outside and stand in the water for a minute.”

“Jesus,” Akaashi said, grabbing his drink and chugging it down. When he finished, he shook his head, “I’m good.”

Kuroo coughed, saying something that suspiciously sounded like, coward. Akaashi gave him the sweetest smile, “Well, Kuroo. It’s your turn. Truth or dare.”

“Dare,” Kuroo said, taking up the challenge.

Kenma laughed, “Get into the water—“

“Unoriginal,” Kuroo said, but Akaashi didn’t care. He just wanted to see Kuroo suffer, “No, he’s right. Get into the water and stand in there for a minute and a half.”

Kuroo briefly looked at his drink, before standing up. “No big deal. Kenma, can you time me?”

Akaashi had a feeling all of them were going to end up in the cold water by the end of the night. Kuroo’s turn in the water was even funnier though. For a bastard so afraid of the water, he didn’t even complain that much going in. Though, Akaashi guessed, it wasn’t so much about fear. It was more about pride, which is something he could understand.

Kuroo stubbornly shivered in the water as Kenma counted down and just like Bokuto, he got out fast as soon as the timer was done. However, unlike Bokuto, instead of simply hugging Kenma, he grabbed the phone in Kenma’s hand and tossed it in

akaashi keiji x reader, 4.9k

akaashi refers to his best friends, tetsurou and koutarou as his boys. you think that akaashi’s boys are his sons.

“How do you feel about DILFs?”

The moment the question leaves your lips, you feel the extreme heat of a judgmental gaze. The quiet atmosphere at The Coffee Club cafe was shattered. You slowly turned around and met the sharpest glare from your best friend and favourite (but feared) co-worker, Emiko. You can hear her mutter something about minimum wage not being enough compensation to deal with your questions — and every single thing she muttered was emphasised as she stacked the coffee mugs aggressively.

“Emiko,” you call out again, “I’m being serious.” If there had been customers present, this would have been a censored conversation about some safe-for-work topic like the weather or why iced coffee is better than hot coffee… but there were no customers. So you leaned against the countertop and asked Emiko again, “How do you feel about DILFs?”

“Why are you so obsessed with DILFs, Y/N?”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” you blink at her. You gasped dramatically, covering your mouth in pseudo-shock as you pointed at her. “YOU! Youlike DI—”

“Don’t talk to me for the rest of this shift.”

That was nota sufficient answer.

“Look, I’m asking you a serious question, Emiko.” You continued as you stared at the back of her head. You should have been helping her tidy up after the sudden rush of customers, but this discussion was more important. “Like what is your opinion on DILFs? It’s for science, Emiko.”

“No, this is not for science. Don’t stain the name of science for your stupidity.” there was a heavy growl of annoyance in the back of Emiko’s voice. She points a teapot at you, “Why are you even asking? It’s not like you’ve ever hit it off with a DILF.”

“First of all, foul,” you pouted, “I haven’t hit it off with a DILF yetbecause I never tried but that’s besides the point Emiko. I was asking for your opinion on it.”

“Do whatever you want with them. Just call me the night before if you’re coming to work or not. I need to know if I have to find someone to cover your shift.” Emiko turned back to wiping the countertop beside you. “Seriously though, as your friend, be safe.”

You turned bright red as you sputtered out syllables in a failed attempt to respond. You fold your arms over your chest as you pout, “I’m not doing anything. I was honestly just curious about how you felt. You’re my best friend. Youropinion matters to me.”

“Look, as long as you’re being responsib—” Emiko was cut off as you moved right past her. Her expression fell into an annoyed one as she watched you turn on the charm to full; it visibly irked her to see you wear a smile so seemingly sweet and so charmingly kind when they were justtalking about your possible attraction to DILFs.

You knew it wouldn’t take long for Emiko to put two and two together.

Emiko was smart like that.

Andthiswas the DILF that you were talking about.

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“Right on time,” your voice picked up a playful tone as you looked over at the customer who entered. It didn’t take a genius to figure out whyyour smile had become so wide or why your eyes twinkled with playfulness. The dark haired customer with glasses came in. Though he had an intimidating aura, the tension broke as his kind eyes wandered over to you. You swore you saw the flash of relief that washed over his face but maybe that was just well-wishing on your part… but you couldn’t help it. His smile was just toocute.

“I’m never late for a date.” the man smiled at you, “Do I need to order, or have I bothered you enough for you to remember my order?”

“Don’t worry Akaashi-san, I remember what drinks you and your boys always order.”

Akaashi was a frequent visitor — he came every Wednesday and Friday night at half past six. From their initial conversations, Akaashi always ordered a vanilla latte with an extra shot of espresso and two iced non-caffeinated drinks of whatever flavour you wanted to surprise him with. At first, you thought the amount of drinks he ordered didn’t match the man himself, but eventually, through the art of flirtation, you found out that he bought the extra drinks for his two sons. Apparently, one of his sons, Tetsurou loved anything with vanilla, and his other son, Koutarou, just loved all iced drinks. You had never met his sons before, but you assumed it was because Akaashi was always on his way home to pick them up from the babysitter.

“You know me too well, Y/N.” Akaashi swmiled as he hovered over the counter. His eyes remained on you as he continued the conversation, “Has it been busy today?”

“It’s been okay,” you nodded as you got started on his latte. You could have asked Emiko for help making them, but you never shied away from making the extra effort for Akaashi. “I think it goes quiet during this time since everyone’s usually having dinner.” Maybe you should go to dinner with me, you thought to yourself as you punctuated your sentence with a smile. “What are you and your boys having for dinner?”

“Honestly, we’re probably having onigiri.” Akaashi laughed as he shrugged. “There’s a new onigiri restaurant that just opened up nearby owned by someone we know. Tetsu’s been asking for natto all week, but me and Kou just aren’t in the mood for it.” he shook his head. “That boy has the funniest taste in things but I can’t blame him. He’s at that age, you know?”

You didn’t know but you nodded in agreement. “At least he’s exploring his tastes.” you smiled. Akaashi seemed like such a good dad — he was so attentive to what his sons’ enjoyed and their particular tastes. These were good signs. “Better to have him try things out while he can before he gets picky.”

Akaashi laughed. “Are you the picky type?”

“Not picky, I just have strong preferences,” you say seriously, finishing the first drink. You began the next drink as he nodded, “But I promise I won’t ever be an awful dinner date.” Please get the hint, you quietly thought as you scooped ice into a cup. You clear your throat as you ask, “You must go on dates a lot, huh?”

Akaashi shook his head, “Surprisingly, no. The boys say I need to start going out on dates again, but it’s hard, you know?” he shrugged as he started to flush from embarrassment, “I haven’t been in the dating scene in so long. It’s like I don’t even know how to get back into it, you know?”

So not only is he a DILF… he’s a singleDILF.You looked up at Akaashi. You blinked a few times and shook your head, “You shouldn’t even worry. Youof all people wouldn’t have any issues with it. Trust me.”

“You’re very kind,” Akaashi laughed, “I don’t know if I even have the time for it.”

A single, attentive father. You smiled as you finished the second drink. “I know there’s a lot of people that would love to go out with you.” Me, myself and I. You walked over to the shelf containing different syrups. “Koutarou doesn’t have a nut allergy, right? I don’t want to give him something he’s allergic to.”

“Y/N, you really spoil us.” Akaashi replies with a grin. He shook his head, “Kou’s not allergic to anything. That kid drinks anything, he wouldn’t even notice if mixed things up.”

The rest of the conversation remains light-hearted, plenty of corny dad jokes (on Akaashi’s part, but you happily forgave him for it). At the end of it, the three drinks were packed into a bag and Akaashi handed you his card. Before you could finish the check-out process, Akaashi looked over at the display behind you.

‘Are those plushies for sale?”

You turned around to look at the shelf then to him, “Yeah, we’re doing a partnership with an endangered owl sanctuary. Did you want one?”

“Not for me. Kou loves plushies and he’s been working hard recently.” Akaashi smiles and points to one, “I’ll take one for him if you don’t mind.”

“For you? I’d never mind.”

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When the door shut as Akaashi left, you could feel it. It slowly crawled up your back and began to glare daggers into the back of your head. You felt the cold thoughts of murder being thrown at you. If you turned around too quickly, you were sure you’d become a victim.

Emiko’s glare was unmatched.

“If you’re going to do that, the least you could do is actually ask him out.” Emiko’s glare softened as she sighed, “It’s painful watching your attempts flop like that.”

“It wasn’t a flop,” you say defensively. (it was). You sigh as you look at her, “I learned that he’s single.”

“Youknewthat last week. You wouldn’t shut up about how he didn’t have a ring on his finger,” she stares at you. Emiko shakes her head as she teases, “How could you of all people forget? Especially when he’s your,” Emiko makes air quotation marks as she says, “soulmate.”

“But now,” you emphasised as you pointed at her, “we have confirmation he’s singlesingle.”

“Okay so now what are you going to do?” she looks at you. “Do you even have a game plan for this attempt to capture a DILF?” A few seconds pass as you pout. You jut your lip out and flash Emiko the saddest eyes you can muster. “You’re not going to catch a DILF if you don’t do something.” you stare at her with a quivering bottom lip until Emiko sighs.

“Fine.I will help you catch a dilf.”

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It may be the start of a new shift, but you eye Emiko with suspicion. You guys may be best friends, but there was something about this that didn’t sit right with you. You leaned against the counter as you squinted at her. You fold your arms before you ask, “Why does this seem like something you know from experience?”

Emiko looked over to you, then shoved a box of napkins at you. “Put these in the napkin dispensers.” she instructs. “Work until what’s his face comes in and then, I’ll convenientlytake my fifteen-minute break.” Emiko shrugged as she stifled a yawn. “At least it’s slow today.”

“You never answered me, Emiko.” You haphazardly shove napkins into the dispensers, “is this something that you’ve done before?”

“You’ve never asked someone out before?”

“Not at work.”

“That sounds like a youproblem.” Emiko busied herself with stacking the shelves with fresh buns.

Despite your desire to find out what secret your best friend was hiding, you knew better than to bother her while she was in the zone. One, fresh buns were the biggest upsell to the customers, but also, Emiko’s buttons being constantly pushed was more terrifying than most people could fathom.

You could never understand how there was so much anger and power inside this five foot one woman.

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Just like clockwork, Akaashi walked in at his usual time. You smiled, you could always count on him.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.” Akaashi teased as he walked up to the counter. He looked as though he had just clocked off some office job, clad in a smart turtleneck and black slacks. “Right on time for our weekly date, huh?”

Date.Your eyes widened for a second before you looked over to Emiko. There wasn’t any need to signal anything to her — she rolled her eyes and shrugged as she walked to the back. Emiko said something about taking her fifteen minute break and that she’d be back later.

Your usual banter with Akaashi continued as you started on his drinks. As you packed them into a bag, you decided to pry a little more into the life of your favourite customer.

“So you came here straight from work? Did you miss seeing me that much?” you teased.

“Don’t laugh, but my week doesn’t feel right if I don’t see you at least once.” Akaashi’s response was so casual that you dropped a spoon onto the floor with a clang. Akaashi let out a small chuckle as he watches you fumble around to pick it up. “Honestly, I look forward to coming here for my favourite coffee. It’s like a little reward after a hard day at work.

“Mhmm,” you nodded as you tried to focus on making his drinks. “Yeah, I look forward to your visits, no other regular lets me make them a random drink every time they come in.”

“I’m guessing I’m your favourite customer then.”

You don’t answer but the way you blushed immediately and giggle softly gives you away. And that was fine, until you hear Akaashi say cuteunder his breath. That was notfine.

You drop a coffee lid onto the floor. Again.

“Sorry, I’m butter hands today.” you apologise sheepishly, before you finish his third drink. “I don’t mind making normal drinks, but it adds a little something to my day when I get to be creative I guess.”

The rest of the conversation trickles down into the light flirtation you usually fell into. Akaashi would tease suggestions lightly, and you would get flustered over it. However, this time — under the threatening guidance of a particular co-worker named Emiko — you would be the one to take the lead. According to her, most single fathers liked the boldness (she refused to answer where she got her research from and that you should simply trust her).

Three drinks were packed with your gentle care and Akaashi was ready to check out. Before you rang him up again, you pointed to the plushies behind you and asked, “Do you want to take another one for Koutarou again? Since he loves plushies and all.”

“I appreciate you remembering that,” Akaashi smiles and nods as he takes out his wallet. “I’ll let you pick one and I’ll tell him that my favourite Coffee Club employee picked it out so he needs to take extra good care of it.”

“This one. It reminds me of you.” you pick out a small brown owl, with round, charming eyes. You hold it up to his face teasingly before handing it over.

“I like that.”

“Me too.” you nod as you ring him up. As a crushcourtesy discount, you applied your employee discount to his purchase. When the receipt prints out, you take a deep breath as you hear Emiko’s voice at the back of your mind… that voice in your head that pushed you forward. “Before you go…” you cleared your throat as you nervously picked up a pen. You quickly scribble your phone number at the back of the receipt and hand it over to Akaashi.

Then you smile. “Have a good night.”

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When Akaashi finally left, you felt your soul leave your body,

“Congratulations,” Emiko said as she returned from the breakroom, “you finally gained the courage to do something you should have done earlier.”

You looked over at her and sighed. You put your hand over your chest and let out a dramatic sigh. “That was the most terrifying thing I’ve ever done.”

“Youflirtwith him every time he’s here.”

“That’s different. It never crosses to actuallygoing on a date outside of the safe bubble of the Coffee Club,” you pointed out as you frown at her, “and now there is a very real possibility that he will never call me or ever return. I could have easily ruined getting my weekly eye candy, Emiko.”

“Or, you could have secured your DILF candy outside of work.”

You blinked a few times as you stared at Emiko, opening your mouth to say something before you close it. “You’re rig—”

The bell rang and the door opened. You catch sight of Akaashi walking into the cafe with a receipt in hand… and that was enough to have to drop to the ground. Emiko’s eyes widened as she stared at you — you waved her away and whispered, “Handle him; tell him I’m on break and not here.”

“You’re being stupid.” Emiko hisses at you. She tried to kick you as she said, “It’s your man, you deal w—”

“Hi.” Akaashi said as he looked around. Luckily for you, he didn’t look down, or otherwise you’d be seen. “Um,” Akaashi held the receipt as he looked at Emiko.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Emiko shook her head. “As you’ve already walked out with your coffee, we can no longer take any returns or exchanges. It’s store policy.”

“Oh, I wasn’t asking for th—”

“If there’s any issues with the drinks, I’ll take it up with Y/N when she gets back from her break.”

Akaashi laughed. “There’s no issues with the drinks,” he smiled as he held the back of the receipt, “Y/N gave me her number but she forgot the last digit.”

Emiko kicked you under the counter before she nodded and said, “It’s ok, I know her phone number. Best friend duties and all. The last digit is an eight.”

“Ah perfect,” Akaashi smiled. “Thank you!”

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.

“How the hell do you forget the last digit of your phone number?” Emiko asked as she smacked your arm lightly, “It was so easy and you could have messed it up just like that.”

“Listen, Emiko,” you said as you stood up from your hiding place. You put your hands on her shoulders and said, “That’s why I deemed you as a best friend who can handle everything that I cann—”

DING.

You froze.

The two of you stared at each other. You blinked a few times as you stared at Emiko. It couldn’t be, right? You blinked a few more times.

There was no way that text was from…

“Check your phone.” Emiko demanded as she nodded at you. “Check your phone now.”

You slowly moved your hands off her shoulders as you tried to remember which pocket your phone was in. Your mind was racing as you searched for it until you felt it in your back pocket. You grabbed your phone and click the button; there was one unread text message: “Hi, this is Akaashi Keiji…”

If Emiko wasn’t in front of you, your phone would have hit the ground.

.

.

.

“So,” Emiko started as she broke the silence, “Have you secured your fi—”

“Do you think I’m ready for motherhood?”

Emiko closed her eyes and shook her head. She turned around and began to walk away, muttering something about being unfortunate enough to be friends with you and cursing you quietly — you put a hand on her shoulder.

“This is a serious question,” you pleaded, “Do you think I’m ready to be a mother to two children?”

Emiko sighed as she frowned. She softly rubbed her temples and asked, “Why do you always jump straight to conclusions? You need to go on a first date and probably a few more after that before you can even start thinking about motherhood.”

“I want to prepare for it.”

“You can’t prepare for something like that.” Emiko said. “Sometimes, you just learn when it happens.”

You stared at Emiko, blinking as your eyes squinted. “Are you speaking from experience again? Because I swearyou—”

“Yes.”

There were so many answers you expected to hear, but ‘yes’ was not one of them. You opened your mouth to say something but closed it as you tried to process all the possibilities. You shook your head, “How many kids?”

“Why is that your first question?”

“I just…” you shrugged, “I want to know how you’re dealing with being a new mother.”

“I’m not a mother,” Emiko replied before she waved you off. “Enough. We’re talking about you; why haven’t you secured a first date yet? You already have his number and I’m assuming you’ve been texting, right?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“Exactly.”

There was a challenge in asking out a single father. Every time you wanted to, your brain kept scolding you for taking Akaashi away from his kids. At one point, you wanted to ask when the boys were going to spend time with their mother but it was never brought up in the texts — a majority of your texts were just overly flirty conversations with a much higher rating than your usual banter at the cafe.

However,  you weren’t sure when you could finally ask Akaashi out. You felt guilty for taking away a single father from his boys.

“So, when are you going to ask him out?” she raised an eyebrow. “I’m asking as your best friend this time.”

You shrugged, “I don’t know if I can… unless,” you looked over at her and raised your eyebrows, “Unless, as my best friend, you want to help me out and do me a hugefavour.”

“I am notbabysitting.”

You let out a dramatic gasp as you shook your head. “You’re my best friend and you can’t even do that for me? I cannot beli—”

“I doubt a single father would allow a stranger to babysit his kids.” Emiko pointed out. “Why don’t you just offer to buy dinner and bring it to him? That way you won’t need a babysitter and you can meet his kids.”

“You really are speaking from experience.”

“No, I just have a brain.”

.

.

.

Securing the first date with Akaashi had actually been much easier than you anticipated. In fact, all you had to do was text, ‘do you want to go on a date with me?’ and his response was an immediate ‘absolutely :)’.

Most of your first dates had always set your nerves on fire. However, your first date with Akaashi was void of any of that nervousness and you were thankful for all the previous flirting you had done at the cafe which swept away all of the first date nervousness.  You guys were able to really get to know each at Akaashi’s favourite onigiri restaurant (he swore by it, saying it was the spot he and his boys always went to).

By the time you finished your food, you were a few drinks in and the liquid courage was flowing through your veins.

“So,” Akaashi said as he took a forkful of the cake you ordered for dessert, “your best friend Emiko always looks angry. Did I do something wrong?”

You laughed as you also took a forkful of the cake, “No, that’s just her face. I promise, she always looks like that.” you paused. “She’s actually the one who pushed me to give you my number.”

“What a good best friend.” Akaashi smiled, taking another bite.

You had tried to be a good date. You tried your best to pay attention to everything that he did, and even more attention to everything he said. Despite being distracted by his lips all night, (they just looked oh so kissable), you had been an attentive date.

But your focus cracked when he cupped your cheeks, running his thumb over the corner of your mouth. “You have a bit of whipped cream there.”

In normal circumstances, you would have been embarrassed— but you had a few drinks already and the alcohol gave you enough courage to lean forward, as Akaashi gently guided you closer.

Your eyes met before you finally leaned in to taste your biggest distraction of the night.

.

.

.

“Do I even wanna know why you’re reading a parenting book?”

You closed the ‘Dummy’s Guide to Raising Children’ slowly. You set the book down and smiled at Emiko. “I’ve decided that I’m ready to embrace motherhood. I want to be prepared, I’m literally going from a single woman to a possible mother of two.”

“You went on one date.”

“Oneamazingdate.”

“One date and you’re already thinking of marriage and children.” Emiko shook her head before muttering, “I didn’t even consider that until the fifth date.”

“You…” you began until Emiko glared at you. Why she was so secretive about her relationship, you couldn’t figure it out. But right now, you were too preoccupied  on trying to figure out how to be a good stepmother. “Do you think my future sons, Tetsurou and Koutarou, will like me? Should I buy them ice cream? Chocolate? Oh my god, what do children even like?”

“You haven’t even met them.” Emiko said, exasperated.

“Me and Keiji,yeah that’s right we’re on a first name basis now, had a really good first date.” You emphasised. “It was weird though, he never really talked about them. He talked about himself, which I’m happy about but… I wanted to know more about his kids. If I’m going to be their new mother, I want to really get to know them.”

Emiko rubbed at her forehead. “You should really stop jumping to that conclusion before you meet them.”

“I’m going to meet them eventually!” you argued, raising the book to her face, “That’s why I’m trying to be prepared.”

“Do you even know how old they are?”

“Well, he’s only two years older than me, and judging from what he’s mentioned about them, I’m guessing they’re pretty young.” you shrugged. “Probably under ten? They like iced, non-caffeinated drinks, what kind of adult even functions without caffeine, and Koutarou lovesplushies. Keiji buys him so many.”

“That’s what I figured from what you’ve said about them so far.” Emiko nodded. “You should bring plushies when you meet them, you know, make a good impression. It’s their opinion that will matter most to him.”

“Yeah, I know.” you sighed. “That’s what stresses me out about it but… you know, I can’t wait to see Keiji with them. I bet he’ll look even sexier.”

“Well, you might get the chance.” Emiko nods towards the window. The man of the hour was walking through the door. “Wipe that stupid expression off of your face.”

“Shut up!”

.

.

.

“Just the usual?” you asked as he approached the counter,

“Actually, no.” Akaashi gestured to the two strangers behind him who were looking at you excitedly. “We’re here to get some of your buns and sit in, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course not!” you said, excited at the possibility of seeing him for more than a fleeting moment today. “Three, right? Just the vanilla latte with an extra espresso shot for you, I’m guessing.” Akaashi nodded, giddy that you always remembered his order. You then turned to look at the two people behind him, “What about your friends?”

“Tetsu! Kou!” Akaashi called out. “Let Y/N know what you want.” He then turned to you and said, “Tetsurou’s probably gonna take his usual, but Koutarou’s a wild card so I have no idea. You’ve probably given him every iced drink on the menu by now.”

Tetsurou.

Koutarou.

You took a sharp breath as you tilted your head to the side in confusion. What a coincidence it was to have two friends that shared the sa— Did he say his usual order? Did he say you’ve probably given him every iced drink on the menu by now?

“Keiji.” you called out. Akaashi stopped talking to the other two men and leaned on the counter towards you. His smile was still charming as ever, but that’s not what you were focused on right now. “Whenever you talked about your boys…”

“Yeah,” Akaashi smiled as he pointed to the two men behind him, “Those two are my boys. You know, my best friends Tetsu and Kou. And I’m their glorified babysitter.”

Boys did not mean sons.

Boys meant his best friends.

As the realisation struck you like a punch to the gut, Emiko’s laughter broke out through the half empty cafe. She let out a cackle, seemingly trying to hold it in, before she completely lost herself to an unending fit of giggles. She laughed so hard that if she didn’t have the counter to lean on, she would have fallen to the ground. Emiko fell into a hysteric fit of laughter that she started to cry. Every time she looked at you, she laughed again.

Emiko stumbled from where she stood and attempted to walk to the breakroom in the back. Before she left the scene, she looked at you one more time and then let out another laugh.

“Is your friend okay?” Akaashi asked as he looked at you, confusion swirling in his eyes.

You let out a defeated sigh. “Keiji… you don’t have kids do you?”

Akaashi laughed and shook his head. “Definitely not. I can barely take care of myself at the moment.” he gave you a sheepish look. “Maybe in the future I will, but not now. I don’t think I’ll be ready for kids for a while.”

“So, you’re really not a father?”

Akaashi shook his head. “No. I’m not a father unfortunately.”

You could admit that you felt a little disappointed that Akaashi was nota dad (did you even keep the receipt for the bookstore you bought the parenting book from?) but… this wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened.

You were stilldating Akaashi and maybe, in the future, if everything went well… Akaashi could become the DILF you thought he was.

And hopefully, you would be his partner for that.

a repost of a silly lil fic i wrote for akaashi’s bday before… i hope you liked it ! :’)

this summer, i…

↳ ii. (took care of you)

miya osamu x reader, 11k

SUMMARY: sometimes the best way to get over someone is to actually just date them. or in your hopeless case, ask them to help you practice dating.

series masterlist

It’s a small world.

Suna had mentioned he was inviting Miwa over for dinner and that Miwa would be bringing a friend. You don’t mind, of course. Miwa is your friend and any friend of Miwa is automatically a friend of yours. In addition, you like it when Suna chooses to branch out of his small circle of friends and make new ones. It’s good for him.

Osamu was up for it too and was highly amused, “I like how you say you invited someone for dinner, like you’re cooking for them. But you’re actually just sharing take out and eating it at our small dining table.”

Suna had slapped him on the back and groaned, “Stop, I’m so worried how we’re all going to fit on that table. Should we eat on the floor? Ugh, I can’t make Miwa and her friend eat on the floor.”

You were confused, “Why not?”

“Yeah, why not?” Osamu was curious too. “We make Y/N eat on the floor all the time.”

“Well,” Suna had said, “That’s Y/N and this is Miwa. Some people deserve better.”

You had to beat him up to maintain your pride while Osamu laughed. But Osamu, acting like the oldest person in the room for once, had assured Suna that it was going to be fine. Miwa was a college student and wouldn’t mind.

As such, on the night of the dinner, Suna has you vacuuming the living room carpet floor as he fusses over what Spotify playlist to have playing in the background. This is probably the cleanest the apartment has been over the two years you’ve been over at their place. At Suna’s request, you also brought over some of your candles, so it smells like what a vacation in Hawaii would theoretically be. Pineapples and coconuts. This isn’t even your apartment.

Osamu manages to escape most of his requests by putting his foot down and taking full responsibility for getting the food. He arrives back at the apartment with enough time to spare for setting everything up on the floor.

You give him a tired wave from where you’re lying down on the couch, “Hey, welcome back.”

“Yo, it smells good in here,” Osamu exclaims, breathing deeply as he switches the shoes he has on with house slippers. He shrugs his jacket off next, placing it on a chair, and then dropping the plastic bags of takeout on the dining table. You weakly grunt in agreement.

Osamu laughs, going over to you and lifting your feet off the couch so he can sit down too. “What happened to you?”

“Please be quiet. Rin is driving me crazy,” you close your eyes and sigh when Osamu starts massaging your ankles. “Miwa won’t even care that much. She’s not fussy like that.”

“Forgive him, he’s just nervous. You get like that too,” Osamu says, like a mother telling her eldest to be more patient with their immature younger sibling. “Besides, think about how funny it’s going to be watching him interact with Miwa. He’s going to be so embarrassing.”

Speaking of the devil, Suna comes out of his room panicking, “Guys, they said they’re gonna be here soon. Look normal.”

Neither you or Osamu make a move to get off the couch. Suna whines, shaking Osamu’s shoulders, “Samu, go set up the food.”

“Noooo,” you whine, “He’s massaging my foot, get your own Samu.”

Suna frowns, “We have joint custody of Osamu, so you can’t call him yours, idiot.”

Osamu is saved from hearing this argument continue by knocking on their front door. He pushes Suna towards the door, “Go get that, we can all set the table together.”

Suna hurriedly rushes to the door, but before he opens it, he turns back to you, fluffing up his hair and putting a questioning thumbs up. You laugh and jokingly give him a thumbs down which is negated by the encouraging double thumbs up Osamu gives.

He finally opens the door, revealing Miwa all bundled up, clutching her own plastic bag of takeout. What makes you sit up is the guy trying to shyly hide behind Miwa. Suna lets them in, “Hey guys, I’m glad you were able to easily find the place.”

Miwa gives him a hug, “Yeah, it’s actually only five minutes away from our own place. This is Akaashi Keiji, by the way.”

Suna smiles, bright and charming, and comes over to give Akaashi a hug. Akaashi timidly returns the hug, which is kind of funny. He’s never seen anyone act overwhelmed in the presence of Suna. Suna lets him go and turns to his two friends on the couch, “And that’s Osamu, my roommate and the other person you see lying there is—”

“Oh,” Akaashi says in surprise, when he meets your eyes, “Y/N-san.”

The other three people in the room look on curiously. They have never heard your  name said with so much respect before.

“Keiji, I didn’t know you were friends with Miwa,” you say, standing up.

“Friends and roommates,” Akaash says, shrinking at the attention everyone is giving him in the room.

Miwa loops their arms together, “How do you guys know each other?”

“We’re in the same music composition class,” you respond, and then you notice what’s inside the plastic bag Akaashi’s carrying, “You guys brought dessert?”

“Yeah, we got ice cream, some pastries, and fruit,” Miwa responds and then goes over to the kitchen to put the bags down. “I know you’re a picky eater, so you have to like at least one of the things we bought.”

Osamu comes over to take a peek at what they brought and gasps, “Oh my god, you guys bought mint chocolate chip ice cream?”

Suna visibly shudders and you pretend to gag. Miwa snorts, pointing at Akaashi, “It’s for him! He’s the one who likes it.”

“I like it too!” Osamu exclaims and comes over to pat him on the back, “I’ll eat it with you. Nobody else understands how good it is.”

For the first time that night, Akaashi smiles easily and the effect is immediate. The room brightens just at the appearance of it. “I’m glad you like it, Osamu-kun.”

Osamu smiles at the honorifics, “Just call me Samu.”

Suna claps his hands loudly to grab everyone’s attention. And when everybody turns to him, he smiles and points to the living room area, “Shall we start eating then?”

People begin migrating over, with Osamu grabbing the takeout to set up on the floor. As they set up, Miwa asks, “Can I put the ice cream in the freezer? And do you guys want me to clean the grapes now?”

You shake your head, “Just put the ice cream in the freezer, and we can wash the grapes later. Come here already.” When you see Akaashi awkwardly looking for where to sit, you pat the space beside you, “Just sit with me. It’ll just be like how it is in class. And then, Miwa can sit beside you.”

Just like that they all end up in a circle: You, Akaashi, Miwa, Suna, and Osamu. Inside your circle formation, Osamu had laid out their large order of sushi, sashimi, tempura, curry and yakitori. Honestly, eating with Suna and Osamu, you’re used to seeing such a large feast in front of you, but you can tell by Miwa’s wide eyes and Akaashi’s jaw dropping that they aren’t.

Miwa wonders, “Can we even finish all of this and the dessert that we brought?”

“Yeah,” you confirm, breaking your chopsticks apart and rubbing them against each other to shave off potential wooden splinters. “Don’t worry, Samu will finish everything.”

Beside you, Osamu’s already stuffing himself with curry, while Suna is eagerly filling Miwa’s plate, who is trying to tell him that she can do it herself.  You hope you don’t look as desperate as that when it comes to your own crush.

The food tastes amazing, so much so that the first few moments of eating together, the only sounds that can be heard are of them eating. That is until Suna whines about how spicy the curry is, “Shit, I forgot to grab water.”

Since he’s sitting the farthest from the kitchen, you offer to get some for him, “Anybody else want anything?”

Mouth full, Osamu raises his hand and tries to chew faster, but you already know, “Sprite?”

Osamu’s eyes crinkle in happiness, nodding while sending you a flying kiss. You smirk, “Miwa? Keji? Do you guys want anything?”

“If you guys have juice, I’ll take it, but if not, I’ll stick to the water that I have.” Miwa says, trying to see what’s in the fridge.

You open the fridge, “Hmm, we only have iced tea and more sprite. Keiji, do you want either of those?”

“I would like some iced tea,” Akaashi says, politely. You grab that for him, along with two bottles of water and sprite. You throw one bottle of water to Suna, who barely catches it, and set the sprite next to Osamu. The bottle of iced tea, you hand to Akaashi who receives it with both hands. “Thank you, Y/N.”

Miwa laughs after watching the interaction, “Keiji, you don’t have to act so formal with Y/N. You guys are even in the same class, right?”

“It’s true,” you smile, finding how shy Kai gets very cute. “Just call me Y/N.”

“Okay,” Akaashi replies, and then averts his eyes and goes back to eating. You want to pinch his cheeks. You find that sentiment reflected on everybody else’s faces. How can a person so tall look like such a baby?

You open your water bottle to drink and as you drink it, Osamu makes a comment, “You’re not going to have your nightly iced tea?”

“Oh, there was only one left,” you shrug, putting the cap back on, “Remind me to buy more, by the way.”

Osamu eyes the bottle in Akaashi’s hand and nods, “I see…”

You laugh, hitting him lightly on the shoulder, “I can be sweet too, Samu.”

“I never said you couldn’t be,” Osamu says, “It’s just the first time I’ve seen it.”

Suna hums thoughtfully, “Surprisingly, when you’re being nice and sweet, you’re very quiet about it. Loud about everything else though.”

You roll your eyes, “I’m not that loud.” But Suna just rolls his eyes back.

“Is she really that loud?” Akaashi asks, tilting his head to the side. “I feel like I can’t imagine that.”

At that, Osamu, Suna, and Miwa both look at him like he’d grown another head. Osamu puts his arm around you, squeezing your shoulder, “She’s so loud that I feel like I can hear her laughter ringing in my ears hours later.”

“She gets invited to parties because she’s the best person to hype everyone up,” Suna adds on.

Miwa frowns, “What’s she like in class for you to say that?”

Akaashi gives a cautious side glance at you, before speaking: “Y/N’s really serious in class. Our classmates even say she’s kind of scary to be partnered with for projects.”

“Scary?” Osamu says in disbelief, “What’s so scary about her? She’s just a cute little kid.”

“Now, I can’t picture it,” Miwa says. “Our Y/N? The one I have to lecture at the library on why she needs to study more to pass her midterms?”

“The Y/N that will freeze up and yell at you to kill a cockroach for her? That same Y/N?”

“He gets it!” You huff, shrugging off Osamu’s arm on your shoulder. “Also, I’m not surprised they’re saying that. I think I was kind of… too strict in past group projects and our department isn’t really that big.”

Akaashi shakes his head, “It’s not just that… you’re well known in our department for your high standards, so you do come off as a bit… intimidating.”

“Well, I’m not going to deny the first part, but don’t be intimidated.” you smirk, “In fact, why don’t you be my partner for the next group project?”

Akaashi’s eyes widen and at the expectant look from you, he sighs, “Sure, let’s do it.”

You cheer, meanwhile Miwa holds Akaashi’s hand in hers, comfortingly, “Don’t worry, if she’s mean to you, just tell me. I’ll get revenge for you.”

You stick your tongue out, “Suna will protect me.” You send him two finger hearts with kisses, but Suna playfully and metaphorically slaps the hearts away.

“No, I won’t,” Suna smiles, sweetly. “I hope you get beat up. Get your practice boyfriend to protect you.”

Suna is dead to you. With big watery eyes, you turn to Osamu and carefully hold his free hand in yours. “My Samu-kun will protect me, right? My Samu who is so strongandniceandgood, unlike that guy over there.”

Osamu can barely look at you, and that just cannot do. You put yourself in Osamu’s line of vision and flutter your eyes, whining, “Samuuu.”

It only takes one glance and Osamu sighs immediately, “You’re not gonna need my help. Miwa wouldn’t beat you up. But sure.”

You turn back to Miwa and stick your tongue out, giggling. But Miwa just looks unimpressed, “What the hell is a practice boyfriend?”

The question stops your laughter immediately. How the hell are you supposed to explain your dumb idea to her?

Thankfully, Suna steps in, “It’s exactly what it sounds like.”

“How bad are you at dating that you need to practice?”

You pout, “Don’t make me say it, Miwa. You know I’ve never dated before.”

“You’ve never?” Akaashi asks, dumbfounded, “Like not even one date? Or confession?”

You feel your ears reddening at Akaashi’s questions and you cover them with your hands to avoid anybody seeing them. Suna sighs dramatically, “Oh, Akaash-san, what you need to know about Y/N is that she’s a true romantic at heart. If the confession doesn’t pass typical kdrama standards, she’ll reject it.”

You throw a balled up napkin at Suna, who yelps when it hits him. “Don’t listen to him, Keiji. Some people are just unlucky in the dating scene. It’s not me, it’s everybody else.”

Miwa is looking at you like she’s reading every thought running through your mind. What comes out of her mouth though is another question, “And Osamu is helping you practice? What kind of practice?”

Osamu who’s been silent since Miwa’s inquisition began finally contributes, “We just went on like a practice date. And you know, I gave her tips…”

“Why do I feel like I’m being tried in court,” you mutter, “Yeah, we went on a practice date. The works, holding hands and he paid for me.”

Of all the things you expected her to say, it was not this: “That’s it? What are you supposed to learn on one practice date? That’s all you’ve done?”

Beside you, Osamu starts to get defensive, “I’m just doing what Y/N asked. She said she wanted a practice date, so we went on one. Case closed.”

Miwa sighs, “If it was really practice, then Y/N should initiate it. Also, being a boyfriend or dating isn’t just one date. It’s composed of many things — like caring for each other, supporting each other, being physically affectionate, giving each other presents, and spending time with each other!”

The room takes a moment to digest Miwa’s rant, and Miwa in turn gets shy at her outburst, hiding it with a cough, “Sorry, I’ve watched too many movies…”

“It’s okay,” you tell her. You feel like your mind has just been opened. You clear your throat and pat Osamu’s hand, “Samu, I think she’s got a point. Write those things down.”

.

.

.

Miwa has never done wrong in her life and she’s not going to start now, you’re sure of it. The brightest mind of their generation. A kindred soul with a heart for romance similar to your own. It’s why when you revise the practice dating contract, Miwa sits with you, the way a lawyer would for a celebrity couple signing a prenuptial agreement.

“Okay,” Miwa says, picking up the piece of paper you call a contract. It’s a little wrinkled and it took you a hot minute to find it, because you couldn’t remember which textbook you’d slipped it in. “When you said contract, I was really impressed, but Y/N, this just says the word ‘dates’ on it.”

You pout, “Come on, Miwa, you’re the pre-law major here. If we knew how to do everything, then we wouldn’t be here asking you.”

Osamu sighs for the fifth time since you’ve sat down. You elbow him as a warning, but he doesn’t even react. Miwa sighs too, picking up a pen and adding to the contract, “So first, if you want to be a good boyfriend, you should be physically affectionate…”

.

.

.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Osamu asks, looking at you with concern.

You’re standing outside of Osamu’s apartment, both of you all bundled up as the sun sets and the evening air is more than a cold touch. You barely hear his question, too busy struggling to close your jacket.

“Ya!” Osamu yells with frustration, before sighing and zipping your jacket himself. “Why didn’t you wear a thicker jacket?

You shiver, but smile brightly at him, “But Samu, look, this way we’re matching!”

The hard look on Osamu’s face acquiesces to something much softer, “Is that so? Did you plan this?”

“Like it’s that hard to predict what you’re going to wear,” you smugly says, “I’m a slow learner but I do learn. You should wear couple looks on dates!”

Osamu flicks your nose, chuckling when it crinkles immediately under his touch. “Who says this was a date?

“I did. A convenience store date with my practice boyfriend. To practice physical affection,” you recite, trying to imitate Miwa’s tone when she’d said it.

“And you’re going to be okay with it? You know how touchy couples usually are, right? Holding hands, sitting close together, touching all the time—”

“Areyou going to be okay with it?” you raise a brow at him, “I know I’m an airhead but I do understand what I’m asking. And I know you, you’d never do anything that would make me feel uncomfortable. And despite how I act and how often I joke around with you, I’m not going to do anything you’re not okay with either.”

You can back out, you think. Just say the word, and I’ll let you go, you hold your breath.

“I know you won’t,” Osamu says softly, “And of course, I’ll be okay with it. Should we go then?”

Just like that, you exhale, tendrils of misty air escaping from his mouth. Maybe, there’s relief too. Before Osamu can start walking though, you stop him, “Wait—”

“What is it?” Osamu tilts his head to the side.

You scratch your head, feeling your cheeks heat up, but shoulder on, “Can we hold hands?”

Osamu chuckles and extends a hand, “Yes, come on. The store is going to be closed by the time we get there at this rate.”

You wordlessly take it. Warmth overtakes you — you don’t remember the last time you asked to hold someone’s hand, nor the last person (outside of Osamu) whose hand you’ve held. Maybe your mother? In any case, it’s shaking your heart. You want to lecture it; why are you beating so rapidly? It’s just a hand, you fool.

But it’s Osamu’s hand, your heart responds back. And well, you can’t say anything towards that. You like this hand.

Nevertheless, there’s so many inconvenient things about holding hands. First of all, it means you only have one free hand to use at all times. There are so many things you need two hands for, like holding a heavy basket, inspecting snacks, and even the act of pulling out one’s wallet to pay. Then there’s the hand holding itself; is it just your own nervousness or does everyone’s hands get so sweaty? You hope Osamu doesn’t mention it.

And then, when you inevitably have to let his hand go, do you have to ask him again to hold hands? Will it be as humiliating and as nerve-wracking as the first time?

(The answer? Yes. But only for the second time. The third time you ask, Osamu just laughs and says, you don’t have to ask every time.)

But despite all the reasons you’ve outlined above, you completely understand why people hold hands, why it’s worth writing a song over. Holding hands, from movies to books to songs, is such a publicized affair, but it’s the closeness, like holding a secret out in the open.

Who else knows the warmth and weight of Osamu’s hand?

It can be a fun little game too. Like when you’re sitting next to each other on the couch and Osamu lets you play with his hand underneath the blanket covering your lap, or when you go out to eat at a restaurant and you hold Osamu’s hand underneath the table.

It’s thrilling — to hold something, briefly and without anyone else knowing.

.

.

.

“Next,” Miwa hums, “Couples typically support each other, right? Maybe practice being supportive of each other, like bring each other coffee in the morning even when you yourself don’t like it—”

You smirk, “Oh, kind of like the way Rin buys a caramel macchiato every morning even though I’m pretty sure he doesn’t drink coffee?”

Osamu tries to hide a chuckle beside you and sneakily lays out his hand for a high-five. You eagerly meet it. Miwa is unimpressed.

“This isn’t about me,” Miwa rolls her eyes, writing supporting each other in neat strokes and dotting her i’s with hearts. “Do you guys have any ideas on how best to practice this?”

You look at Osamu with consideration. Osamu winks at you. This bastard thinks he’s so cute. “I’m sure we can come up with something.”

.

.

.

It takes you a couple of tries to come up with something.

“I don’t think this is going to work,” you sigh, leaning your head against Osamu’s shoulder, “I don’t get why I have to wake up so early to walk you to class. Why are you taking an exercise class as early as 9 am, huh?”

“Yoga’s a nice way to start the day,” Osamu ruffles your hair, “And this is to support me, remember?”

You lift your head and barely manage to refrain from rolling your eyes, “Do you feel supported? Do you even need support?”

Osamu pinches your cheek, and you push his hand away, annoyed, “I feel supported by this bright attitude you’re giving me. Won’t you give me a smile?”

You give him the blankest face you can muster, and Osamu stops walking, “If you’re going to be super grumpy about it, then why did you even bother getting up and going through with it?”

“Because,” you fight the urge to yawn, “I wanted to try it just once.”

Osamu sighs, “Go back to bed, Y/N.”

Walking each other to places, as a first attempt, was a failure.

Related to that, you also tried picking each other up from classes, but your schedules just didn’t work out. It cut too close to Osamu’s seminars and you had your own shift at work to get to. Osamu had then joked that maybe you could move into their apartment and start contributing to rent, but you had sulked so severely over the comment that Osamu took it back immediately.

So what if you were always around their apartment? You elevate the usual sad vibes! You make their fridge look fuller by stocking your drinks in there! You let them borrow a candle or two, so their apartment can smell better! And in exchange, you get the privilege of lounging around on their couch; if anything, you should start charging them for your presence.

For now, you will continue taking advantage of their couch space. Maybe you’ll continue to think about how to practice supporting your ‘boyfriend.’

You sigh.

You sigh again, this time louder.

You huff, and then take the biggest breath only to release it all in the loudest sigh you can muster.

And then — you finally hear Suna step out of the kitchen with an open bag of crisps, “What do you want?”

You pat the space beside him on the couch, “Sit with me, Rin. I feel like I haven’t seen you in a while.”

Suna walks over to you, munching on a chip, “What, you miss me?”

“No, I just wanted some of that,” you eye the bag, trying to reach for it but Suna keeps it away from you.

“Rinnnnn,” you whine with grabby hands; it makes Suna snort, finally sitting down beside you.

“I’ll share, but only because I know you actually really miss me,” Suna brings the bag close to you, who eagerly grabs a crisp and eats it to hide the growing smile on your face. Suna knows you too well.

You rest your head on his shoulder and sigh, “Seriously though, I feel like I’m hanging out with Samu more than you. Are you trying to give us more alone time?” you lift your head and look at him, touched, with a hand on your heart, “Rin, I’m touched. You really do love me!”

“You are so,” Suna pauses, “creative. You truly belong in the arts. But it’s not intentional! Miwa and Keiji have been inviting me to join them for late dinner slash snacks at their apartment.”

You frown, “My poor Keiji. Why are you guys making him third wheel?”

Suna sticks his tongue out at you and then sighs, “I’m the third wheel. Have you seen the way Miwa looks at him? I wish she’d look at me like that.”

You look at him and feel your heart drop.  You know first hand what that feels like. To have your heart set on somebody who’s heart is with someone else. Although, you don’t exactly think this is the case. You’ve seen how Miwa looks at Akaashi, but you’ve also seen the way Miwa looks at Suna. You have a PhD in yearning and can definitely tell the difference. But an insecure heart can’t see that. You cuddle up to him, “It’s okay. They’re not dating, right? And she keeps inviting you to have dinner and snacks with her? If she was in love with Keiji, she would try to get as much alone time with him. But she doesn’t.”

“That’s… true. I won’t join the lonely hearts club yet,” Suna sighs, resting his head on top of yours.

“That’s fine. Population will stay as one then,” you smile. Suna’s heart is pure like a child and it should stay that way, you think. “Anyway, do you want to get some boba? Doesn’t a taro milk tea sound so good, right now?”

Suna hums, “It does, but I don’t want to get up. It’s too cold outside and it’s nice and warm here.”

“I am not paying for delivery. The delivery fee is going to be double the total amount we have to pay,” you reason from experience.

Suna groans, “What should we do then? I really want it now that you’ve mentioned it.”

“If only someone could pick it up for us. If only someone was so kind and so generous and loving. If only—” you grin, pulling out your phone, “I have an idea.”

Your bright idea materializes an hour later in the form of a displeased Miya Osamu, carrying two cups of boba and his duffel bag. “I can’t believe you made me pick up your damn drinks. You guys said you were sad! But instead the two of you are out here having the time of your life!”

The two of you were on your phones, giggling and cuddling on the couch. You give him your best pout, “But Samu, we were sad when we texted you! Didn’t you see the picture we sent you?”

Osamu rolls his eyes, “Which one? You sent me so many messages. The lies… the manipulation…”

You hit Suna on the shoulder, whispering look sad, dumbass, and Suna immediately schools his expression into something heartwrenching, “Samu, how could you accuse your favorite people on Earth of such bad things?”

You nod and in a cutesy voice say, “Don’t you love us? And that’s why you picked up our milk teas? Out of love?”

“You guys are lucky I’m too tired to beat you up,” Osamu huffs, dropping his duffel bag to the floor and your milk teas on the kitchen counter. “Come here at least. I draw the line at putting the straw in your mouth. I feel like a single mother of two.”

You shove Suna off of you and Suna yelps as he falls to the floor. You skip happily to your drink, fully ignoring the high pitched yell of your name by Suna. You do a little hehe as you tear the straw open from its package and stab it into your drink. Immediately, you take a sip and do a little wiggle of happiness. All is right in the world.

Suna gets his revenge a second later by flicking the back of your head and immediately hiding behind Osamu when you move to hit him back. Osamu’s just standing there, minding his business and drinking his water.

Revenge is a lost cause. You give up on it for now.

Your eyes focus on Osamu instead, how pink his cheeks are, like fresh white peaches. You want to eat him. “Was it cold outside, Samu?”

Instead of responding, Osamu presses his hand to your cheek, causing you  to yelp. It’s colder than the dead.

Suna laughs at you and you hold yourself back from glaring. You choose to be a better person and ignore him. To Osamu, you say, “Samu, as a thank you for picking up our milk tea, what if I bought dinner for tonight? Is there anything you want to eat?”

Osamu pretends to think, “What about… sashimi?”

“Yes! I want that too,” Suna says, gleeful to have somebody on his side bullying you.

You huff, pouting while pulling out your phone, “If that’s what you want…” you sniff, plenty pitiful, “I guess I’ll just have ramen for tonight.”

Osamu finally laughs, stopping you from pulling up the delivery app on your phone, “I’m just kidding. I’m good with anything. I’m just hungry.”

“Samu,” Suna scolds, “You can’t just give in to her when she starts pouting. It’s a fake pout.”

“But she can’t eat sashimi anyway, and it’s not fun to eat when not everyone can eat. Pick something else,” Osamu says, kindly.

“What about Chinese? I can do jajangmyeon and tangsuyuk? Or even pho?” Suna suggests.

You nod, “I’m good with either. We can do chinese tonight and then get pho tomorrow night.”

Osamu shakes his head, “No, let’s do pho tonight with those spring rolls. You guys can do Chinese tomorrow.”

“Oh?” Suna looks curiously at him, “Are you not eating here tomorrow night?”

You hold your breath and try not to let the apprehension show on your face.  Instead, you smirk and snidely ask, “Oh, why? You got a hot date tomorrow?”

“No,” Osamu raises a brow, and then a slow smile spreads on his face, “Unless you’re asking me out?”

Suna groans, grabbing Osamu by the shoulders, “Please do not flirt in front of me. I don’t care if it’s practice, please I think I’m going to puke—”

Meanwhile, you’re standing there, smirk wiped off your face and flaming red. Osamu’s just cackling, “Man, I still got it.”

This is so fucking humiliating.

You cover your face with one hand and turn away. You hate him, you hate him, you hate him! How could you let someone so embarrassing have so much power over you? You don’t know what you did in a past life to suffer like this. To yourself, you mutter, “You could have asked Keiji or even Rin, but nooooo, you had to ask Miya Osamu to be your practice boyfriend. This is your fault, Y/N—”

Osamu hugs you, still laughing, “I’m sorry I couldn’t help it, your face looked so funny. But also take notes, that’s how you flirt with someone.”

“Y/N, I beg you,” Suna says, clasping his hands in front of his chest, “Don’t take flirting tips from him. That’s how you actually get water thrown at your face.”

You ignore them both and just quietly start putting your order in. And just as quietly, you pass the phone to Osamu. You sip your boba. You chew on a pearl. You question your existence, briefly.  How did you end up here really, with your pride in shambles?

Osamu hands the phone to Suna and stands beside you, elbowing you gently, “That was good, right?”

You don’t understand how a man with an ego this big constantly needs reassurance. “It was alright.”

“Just alright?” Osamu repeats, with a slight whine. “But I was so smooth and cool. You didn’t think so?”

You ignore him, opting to stare blankly at the fridge. It’s decorated in random magnets, their class schedules printed out, numerous take-out menus, and an assortment of polaroids taken by your camera. Suna and Osamu aren’t too fussed about decorations, but you think that’s just sad. It’s nicer to come back to a place that looks like home.

Osamu elbows you again, a pout in full bloom on his face. Sometimes, you wisely think, the best way to deal with Miya Osamu is by ignoring him. He seriously hates it. At the same time, Suna finishes his order and hands the phone back to you. And just with a touch of your finger on the screen, your order is in.

Osamu eventually gives up on you and moves on to Suna, snuggling up to him and asking if Suna found him cool. Suna whines and tries to push him away, but Suna is far kinder and softer than you  are. He eventually gives in, nodding half-heartedly, and Osamu immediately brightens, turning to you with his chin up, as if to say, see, somebody agrees.

What a fool, you think.

A fool who cheers too loudly when their food gets delivered. A fool who eats too fast and too much and talks even when his mouth is full. A fool who’ll do kind things like pick up boba for his friends even when he’s too tired from studying.

A fool that you like. A fool that you have a lot to learn from.

You must have been zoning out for a moment that Osamu interprets your silence as you being done eating, “Hey, are you not going to finish your spring roll? If not, can I have it?”

You smile, pushing your plate towards him, “Yeah, you can have it.”

Suna shakes his head as he watches Osamu take a huge bite of the spring roll, “What are you going to do for your evening classes and study sessions, huh? Who’s unfinished food are you going to eat?”

Osamu shrugs, “I’ll figure it out. It’s not like I won’t get out to grab a quick snack.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” Suna mutters, exchanging a glance with you. You know what Suna is trying to get at. Knowing Osamu, he’s too much of a perfectionist that he’ll forget about break times and just keep going and going. He’ll drink water to fill the hunger and it just won’t do. You want him to eat well.

You remember then, your earlier dilemma of supporting your practice boyfriend and how best to show it. You have an idea.

That next day, after you finish your own dinner, you get yourself dressed up in a warm sherpa lined denim jacket and bucket hat that you found lying around on the floor, so you’re ready to brave the cold night. You skip your way to the convenience store and pick up an energy drink, several onigiris, and a cup of fruit. You make sure to ask for utensils and napkins when you pay.

The library isn’t that much farther from the convenience store. It doesn’t take you a long time at all, even when you take your sweet time to enjoy the stars twinkling in the dark night sky. You’re in a bright mood when you reach the study room Osamu’s in. You can’t go in just yet since he’s in the middle of a group discussion with other people, but you don’t mind.

You stand there for a bit of time, until someone stands up, clapping their hand and calling for a short break.

You wait for Osamu to turn around, watch as he stretches out his long arms, before knocking on the door to signal your presence. This catches the attention of everyone, including Osamu, who looks surprised to see you.

“Oh, Y/N, what are you doing here? Is everything okay?” Osamu says as soon as he comes to the door.

You playfully pout, “Can’t I visit you, Samu? What if I just wanted to see you?”

Osamu laughs, throwing his head back, “I understand I have that effect on people.”

“Okay, tone it down,” you roll your eyes, before pulling up the plastic bag of snacks you bought, “I did have a reason for coming here.”

Osamu’s eyes widen, “Oh my god—”

Dramatically, you wipes a fake tear from your own cheek, “I was thinking about my Osamu-kun, not eating three portions of a meal for dinner, not having anybody who’d let him steal food from, and it made me so sick to my stomach—”

Osamu doesn’t even look mad, too happy about the food, so you drop the act, “I didn’t get much, since I figured you’d at least have dinner. But you’re burning a lot of calories for brain power, so it’ll be good to replenish it by eating! But don’t eat too much, because then you’ll get sleepy like you always do after a big meal. Miya Osamu, are you listening?”

“How could I not listen when my practice girlfriend cares so much about me?” Osamu teases, taking the plastic bag from your hands. “Wearing my jacket, buying me food. My heart almost fluttered.”

“Almost?” you’re practicing hard at training yourself to get used to his flirting. You think you’re semi-succeeding when you can sigh and faux disappointment in response, “I should try harder next time then.”

Osamu pinches your cheek lightly, “There’s always room for improvement.”

“But I still did good, right?” You ask, unable to help it.

“So good,” Osamu says, tucking a piece of loose hair behind your ear. “Should I brag about it? Everyone’s going to be sojealous—”

“Samu, no, shut up—” you try to stop him, but when Osamu means to be insufferable, he just can’t be stopped.

“Guys, my friend brought me some food! Personally delivered. I have never even seen your boyfriends or girlfriends bring you guys anything—”

Your face gets so red from the attention and Osamu’s antics, you barely feel cold on the way back home. But you think about the happy surprise on Osamu’s face and think maybe the embarrassment is worth it.

Or maybe the true fool here isn’t Osamu. It’s you.

.

.

.

.

Miwa rolls her neck, sighing when she feels it crack, “Man, you should be paying me for this.”

You make a heart with your hands, “I only have love to give you.”

“Hmm,” Miwa hums, not hearing you, and you nudge Osamu with your elbow, while maintaining the heart pose. Osamu purses his lips, a hint of annoyance, but copies your pose, even adding an air kiss to send to Miwa.

But Miwa just raises a brow at you both. You sigh, turning to Osamu, “What do you think?”

“I only have five oranges and an expired milk in the fridge,” Osamu whispers.

You furrow your brows, trying to think hard about what you could offer. Osamu snaps his fingers, and you look at him excited, “You have something?”

Osamu nods, “Rin owes me a favor, so we can volunteer him.”

You nod at that, pleased. They turn to Miwa and offer exactly that, “Whatever you want, Rintarou will provide.”

“Oh?” Miwa’s eyes turn from full moons to happy crescents, “Would he be okay with that?”

“Miwa, please,” you snort, “Rin would be honored. Anyway, what’s next?”

“Well, this is kind of similar to the last point. I kind of want to expand upon it. There’s supporting each other, right? You could do that by giving gifts or by expressing your appreciation for them in words. But I think one of the true marks of caring for your partner is just going out of your way for them. You give up your own time to do these things just to make them happy.”

.

.

.

There was one night in October, where you and Suna had been too lazy to go out on a Friday night and instead, had each opened a bottle of wine and turned on the television. You don’t even remember how you ended up on the National Geographic Channel, but before you knew it, you were both sucked in by a program for Emperor Penguins of all things.

Cute little birds, you and Suna had cooed, bodies warm from the alcohol.

The camera follows the life of a single Emperor penguin, and you watch, riveted, as the baby chick emerges from its egg, underneath the male penguin’s pouch. You watch as it gets fed it’s first meal of krill and fish, as it takes its first step out of the warmth of their parents, and then eventually, being left alone in a creche of penguins while their parents go out to hunt for food.

The documentary tugs at your heartstrings, making it feel for this penguin you’ve watched grow up right before your eyes and in the span of a couple minutes no less. It’s heartwarming to see it make friends and learn how to bear through the cold as it waits for its parents to come back. And then, the narrator started to announce that it was time for the baby penguin to go off on its own with the other baby penguins and start hunting for food for itself.

You remember Suna sitting up straighter then and asking you, “Already? But they’re just babies!”

You agreed but shushed him, so that you could see what happens. Your baby penguin was reluctant to go and needed to be pushed by its parents to join the crowd. The narrator cruelly mentions, it needed to learn or it would starve.

It’s a slow waddle for the baby penguin and its comrades to the ocean. A treacherous road too; the show had shown a small segment where the babies had been followed by a skua bird. The baby penguin almost gets picked on, but the other penguins had quickly made a barrier around it and an Adelie penguin comes to save the day and finish escorting them to the water. Through the ordeal, your heart had beat fast, and Suna must have been nervous too, with the way he was clutching tightly to the pillow. You hold your breaths as it finally reaches the blue waters, watching as your baby penguin hesitates the slightest bit, and then a video montage of its journey from birth, its trials and wins, everything it took to get there plays. There’s some orchestral strings in the background to support the scene, and it tugged hard at the heart.

Before you knew it, the penguin was a baby no more and it jumped into the ocean, off to fend for itself in search of food. You felt your eyes water, not knowing why you were so touched by the growth of a little bird. You turned to Suna to make excuses of why your eyes were so watery, but Suna was wiping his eyes too. And then, you both started crying, inexplicably so.

Maybe it was the alcohol, which had made you both a little bit loose, a little less guarded. For when you both settled on the couch to sleep that night, you said, “I’m glad I’m not a penguin.”

“Why?” Suna had asked, softly in the dark.

You shrugged a little, eyes almost closed, “I don’t think I could’ve just left home like that, so young. It was just a baby.”

Suna laughed, “But we did. Eighteen is young. We looked like babies at the beginning of university.”

“I guess,”you acquiesce. And then another question: “Do you think the baby penguin misses home?”

Suna was almost asleep but he still answered, “I think so. It looked back just before it left. That’s how you know.”

“Know what?”

“When someone is longing.”

You snorted, “That sounded really deep. Are you sure you don’t want to be a poet?” And also, you mumbled, “What does that say about us? We both got on the high speed rail to Tokyo and never looked back.”

Suna made a soft noise of disagreement, “We do. We do it all the time. When you stop in the middle of the street because you smell something like your mom’s perfume. Or when, I see a puppy that looks just like mine back home. We miss it.” Suna reached over and patted your chest, “And it aches, just slightly, right here.”

You touched the hand on his chest, patting it, “What should I do then, when it aches? What do you do?”

“We call our moms and tell them we miss them. Maybe look at the moon. When that’s not enough, I just look at you though.”

“Why look at me?”

“Why not? You’re my oldest friend. My childhood friend. If nothing else, you feel like home.”

You had been so touched when Suna said that, you prayed that Suna had fallen asleep immediately as he said that, so you could emote properly in peace. But Suna never lets you live and never lets up whether you’re embarrassed, crying, or angry. Suna had cooed at you, half-asleep, voice hoarse, and said, “Wah, that baby penguin is braver than you.”

But it’s true. You’re made of puffed air bravado. And sometimes, when you run out of it, Suna is the only person who knows you well enough to grab you aside, cheer you up, and reassure you that everything’s going to be okay. Suna is the lighthouse of your universe, your home away from home.

So it becomes a habit, that when you’re missing home, it’s Suna you turn to. And Suna will pull you tighter, be more affectionate, and let you sleep over without you even needing to ask.

These days, though, you try hard not to lean on him so much. You know Suna is secretly stressed out about his classes, that he’s been spending his time between working harder to do better and hanging out with Miwa. And you just don’t want to add on to his plate.

Homesickness is a disease that hits the hardest in the middle of a semester, so if you’re feeling a little blue, a bit more quiet, a shade more dim, everyone’s thankfully a little too busy to notice. It feels nice in a way, to carry the loneliness in a corked bottle, only to pull it open when alone. This way, it ferments like grapes, turning something sour into something dark and bitter and sweet, good enough for you to savor in a dark room lit by the moon.

Some things you shouldn’t share.

But the moon can only witness so much, and there is only so much loneliness you can carry before your own hands get too tired. With each passing day, you have less energy to pretend everything’s alright. You just want to stay in bed and count down the days till you get to go home. But there’s classes, and clubs, and work, and homework — you’re just so tired of it all.

The only thing getting you through it are your friends. Even if they don’t know what’s going on with you, just by being with them and making them laugh brightens your day. You get this thought in your head, as a joke you say brings everyone to tears with laughter, that you’re getting good at this, masking loneliness.

And just when you think that, you get the biggest surprise when Osamu asks you to stay back at the end of a get together between your newly formed dinner-on-the-floor group. You had intended to go home, passing on the invite to get dessert from Suna, Miwa and Akaashi, but Osamu had held you by the hand to stop you and asked, “Can we talk? Just us?”

You’re sitting on Osamu’s bed, and you’re wondering what the hell Osamu wants to talk about. Was it about the practice dating? Was he getting sick of it? Did he want to stop doing it? You try to act nonchalant, looking everywhere but him, who was maybe trying to brave his way through breaking your heart.

“Y/N,” Osamu says, taking your hand into his lap and interlacing your fingers, “Is there something that’s been bothering you?”

The question catches you off guard. You blink as you digest the question, before carefully asking back, “What makes you ask that?”

“It’s nothing,” Osamu sighs, looking down at your hands, “It’s just that you’ve been a bit more quiet lately and I know that could mean nothing, but I figured I’d ask.”

“I thought I’d been acting the same?” Maybe you weren’t as good of an actor as you thought yourself to be.

Osamu shrugs, “I don’t know. Maybe I thought wrong. It just felt like you didn’t have that glow you usually have.”

You don’t know why, but that makes you snort so loud, “I glow? Samu, you think I glow? Like I have a light around me? Bro… that is so romantic…”

“Fuck you,” Osamu scowls, letting go of your hand, but you’re quick to grab them back in your hold, laughing the whole time. You laugh and laugh, finding yourself falling over him, your face onto his shoulder. And then something terrible happens.

Somehow, your laughs subside into tears, like rain starting to fall on a bright sunny day. It shocks both of you, leading both of you to fumble: you away, desperately trying to shield your eyes, and Osamu closer, unsure hands hovering over your frame.

“Oh no,” Osamu says, worriedly. “Did I fuck up? God, Rin is going to kill me—”

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” you assure him, hastily wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your shirt.

Osamu sighs with worry, “No, no, you’re not. Why are you trying to comfort me? What’s wrong? Do you want to talk about it?”

You nod, but when you try to speak, you just get all choked up. Like you’re trying to summon the feeling, but it’s stuck right in your chest. It’s this goddamn ache.

Osamu decisively hugs you then, wrapping you in his arms and warmth, patting you on the back, shushing you, “It’s okay, we can talk about it once you’re ready. I’m not Rin, but I’ll listen, okay? I’m here. I’m here.”

It takes an embarrassing amount of time for you to pull yourself together. You’re sorry, so sorry to Osamu and the spot of tears you’ve made on his right shoulder. But it’s nice to have someone to lean on. The loneliness was so heavy, yet here in Osamu’s arms, it feels light like a cloud. You sniffle, “Do you think you could close the lights and then we can talk? It’s embarrassing, I-I don’t want you to see my face.”

“What happened to I’m so pretty the gods would want to steal my face?” Osamu jokes, hoping to pull a laugh, but you only push him to the light switch. “Okay, okay. I’ll turn it off.”

The light had been so unforgiving, and when Osamu turns the lights off, you just feel like you can breathe better. Osamu comes back to bed and you reach for a hug immediately. The way you’re both seated makes the position awkward, though, and Osamu scratches the back of his head, “Do you wanna lay down instead? It would be easier to, you know…”

“Yeah, we could,” you say, feeling around in the dark. Osamu feels your distress and simply maneuvers you both, so that he’s lying on his back and you’re in his arms, head laying on your shoulders, and a blanket pulled over your bodies. Timidly, you say, “This is nice.”

“I’m glad,” Osamu sighs, and when he exhales, you feel it with your own body. Have you ever been this close? “Do you want to talk now?”

You nod, and Osamu must feel the movement with his own body too. “Yeah, I just feel like you’re going to be mad at me when you hear the reason, it’s like not a big deal at all—”

“Why would I be mad? Whatever it is must be really important to you for you to be keeping it in and then suddenly crying this much. It’s just me. You trust me, right?”

You sigh, finally letting any mask you have on drop. “I just miss home. A lot. I want to go home so badly, but I can’t. I miss my mom, my dad, my cat, and even my stupid sister. I miss how my mom smells, especially when she’s cooking. Ugh, I sound like a baby.”

“You are a baby,” Osamu says, fondly, “What else do you miss? What does Aichi have that the great city of Tokyo doesn’t?”

You pouts, “It’s not as cold for one. Winters back home are much nicer. Also, the people there are much friendlier and everybody has the same accent as me.”

“Is that so?” Osamu says, like he’s talking to a baby, words dripping like honey, “But how good can Aichi be, when it doesn’t have this one thing that Tokyo has?”

You close your eyes, “If you’re going to say Aichi doesn’t have you, I don’t want to hear it—”

“Whyyyyy,” Osamu whines, his fingers pressing to your side. A threat to tickle, if you ever saw one. “It’s true.”

“You need to come to Aichi, by the way. You need to see the great views that we have—”

Osamu sighs, “Listen, when I asked if you came here by way of a tractor, you know I was kidding, right?

“Anyway,” you ignore him, lost in his memories, “And the cherry blossoms! There was a long line of trees outside our middle school, and I felt like I was in a drama every time I walked to school. I got really interested in photography back then, and I’d take lots of photos of the streets at that time. I have soooo many photos of Rin, he wasn’t that tall then…” When you get going, you sometimes doesn’t realize how long you’ve gone on talking, and there’s just so much to say about your idyllic childhood.

But then you realize you haven’t heard Osamu speak in a while, so you stop mid-sentence, wondering if he’d fallen asleep. “Samu? Did I put you to sleep?”

“Hm? No, no, you’re okay,” Osamu replies, in a low voice. He sounded like he was close to sleep. “You can keep talking. I’m listening.”

But you feel bad continuing when it’s obvious he’s tired, “It’s okay, I don’t want to burden you with it, I usually talk to Rin about this kind of thing—”

“Seriously, it’s okay,” Osamu insists, but you’re already trying to get up. You fail though, for Osamu’s arm around your waist tightens and your face smacks against his  chest.

“Samu,” you whine.

“Y/N,” Osamu says in the same tone, and you can tell he’s rolling his eyes, “Come on, you’re not a burden. Not to me.”

You know he means it as a friend, that it speaks of how Osamu likes to take care of you the way a big brother would, but your traitor of a heart flutters anyway. “Really?” you ask, just to make sure you heard it right.

“You know I adore you, right?” Osamu says, sounding rather shy. He’s getting brave and nice, all because it’s dark. You want to see his face. “Even though all you do is prank me, and bully me, and love Rin over me—”

“I get it—”

“What I’m trying to say is, you can lean on me too. I’m sure Rin’s way better at comforting you and you’ve known him for much longer, but you have me too, okay? You don’t have to keep it all in.”

You don’t know what to say, overwhelmed once again by the affection you feel for him. Instead, you just snuggle closer and say, “Okay. Thank you.”

You then feel the lightest pressure on your head, followed by hands running through your hair. Belatedly, you realise Osamu must have kissed the crown of your head, for he says, “Good, it hurts my heart to see you sad.”

Osamu doesn’t stop petting your head, and you find yourself being lulled to sleep in his arms. There’s nothing else to be said; after all, you have a heart that only needs to be held.

Osamu doesn’t think so though.

You get a random text message from him that Sunday, asking you if you’ve already eaten lunch. Snarkily, you reply: it’s 2 pm on a sunday…i’ve only been awake for ten minutes so far…

Osamu replies with two messages. One was a text with three ellipses. The second just said: well come over and eat with me.

You’re not going to say no to a free ticket for your first meal of the day (you’re not going to say no to him either, but Osamu doesn’t need to know that.)

When you arrive at Osamu’s apartment though, you’re surprised when you don’t see the usual take out boxes or even empty packages of instant ramen littered around the kitchen. Instead, there’s a lovely spread of dishes, bracketed by two bowls of rice, on the small dining table. It’s an understatement to say that it smells delicious. Your mouth is watering.

Osamu is smiling at his reaction, “Hungry?”

You’re just amazed, nodding, “Wow, Samu, where did you get all this?”

“Sit first, come on,” Osamu pushes you to take a seat, and then takes the seat opposite yours. “So yesterday, after you left, I called my mom. I asked her for some recipes of my favourite childhood meals. She facetimed me for hours, going through every recipe one by one because there was just so much.”

And there is so much: Osamu points out the dishes one by one: “There’s tonkatsu, onigiri, nikujaga, udon. Then she taught me how to make her special bowl of miso soup, because it’s something nice and warm to sip on alongside everything else.”

You don’t even know what to say. It all just looks so good? Has onigiri always looked so mouth-wateringly good? Has tonkatsu always looked so succulent? It’s a feast for the eyes.

“Why aren’t you eating yet?” Osamu asks, and you smile, sheepish, “I don’t know what to eat first.”

Osamu huffs a laugh, mumbling so cute, before placing a chunk of beef from the nikujaga on top of his rice. “There, eat that first. Your first meal of the day and you’re starting it with me and home cooked meals. Oh Y/N, you are so privileged.”

You smile at your bowl, too touched by Osamu’s gesture to be bothered by the teasing. Osamu points again at your bowl, “Hurry up! I’m trying to let you eat first and you’re making it very hard for me.”

“Okay, okay!” you say, picking up the beef with your chopsticks and finally, under Osamu’s gaze bites into it. God, the meat is just so tender, and mixed in with the sauce it’s just an explosion of flavour. Your eyes widen at the taste, nodding in approval at Osamu, who’s smile just widens at your reaction. You swallow, “Samu, this is so good. Tell your mom I love her. Home cooked food just hits differently.”

Satisfied with your reaction, Osamu finally starts eating too. The two of you are quiet eaters; there’s not much talking to be done. All you can hear is the sounds of chewing, metal chopsticks clanging against ceramic bowls and saucers, and the pleased sounds coming from both of you. You’re not one for gluttonous eating, but you stuff yourself far more than what you usually eat. It’s so rare for him to eat home cooked meals. He thinks you probably ate more than Osamu, who had wordlessly refilled your bowl with more miso or more meat.

By the time you’ve both cleared everything and left barely any for the trash, you could die happy. You could also go back to sleep, feeling like you’ll pass out from being so full. Maybe you’ll take a nap after you help Osamu clean the dishes.

You stand side by side in the sink, with Osamu washing the dishes and you rinsing them with water and letting it dry on the rack. Already, you feel sleepy again, so happy and content, “Samu, thanks for cooking and sharing the food. It probably would have lasted longer if you didn’t share it with me.”

“That’s true, but going through all that effort would have been pointless if I didn’t share the food with you.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” you turn to face him fully, but Osamu just continues scrubbing. “Didn’t you call your mom just to catch up and get some recipes for your favourite dishes?”

“You’re… not wrong, but I specifically called, because my mom’s the best cook I know. And she’d definitely help me make everything perfectly, just how I liked it.”

You still don’t understand, “What does that have to do with sharing food with me?”

Osamu purses his mouth for a second, then shuts off the faucet and turns to you. “Do I have to spell everything out for you?“

“Spell what out?”

“The other night,” Osamu begins awkwardly, eyes shifting to a point beyond your stare, “you know, when you were talking about missing home?”

“Yes…” you’re biting your tongue. You thought that was going to remain unspoken between you two. It sure had felt that way, when you woke up to Osamu’s sleeping face barely an inch away from yours. That morning had been quiet, the air was cool and accepting, and the sun brought back the light, taking away any remnants of the previous night’s vulnerabilities.

Osamu shoulders on, “And how you missed your mom’s cooking? I’m not sure if I was helpful at all that night, but I thought what if I could get something close to your mom’s cooking?” Osamu stares at you, hoping he could stop explaining by then.

But you look at him expectantly, so Osamu sighs again, “Okay, so I called my mom, whined at her to help me with my mission, and spent the morning cooking, so that I could feed you a nice home cooked meal. Because you miss home.”

Your mind hurriedly calculates the implication of all of this and nearly shuts down at the result it arrives at. You bite your lip, “Because you thought it would make me happy?”

Osamu scratches his head, sighing heavily, like he can’t believe you’re making him say it, “Did it make you happy?”

You don’t know what compels him, if it’s the inadequacy of the word thank you or what, but you lean in and gently kiss Osamu’s cheek. When you pull away, you’re met with the stunned look on Osamu’s face. You give him your best smile, your brightest, all teeth and crinkled corners at the eyes, “Very happy.”

“What was that for?” Osamu asks, but you just shrug, a smile still on your face, and turn back to the dishes waiting for you in the sink.

After realising you weren’t going to respond, Osamu can’t help but just smile back, pressing the back of his hand against your cheek, before turning back to finish the dishes.

It’s an odd way to express how you feel, but it’s like standing underneath a pool of sunlight when it’s cold and grey. You could pocket it and take it out like an umbrella on dark days. You look again at Osamu beside you, and he’s got a smile on his face too.

This is nice, you think. This is a good day.

You remember the practice dating contract suddenly (are all your thoughts an infinite loop that begin and end with Osamu?) and thinks about how this is what Miwa had wanted you to practice. Going out of one’s way to make your partner happy. You bring it up to Osamu and say, “I should be the one trying to make you happy.”

Osamu laughs, “It’s okay, some things you can’t practise until the right moment comes. We’ll just say you learned and understood by watching and receiving.”

You pout, “I guess.”

Osamu shakes his head, putting both his hands on your shoulders. There’s a playful look in his eyes that doesn’t match the serious set of his mouth, and whatever he’s about to say is bound to be troublesome. Osamu gazes deep into your eyes as he says, “As your practice boyfriend, you don’t even need to try. I’m happy because you’re happy.”

You slap his hands away, turning around to face away from him. “That was terrible!” you groan, “Stop quoting the dramas we watch together. God!”

Osamu laughs and laughs and laughs.

Memory can be a faulty little thing, you’ve heard. It misremembers, it blurs, it shapes, and it’s wearing a blindfold as it decides which details to keep. You won’t know what you’ll remember in the future, but you can

oikawa and kuroo as college friends (platonic), sprinkled with x reader because i’m self-indulgent as hell, 5.1k

kuroo is stressed about college. oikawa decides to give him the best thing a college student could ever receive: weed.

WARNINGS: suggestive themes, recreational drug use

Oikawa is the best fucking roommate in the world (well, ex-roommate).

He’s pretty bummed about the ex part, but he would never say it out loud to Kuroo. Especially, when hewas the one who got dumped. It’s humiliating, he knows.

He complains about this to Iwaizumi almost every single day when he gets lonely, and every time, Iwaizumi rolls his eyes and says Shittykawa, he’s a RA now. He can’t be your roommate anymore.

Personally, he disagrees. If Oikawa and Kuroo were truly bros, he wouldn’t have left Oikawa to room with a complete stranger who ignores all of his attempts to be friendly. He would have tried harder, he would have gone above and beyond to become the first RA with a roommate, instead of being selfish and having a room to himself.

But despite his betrayal, Oikawa is still here for him. The poor guy has been so stressed lately with never ending assignments, stupid residents and family problems (read: mommy issues). Kuroo has been straight up notvibing for so long and Oikawa hates to see it.

That’s why with all the greatness vested in him, he went the extra mile and secured something for Kuroo. Something special. A little treat, if he says so himself. There’s an extra spring to his step as he skips all the way to Kuroo’s new room and knocks a jaunty little tune.

“Open up!” he yells, without regard for whatever Kuroo is doing. Whatever it is, it can’t be more important than Oikawa. When he doesn’t hear a response, he starts banging on it with a threat. “Kuroo Tetsurou if you don’t open this door I will release every single one of your drunk photos to the internet.”

Even his thinly-veiled threat doesn’t work. Tragic. And then it hits him: what if Kuroo is actually hurt? What if he’s in trouble and he’s being an insensitive little bastard threatening him? What if—

The door opens.

“What the hell do you want? I was in the bathroom.” Kuroo looks unimpressed.

Oikawa doesn’t respond, just pushes past him and looks around the room for any sign of trouble.

“I can’t believe you. I was getting worried and you were in the bathroom taking a shit?Unbelievable.”

“You weren’t dying Tooru.” Kuroo says, rolling his eyes as he shuts the door. “Why are you here anyway? Again? God it’s like you’re obsessed with me.”

Oikawa huffs, debating whether or not Kuroo even deserves his gift. But he already went through the trouble of securing it, so he might as well give it to him.

He throws the package at Kuroo, hitting him square in the face. “There.”

“Ow, what the hell?”Kuroo rubs at his face. “What is this?”

“It’s a gift.” Oikawa shrugs. “Open it.”

Kuroo gives him the side-eye. “You got me a gift? What, are you dying or something? Did you do something stupid and you want me to take the blame for it? Because I swear to god if you—”

Oikawa rolls his eyes and sits on Kuroo’s bed. “Dude,” Oikawa says, annoyed at Kuroo’s slowness, “Just open it already.”

“Fine, fine.” Kuroo says aggressively, tearing open the package with zero finesse.

In all honesty, Oikawa should have expected this, but he wishes Kuroo would take the time to appreciate how well he had wrapped the gift. He even stopped by the dollar store and chose a cute little box to store it in, before getting distracted in the stationary and coating the damn thing with fruity little stickers.

(He wonders if this is what Iwaizumi meant when he said he has too much time on his hands.)

Kuroo opens the box, and Oikawa sits there giddy with anticipation. “Bro,” Kuroo says, looking at him with wide eyes. “You did not.”

Oikawa grins, chest blooming with pride. “Bro, I did.”

Kuroo lifts the little bag carefully placed inside the box, and holds his other hand to his heart. He’s so touched. “Tooru, I can’t believe you got me weed.”

.

.

.

There was, of course, one problem.

They’ve never actually smoked weed before. Together or separately, they were just newbies. But it’s not going to be a problem— they’ve made it to university and passed their first year. There’s nothing they can’t do with the power of google and youtube on their side.

Oikawa inspects the bag. “I mean, don’t we just need to light it and then we’re all good?”

“Theoretically that’s correct.” Kuroo says, head bent low with his face too close to the phone. God bless him, he seriously needs glasses. (college truly takes and takes, and eyesight is not an exception). Though if Oikawa thinks about it, it’s probably the late night gaming sessions to blame; Kuroo’s stupid little discord icon is always online. “If it was already rolled into a blunt, it might be that simple…”

“Would you stop overthinking whatever is on your mind and just spit it out.” Oikawa grunts.

“I think we have to roll it first.” he says matter of factly. “Tooru, why didn’t you buy them pre-rolled?”

“I didn’t think that far!” Oikawa defends himself. He’s never going to do anything nice for Kuroo again. Not with all these criticisms. “We can roll it. We’ll figure it out.”

Well, they try to figure it out. The two of them huddle around Kuroo’s tiny phone screen and watch a video on how to do it. Apparently the first step is grinding their weed.

Oikawa frowns. “Do you have a grinder?”

Kuroo tilts his head, confused. “Like the dating app? Obviously not what do you think—”

Oikawa smacks him with the nearest pillow. “Were you even watching the video? I meant a literal grinder dumbass.”

Kuroo smacks him back, and Oikawa briefly feels like he’s been sent to another dimension and back . “Hey!” he says, irritated. “I told you only Iwa-chan can hit me!”

“We don’t have a grinder. Why does it need to be grinded anyway? Won’t that just dilute the effects or whatever? Let’s move on to the next step.”

Oikawa is dubious about Kuroo’s logic but he has nothing to contribute except pure vibes so he just shrugs. He lets Kuroo unpause the video without saying a word.

He’s so glad nobody is watching them do this, because as the video progresses he realises they have literally none of the things they need to roll a blunt. A grinder? Tobacco paper? All they have is Kuroo’s student card that they’re using to transfer the weed from the table and back into the little bag. This is so embarrassing to witness.

Oikawa watches as Kuroo rips a random piece of paper out of a tiny notebook. “Tetsu,” he finally speaks up when Kuroo tries to roll his blunt like it’s sushi. In the same way that he would not eat Kuroo’s homemade sushi, he is notsmoking this blunt. “This isn’t right. We can’t light this shit up.”

Kuroo sighs, absolutely resigned— he looks like he wishes he was never even born. Oikawa notes that this is just his resting face (some people have resting bitch face, but Kuroo just looks like he’s been let down one too many times).

Kuroo looks so hopeless sometimes that Oikawa wonders how the hell he was ever allowed on the Freshers Welcoming Committee. What kind of image would the university be selling if their very own students looked depressed? They should have picked someone fresh and pretty, like Oikawa, instead.

“Well, do youhave any better ideas?” Kuroo huffs.

“Don’t you know any stoners in the area? As a RA, I would’ve thought you at least had some connections. Come on, use your status of authority and hook us up.”

“It’s exactly because I’m a RA that I can’t just fucking ask.” Kuroo groans. “What image would I be putting out if I, the authority figure, started asking my residents how to roll a blunt? They’d think I’m a loser.”

Oikawa lets him have his little drama queen moment. Kuroo always does this; he acts like he’s given up and then a few minutes later he has a new plan. He looks around Kuroo’s room in the meantime.

There’s a growing pile of dirty laundry on the floor. A stack of clothes building up in a heap on his chair. A number of old takeaway boxes that he has yet to throw out. Yep, it’s confirmed. Kuroo Tetsurou is your typical dirty ass college student.

“Wait!” Kuroo suddenly exclaims, pulling out his phone and typing a message on his phone at lightning fast speed. “I do know someone. She’s also a RA and definitely won’t rat us out.”

Oikawa cheers and claps his hands. “We’re saved! Hopefully she can pull through.”

Kuroo looks smug. “Oh trust me. She will.”

.

.

.

“What the fuck?” Oikawa immediately slams the door and whisper shouts, “Why the hell would you ask Y/N for help? She’s myRA.”

“Uh,” Kuroo scratches his head before giving him a pleased smile, “Because she’s not a snitch? Because she goes to frat parties and definitely knows how to roll a blunt? Because we’re two idiots who don’t know what they’re doing? Come on, aren’t you into her?”

“Wha— I am not— Why the fuck is your voice so loud?” Oikawa wants to strangle him. “Why would you not tell me she’s coming?”

A knock interrupts their whispered shouting. “Are you guys gonna keep me standing here all night?”

Oikawa turns to Kuroo in panic, and his only response is to shrug. Fuck Kuroo. He is never, ever, ever,going to do anything nice for Kuroo again. “I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d act like this and run away. She’s our only option— we can’t let this weed go to waste.”

Kuroo pushes him to the side and opens the door, and all Oikawa can do is force a blank expression on his face to hide how he’s really feeling. It’s just Y/N, Oikawa reminds himself. His pretty RA.

The door opens and you walk in, wearing an oversized button up shirt and leggings. This zoom aesthetic outfit should not look that good.

Your hot and sexy RA, the demonic voice whispers in Oikawa’s head. Sometimes, Oikawa deludes himself into thinking that he’s going to focus on his studies at college and not be distracted by relationships. But when the devil can’t reach him, he sends you and Oikawa knows, without a doubt, that he is fucked. (or wants to be).

“Hey Tooru,” you greet, sinister smile on your face, “Thanks for slamming the door in my face.”

Oikawa pouts, “I didn’t know you were coming. We’re supposed to hide drugs from RAs, not ask them to roll blunts for us.”

“Where is it?” you ask, and Kuroo happily directs you to his desk.

“We’ve never done it before,” Kuroo explains shamelessly, before Oikawa can stop him, “so we don’t have any supplies. I’m not even going to describe to you what we were doing before I texted you.”

You laugh and Oikawa frowns. Even your stupid laugh is cute. “Okay, I can help. But can I collect my payment first?”

“What payment?” Oikawa asks, confused.

Kuroo lets out a forced laugh, doing a time-out motion but you just raise an eyebrow at him. “Kuroo said—”

Oikawa goes to speak but before he can, Kuroo’s hand slaps it over his mouth and says, “Give us a minute will you, let me just speak to him over there.”

Kuroo drags him to the bathroom before you can get another word in. Oikawa waits until he closes the door before he says “Explain before I tell the girl you’ve been crushing on down the hall that you’ve had wet dreams about her for the past week now.”

“You bastard!”

“Explain!”

Oikawa smacks Kuroo’s arm. “What does she mean by payment?”

“Well,” Kuroo says, clasping his hands in front of him to look like the picture of a good boy. It works on lesser mortals usually, but Oikawa’s immune to his petty ways— he is not fooled. “I knew the only way she’d come was if I told her that you would…”

“I would…” Oikawa’s patience is growing thin. “Speak up asshole!”

Kuroo huffs. “I told her that we needed some help for our little problem, and I may have vaguely, loosely, noncommittally, said that you would kiss her for helping.”

Oikawa hits him again and Kuroo just takes it. The mark of the guilty. “Tetsu! Why the fuck would you say that?”

“Because!” Kuroo pouts. “I know she’s into you, and she would have come over if I said that. And I also knew you wouldn’t mind, because you yearnfor her with your di—”

Oikawa covers his ears. He can’t believe Kuroo would betray him once again. Actually, he  can believe it. This stupid rooster head is conniving in his own ways. It’s quite frankly the only explanation he has on how he became volleyball captain in high school.

(Okay, Kuroo is also nice and super funny, but that is notOikawa’s point right now.)

“Tooruuuu,” Kuroo whines, shaking him by the shoulders, “I mean if you really don’t want to kiss her, it’s fine. We don’t have to smoke, we can just tell her to beat it and watch a movie.”

But here’s the thing. Anger, betrayal and other unforgivable sins aside, Oikawa does want to kiss you. Carefully, he starts, “She’s into me?”

Kuroo nods confidently. “Well she’s here isn’t she? Ready to collect payment.”

Oikawa turns to the mirror and fluffs his hair, “I guess I can take one for the team. I do look cute today.”

He opens his mouth and breathes on Kuroo, “Does my breath smell weird?”

Kuroo’s nose crinkles, “Can’t you smell that shit yourself? It smells fine, I guess.”

Oikawa gasps dramatically. “Just fine? That means it smells like ass. I can’t kiss Y/N with bad breath, where the hell is your mouthwash?”

Kuroo sighs, crouching down to open a cupboard below the sink. He hands him a bottle, “Here you go.”

After what feels like an eternity in the bathroom getting ready to kiss you, Oikawa decides he’s ready to make the ultimate sacrifice and pucker up his frog lips to kiss the princess. He says this to Kuroo who scoffs, “Don’t act like you wouldn’t have done this out of free will.”

Oikawa glares at him. “People who sold my body for free blunt rolls aren’t allowed to speak. Stay here while I secure the deal.”

“What!” Kuroo exclaims, trying to leave the bathroom. “Why do I have to stay here?”

“Because why the hell should you watch me kiss her?” Oikawa protests. “You absolute freak.”

Oikawa walks out of the bathroom before he can say anything else. In the time they were in the bathroom, he finds that you made yourself comfortable and took a seat on Kuroo’s bed.

Oikawa clears his throat. “Sorry about that. Small misunderstanding. I’m ready to provide payment.”

You tilt your head to the side. “You don’t have to do it.”

“What?” Oikawa can’t hide his frown. “You don’t want me to kiss you?”

“No.” you say simply, clearly checking him out from where you’re sitting. “Not if you don’t want to kiss me.”

“So you are into me.” Oikawa teases, giddy with excitement, while you sputter, “I didn’t fucking say that.”

“Is that why you’re always hanging around my room? I thought you were just a dedicated RA and—”

“Tooru, you’re the one who keeps locking yourself out of your room.”

“Well maybe there’s a reason why a smart guy like me would accidentally lock myself out of my room.” Oikawa teases as he sits down next to you on the bed.

“I thought you just liked annoying me.” you roll your eyes.

“I do,” Oikawa says, looking down before looking up through his eyelashes, trying to look seductive. “But mostly, you just look good standing by my door.”

You shake your head, smiling. “Well, are you going to kiss me? I’ve been waiting since the start of the semester.”

But before he can even lean in, a loud banging from the bathroom door interrupts, “Are you guys done yet? I just washed my sheets and—”

“Shut the hell up!” Oikawa yells, as you laugh. “Sorry about him.”

You poke at his side. “It’s okay. Here, let me roll the blunt first.”

Oikawa watches as you pull out a piece of gum and separate it from its wrapper. “I don’t have any rolling paper right now, but gum wrapper works.”

It’s something so simple but god you’re hot.

You shake your head laughing as you roll it. “Next time, just ask me when you want to smoke. I have connections, and this is really old school.”

“Okay.” Oikawa says, focused on the way you lick the wrapper to seal it, “Yeah, next time.”

“I’ll only do one because you losers have never done this before, and I don’t want any liability. Open the window when you light it up, or the smoke alarm might ring.”

Oikawa just nods obediently.

“Do you know how to inhale it properly?”

“Can you teach me?”

“Just inhale it and keep it in as long as you can.” you explain. “Try not to cough.”

“That’s vague.” Oikawa whines and you laugh.

“Sorry, you didn’t pay for smoking lessons.” you respond.

“I haven’t paid at all.”

“So? Pay now.” you tease, a challenging glint in your eyes as you lean in for what you’ve been waiting for.

It was a fairytale kind of kiss. Pure. Disney-friendly. Heartwarming. The stuff of dreams. At least that’s how he’ll describe it to Iwaizumi when he calls him. In truth, it was rather… slutty (feminist).

If Oikawa thinks about it, it couldn’t really have gone any other way. It’s been a long semester for him too. You’ve been a menace. Sometimes, Oikawa leaves his dorm at the tender hour of three in the afternoon, and you’re strutting about in tight leggings and a crop top. I mean, how is he supposed to pay attention in class after experiencing a debilitating event like that? Life could be so sick and twisted.

So really, he just says fuck this and goes for it. The Oikawa from a few months ago would have settled for a quick kiss, even just a little peck, but the current Oikawa has been through it. So what if he uses tongue? If his hands end up wandering elsewhere? If he cops a feel of your ass? Who can blame him? Live, laugh, lobotomy or whatever those inspirational quotes say.

Before it can go further though, Kuroo exits the bathroom, covering his eyes and yelling “Okay enough, you guys are done. Do it in your own time.”

The two of you laugh, though he pouts when you pull away. You give him a quick peck, before gathering yourself and walking to the door. “You know where to find me.”

“Thanks for the text, Tetsu. You can open your eyes now.”

Oh, how Oikawa lovesto watch you go.

The door closes behind you and Kuroo quickly assesses the state of his room. He looks at Oikawa who has a shit eating grin on his face and says, “You look too happy. I don’t think it was just a simple kiss.”

Oikawa smirks. “Sorry, I don’t kiss and tell.”

.

.

.

Oikawa did bring something other than the weed and his cute self— a lighter. He takes it out of his pocket and says, “Let’s light this bad boy up.”

They’re like two little rats, huddling up at Kuroo’s desk. Oikawa starts the lighter while Kuroo holds the blunt. And without a drumroll, it’s lit.

Oikawa whoops as he watches Kuroo put one end of the blunt to his mouth and take a drag. Kuroo’s chest rises as he inhales, and he thinks it’s a successful hit until Kuroo breaks out into a coughing fit.

“God,” Oikawa sighs, taking the blunt from him, “Do you need water or something?”

Kuroo continues to cough and shakes his head, raising his hand. His eyes are watering and Oikawa feels a little bad, but he can’t help but say, “Man, you’re so weak.’

Kuroo glares at him, but it doesn’t have the same effect when his eyes are all watery and he’s wheezing like an asthmatic. “You try it then!”

Oikawa rolls his eyes. How hard could it be?

He brings the blunt to his mouth and takes a deep inhale. He tries to follow what you said, but all he can remember is his hands on your ass. The only warning he gets is a slight tickle at his throat before he too, is subject to a coughing fit.

Kuroo laughs, taking the blunt from him. “Ah, Oikawa Tooru. Who’s the loser now?”

.

.

.

They do end up getting used to it, passing it back and forth, until they end up lying on Kuroo’s dirty carpeted floor.

They’re blasting some random Spotify playlist in the background, and Oikawa suddenly feels a little emotional. Who knew this stupid rooster head he got randomly paired up with in his freshman year would end up being one of his best friends? And now they’re sharing a new experience together, lighting their first blunt. It’s so wholesome he’s lowkey tearing up.

“Bro,” Kuroo says concerned, “Are you crying?”

“Shut up!” Oikawa says, covering his face with his hands. “There’s just something in my eye.”

“Like what? Dust?” Kuroo snickers. “You’re totally emotional right now. I can’t believe you’re an emo stoner.”

“Literally shut the fuck up.” Oikawa grunts, feeling lame as fuck as he wipes his eyes. He blames it on the drugs. “I’m just so sad… about my big fat juicy ass.”

He wishes he could immortalize Kuroo’s face the moment he hears the words. But his senses are dulled, brain feeling fuzzy— all he can remember is Kuroo wheezing on the ground as tears stream down his face. “You,” he wheezes,  “your ass is not even that—”

Oikawa tries to smack him but he swings into thin air. “Fuck off, you can’t say anything!”

“It’s not big at all.”

“You have no room to speak, flat ass.” Oikawa says, wiping his tears.

Silence fills the air for a while. It’s peaceful, and Oikawa thinks he might fall asleep until—

“My ass is notflat. Take that shit back.”

Nevermind.

.

.

.

Oikawa wishes he could say all the time he spends in the gym is paying off. To be fair, he does think his ass is getting fatter and his biceps are bigger than they were before. But doesn’t working out help you get stronger too? Kuroo doesn’t even fucking go to the gym and he can still hold his own against him in an arm wrestling competition.

After a non-homoerotic fisting session (do you mean a fist fight? Iwaizumi had asked, horrified when Oikawa retells the story later on. He isn’t an idiot, he knows what he means but he thinks it’s funny to tease him), they settle down.

They’re still lying on the carpet, just two bros vibing in this chaotic world.

“Tooru, can you lower the music? I think I can hear something.”

Oikawa glances over. “Oh, that was just me bro. I farted.”

Kuroo looks over in disgust. “Okay gross. But I’m serious, I can hear a beeping sound.”

Oikawa sighs as he rolls over, grabbing the phone to do as he’s told.

“I can’t hear anything.”

Kuroo shushes him, looking so concentrated Oikawa think he mights shit his pants, and then his eyes widen. “Oh fuck,oh god it’s the smoke detector! Get the fuck up right now, fuck—”

Oikawa rises faster than the second coming of Christ. Alarm bells go off in his head. “Oh my god,”  he yells, staring at the smoke detector, “oh fuck, what do we do—”

But Kuroo is already going through the five stages of grief, holding his head in his hands.  “I’m going to get fired. I’m going to be homeless. I’m going to be the first RA fired for smoking weed and getting caught—”

Oikawa cannot let his bro do this to himself. He slaps Kuroo with all the love he has for him and grabs him by the shoulder. “Tetsu, listen to me. You’re not going to get caught, get your shit together right now.”

Suddenly, your words from earlier flash through his head. “The window! Tetsu, the window!”  Oikawa yells, pushing Kuroo towards it. “Open the damn window, I’ll start fanning the smoke.”

Kuroo stumbles his way to the window, panic making his hands clumsy, proving to be detrimental to his task. Eventually,he manages to pull it open, while Oikawa flaps a pillow at the smoke as if he’s a bird trying to take flight.

“Shut up already!” Oikawa yells at the detector, as if it could listen to him.

Kuroo takes the blunt they were smoking and throws it into a week old cup of coffee laying around on his desk. It’s only after all these measures that the smoke detector finally stops ringing.

The adrenaline rushes out of their system like the smoke and they fall to the floor, looking like the final five minutes of a yoga class.

Oikawa’s heart hasn’t even found peace before Kuroo lifts his head and asks, “Wanna try rolling another one?”

.

.

.

Oikawa is what mere mortals would call a genius. But only selectively, because it’s too much effort to be good at everything. Sometimes, even geniuses like him want to have fun.

But on the rare day that being a genius and having fun aligns, it’s a damn good day.

“You cannot call yourself a genius for rolling a blunt.” Kuroo scoffs, but he’s simply jealous that when he tried, all the weed kept falling out. “Y/N taught you so it’s not a fair fight.”

“Unfortunately, I just watched her.” Oikawa sighs, thinking about how you could teach him while sitting on his lap. Next time.

“You gonna date her?” Kuroo asks, passing the blunt to him.

“I don’t know. It’s not like we talked about it. I’ll think about it later.” Oikawa takes a drag and breathes out. “I doubt she’s looking for anything serious.”

He passes the blunt back to Kuroo who takes a long, long drag. It makes Oikawa laugh,  “Woah, take it easy bro.”

“It’s fine.” he shrugs it off. “I need it.”

“Damn, you really have been stressed, huh?” Oikawa says, patting his shoulder. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Don’t tell me you’re getting all emo again.” Kuroo teases. “I don’t want to think about any of it right now anyway. This is nice.”

“I know.” Oikawa marvels. “I can’t believe this is the first time we’ve tried to destress like this.”

“I think my methods are fine.”

“Eating three pints of ice cream every time you fail a test is far from fine.”

“Yeah it is. It makes me happy.”

Oikawa shrugs and lets it go. Really, he can’t argue with that. Who is he to prevent Kuroo from getting diabetes?

“Speaking of happiness, you know what would be good right now?” Kuroo asks.

Oikawa shakes his head.

“Chicken nuggets and fries.”

“Bro.”

.

.

.

In times of need, they call their honorary college bro: Bokuto.

Also known as Kuroo’s high school volleyball bronemesis, the sass master, Oikawa’s gym buddy and many other names.

Today, he is their delivery man.

Kuroo puts him on speaker. “Hey! What’s up bro?”

“I’m with Tooru.”

“Hey bro!” Oikawa pipes up.

“Bro! Where are you guys?”

“Nothing you want to know—” Oikawa says mysteriously at the same time Kuroo says, “We’re smoking weed in an empty parking lot.”

“Say no more.” Bokuto says.

“Bro, you love us right?” Kuroo asks.

There’s a silence and then comes Bokuto’s hesitant voice, “What do you need?”

“Can you buy us chicken nuggets and fries from McDonalds?”

“I want coke!” Oikawa hurriedly adds.

“Two cokes,” Bokuto confirms, “I’ll meet you at Tetsu’s dorm?”

“Yeah, we’ll be there.”

.

.

.

The two bros skip their way back to Kuroo’s dorm holding hands. What a sight that would have been, but it’s college. Surely, there’s been weirder encounters.

Bokuto arrives a few minutes later, and is greeted by their cheers.

“Our Saviour is here!” Oikawa whoops, grabbing the food and drinks out of Bokuto’s hands, as Kuroo launches himself onto Bokuto for a hug.

“Bro! Did you get that sauce I like?”

Bokuto rolls his eyes. For the first time ever,he’s the most sensible one in the room. “Of course, how could I forget?”

Oikawa is smiling, but not at them. At the food, which he is carefully setting up on the floor. He hopes Kuroo has vacuumed this floor at least once this semester. He knows he’s going to drop a fry on the floor, and he’s not physically okay enough to calculate how much bacteria builds up on a french fry after the five second rule.

(Later, he drops a french fry and eats it anyway.)

Like all good things, their night ends. McDonalds devoured, and heart finally at peace— Oikawa is ready to go home.

“Let’s do this again bro!” he says as he gives Kuroo a hug.

“After finals?” Kuroo says, squeezing him tight.

“Sure.”

“Text me when you’re home. Love you bro.”

“Love you too, Tetsu.” Oikawa says, smiling. His heart feels warm at the sentiment. He was about to bully Kuroo into saying Oikawa is the best roommate in the world, but he’ll settle for love you bro.

Fuck toxic masculinity.

Bokuto drives him home, although his dorm is only two blocks away and bids his goodbyes too. He feels happy; there’s stars in the sky, weed in his system. What more could he ask for but sleep?

When he arrives at his front door, getting ready to put his key in the lock, he pauses. He turns his head to the left, and looks at the door at the far end.

He’s drawn to it, and finds himself knocking before he can have any second thoughts.

He hears footsteps at the door, and there’s a brief nerve-wrecking moment where he’s tempted to run away— then the door opens, revealing you in a massive t-shirt.

“Hi.” Oikawa greets, feeling sheepish now that you’re in front of him. “Am I bothering you?”

You smile softly at him. “No, I was waiting for you.”

a/n:you’re welcome. just kidding!! this is one of my most favourite fics so i hope you enjoyed reading it… i tend to write a lot of serious long fics so it must be weird seeing this but alas, i have hidden depths. two buddies smoking weed can be so personal.

writing silly fics like these make me wonder why i torture myself with all my long fics… p.s some scenes may or may not be based off of my irl experiences… heh

[21:35]

“Chicken.”

You look up at the offender, locking eyes with one Hinata Shoyo. He flashes you a knowing smirk.

It’sKageyama’s leaving party, and instead of making the most of what time you have left with him, you’re sitting on the couch nursing your fragile heart with glasses of wine.

You’ve had all these years to confess your feelings, but everytime you go to say the words, you come up with nothing. Even tonight, you had been planning to say something, anything, and then Kageyama goes and announces he’s leaving to go play abroad in the Italian league and your heart sinks.

So far, you’re three glasses down and you don’t feel anything except for the room starting to spin.

“Shut up.” You growl, glaring at him. You’re dejected enough, you don’t need anymore salt being rubbed into your wound.

He takes a seat next to you, nudging your shoulder with his.

“You’re an idiot, you know.” He says wistfully. “You’ve always been the smartest person I know, yet you’re so dumb when it comes to love.”

You scoff, “As if you’re some casanova yourself.”

He takes you by the shoulders, shaking you gently as you grunt. “Look, would I ever lie to you?”

You meet his eyes. Hinata is a lot of things— He’s painfully optimistic, naive and endlessly happy. But he’s not a liar.

You shake your head.

“Exactly. So believe me when I tell you he’s in love with you too.”

You let out a deep sigh. “How many times do I have to tell you that-“

“And how many times do I have to tell you that you’re wrong?”

He waves something in front of your face, and it takes you a moment to realise it’s a phone. You snatch the offending item away from your face and it’s not until you look at the lock screen that you find out it’s not his. It’s Kageyama’s.

“Why do you have his phone?” You ask, eyeing him suspiciously.

“To prove a point.” He says simply. “Try to unlock it.”

He walks away before you can say anything more. You know it’s wrong. You know you should do the right thing and give it back before he realises it’s missing.

But you don’t— instead, you become intrigued and try to figure out what exactly Kageyama would have as his passcode.

You start inputting random shit at first and it’s all wrong so you try to come up with a strategy. You put in your graduation date from Karasuno. Wrong. You put in Hinata’s birthday. Wrong. The day he signed up to the Adlers. Wrong.

You put in his own birthday and still, it’s wrong.

You type in your birthday without much thought— it was your last attempt before you would end up disabling his phone for an hour so you might aswell go out with a bang.

But the phone doesn’t lock. It opens, and his home screen is staring back at you, almost tauntingly. You blink and press the lock button quickly.

Deep breath, and you type in your birthday again. The phone unlocks, again.

“Is that my phone?” A voice calls out behind you.

You freeze like a deer caught in headlights.

“Yes?” You admit sheepishly.

“What are you doing?” He chuckles, taking a seat next to you and smiling softly.

“Trying to unlock your phone.”

Silence. There’s a shift in the air between you two.

“Well,” there’s something weird in Kageyama’s voice, “did you manage to open it?”

This is your opportunity. You could say yes, you could let everything out and get this burden off your shoulder. This is the perfect time to confess.

But you don’t. Maybe Hinata was justified in dubbing you a chicken earlier.

“Nah, couldn’t guess your password.”

“Idiot.” He teases, holding his hand out so you can plop the phone down onto his palm. You watch him type the passcode carefully, holding the screen at an angle away from you so he can shield the passcode.

Your birthday. Kageyama isn’t one for sentimental things but your birthday is his passcode.

“So what did you need?” He asks.

“Nothing, was just gonna take ugly pictures on your phone.” You shrug it off, trying to sound casual even though your cheeks are burning. “Don’t want you to forget my face when you go off to Rome.”

“As if I could.” You look at him only to see he’s already staring at you, tenderness plain as day on his face.

“Congratulations, Tobio.” You say, linking your pinkie with his, just like you used to do as a kid when you were nervous and wanted him to comfort you.

“Thanks y/n.” He says, squeezing your pinky with his. “I hope you don’t forget me too.”

There’s so many unsaid words floating between you two right now, so many questions you want the answers to. You want so desperately to let out your feelings, but with him moving so far away, you’re not ready for the risks of a long-distance relationship.

So you bite your tongue and smile back. This is enough, you try to convince yourself.

This is enough for now.

this summer, i…

↳ i. (got lost in you)

miya osamu x reader, 8.5k

SUMMARY: sometimes the best way to get over someone is to actually just date them. or in your hopeless case, ask them to help you practice dating.

series masterlist

a/n: well… she’s back ! i’ll be updating twice a week so if you’ve already read these chaps u won’t be waiting long for the end ! hope u enjoy :’) for anyone who was on my previous taglist, let me know if you’re still interested !

You were going through an existential crisis. Every college student was entitled to one, right? What do I do with my life? What’s my purpose? Will I ever find the true meaning to happiness? Has anyone actually come out of life unscathed? Has anyone actually found an answer?

You think you have. Your existential crisis came in the form of Miya Osamu.

This was the reality of your situation:

One, Miya Osamu is a third year business major, close friend, and the object of your affection for the past two years.

Second, this big fat crush you’ve been harbouring is preventing you from living life to the fullest. College is meant to be the time when you date around and experiment to learn what you want in a relationship. You can’t do that when you’ve only got eyes for one person.

Third, given the first two points, you’ve come to the conclusion that you just need to get over Miya Osamu.

The first question is: how?

When you tell Suna over a bowl of curry at lunch, he doesn’t take you seriously. “You say that like you haven’t been trying, since you saw him going on a date with someone else.”

You frown back at him. That had been the first time you’d realised that nothing was going to come out of your feelings. After seeing him in that cafe with another girl, this is the conclusion you’ve reached. To Osamu, you were just a friend so your feelings would never come to any fruition.

It’sfine,you think to yourself. You’ve had months to accept it, and now it’s time for you to move on. “I haven’t tried hard enough,” is what you say.

“And why is that?” Suna asks, looking at you seriously.

“Do you really have to be serious all the time?” You pout. “Do you really have to be a psych major right now?”

“I’mgenuinely asking you,” he responds, “because I want to know how different things will be this time around.”

“Ok, but I’m determined this time!” You smile, “I’m in my early 20s, my primeyears— don’t you think someone as pretty as me deserves to have a fun love life?”

In response, Suna starts eating again and you whine at him. “Rin, come on, won’t you help me out?”

“The best way to move on is to just tell him how you feel and let him reject you.” he says seriously. “You’re the type of person who needs a rejection, otherwise you’ll just keep hoping.”

“What hope are you talking about?” You ask. “I’ve never actually believedthat Osamu would date me. It was just a lot of wishful thinking.” You say this matter-of-factly, as if you’re talking about the weather, or like how Miya Osamu has grey hair. “I don’t need to be rejected so I don’t need to confess anything.”

Suna sighs at your words. “So what are you going to do? Use somebody as a rebound to get over him? How are you even going to do that when you compare everyone to Osamu.”

You open your mouth to deny but he beats you to it. “Don’t even— do you know how many times I’ve witnessed you rejecting someone because ‘they’re not as nice as Osamu’, or because they’re not being romantic enough? This isn’t a movie Y/N. You have to start being more realistic.”

“Then what do you want me to do?” you pout. “It’s not my fault everyone pales in comparison! It’s not like I can just date him to get it out of my system.”

The gears start to turn in your head as soon as the words leave your mouth. You’ve read enough novels, and watched enough movies to know that fake-dating someone you like can only end two ways: either you both fall in love for real, or get your heart broken. There’s a 99% possibility that Osamu would break your heart. But that one percent…

Your eyes light up and Suna groans, seeing the look on your face. “No, don’t even think about it.”

“You haven’t even heard what I was going to say!” you whine.

Suna just sighs, looking unconvinced, but lets you continue.

You straighten your back, declaring, “I’ll ask Osamu to be my practice boyfriend, so I can practice going on dates.”

“Terrible idea. Osamu would never agree to it.”

.

.

.

“Sure, I’ll do it.” Osamu says casually when you ask.

You blink. You had been prepared to grovel, shed tears and pull out a presentation on why Miya Osamu should be your practice boyfriend. You had even made sure to do it when he was in the middle of eating to make sure he was in a good mood. And here he was, not even looking up and agreeing? Something’s not right.

Safe to say, you’re suspicious. “Oh,” you scratch your head, “just like that?”

Osamu looks at you, in the middle of slurping some noodles, and doesn’t even take his time to finish chewing and swallowing before responding, mouth full and cheeks puffed up, “Well, you’re going to treat me, right?”

It hurts your pride that his gross manners still makes him unbelievably cute.

“Ah, there’s the Samu I know!” you clap your hands and smile when Osamu predictably glares at you.

“Nevermind,” Osamu says, turning away from you and taking his meal with him too. “You are clearly not grateful enough. It’s sad, because I am so kind.”

You want to laugh again, but you hide it with a cough. “Samu, please,” you whine, “I’ll treat you to food.”

Osamu turns back to you, but only partially. But you know you’ve successfully baited him already. “How much food?”

“As much as my minimum wage job can procure,” you promise, but with the intent to break it. Osamu was a garbage truck when it came to food, and you were going to be broker than broke if Osamu wasn’t given set limits.

Osamu nods, reaching out to fist bump you to conclude your agreement. You cheer and meet his fist.

And Suna thought you wouldn’t even get him to agree. It is really all too easy.

.

.

.

But then you didn’t really think that far ahead on what this practice dating would entail. You’re easily swept away by grand ideas and tend to forget the details for execution. Worry not, you’re already working on fixing this.

“You may be wondering why I’ve called you in for a meeting,” you begin, sitting primly at Osamu and Suna’s dining table. (To call it a dining table is like calling a child a man, but this is not your apartment, so you can’t judge toohard.)

“In my own apartment?” Osamu slides into the chair, so that you’re facing each other, “Do you ever stay at your own place?”

You narrow your eyes at him, “Of course, I do. Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about the practice boyfriend thingy—”

Osamu leans back, smirking, “The practice boyfriend thingy?”

You pull out a piece of paper, huffing and trying hard not to regret your decision, “I just think we should probably write down some ground rules on it, especially if you’re going to do it in exchange for compensation—”

“Did Miwa coach you through this—”

“Are you going to let me finish talking?” you wait for him to finish miming the zipping of his lips, before continuing, “Also, no, I did not learn this from our favourite pre-law student. This was in To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before. I figured it’s probably good to write down what we’re both comfortable with and what kind of lessons we’ll be doing?”

Osamu looks at you thoughtfully, “Well, in terms of lessons, that’s up to you, right? Like what do you want to practise?”

When you think about relationships, you think of pretty idyllic images of first dates, holding hands while walking underneath cherry blossom trees, and kissing. You’re sure Osamu would bully you if you actually said this out loud. So vaguely, you say, “Just dating in general, I guess? The thought of going on dates makes me nervous. Like what do I do? What do I wear? What’s a good place for a date?”

“These things you kind of have to experience to know?” Osamu says, slowly, leaning forward and propping his chin on the palm of his hand, “Like we should probably just go on an actual date and you can be as bad of a first date without repercussions. I think that’s the best way.”

You nod, letting the idea sink in, “That could work.”

Osamu nods, “You can pay me back easily with a meal too,” and then he grins, “so I was thinking you should take me out somewhere expensive—”

You kick his leg under the table, “Please remember I’m a college student just like you.”

Osamu doesn’t even bat an eye at your violent reaction. “Is that it?” Osamu steals the paper and pen from your grasp and writes the word dates in a comically small font on the blank page.

You scratch your head, “I don’t really have any experience, so I don’t really know what I need to know. I’ll just trust you on this. You’re the one who’s been on a thousand dates.”

You laugh when you see the unamused expression on Osamu’s face. “You make it sound like I’ve dated a lot, it’s only been a couple of times.”

“Only been a couple of times,” you mock, “Samu, I’ve seen you at parties. You’re the biggest flirt I know.”

Your own desensitisation to Osamu’s flirtatiousness is a testament to how many times you’ve seen it. You’ve long accepted defeat. Osamu leans back in his chair and smiles, “Is that why you came to me? You clearly admire my talent.”

“That is so not it,” you roll your eyes. And then because you like to get the last word, even at the cost of being vulnerable, you glance away and admit, “It’s because I trust you the most. That’s why I asked.”

You peek at his reaction and feel a weird sense of delight at the taken aback look on his face. It’s got you feeling like you’ve won something for once.

“Oh,” Osamu says softly, and then he just looks heart wrenchingly kind. “I’ll take care of you.”

Your heartbeat ricochets off to the horizon. There is perhaps no winning against Miya Osamu.

.

.

.

The first date doesn’t happen for a while, so much so that you almost forget about the whole thing. You say almost because Suna reminds you of it every once in a while, like an evil Duolingo owl. But midterms season comes at you hard, and all the practice dating business is swept under the rug.

For the sake of your grades, you put yourself under the tutelage of Miwa, dear friend and also the scariest person you know. As long as she’s watching you, you know you’ll stay focused on work.

Like now for example, it’s a Wednesday night, which typically means watching a new episode of some zombie show at Osamu and Suna’s apartment. They had found it recently and for once, Suna was interested in a drama you had suggested. You hope they’re not watching it without you tonight as you slave over your studies at the library.

You peek over at Miwa, who is studiously outlining her textbook and comparing it with the notes she had taken in class. She looks so at peace studying, that it must be why they chose her as the model for the university’s pre-law program.

Miwa must feel you looking at her, because without even looking up from her textbook, she asks, “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” you say, going back to your textbook. But the history notes you’re trying to study are looking blurrier by the second. You want to take a break already, but you’ve only been here for an hour. Still, you try to persevere.

A moment later, your phone buzzes and you’re delighted to see that it’s a text from your group chat with Suna and Osamu. You swipe to see the notification:

From Suna: Where are you? Are you really studying? >:(

You snort at Suna’s doubt and reply: you’ve caught me. i’m actually on a date with miwa <3

You get a response immediately: Miwa is too good for you. She would never!!

Followed by a message from Osamu: are you :o cheating on me already?

You shake your head at Suna’s predictability. He is so obvious with his massive crush on Miwa. You ignore Osamu’s message. The teasing is an unfortunate side effect of asking him to be your practice boyfriend.

You open your camera and point it at Miwa, “Miwa, Rin wants proof that I’m actually studying with you.”

“Is Rintarou your mom?” Miwa drily asks but poses cute nonetheless.

You smirks, immediately sending the pic to the group chat. “No, but he nags like he is,” is what you tell her. You locs your phone and pretend to look at your textbook as you wait for the notifications to come in.

You don’t have to wait long. Your phone buzzes so much that you have to switch it to silent mode due to Miwa’s judgemental look. You smile sheepishly and unlock your phone to see what Suna has to say.

Suna is crying in your messages: She is so cute :’(

Though almost immediately, he sends another message full of his suspicions: How do I know she didn’t send this to you?

Osamu decides to add on to his previous message: wow, so you’re really cheating on me :(

You roll your eyes at both of them and type furiously: Why would Miwa send me a selfie of herself studying to fool you? Also, please be quiet, Osamu-kun :)

But your response doesn’t even make a difference. Suna texts back: I think I have to go over there to check for myself.

While Osamu texts: Buy my silence. For the price of one shin ramen, I will be quiet for the five minutes it takes me to eat—

You put your phone down, refusing to read any further. Apologetic, you turn to Miwa, “Hope you don’t mind, but Rin might be stopping by.”

Miwa shakes her head but it’s more good-natured than anything. She smiles, “Fine. But tell him to bring coffee and snacks with him.”

“You want your usual coffee?” you ask, and Miwa hums affirmatively. You send one last text to the group chat, basically telling Suna to get you and Miwa snacks and food as well as your location in the library.

You assume that you’ll get nothing done once Suna comes around, so you actually seriously study in the meantime. You aren’t that bad of a student anyway; you just need to study with someone strict like Miwa, so your brain doesn’t wander endlessly. In class, you’re actually pretty studious.

Half an hour later, you see the impact of Suna’s arrival first — in front of you, Miwa brightens considerably and when you turn around, you see Suna walking like he’s the male lead of a K-drama. He must have brushed his hair, changed his clothes from the pyjamas you for sure know he was wearing to a stylish outfit, and his smile is in full force. You can’t stand him. He did not get dressed this nicely just to check if you were actually studying.

Suna barely looks at you, and instead his attention is fully on Miwa as he cradles the coffee he got for her. “Hey, Miwa-kun.”

“Rin,” Miwa greets, tone sweet enough to replace sugar in coffee, “Is that my coffee?”

Suna nods, handing it over, “Yup, one caramel macchiato.”

Miwa thanks him with starry eyes and a smile. It’s only then you notice that Suna only had one coffee with him, and you fight the urge to whack him with your textbook. You settle for glaring at him, “What about me? Where’s the coffee I asked for?”

Suna shrugs, “I don’t have it with me. I’m sorry I accidentally dropped it, but it’s okay, your mom told me you shouldn’t be allowed to drink coffee past dinner—”

Just as you’re about to retort, somebody’s hand places an iced americano in front of you. You look up wide-eyed to see Osamu cooly winking at you, “Ah, so you were actually studying.”

“Samu,” you’re surprised to see him since he didn’t say he was coming by too, “What are you doing here?”

Osamu pinches your cheek, “I wanted to make sure we were pausing our show for a good reason.”

You pout, “I’m actually studying, so you guys don’t have to check up on me.”

“Lesson #1,” Osamu sighs, “Practice boyfriends should check up and bring coffee as support.”

You flush at that, tugging at your ear that was definitely turning bright red. “Well, thank you.”

Osamu thankfully turns his attention to Miwa and Suna, while you start sipping your coffee to distract yourself from the way Osamu is pressed to your side, and how his fingers are absentmindedly playing with random strands of your hair.

You don’t know why you’re getting so affected by these things. You’ve always been touchy with Osamu, never really worrying about looking too affectionate, since you act that way with everybody. But now, it’s like the same things are felt through different lenses. Is it because Osamu is saying he’s doing things as your “practice boyfriend”? You really don’t know.

Once Suna is done flirting with Miwa and thanked her for helping his poor friend study, Osamu does a small laugh and turns to you again. “Think you’ll ace your midterms?”

You sigh at the reminder but smile up at him, “With enough motivation, I should be able to. Miwa will make sure of it.”

Osamu leans down and you think it’s to kiss your head goodbye as he always does, but instead he leans close to your ear. He whispers so that Miwa and Suna can’t hear, “If you do well, I’ll take you out on that date. That should be enough motivation, right?”

“You’re so full of yourself,” you bristle at the suggestion, but Osamu just smirks as he pulls away. Where does he get the confidence and the shamelessness to say all these things?

Nevertheless, you hope all of this satisfies your heart enough, so by the time it’s over, you can easily move on and let this stupid crush go.

The way your heart clenches tells a premonition you refuse to acknowledge though.

.

.

.

Before you know it, midterms seasons pass and you’ve actually done well enough for yourself. It’s all thanks to Miwa and her hard work. You’d crashed hard at Suna’s apartment and threw yourself at his arms, whose owner had groaned and complained that you were too heavy now to be doing stuff like this. You usually ignore his complaints, because his actions are typically the opposite of his words.

Once you’ve gotten your dose of comfort from your best friend, you happily move on, ready as ever to put that harrowing experience aside. You won’t admit it out loud, but you had taken midterms a bit more seriously this time. You’ve never been the type to put too much pressure on yourself to do well for less important classes, but there was a prize waiting for you this time if you did well.

A date, you thought with a giddiness that had you rolling around your twin sized XL dorm bed and almost falling to the floor.

You hope your grades reflect your hard work and high hopes for once.

A week later, as you’re getting coffee with Miwa, you get the notification that your grades are up.

“Oh my god,” you exclaim, surprising Miwa beside you.

“What’s wrong?” Miwa looks at you concerned.

You shove your phone at her, “God, I can’t look, you look. Tell me that I passed.”

Miwa takes your phone from your waiting hand and you can see her click through the screen. Suddenly, Miwa frowns and you immediately panics, “Oh god, what’s wrong? How bad is it—”

Miwa hands your phone back to you, “It needs your login information.”

“Miwa,god,” you could have screamed. You put your login information quickly and hand it back to her, “Open it already.”

Miwa is patient enough that she doesn’t even roll her eyes at your demands. Your heart is pounding, jaw tense, and then suddenly, Miwa looks at you with a bright smile, “Y/N! You did really well—”

You grab your phone back to look for yourself and right there on the screen shows your midterm grades for your classes, and they’re all surprisingly… decent? They’re not just passing scores either, some of them are in the 90s range. “I can’t believe this,” you wrap your arms around her in a tight hug, “Me, doing well in all my classes? Sounds fake.”

Miwa pats your head, “See? I told you that hard work never lies. We should celebrate, preferably with some ice cream.”

You laugh, “You and Rin have the same taste. But okay, today it’s my treat. Anything you want, Miwa-kun.”

Miwa does a quiet little cheer with both her hands. “I know a place,” she says, then starts leading the way.

You screenshot your scores and send it to the person that’s been on your mind all day, worried that if you don’t do that now, you’ll forget (as if you could). You mute your phone’s message notifications immediately after sending it, because you’re nervous of what Osamu will reply with. You’ll check it when you’re ready.

That time happens to come when you’ve made it back to your room and you’re happily showered and in bed. Clutching the stuffed toy you sleep with at night, you finally open your messages and see that there’s a couple messages from Osamu.

The first text says: good job!!!!!!!!!

And the second text says: should I keep my promise? :^)

You roll around in your bed to scream into a pillow. When you’ve let whatever emotion Osamu has inspired out, you calmly compose a reply: thank u and yes you should!

Osamu replies immediately: ok. be free and cute on saturday. my treat.

Your heart flutters at the text message and you hate how your brain can’t differentiate this practice date from something real. You respond: but i’m already cute all the time!!

well, Osamu’s final text message says, be even cuter. it’s a date.

You fall off the bed this time around. But if no one saw and the only evidence is that it takes you an extra five minutes to reply (your butt hurts and it’s distracting you from choosing an appropriate emoji), then did it really happen?

Your calm, cool, and collected response is:it’s a date

.

.

.

Saturday comes soon enough, but not without Suna pestering you for details. It was a mistake to decide to meet at their apartment. You’re not even early, but Osamu had seen your outfit and then stomped back into his room, yelling, “Y/N, you forgot to tell me what you were wearing!”

You look down at your clothes, a nice top, some blue jeans, boots and a leather jacket. Is it not cool enough to pass Osamu’s fashion taste? Whatever, you think, settling down on the couch next to Suna, who turns to you and says, “Can’t believe this is really happening. My baby’s first date—”

“It’s not a real date,” You say cooly, “It’s for practice, stupid.”

“Oh?” Suna raises his brow, and then pulls out his phone, “Then why were you texting Miwa for date advice?”

You purse your mouth and fight the temptation to stick your tongue out, “Why do you know that? Why is Miwa snitching on me to you?”

Suna does not fight the temptation and sticks his tongue out. “We were hanging out, and she just mentioned it. I thought you were trying to keep it a secret.”

“I thought Miwa could keep her mouth shut,” you grumble, sinking back against the couch cushions. “What’s going on with you and Miwa?”

“Nothing,” Suna shrugs, nonchalant. “We’ve just been hanging out a lot. She’s super fun and friendly,and she likes sushi.”

You roll your eyes, “Everything I’m not.”

Suna claps his hands with delight, “Oh? You said it, not me.”

“God, Samu, hurry up before I kill your roommate,” you call out, turning away from Suna’s ugly face. You joke, “You already look beautiful, please,I’m hungry…”

Suna snorts, leaning closer to whisper, “Hey, try not to sound like you’re absolutely in love.”

Thankfully, Osamu decides to grace you all with his presence, walking out in a very similar outfit to what you’re wearing. You stand up, surprised. “Oh, we’re matching?”

Osamu smiles proudly at himself, extending a hand towards you, “Cute, right? It’s not a date if we’re not wearing a couple look. This is lesson number one.”

“Well, you should have said so,” you pout, putting your hands on your hips.

“Ah, stop pouting,” Osamu whines, shaking his outstretched hand for you to take, “Come on, I’m hungry, we should eat already.”

You shyly take his hand, but Osamu intertwines your hands without hesitation and pulls you out of the door. It leaves you stuttering out a goodbye to Suna, who sends you two thumbs up while mouthing, stay strong!

Tell that to my runaway heart, Suna Rintarou . A couple look and they’re holding hands already? It’s only eleven in the morning and there’s only one word for the state you’re in: shambles. You are in shambles.

You don’t know where Osamu’s taking you, but you’re content to just follow for now. As shy as it makes you, you’re glad to be holding hands too. It’s a chilly morning, even with the sun high and shining; and holding hands is good for warmth, amongst other things you don’t have the current mental capacity to dwell on right now.

Osamu squeezes your joined hands, “Sincerely, congrats on doing well in your midterms. I remember everything gets harder beginning your second year.”

“Thanks,” you give him a dimpled grin, “But, yeah, I already miss being a first year. Now I can’t even skip classes.”

“You shouldn’t skip classes in the first place anyway,” Osamu nags at you, but you just bat your eyelashes at him, innocent, and then Osamu sighs, “Okay, fine, I’m not going to lecture you when I’ve done my share of skipping—”

You intentionally bump your shoulders against his and laugh, “Good, that’s better. You were starting to sound like Rin. No offence, but only Miwa is allowed to nag at me about school.”

“Full offence,” Osamu deadpans, “Why do you respect Miwa, who’s younger than you, but never listen to me or Suna, huh?”

“Because Miwa can crumple me with one hand,” you say easily. “She invited me to go with her to the gym once and the girl was lifting weights heavier than me. I think she invited me for a specific reason…”

Osamu throws his head back laughing, “I know Suna doesn’t work out much, but I do. And I definitely lift weights heavier than you. Why aren’t you scared then?”

You smile angelically and steel yourself for the potential backlash, “Well, Samu, I know you adore me. Why would I be scared of you?”

Immediately, Osamu reaches over with his free hand and pinches your cheek hard, “You think just because you’re cute you’re not gonna get beat up one day?”

You try to pull away, but Osamu evidently works out. Stuck in place, you stick your tongue out, “When that day comes, let me know and I’d like to see you try to catch me.”

Osamu frowns at that, letting you go and patting your cheek, “Hey, you’re not saying stuff like this to other people, right? You’re really going to get beat up one day if you are.”

This is exactly why you aren’t afraid. Osamu underneath all the smirks, all the posturing, and the daredevil attitude, is a sweet, caring person. He could have said that in the first place, but well… where’s the fun in that?

You change the subject, “Sure. Now what about food?”

“Almost there, it’s just up the street ahead.”

They come to a stop in front of a cafe, with floor to ceiling windows, wooden tables and tons of greenery. Osamu pulls open the glass door and gestures for you to go in first, and you do, with eyes flitting upon every pretty thing in the cafe. What catches your eyes is the way the light filters in from the windows and falls; what is muted becomes bright.

“Y/N,” Osamu calls you over, already looking at the menu, “What do you want to eat?”

“Woah,” you marvel at it, a simple one page menu, but there were watercolour renditions of each item they served. “Those pancakes look good, should we get that?”

“Which one? Do you want the one with fruits or with chocolate?”

You hum in thought, “Let’s go with fruit, since the strawberries look good.”

“Okay, cool,” Osamu says, then points at the drinks, “Did you have coffee already?”

“No, but I kind of want the fruity drinks instead. That strawberry lemon tea looks good too,” you murmur, scanning the menu. “Ugh, why does everything look good?”

Osamu laughs, “I think I’m going to get just an Americano.”

“Should I do that too?”

“No, you should get what you want,” Osamu gently pushes you to the counter, so you can start ordering.

You do end up ordering the strawberry lemon tea and you order for Osamu as well as your shared pancake. Just as you’re about to pull out your purse, Osamu reaches over you and tells the cashier to take his card instead.

“But—” you try to interrupt,  but Osamu just winks at you and any protests you have dies down. “My treat, remember?”

When he finishes paying, you take a table in the far corner of the cafe, right by a window. You let out a pleased sigh, looking out into the street, “This is so nice, how did you find this place?”

“A friend suggested it,” Osamu says vaguely, “I’ve actually been meaning to try it for a while, but just never had the chance.”

You nod, “Thanks for paying, by the way. Even though I’m supposed to pay…”

“Don’t worry, we can go out to eat at another time, and you can definitely pay then,” Osamu says, cheekily. “Just say thank you, Samu. You’re the best, Samu.”

“You’re the best, Osamu-kun,” you say, a touch too sincere for a practice date at eleven am. Well, you’ve never hidden your affection for him that well anyway. You don’t need to when Osamu interprets it all as friendly love. Some things are better lost in translation.

Osamu glows with the praise, patting his own shoulder, “I know, wait until the food gets here, then you’ll be even more amazed.”

And you are amazed when the food gets to the table. The server approaches you with your drinks that look as dreamy as their watercolour counterparts, and the pancakes are covered in powdered sugar so fine it looks like snow. When the server sets your food on the table, you’re surprised to see actual watercolour paints, brushes and paper with the meal.

“Ta-da!” Osamu excitedly cheers, “This cafe is actually known as a place you can paint at with an order of a drink.”

You’re starry-eyed at the array of colours the cafe has provided you with. You turn to him, pouting, “Hey, why are you unfairly good at everything?”

Osamu sips his Americano and shrugs, “Some people are just perfect. What can we do?”

“Alright, alright,” you’re hungry, you’ll eat first, before Osamu eats all of it by himself.

You cut yourself a piece of the pancake, making sure to get each element of the dish on your fork, and finally eat it. You wiggle happily at the sweet taste, “This is so good. I’m happy.”

Osamu laughs, “I’m glad.”

You’re both so hungry, you finish the pancake in just a couple of minutes. You let Osamu have the last piece, “Since you paid, you can have it.”

Osamu shakes his head, “No, since it’s my treat to you, you should have it.”

You purse your lips, “I’m full. Seriously, you should eat it. I’m going to start painting.”

“You eat like a little bird,” Osamu says, amused. But he ends up finishing up the last bite of the pancake, so really, you pay him no mind. You’ve been itching to play with the watercolour paints since the beginning.

You grab a pencil to try and sketch out a scene for you to paint, but your mind comes up blank. You hum quietly in thought, “What should I draw?”

“Draw me,” Osamu suggests, striking a pose, “Paint me like one of your french boys.”

You laugh, “I’ve never actually seen that movie.”

“It’s a classic. I think even Suna has seen it,” Osamu pushes your trays of food to the side, bringing his own watercolour supplies closer to him.

“Don’t like tragic endings. What’s the point? If you’re gonna write a love story, might as well make it happy.” You watched Brokeback Mountain once. It was devastating and you’d vowed never to watch it again. “Also, sure I’ll draw and paint you, if you do the same for me. But if it’s ugly, I’m going to be real sad.”

Osamu’s jaw drops, offended, “I’ve taken an art elective once. No need to be judgy, Picasso. If mine turns out ugly, I’ll be really mad. If this was a real date, I’d be mad enough not to want a second date.”

You copy what he said in a mocking way and laugh when Osamu tries to grab you from the other side of the table. “Okay, be quiet. I need to concentrate, so I can earn this hypothetical second date.”

Osamu snorts before copying what you said in the same mocking tone. You laugh again. You get along so well.

You guys end up focusing on your drawings, promising not to reveal to each other what it looks like until you’re both finished. You realise that you’ve been too focused on painting that you’ve gone quiet for a while. “Hey, shouldn’t we be talking? Is that what people do on dates?”

“Yes and no,” Osamu answers, without looking up from his work, “You should just be having fun and getting to know the other person on a date. There’s not really a lot of rules.”

“Hmm, I am having a lot of fun not hearing your voice,” You smirk, but get a deserved kick in the leg for it. “Ow, that hurts!”

“Lesson number ten, you probably shouldn’t insult your date,” Osamu says.

“Lesson number ten, you probably shouldn’t insult your date,” You copy again in a mocking way, “Also, how are we at lesson number ten already? And how am I supposed to get to know you, when we’re already friends?”

“I’m not keeping count, I just choose whatever number pops up in my head,” Osamu says, dipping his brush in water to wash out the colour that he’s using, “Anyway, to your other question, there’s always more to know. For example, first impressions?”

“I should be asking you that,” you snort, “Pretty sure, you hated me when we first met.”

Osamu laughs out loud at that, “That’s just my face when it’s resting. Also! You were the one who hated me. Always hanging around in my apartment with Suna, and whenever I said hi, you’d just nod coldly!”

“Because!” you laugh too, “You were scary and intimidating. If only you’d cracked your lame dad jokes earlier…”

Osamu finally looks up at you, “How was I scary and intimidating? I remember I offered you oranges. I was sonice!”

“And when I peeled them, you demanded I give you some,” you say, all matter-of-fact.

“I asked nicely! I didn’t realise it was the last orange and I was hungry,” Osamu explains.

“I was under duress, what if you kicked me out if I didn’t give it back?”

“Wow,” Osamu says, “You really thought your best friend was rooming with such a scary person?”

You smile, a gesture of mock comfort, “Don’t worry, I don’t think that at all anymore.”

Osamu glares at you, before sighing. You think it’s so funny when he does that, knowing you’re the cause. Osamu goes back to finishing up his painting, “So? When did your perception of me change then?”

It is an essay worthy question.

Contrary to what Suna thinks and claims, it really wasn’t love at first sight. You don’t believe in that kind of thing anyway. You think about when it all changed for you. It’s not a lie to say that your first impression of Osamu was that he was scary and intimidating. After all, Osamu was already popular in their university. You’d heard the rumours of a Miya Osamu, who was considered the top student of his grade and was one of the best in the business department even as a second year at that time. Who wouldn’t be intimidated?

And then, you had first seen him in person when you visited Suna’s apartment for the first time. You’d been sitting on the couch with Suna, and this guy walks out, dark ripped jeans, black long-sleeved sweater, and piercing dark eyes half covered by his hair. If You had to use one word to describe him, it would be captivating.

You hadn’t been able to look away from him and even when Suna officially introduced you to each other, you had been so nervous, you could only nod at him.

“Y/N?” Osamu breaks you out of your thoughts, “Is it something to think so hard about?”

“I’m trying to remember when too,” you let your thoughts wander to the answer, as your hands busy themselves with the finishing touches on your work. You switch to the colour black, just to give the drawing emphasis by outlining.

Could it have been that very first movie night, when Suna had chosen an old horror movie that had you both screaming into Suna’s shoulders?

Was it that random night you had fallen asleep on their couch and woke up covered in blankets and your head cushioned by pillows? You’d asked Suna about it, but he’d denied it was him.

Was it any of the numerous times Osamu had complained how hungry he was and yet had never hesitated to share his food with you? Or any of the numerous times Osamu had let you borrow a jacket, or a hat, or even a pair of gloves?

You can’t remember. Maybe you just woke up and knew the inevitable: there’s some people you’re just meant to fall for.

You end up giving Osamu a bullshit answer, pretending to think hard, “I think it was when you got really scared of that movie we watched. What was it, the Grudge?”

Osamu covers his face in embarrassment, “Hey, that was scary for everybody. You slept over that night too!”

“Oh,” you squint, “Was that the night we all slept on the living room floor, because we were all scared of sleeping by ourselves that night?”

Osamu nods, smiling at the memory, “I think that was even scarier, because I didn’t know you talked in your sleep. I woke up in the middle of the night wondering who you were talking to, and then had a mini freak out when I realised nobody else was there.”

You scratch the back of your neck, “Yeah, that happens…”

Osamu doesn’t make fun of you for it and just moves on, “I’m done with my painting of you. Do you need more time?”

You shake your head, pulling up your canvas and making sure Osamu can’t see it just yet, “Nope, shall we do the grand reveal?”

“Should I go first?” Osamu asks, and then smiles when you nod your head. “Okay, then,” he says, turning his canvas over. “What do you think?”

Osamu’s painting doesn’t look like you at all. It’s a cute little bear with a little orange slice in its claws surrounded by orange peels around it.

You frown, “How is that me?”

Osamu gasps, dramatic, “What do you mean? That bear is you.”

“I don’t look like a bear,” you pout, “Why is it eating oranges?”

“Because we were talking about first impressions right? This is literally my first impression of you. Ah, you were so cute and so round. You still had your brown hair then,” Osamu sighs happily. “Okay, it’s your turn now. Show me what you got.”

You turn yours over, carefully watching Osamu’s expression as he takes in the art. You had drawn a cartoon version of the Osamu in front of you right now, white fleece jacket and grey hair and all, with a little fox sitting beside him, snow falling over them both.

“It looks warm,” Osamu says, and you think, what an odd thing to say about a snow scene. “You drew me so cutely and all the little details. And the colour! I think you’ve captured it very well.”

“I just pay attention,” you shrug, “Do you like it? It’s titled, Foxes in the snow.”

Osamu nods, utterly endeared by it, “I love it.”

You hand the canvas to Osamu and watch him continue to admire the work. There is something revealing here too. I pay attention, you had said like it was nothing. But that’s something of an admission, right? And if attention was the beginning of devotion, then what does it mean when you’ve always looked at him, right from the very start?

.

.

.

Nothing really changes much between you after that. Although it’s weird to have the experience of a date between you two. Some friends were exes once, some have even gone on dates, and inevitably, at least once in the course of history, friends must have practised dating, right?

You wonder how different it would be if you guys were actually dating.

Would you have ended the date with a promise for another one, instead of giving each other a friendly hug goodbye?

Would you have looked at each other shyly in your couple outfits, instead of watching all the other couples around you in theirs? (You were so embarrassed on everyone’s behalf; the couple’s outfit was cute on you and Osamu, but not everyone can pull it off.)

You really wouldn’t know beyond what your mind comes up with at night, when you’re alone in bed.

As for what happens next, you’ll let Osamu decide what other ‘practice dating’ things you can do. You’ll just go along with the ride.

Besides, it’s Wednesday.

And Wednesdays are reserved for Suna and Osamu and one episode of your stupid zombie show. Maybe some snacks too.

You excitedly climb up the stairs to their shared apartment. You’re wearing comfy clothes already, and you even brought a toothbrush over too, just in case, you guys end up watching something else and decide to stay over. It wouldn’t be the first time.

You get to their door and knock a sweet little beat on the door to announce your presence. At the lack of response, you knock again, and this time it’s no sweet beat but pure rage in a knock. You eventually hear someone yell, “Hold on!” but it’s cold outside and what is more important than letting you in? That’s right — nothing. So, you keep knocking.

The door opens up suddenly, and Suna looks at you so unimpressed, “I said hold on.”

“But it’s cold,” you pout, shouldering your way in. Their apartment is nice and toasty warm; you shed your jacket, placing it over the back of the couch, and go immediately to the kitchen for a drink.

“Did you eat already?” Suna asks, coming to stand with him in the kitchen, “Samu said he wanted to order some pizza and fried chicken, do you want to join in?”

“I already ate dinner, but I wouldn’t mind a couple bites. How much are you guys ordering?” you find the green tea that you stored in their cupboard for safekeeping with the excitement of a scavenger looking for gold.

Suna shrugs, “I think he said he was ordering some pepperoni, margherita and maybe a hawaiian.”

You frown, “And you’re getting fried chicken on top of that?”

“And snacks,” Suna confirms, “Samu said class was so tiring, and that he needs to cheer himself up with food.”

Osamu has always been a hard worker. You and Suna work hard on your own respective courses too, but Osamu is a little more… passionate about his. Even outside of class, he spends a majority of his time cooking up new dishes to try. Most of the time when you come over, there’s a new dish waiting for you to try. There’s talent and then there’s hard work, you think, and it fills you with awe to be able to witness both in someone you can call your friend.

This sentiment stays with you through the rest of the night, even when you’ve settled on their couch and are waist-deep in the show’s plot filled with political intrigue and, well, zombies. On the television screen, the drama’s main lead, the Crown Prince barely escapes the Crown’s army once again. The three of you are sitting side by side on the floor, with Suna and Osamu flanking each of your sides, mindlessly eating the takeout as you’re all gripped by the scenes unfolding on the screen.

It’s kind of gross, you think, watching the dead bodies pile up on screen parallel the pile of chicken bones piling up in front of you. You had claimed three slices of pizza and three chicken wings and felt full (benefits of actually having dinner), so you felt content to lean back against the couch and just watch.

“How long do you guys think you’d last in a zombie apocalypse?” You wonder out loud.

Suna snorts, “I think I would die pretty early on.”

“I think I would make it pretty far,” Osamu interjects, then points a chicken bone at Suna, “You should stick with me, you’ll live longer.”

You smile sympathetically at Suna, “Suna, I think you would die early too. You’re the self-sacrificing type, so I’ll make sure to stick with you. I know you’ll save me.”

“Wow,” Suna frowns at you, which would be more impactful if his mouth wasn’t glistening with pizza sauce. “If I become a zombie first, I’ll make sure to eat you first,” Suna pinches your cheek, aggressive enough that you yelp, “I’ll bite you right where the fat is.”

You pull away, rubbing your cheek. You glare, “You think I won’t shoot you in the head first? You won’t get even close enough to bite me.”

“Ha,” Suna scoffs, the side of his mouth quirking up into a smirk, “As if. You’d be crying over my pre-zombie infected body. And you’ll be so sad that you won’t even notice I’ve turned already and then you’ll be bitten.”

You roll your eyes and laugh mockingly, turning to Osamu, “Are you hearing this?”

But Osamu just starts laughing at you both instead, his clean hand coming up to cover his mouth. Suna reaches over with his socked foot, across your lap, to poke at Osamu, “Hey, is the hypothetical cannibalistic deaths of your favourite friends so amusing?”

“The two of you,” Osamu says, swallowing the food in his mouth, “are so damn funny.”

You bite your lips, trying to hold back a smile. It’s devastatingly easy to earn Osamu’s laughs, and you’ll do all kinds of stupid to be the cause of it. You turn to Suna, shaking your head in disappointment, “Wait till we’re both zombies and we come for him.”

Suna shakes his head too, “Look at him eating so well. That’s right, eat up! You will be so tasty when we turn into zombies and eat you.”

Osamu is unfazed by your threats, just keeps chuckling as he picks up another chicken drumstick in his hand. You turn back to the actual show playing before them, and it’s close to the end of the episode by the looks of it. You know what cliffhangers look like.

Here’s a cliffhanger: there’s a small spot of honey chilli chicken sauce right at the corner of Osamu’s mouth. Who’ll get to it faster? Osamu or you?

Even you don’t know how this ends, but what you do know is your own self-restraint. Or is it your own fear of being known? Either way, the stupid little spot mocks you and makes itself known even from the corner of your eye.

Your hands feel restless in your lap and it would be so easy to grab the napkins that came with the delivery order and make your move. This means nothing. Wiping someone’s mouth is something that could be considered a super friendly gesture. Actually, your big brain interjects, you don’t even have to wipe it yourself. You could just point it out. And at that, your mouth moves faster than whatever doubt yout mind can further conjure, “Samu, you’ve got something on your face.”

“Hmm?” Osamu turns to you, hands holding both ends of the drumstick, “I do?”

You nod and point to where it would be on your own face, “Like around right here?”

Osamu stupidly looks at his own hands, sees how dirty it is, and like he’s possessed by all the gods who are conspiring against your happiness and success, he says, “My hands are dirty. Can you get it for me?”

You could fucking sigh, but all you actually do is nod, casual and overly non-chalant, “Yeah, sure.”

You grab the napkin and watch Osamu angle his cheek towards you, while keeping his eyes on the television. You gently cup his cheek and lean close, carefully dabbing the spot away with the napkin. You make the mistake of looking at Osamu’s eyes as you do it, only for Osamu to catch you doing that.

You pull away immediately and feel your ears turn hot as you discard the napkin. “There, I got it.”

Osamu smiles, something shameless and sharp, “That was so heart fluttering, Y/N.”

“Shut up,” you cover your ears, burying yourself into Suna’s side. “You’re so annoying.”

Your response just makes him look even more pleased. So, you correct yourself. One thing has changed — Osamu’s flirting with you, and you know it’s not serious, but you still turn red every time. It’s a new discovery that Osamu will clearly not let go off any time soon. It’s dangerous.

And here’s the real cliffhanger: how long are you going to last before Osamu makes your confetti filled heart burst?

this summer, i…

miya osamu x reader

SUMMARY: sometimes the best way to get over someone is to actually just date: or in your hopeless case, ask them to help you practice dating.

(no, you will not explain how that works.)

this summer, i…

i.(got lost in you)

ii. (took care of you)

iii. (self-reflected because of you)

iv. (gave into you)

v. (couldn’t stay away from you)

vi. (lost it because of you)

vii. (was finally honest with you)

STATUS:upcoming —(this is a re-upload of an unfinished series from my old blog)

EXTRAS: fic playlist here!

“how are you still single?”

for some reason, that’s the first thing that came into your mind to ask him when the both of you were dining out with your closest friends one fine evening.

blame it on the bit of alcohol that’s in your system, you’re tipsy and it made you become more straightforward than usual.

“i don’t get it,”

you mutter to yourself while suna rintarou lets his eyes stay on your face to look at your amusing expressions.

“you’re very boyfriend material. so why is it that you don’t have anyone you’re romantically involved with?”

as you mindlessly list down the good qualities you have seen in him in the many months of being his close friend, suna rubs his chin as he hums, thinking about his answer carefully. your stare went to his lips, unconsciously biting your bottom one and gulping. you’re feeling a bit thirsty.

“must be because the girl i like is quite oblivious about my affections for her.”

with widened eyes and a startled gasp, you egged him to carry on. you had no idea he was harbouring feelings for someone (which was ridiculous because you thought you were his friend and friends say these kind of things to each other right?).

so what if you were also eager to know who it was because you needed to find out who stole the heart of suna whom you’ve liked way before he had met you? you certainly wouldn’t pose any harm on the person. at the very least, you’d compare yourself to them every waking moment, throwing them secret glares whenever you have the chance to see them.

the man you were with chuckled softly and changed his position so his body would be facing you. he gives you yet another one of his intense gaze partnered with that lazy grin you’d come to love and made your breathing hitch.

“you would think she’d find it out quickly considering we’re close but i guess that’s just wishful thinking on my part.”

blinking several times, you had to process every word that he had just said as he was awaiting for your reply. he watches you open and close your mouth like a fish out of the water and controlled himself not to just pull you into him and make out with you,your friends be damned (he reasoned it was because he was slightly drunk that he was acting on impulse and having these thoughts)

you resisted the urge to scream and do something embarasssing in front of not only the guy you like but also in front of your friends and peers.

fanning yourself and breaking eye contact with him, you looked at your surroundings to see if anyone else was listening in on your conversation yet found no one. fortunately they were all too busy with partying.

you then stared back at him and dumbly pointed at yourself.

“are you talking about me?”

“hmmm…guess.”

you’re flushed, lightly intoxicated and it’s getting difficult for you to hide exactly how much you like this man in front of you. you never were much of a planner anyways, you’re more of a go with the flow kind of person.

“so umm i like you a lot, did you know that?”

he simply gives you a smile and leaned closer to you, cupping the back of your head and caressing your cheek adoringly.

“don’t you think it’s about time we both get romantically involved with someone?”

you could smell the cologne you’ve bought for him last time when he came closer.

suna could see you wearing the earrings he’d given you yesterday upon closer inspection.

you both admired each other as you sat completely still, afraid that whatever was happening right now is just some elaborate scam you’re mind conjured up. everything is unfolding so fast you can’t wrap your head around it.

the moment suna leaned more in your direction though with his nose brushing against yours, you forget all worries about the proper way this should’ve gone and cracked a toothy smile for him to see.

“we should do this whole confession thing again properly tomorrow.”

“whatever you want, (y/n).”

the last thing you saw before closing your eyes and feeling his lips work with yours was suna fondly gazing at you as if he had waited for this moment for a long time.

(you wouldn’t know until much later on that suna rintarou had been crushing on you longer than you have been crushing on him)

i wrote this quickly while i was sleep deprived haha

WHAT THEY DO WHEN YOU’RE CRYING

includes hinata, bokuto, atsumu, sakusa ft. osamu

HINATA SHOYO

• the first sound of your cries when he answers the phone he’s already running to wherever you are
• doesn’t even register in his mind that he’s just in his pajamas and it’s freezing out
• or that his slippers are in different pairs and he forgot that you live far away
• he’ll be coming straight at you and be engulfing you in a tight hug
• he’s worried and he wants to know what happened so he can figure out a way to cheer you up

“hey, everything’s going to be alright. i’m here sunshine, what’s wrong?”

BOKUTO KOUTARO

• this huge endearing man will be crying with you when you seek him out
• in this rare moments of your vulnerability, he will listen attentively to you and won’t talk or disrupt you
• passes you the tissues when he sees you tearing up again or have snot falling down from your nose
• he doesn’t think it’s gross!! his priority is your comfort and for you to be happy again!!
• will shush you though if you ever say degrading stuff about yourself >:((

“just let it all out, baby. it hurts me too when you’re hurting. do you want to cuddle?”

MIYA ATSUMU

• you better believe this man is out for blood
• he will hold a grudge and be harbouring hatred because nothing should be allowed to make you cry — not even him
• if you’re blaming yourself, he’ll make a point to make you realize how amazing and special you are in everyone’s eyes
• he’s cradling you in his arms and whispering sweet nothings in your ear trying to help you relax
• he’ll hold you close even when you’re fast asleep and snuggling on his chest

“my angel’s been through a lot, huh? we’ll handle it tomorrow. i want you to rest first.”

SAKUSA KIYOOMI

• he’s awkward because he’s not exactly sure what he can do for you
• so he’ll be sitting there beside you, your hands are intertwined together as he rubs your back soothingly
• like bo, he’ll listen attentively to you but will give his insights about the situation (his advices are actually good you tend to remember and follow them)
• when he sees you smile again albeit a tired one, he’s returning a small smile of his own
• places a sweet kiss on your forehead and offers a piggyback ride

“let’s take a stroll around the neighborhood. it’ll take your mind off of things, my love.”

bonus:

MIYA OSAMU

• his reactions are sometimes over the top that it makes you laugh and forget why you cried in the first place
• he’ll be fussing over you and will be asking you if you’re okay repeatedly
• prepares a small snack for you and takes out his stock of your favourite ice cream
• insisting that you finish everything up and telling you he’ll make something much more delicious and nutritious for you tomorrow
• lets out a relieved sigh when you say that you feel good and better already

“just list down what meals you want to eat. i’ll cook them all for you, darling.”

“eating instant ramen again, ken?” you throw out a rhetorical question at your boyfriend, who was preoccupied on the new game you noticed he downloaded on his phone some several nights ago.

he hums absentmindedly to acknowledge your unexpected yet welcomed presence in their living room — one of his parents must’ve let you in. kozume kenma wants to give you a hug (and maybe more) but right now he had to finish the level that he worked hard to reach that’s playing currently in his screen. he shaped up his character and enhanced their skills continuously throughout the week for this reason, and that was to beat the final boss so he could open a new chapter in the story.

“this is the third consecutive time you’ve eaten this, ken. are you not worried?”

“if it’s delicious, i don’t mind not being healthy.”

kenma hears you snort and sees you pick up the utensils and noodle cups he used to eat earlier. he instantly focuses on the battle when he hears his character take damage but resumed conversing with you.

“(y/n), don’t clean it up. i can do it myself after i finish this.”

“and wait until your mom sees this mess?”

“just let her scold me then.”

he’s not surprised when you don’t listen to his words and continue with fixing their kitchen table. he can see you moving a lot in his peripheral vision. you’re placing the dishes in the sink, putting the trash in the bin, wiping the surface from any mess and pulling your sleeves up to ready with washing.

“(y/n), i seriously won’t forgive you. i said, i’ll do it later.”

you notice kenma’s tone go lower, an apparent indication of a warning. it’s not as if it’s the first time he’s acting stern with you so you still paid him no mind. you know when he’s genuinely mad and this isn’t that.

“it’s okay, ken. no pressure! i’m doing this because i want to.”

when he doesn’t respond, you looked back to see him furrowing his eyebrows, expressing annoyance as he ruthlessly taps on his phone. you shrugged and then proceeded to wash the dirty plates and utensils. this goes on for a few minutes until you stopped when kenma groans in frustration.

“so uhmm i’m guessing you didn’t win?”

“…no.”

“well i’m sure you’ll succeed next time.”

he stands up from the couch and sluggishly went to you. in your peripheral vision you see your boyfriend giving you a deadpan look probably because you ignored what he just told you. you give him a closed eye smile and crunch your nose in hopes that he understands that you’re really fine with helping him with his chores plus you wanted kenma to think you were cute so he would let you off easily.

it seems to have worked because kenma positions himself behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, burrowing his nose on your neck and inhaling the light perfume you know he likes on you.

“i don’t want you spoiling me too much…”

your boyfriend mumbles that you almost couldn’t catch what he had said (you can practically imagine that tiny pout he does). you laugh and playfully pushed him back with your weight as you replied,

“why? you scared you’ll be dependent on me and need me forever?”

“am not scared of that. i need you forever no matter what. just don’t want you to overwork yourself with things i can do on my own.”

it’s a great thing your boyfriend couldn’t see you, you swear you were making weird faces from the way you were stopping yourself from outright giggling. he takes calming intakes of air and exhales deeply, a telltale sign of him wanting to nap. as if on cue, kenma asks you if you’re done and you answered with a nod of your head.

he helps you dry your hands and led you to his room after. kenma made sure to massage your fingers when you both plopped down on his bed. you invite him in your arms knowing he favors being the little spoon when he’s exhausted from gaming too much. he leans more to you when you start untangling the small knots that formed in his hair and brushing it neatly.

you gaze at kenma’s face to see him begining to doze off. you booped his nose and he opens his eyes to gaze at you softly. you see him smile slightly and pushed himself up a bit so he can give the overdue welcome kiss he wanted to give you since the moment you came waltzing in their living room.

“i l-word you.”

kenma whispers when he parts from you. you couldn’t stop the giggle this time around as you rolled your eyes at him.

“you’re such a dork,”

you then cup his face and grin.

“but you’re my dork so i l-word you too.”

he recaptures your lips with his and for a moment, kenma figured tiredness can take him later.

he would relish first this precious bit with you.

notes— don’t actually know if kenma lives with both of his parents but for the sake of the fic he does

boyfriend!atsumu who doesn’t understand why you’re still here with him even after he had neglected you for the past weeks in favor of improving his volleyball skills for the upcoming heated games.

he doesn’t get it why you’re still coming day after day to their practices just to see him for an hour or two before going back on your own since boyfriend!atsumu wants to go out with his friends late at night nowadays and don’t have time to take you home.

boyfriend!atsumu who knows (obviously) he’s been acting like a real jerk and haven’t been treating you right yet instead of apologizing, his stubborn ass avoids confronting you.

he gets a lot of scolding from his twin brother and friends for letting things go south with you. convincing himself there’s nothing severely wrong, boyfriend!atsumu continues to ignore everyone, glaring at whoever tries to speak to him — with you as the exception. he’d still be communicating with you although it comes as brief and slightly strained but you take what you can get and don’t complain.

boyfriend!atsumu who looks back at the memory of how you two got together in highschool. a small smile on his lips at remembering how you mustered up all the courage to confess to him, your whole face erupting to flames. he remembers how he thought you were interesting and amusing so he agreed to be in a relationship. he thought it would only last for several weeks but he was so wrong. you proved him wrong.

boyfriend!atsumu who’s afraid you’d finally tire of him and his irritating personality. one of his nightmares coming true if you ever decide he’s not worth it and realize you could be with someone better than him who looks after you and gives you his all. he doesn’t know what he’ll do if that ever happens.

you understood him. you were always full of patience when it comes to him. when you get angry at the nonsense things he’d done, you were still so accepting of him by the end of the day. you were there beside him through all the good and bad times as cheesy and cliché it can sound right now. you once said that your happiness lies with him being happy with you. you always told boyfriend!atsumu you love him with all of your heart. you’d do anything to make everything work between the two of you.

boyfriend!atsumuwho curses aloud and slammed his head on the wall so hard he’s sure it would bruise later because he’d finallyadmit to himself — and to the whole damn world if he needed to — how much he was holding back on completely loving you. he was so unsure of himself, filled with insecurities and hatred towards the attitude he gives towards you. he always feels he isn’t giving enough for someone as amazing as you which is why he resorted on pushing you away and pretending that he didn’t absolutely loathed the fact that he was so close yet so far away from you when he does so.

his dignity can go to hell he tells himself as boyfriend!atsumu gets down on his knees in front of you as soon as he finds you standing in the kitchen making dinner. you release a startled gasp, gripping tightly the plate on your hand when you stared down at him. he hugs your waist and plants his face flat on your stomach, feeling you tense up but then relax on his hold.

boyfriend!atsumu softly tells you he’s sorry. he wants to pour out everything because you deserved to know how idiotic he has been and he’s ready to beg for you to stay and give him another chance because he’d also do anything to make it work between you two. he exhales shakily when you placed the plate down on the counter and made him let go so you could get on your knees too so you’d be eye level with each other.

you gaze at one another as you answered so quietly just for his ears to hear. you’re not mad at him. you knew his inner conflict (courtesy of osamu and rin), and wanted him to figure things out on his own. you did reveal you were saddened by his actions but laughed it off now when boyfriend!atsumu is staring at you like a giant sad and guilty puppy.

he doesn’t think it’s pathetic that he’s tearing up when you smile at him so sweetly and so fondly — the same kind of smile that’s reserved only for him to see. only for him to savor. he cups your face tenderly and kisses you for the first time in awhile, eager to show you how much he’d missed you. and with bated breath boyfriend!atsumu tells you he loves you so much and you don’t have to find someone better because he’d be better for you. he promises sincerely to you.

toji-lover101:

sakusaww:

[12:00 am]

“AND HAPPY BIRTHDAY Y/N,” Kuroo’s voice screamed from the other end of the video call. Honestly, he seemed more excited than you and it was your birthday. He had a birthday cap on and a little cupcake with a candle kept in front of him. He even popped the party poppers he bought and called you 30 minutes before 12 am.

“You do realise you have to clean all that on your own right?” You giggled a little shaking your head. “But thank you. I turn old so it’s not so happy.”

Your room was a complete contrast to his. Your lights were off and only the desk lamp was switched on. There were no party poppers. The only similarity was a cupcake with a candle kept in front of you.

“Tsk doesn’t matter. You’ll be beatiful even with wrinkles and fine lines,” he smiled the brightest smile ever and you were glad you could see that smile almost everyday even if it was through a screen.

“I wish you were here. With me. Birthday would’ve been better,” you put on a melancholic smile.

“Same. We would’ve cut the cake together and roamed the city. I miss you,” his smile dropped down a bit.

After talking for a while you were getting sleepy.

“Ok we’ll talk again in the morning. Go get some rest sleepyhead,” he smirked a bit.

“Mhm. Night. Love you,”

“Love you too,” with that he cut the call.

In the morning, the sound of the doorbell echoed in your small flat. Once, twice, followed by a range of knocks.

“it’s 8 in the morning, shut up,” you mumbled sleepily, covering your ears with the pillow.

Knock knock knock. Another range of loud knocks.

“FINE I’M COMING,” you were about to give a piece of your mind to whoever was on the other side of the door. Who gave them the right to disrupt someone’s peaceful sleep by ringing the doorbell and knocking. But all of that went to waste when you actually opened the door.

“Hello,” there he stood, a big package in his hand and a bag on his shoulders. Kuroo Tetsurou was standing right there in front of you. “Surprise.”

“BITCH,” you smacked him on the head. “You didn’t even tell me you were visiting.”

You jumped on him, hugging him and he stumbled backwards a bit.

“Woah careful. Cake might get destroyed and if I remember correctly, I did say that we’d talk in the morning,” he hugged you back tightly.

You kissed him then, holding his cheeks and his hands held your waist. You peppered his whole face with kisses. It’s been quite a while since you saw him.

“Come on we have a cake to cut together and we also have to roam the city,” he kissed your forehead.

And true to his words, he roamed the city with you, visited all the beautiful places and took pictures and at night, cut the cake with you too. It was a happy birthday.

Not my best work but yea (I kinda wrote this for myself) Reblogs are appreciated<3

AAHHH reading this today cuz it’s my birthday

bye crying i love this man