I just got random inspiration at 4am so here we are :D
Also these are based on just canon behaviour of characters, like I know the fandom basically made everyone gay but I’m going based off the show and manga <3 don’t mean to disappoint, trust me, Bokuaka? UGH otp

• Tanaka has a massive thing for girls in beanies or grunge outfits
• Nishinoya is a natural at skateboarding but never told anyone. Not for any specific reason, he just hasn’t mentioned it
• Sugawara has a sort of parental role on the team because he often has to look after his younger brother a lot and finds it hard to break out of the responsible older bro headspace
• Asahi likes big girls. Period. He is also the best hugger out of everyone
• Kuroo takes away Kenma’s games everyday for at least an hour to force him to study
• Bokuto rambles and gets very flustered around people who he finds attractive, Akaashi often has to translate for him
• Ushijima takes mental notes while watching people interact because he wants to be approachable
• Oikawa has a lot of breakdowns at night, most about his sense of identity and where he’s going in the world
• The only person who can break Iwaizumi out of his rage is actually Oikawa but Iwa will never admit it
• Tendō hates mirrors, he’ll often pull faces at them to make himself feel better
• Suga once dared Daichi to break a watermelon between his thighs, which he did with ease
• Tsukki sometimes just sits in his room and thinks about future snarky remarks and comebacks
• Hinata is convinced that if you eat a seed, a plant will grow inside your stomach
• Aone is super duper comfortable to lay on 
• Kageyama is quite a good artist when he tries. He sits in class doodling eyes in his notebook, when he’s not sleeping that is
• It is extremely easy to make Semi blush 
• Mad Dog is actually quite fond of Nishinoya but will never admit it
• Suna is saving up videos of the twins fighting for a compilation that he will present on their birthdays
• Yachi is scared of the dark so she has one of those cute lil unicorn lamps that you hit and it changes colour
• Ukai yells at anyone in the store who starts badmouthing Karasuno
• Terushima got drunk with the team someone pierced his tongue, they all still have no idea who did it
• Daichi can play the guitar, his hands are large and skilled enough to reach basically any chord
• Nishinoya fake-bangs literally the entire team if they bend over to pick up something
• Yamaguchi is afraid of spiders and makes Tsukki get them
• On the contrary, Akaashi owns a spider. A tarantula to be exact
• Kenma adores Halloween, it’s his favourite holiday

I’m so tired so that’s all I got. I hope you liked it :)

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.

.

.

.

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.”

.

.

.

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.

.

.

.

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?

.

.

.

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.

.

.

.

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.

.

.

.

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.

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“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.”

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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.

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“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!”

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“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

miya osamu x reader, 2.6k

today is the day osamu confesses his feelings to you. you, through petals in shades of red, confess first.

“I think today is the day Tsumu.” Osamu says softly.

The early morning light peeks in through the windows of his apartment. He’s closed the restaurant today, taking a rare day off. He checked the weather app today too, and it’s a perfect summer day— no clouds, no rain. The temperature is just right.

Osamu never usually cares about the weather, he has other more important things to worry about than whether he’s wearing an appropriate outfit for going outside. But the weather is important today you see, and it determines what outfit he picks out, and the outfit has to be perfect; well, everything has to be perfect actually because—

“What’s going on today?”Atsumu asks through a yawn, scratching his head as he watches the tv. “It’s Halloween right? Nothing too special.”

“Well, yeah.” Osamu says, sitting down on the sofa next to him. He sets his coffee mug on the table and absent-mindedly stares at the tv. “But I was talking about something else.”

Atsumu looks confused. “What else is happening today?” His eyebrows scrunch as he racks his brain for any important event, before it dawns on him, “Oh! It’s y/n’s exhibit tonight, right?”

“Yes.” Osamu tries to say it casually, tries to hide the sun glowing inside of him. Y/N, it sings. Y/N, Y/N, Y/N. “But that’s still not what I meant.”

Atsumu’s phone beeps with a notification. “Then what do you mean?”

“You know that girl I’ve liked?”

“The mystery girl you’re head over heels for?”

Osamu nods, “Yeah, I think I’m going to ask her out today.”

Atsumu paused.

Osamu contains his smile.

When Atsumu stays silent for a beat too long, Osamu asks, “Is my announcement really that shocking?”

“No,” Atsumu starts, “no, it’s just… do you really think it’s the best time to do it today? It’s Y/N’s exhibit.”

Osamu grabs his coffee mug and takes a sip. It’s still too hot, and god, he thinks he’s burned his tongue. “What about her exhibition?”

“It’s a big day for her,” Atsumu explains, “It’s all she’s talked about for the past month. Wouldn’t it be kind of insensitive if you ditch us halfway through just for your mystery girl? We’re supposed to celebrate after that too.”

Oh, that’s right. Osamu never got round to telling anyone that you were his mystery girl, that you were the one he’s head over heels for. In his defence, it’s a relatively new development in your friendship.

(but if he’s being honest, it’s been a long time coming.)

He met you a few years ago, back when he was still just a business student struggling his way through exams in college, and you were a photography student who happened to live next door to him. It took a while for your friendship to develop, Osamu not really being the type to go out and make new friends just because he lives next door to someone, but you’ve been as thick as thieves since then.

He thinks he’s loved you for a while now, but it was the quiet kind of love— the type that sneaks up on you until one day the feelings get unbearable and your heart screams for nothing but them.

He finally admitted to himself how he really felt a month ago. He had wanted to confess as soon as he found out, but the only thing that was stopping him was you. You had become sick with something recently, looking pale and constantly coughing into endless tissues. Osamu had been worried at first, tried offering to take you to the doctor but you dismissed all of his attempts.

It’s just stress, you had said, giving him a smile. I just have so much preparation to do for it, and I’ve barely been sleeping to try and get everything done.

You had this stubborn line on your forehead that Osamu yearned to smooth over with his thumb. He had wanted to help, but with his fear of overstepping your boundaries, he settled for making you dinner every other day, dropping by your house to make sure you were still taking care of yourself, saying don’t push yourself too hard.

But Osamu had seen you, just the other day. You looked exhausted, bags under your eyes, but there was colour back on your cheeks. You looked brighter, like a flower ready to bloom at the beginning of spring.

“It’ll be fine.” Osamu assures his twin. “I think she’ll be really happy, actually.”

Atsumu grunts, and he looks like he’s going to disagree but he says, “Whatever. Y/N’s a sucker for romance anyway; I doubt she’ll be mad at you for pursuing your mystery girl.”

Osamu agrees that you wouldn’t. Especially because you’re going to be in it

.

.

.

Osamu arrives at the studio alone.

He had told Atsumu to go on ahead without him, that he had to take care of something, but really he had just wanted to stop on the way and get you celebratory flowers.

It’s what he’s holding in his arms right now, a bundle of tulips, unusually bright and pink.The florist had told him that they only bloomed during spring time, like the cherry blossom trees. The only ones they had were preserved ones, made from real flowers but meant to last forever.

Osamu was disappointed when he couldn’t find any fresh ones, despite visiting three different florists; but they were your favourite flowers, so he settled for whatever he could get.

Thankfully, you’ve never been the type to be fussy over gifts so he knows you’ll appreciate it nonetheless.

He walks into the studio, looking for a sign that will point him in the right direction. He tries to remember the name of the exhibit, he knows that you had told him countless times before; but his memory is like a goldfish so he counts on something catching his eyes. Trip or tripe or—

Triptych. Decay in Triptych, written on the wall.

He follows the arrows, until he finds the right room, almost filled to the brim with people.

He stops at the front door in amazement. From what he knows, there’s only a handful of artists at this exhibit, most relatively new onto the scene. To be able to garner a crowd this big already is quite a feat he thinks. His chest blooms with pride.

He looks around the room, trying to spot a familiar face, but there’s just too many people. So he chooses to walk around instead. You and him are meant to be; he’ll find you in the end.

Osamu’s not an art student— far from it really. He’s a well-respected small business owner, only relatively new to the restaurant scene himself with Onigiri Miya. It was a hard journey through college, and even harder to try and build everything from the ground up but he always reminds himself of how you were there through it all. How you stayed up late with him often, trying out his new dishes, taking photographs to help with his promotion.

When everything seemed bleak for him, you were there to remind him that he was more than just his career, but you always believed in him. He doesn’t think he’d be where he is now without you.

It’s why he tries his best to understand the art in front of him, all the photographs hanging on the wall. If you can try and understand business models overnight just to try and comfort him, he can try and depict the art before his eyes— he owes you at least that much.

The one before him is about a town. Ghost towns, to be specific. The first picture is a simple one, empty land with trees, and animals and a river flowing through it; a picture showing the world before people. In the middle, there was a built up town, filled and lively with the hustle and bustle of locals. He could see a florist on the side of the road, a small bakery right next to it. And then the third picture, it’s the town on its last standing bones, bare and almost grinded into dust by time.

He understands this one easily, and it makes his heart ache. It reminds him of his grandma who lives in a small town, deep in the countryside where there’s only a few hundred people left. Nobody ever comes to visit, and no one ever decides to stay.

He makes a mental reminder to call his grandma tomorrow morning.

When he moves onto the next piece, he’s taken aback for a moment.

In the first picture, there is a singular white petal.

In the next one, there’s a handful of more of the white petals, all stained with a red liquid? Osamu isn’t sure.

In the third one, there’s so many petals, too many that they have fallen onto the floor. The petals are red. No, Osamu corrects himself, they were originally white. In the middle of all the red-stained petals, lays a whole flower, in perfect bloom. It’s large, and full, held up by a thorny, green stem. It’s also unnaturally red, like fresh blood on snow. But if you looked closely, you could see right by the stem— hints of white.

He realises quickly that it’s a rose.

Osamu only recognises it because it’s his favourite flower. His mother had always been fond of roses, and growing up his father had brought her home a bouquet of them every other week. They always filled his house, all different colours, red, pink, yellow— and his favourite of all, white.

This piece he doesn’t really understand.

Thankfully, there’s a neat little description at the bottom, written by the artist with vaguely familiar handwriting.

It reads: Hanahaki, love as decay.

Of course, Osamu thinks. How could he have missed it? Hanahaki happened so commonly these days, and he even knew a number of people affected by it, but it was rarely talked about. No one liked to talk about the disease that people looked upon as a curse.

He thinks about how personal it seems for the artist, and his heart feels heavy. With pity, almost. It’s not a piece he thought would belong here in this exhibit, but it’s certainly eye-catching.

He wonders who made it. He looks for the name of the artist but—

“Samu!”

You’ve found him.

.

.

.

Osamu’s arms are quickly filled with you, so happy that he thinks you might burst into confetti.

“Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you since Atsumu arrived earlier.” you squeeze him tight, and when you pull back, all Osamu can look at is your flushed cheeks.

“Y/N, I—” he starts, but you spot the bouquet in his arms.

“You got me flowers?” you ask, teasing smile playing on your lips. “I think this is the first time you’ve ever given me any. Where’s Osamu and what have you done to my best friend?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Osamu says carelessly, practically shoving them at you. “Someone was giving them out on the street, so I figured you know—”

You give him a knowing smile, and god, Osamu wants so badly to just get his confession over and done with; he doesn’t know how much longer he can go with this push and pull things you two have going on.

You cradle the flower in your arms, and you look so happy that he can’t help but beam back at you. As you look at the flowers, Osamu can’t help but be reminded of the red-stained roses he just saw.

You wouldn’t. Osamu knows you well; you wouldn’t.

You’re about to say something, when someone calls your name, gesturing for you to come up to the front. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

You walk up to the front, still clutching at the flowers and clear your throat. “Hello everyone, it’s a pleasure to see you all here. I’d like to take some time to draw your attention to my work. It’s called, Hanahaki, love in decay.”

“As you all may know already, Hanahaki is a taboo subject in our society today. I know a handful of people who have gotten it, but we all suffer in silence. We all suffer in shame. But I don’t think we have to,” You say, empathy coating your words. You gesture to your work behind you, starting the first lone petal.

“The first petal you cough is only the beginning. And the very discovery of it marks the start of loneliness and shame. You hide it,” you swallow, “because at first you don’t believe it. At first you want to believe that they can love you back.”

You move on to the next one. “But then, the petals keep coming. And that’s when it hurts, it’s painful to see that something so beautiful and pure as love can signify a devastating truth. But you still cling onto hope, even as your body weakens. Even when you struggle to come up with lies believable enough so people don’t ask questions. You cling onto that hope until your petals start coming out stained with blood.”

You point at the picture, to a petal fully red, “And that’s when you ask yourself: what do you love more? What is worth more? Your life, or the person you love who doesn’t love you back? Should you get the surgery to remove the flower by its roots, or do you die waiting to be loved back?”

An unknown voice in the crowd speaks, “Is this piece telling the viewer to get the surgery? To remove the flower even if it erases all of this person’s love, just so they can live again?”

“That’s up to you to decide; it’s open to your own interpretation.”

Another voice asks, “Does this piece stem from your own personal experiences?”

You glance at Osamu so briefly he thinks he’s imagined it. There’s a small pause before you answer, and Osamu feels a vice grip on his throat. “Yes. It does.”

Osamu’s chest feels constricted. There’s an ache there, sitting right above his heart that it’s hard to do anything but process the pain.

He needs a moment. He wants to walk away for a minute, to get air, to get something rushing back into his lungs.

But he doesn’t get to, because someone else asks: “Of all the flowers, why the rose?”

“Because,” you smile, “it was the favourite flower of someone I loved.”

The ache in his chest moves, pushing its way up his throat and this time, he really can’t breathe, the passage of his throat narrowing with every second.

He gasps, loud enough that everyone in the crowd turns around to face him, your eyes finding him quickly. He can see panic in your eyes.

Osamu’s vision starts to blur, his knees weakening until he feels himself falling to the ground, hands in front of him. He sees a sea of red, you pushing through the crowd to get to him, dropping the bouquet in your haste to get to him.

He coughs and coughs and coughs until his throat feels like it’s been ripped out. Tears stream down his face as he clutches at his throat, and you grab him by the shoulders, worried eyes searching his face.

Osamu hears you calling for a paramedic, but he coughs again, harsher this time, until he feels something in his throat, caught around his tongue. He reaches up with his hand to pull it out.

There, slick with saliva, is a bright pink petal of a tulip.

hanahaki disease - a fictional disease where the victim coughs up flower petals (often a flower that symbolises the object of their affections) when they suffer from one-sided love.

even if the love is actually requited, if the other person doesn’t make it known, the disease persists. it can be cured through confession, or surgical removal, though the latter causes romantic feelings to be removed altogether.

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!

suna rintarou x reader, 3.2k

you drunkenly confess to suna, and he activates your fight or flight instincts

You want to die. You’re ready to throw yourself out the window of your dorm. You almost send a text to your mom telling her how much you love her because the afterlife? That’s where you’re headed.

And no you’re not being dramatic. What you are however, is fucked.

You should have known better than to let yourself get carried away and trying to outdrink the Miya Twins at some stupid party.

Now you’ve woken up with a headache massive enough to compete with Atsumu’s big head. Honestly, this isn’t your first rodeo with hangovers- you’re a college student, and mixed with your inability to say no, parties have become a somewhat weekly thing. Plus you’re sure you can outdrink the Miya’s at some point.

The hangover isn’t the end of the world. The memory of what you did last night however- it’s enough to convince you to give up alcohol forever.

Playing beer pong with your best friend.

Losing because you have the worst hand-eye coordination.

Volunteering for karaoke and singing horrible off-key.

Trying to call for a ride home and dialing the wrong number.

Accidentally calling Suna—

God, you can’t even bring yourself to think about it, but your brain hates you. The vivid memory replays in your head over and over again. You feel sick.

Rin,you had said. I’m so in love with you, you confessed.

You said a lot of other things before that too, but really you just want to remember what Suna had said in response. You don’t think he said anything. Did you hang up immediately? Who the hell knows?

If you remember correctly, Suna was also at another party last night too. You’re hoping he was, because maybe he was also too drunk to even remember anything. Maybe the party was too loud and he didn’t even hear any of it. Besides, there were no missed calls or messages from him after that so you think you have a good chance. Suna was definitely the type to call back after receiving a confession like that.

It’s that hope that pushes you to agree to go to brunch with your group of friends. You know you could skip it and easily blame the hangover to avoid Suna, but one part of you needsto know whether he remembers the confession. You can’t live with the suspense. You have to know right now so you can decide whether to live life as normal again or whether you have to drop out of college, fake your death and move to a different country.

When you get to the brunch spot, everyone is already there. Hope begins to bloom in your chest at the prospect of getting away with it when you arrive and Suna acts normal towards you. And by normal, you mean he immediately begins teasing you.

“Damn Y/N, you tried to outdrink Atsumu again?” he asks, a smug grin on his face as you sit opposite him.

“Too loud, please shut up I’m recovering.” You respond, trying to look disgruntled rather than fucking nervous.

Suna laughs in response, the way he always does when he knows he’s getting under your skin, but his response is comforting.

“It’s ok, I’m recovering too.” he says smoothly, taking a sip of coffee.

You look at him and use what little energy you have to suppress an eyeroll. Suna looks great compared to everyone else at the table; Atsumu is unnervingly quiet as he wolfs down his food, Osamu looks like he might hurl any second, and your friend Miwa is lost in her own world as she stares at the wall.

Suna, of course, looks like a model next to your barely put together outfit consisting of sweatpants and whatever jumper was on your floor. What kind of hungover person has the time to put on a nice jacket, classic white t-shirt and fashionable black pants? Suna Rintarou apparently.

It’s not fair and you’re tempted to say something until you remember you’re trying to keep a low profile (and if you open your big mouth, you might blurt out something that definitely should not be asked over the table in front of everyone).

So you quietly order your food, listen to Atsumu boast about his upcoming game, listen to Osamu about how much he has to do for the week and ignore Miwa when she tries to convince you to run for student council with her. You avoid looking directly at Suna for too long, because you know you’ll end up looking like a tomato.

Brunch ends before you can even comprehend anything, and you’re ready to walk away from the scene with confidence that Suna either doesn’t remember what you said last night, or he’s pretending not to and won’t bring it up. Either way, you’re grateful for one less headache.

When you all get up to leave though, and you’re ready to deuce the fuck out and suffer silently in your room, you hear Suna call out your name.

You hold your breath.

“What’s up?” you ask, turning to him.

“Are you okay?” Suna asks, scratching the back of his neck. His nervous habit he never seemed to grow out of. “You’ve been quiet all morning, when usually you could compete with Atsumu for being the loudest.”

“Yeah, I’ll be okay.” you respond, trying to act cool. You are the queen of casual conversations. “Nothing a good nap won’t be able to solve.”

He nods at that.

You nod back.

A heavy silence falls between the two of you, and you think this is the cue for your getaway. “Think I’m gonna go—”

“Actually,” Suna cuts you off and you look at him in anticipation for his next words. He looks nervous, not meeting your eyes as he glares holes into the wall beside him. He fiddles with his fingers. Cracks his knuckles. Takes a big breath. It’s a rare show of hesitance and nervousness for him and a pit of dread starts to build in your stomach.

Fuck,you internally scream, fuck.

Suna clears his throat, seemingly over whatever internal battle he was fighting. He still can’t meet your eyes though.

“You…” he starts, “do you remember anything from last night? Because you called me and—”

Suna doesn’t get the chance to finish the rest of his sentence because you immediately bolt out of the restaurant.

He has always activated your fight or flight response, and though you’re usually up for the challenge, today your body decides this is a flight only option. Despite Suna and his athleticism, you were on the track team for high school and you have never been more grateful for it than today when you sprint like the wind around the streets. You can hear him chase after you, calling your name, how he just wants to talk.

But you will not stop for him. You’re not ready for the talk, especially not when you’re hungover and look like shit. Besides, you’re not sure you can even formulate a convincing lie to get yourself out of it and Suna has always seen right through you.

You run fast enough that he doesn’t seem to be able to catch up to you, and when you spot a small bookstore, you immediately rush inside and hide in one of the shelves in the back. You hope he didn’t see you come inside.

You try to catch your breath, standing there pretending to look at the books while you try to rationalize your situation. You stay there for a good five minutes, then another five just to be safe. Only when the sales assistant gives you a suspicious look do you leave.

You don’t go back to your dorm immediately. Suna knows where you live. Instead, you choose to hide away in Miwa’s dorm and nurse your hangover there. She seems distracted enough that she doesn’t question why you aren’t doing it from the comfort of your own room and you end up spending the night. It’s not until the next morning when she’s running around getting ready for class do you decide to put on a brave face and head home. Thank god you have Mondays off.

For the next week you live in fear of Suna catching you off-guard around campus, so you devise a plan to leave at odd times to attend your classes. You begin taking alternative routes as well, avoiding all the places you frequently go to. You’re extra careful walking home, jumping at every noise that even sounds vaguely similar to him and running away.

Your stupid evasion tactics don’t last long though. After a week of hiding, Suna catches you just as you’re about to leave your apartment to go for a grocery run, corners you at your front door and declares, “You can run back inside and hide, but I’m not leaving.”

You gulp, knowing you’re backed into a corner. You live on the fifth floor too, so sneaking out isn’t an option. Shit.

“Hey, what’s up?” you try to ask casually, fake smile on your face.

Suna looks far from impressed.

“You’ve been avoiding me for a whole week. We need to talk.”

You meekly nod, sighing and opening your door wider to let him into your room. If you’re going to be rejected, you’d rather it be in the safety of your own room than in the hallway with your nosy neighbours. You steel yourself for what’s about to happen.

You aren’t a coward Y/N. You were bound to get rejected at one point, let’s do it with a little dignity.

Suna stands a safe distance away from you, standing next to your window while you remain by  the door. You look anywhere but him, hoping he would just get it over and done with.

Suna lets out a sigh when he sees the look on your face.

“Can you stop looking like I’m going to yell at you? It’s just me, I don’t bite.”

“That’s just my face.” you pout. “Besides, I don’t want to have this conversation; can we just drop it?”

“Will you look at me?” Suna says, “You’re making me nervous. And don’t think you can run away just because you’re next to the door.”

You nod reluctantly, but you still won’t meet his eyes. Your cheeks are already starting to heat up.

“You’re really not going to look at me?” He asks, tone softer than usual that you start to feel bad. “I just want to talk to you, I promise. I’m not even angry at you, just— frustrated.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. This is Rintarou, the soft side of him you’ve only been lucky to catch a glimpse of a handful of times; this is the guy that you daydream about, the one who tells you he likes you back in some alternate universe. Rintarou is more terrifying than Suna, because you can never say no to him.

“Y/N, please?” He pleads. “I haven’t seen you in a whole week. Please just look at me.”

Already, you’re lifting your head to look in his eyes. See? This is what he does to you, soft spoken words and you’re already putty in his hands, willing to bend over backwards just to make him happy. Almost like a reward for your bravery, Suna flashes his signature smile at you, and you almost melt.

“Ah,” he says softly, walking towards you and cupping both your cheeks in his hands, “there she is.”

Your cheeks heat up even more, and you try to turn away once more but he holds your head firmly in place.

“Will you be honest with me?”

Do you have any other choice? You nod, slowly, hesitantly, but it’s enough for him.

“Last Saturday night, when there was a full moon, you called me super duper drunk,” he starts, “and said, Suna Rintarou I hate you and your stupid face and your stupid smile and your stupid hands I think about holding all the time, did you mean it?”

Oh my god. You want the ground to suddenly open up and swallow you whole. You want an asteroid to suddenly hit the earth and destroy all living things. Anything  to get you away from the scene unfolding before you.

You stare at the little freckle on his cheek. “Yes.”

“You’re a terrible liar. My mother says I’m very handsome, so why would you call my face stupid?”

In between your thoughts of curling into a ball to feel sorry for yourself and bolting out of the room far away from Suna, you manage to roll your eyes.

“Where are you going with this?”

Suna completely ignores you.

“Moving on, you said, why are you so stupid Suna Rintarou? You’re so stupid when it comes to doing your homework on time and making all those stupid jokes. You always tease me more than anyone else, and it’s not fair that you target me when Atsumu literally exists—”

“Oh my god,” you interrupt, “did you memorize this or something?”

“Studied it better than any of my notes for a test.” he teases. “But don’t worry, I haven’t even got to the good part yet.”

You could punch him right now. You really could.

“And after that you said, I hate how you make me feel special like that, you make me delusional enough to think that maybe I am special to you and that’s why you always choose me as your target. I hate that you’ve been blessed with everything but a goddamn brain, because if you did then maybe you’d realize it before I even had to tell you.”

“Maybe,” he heaves out a breath and smiles at you, “maybe if you did then you’d realize that I’ve been in love with you for the past year and a half.” Suna looks into your eyes then, and there’s a glint in his eye you’ve never seen till now. “Rin, you said my name softly like that, I’m so in love with you.”

“I—” you try to start but he’s left you speechless. You can’t believe he remembered everything you said.

“Though, my favourite part is when you said all those sweet things then proceeded to yell ‘you suck!’ into the phone then hung up before I could even say anything.” Suna giggles, he giggles,and you realize he thinks this whole situation is funny. He sobers up quickly, then his eyes seem to start analyzing you, searching for something. “I tried bringing it up with you last week, but you ran away before I could even say anything. And all this time, I’ve just… I’ve been wondering whether you meant it.”

You stare at him blankly, still trying to process his words. You’re sure that you’ve lost all your brain cells in a week because you’re still at a loss of what to say. But there’s nothing left to hide anyway, is there?

“Yes, I meant it. The last part,” you gulp, “I really meant it.”

“The part where you said that I sucked?” he asks, eyebrow raised questioningly.

You scowl at him. “You know what I mean! The last part!”

“The part where you said I’ve been blessed with everything but brains? Or the part where you called my jokes stupid?”

You can’t believe the nerve of this guy. Stupid, stupid, stupid motherfucking Suna Rintarou. You hate the fact that he’s teasing you over your feelings like this.

“You really do suck. So much. You’re the worst person I know. Fine. Yes I meant it, yes I’ve been in love with you for the past year and half you idiot. It’s all true okay.” you finally admit, exasperated. “So can you just stop wasting my time? Reject me already, so I can cry about it and glow up and make you regret your life decisions and—”

“Do you know how long I’ve waited to hear those words from you?” Suna asks suddenly, looking at you so earnestly you stop your rambling. “This isn’t how I pictured you saying it, and honestly I figured I would do it first, but this works too I guess. It was meant to be a lot more romantic, and you weren’t insulting me every five seconds when declaring your undying love for me—”

You cannot believe what you’re hearing right now.

“But… this works too.”  he says. “I’m in love with you too, been in love for a while now actually and I never really knew how to say it. So when you confessed last week, I just thought it was the perfect time to… you know.”

Nowhe’sthe one blushing.

“What the fuck?” is all you can say right now.

Suna can sense that you’re about to ramble and ask a million questions so he beats you to it.

“I think we should kiss right now.” is all he says, before leaning dangerously close to you.

You immediately put your hand on his chest to stop him, effectively stopping him in his tracks.

“Hold on! What the hell, I’m still processing this Rin!”

Suna looks at you in confusion, already pulling you in closer again. “What is there left to process? I waited a whole week for you already!”

“You had a whole week to process my feelings— you’ve given me like five minutes!” you exclaim. “I don’t even think I’m awake right now, quick pinch me so I know it’s real.”

“Maybe if you come and kiss me you’ll know it’s real.” Suna says, stupud smirk on his face. “Come on pretty girl, process it later, I want my kiss.”

“Who says I want to kiss you?” you counter, but your resolve is already crumbling by the second.

He shoots you an incredulous look. “Seriously? You’re going to play hard to get right now? I’m here ready to kiss you and—”

You bolt away from his hold, giggling as you run towards the door but Suna doesn’t let you take more than two steps away from him.

“I’m serious, Y/N. I’ve been thinking about this for the past week, been dreaming about it much longer than that. Can I please kiss you?”

You would be a fool to deny him when you’ve been dreaming of the exact same thing as well. So you offer him a small nod, and that’s all it takes before he pulls you towards him, so gently, as if you’re fragile.

He cups your cheeks in his hands, smiling at you as if you are the sun itself. The light from your window seeps in at that moment and lights up his eyes in a way that makes you fall in love all over again.

He brushes his nose softly against yours, eyes closing as you smile in anticipation. Just when you can’t wait anymore, you feel his lips against yours and you can’t help but melt in his arms, your body flush against him.

You don’t know how to describe what it feels like to finally kiss him. He tastes of mint, lips languidly moving against yours, not too harsh but just enough that it leaves you wanting more and more (you don’t know if you’ll ever get enough of him).

After a considerable amount of time, you both pull away, chests heaving as your foreheads bump against each other.

“Well?” you ask, still basking in the moment as you gaze up at him.

He smiles back. “I’m glad you called me.”

“I’m glad I did too.”

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ғᴀᴠ ᴏʀ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢ ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴜsᴇ/sᴀᴠᴇ

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ғᴀᴠᴏʀʀᴇʙʟᴏɢ ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴜsᴇ/sᴀᴠᴇ

RISES THE MOON.||suna rintaro

suna rintaro is tired.

and so are you.

you two stepped into the cramped train, coming from the airport after a very long flight. though you both opted to take a taxi, the queue for the taxi was way worse than the waiting time for the cramped train.

“i‘m tired.” you mumble to your boyfriend, looking up at him with your eyes attempting to blink the sleep away.

“me too angel.” he whispers, bending down as he presses a kiss to your forehead.

with suna‘s right hand, he holds the luggage you both brought. it‘s a large black suitcase, and his back pack is on top of it, he holds it very securely. meanwhile his left is laid at the small of your back, kept there to hold you close, and to fend off predators.

“i feel like i can sleep standing up.” you say with a chuckle, but it‘s not a joke. with the fatigue from the long flight, the cramped train, and jet lag: you do believe you can sleep like this.

“that sucks.” suna mumbles, as though he doesn‘t care. but his eyes are already looking around the train for free seats, or seats that will be freed with the next stop. “we‘re going to be here for another hour or so,”

“i know.” you mumble into his chest, filling your senses with his smell, rather than the smell of the train that‘s making you feel worse. “just wanna sleep.” you add further.

suna looks at you, his hand moving to the back of your head, running his fingers through your scalp and softly caressing you. his lips then press another kiss to your forehead.

“you can lean on me and sleep, i‘ll hold you.” he whispers to you, his hands moving back to the small of your back. his hand pats your skin softly, lulling you to sleep.

“but you‘re tired too,” you softly say into his chest, worried for him. but he simply shakes his head and presses one more kiss, but this time to your temple.

“it‘s okay, i can sleep at home.” he assures you, his hands moving up and down your back for comfort. usually, you‘d protest more, but due to your fatigue, you simply nod.

suna watches you softly, smiling to himself before he presses one last kiss to your forehead. he himself might be tired, but he would rather be standing there sleepy and looking out for you, rather than to let you stand there tired with him.

because he, no matter what happens, suna rintaro promises he will always look after you.

this is painfully unedited.

u7162719037291:

%%SUNA AS YOUR BOYFRIEND.

part four

notes;; a part three because of my suna brain rot

• when he eats ice cream and you ask for some he would lift it in the air while you try to take it from him and it ends up on the floor
• mf has the WEIRDEST food combinations and that’s fine i guess but he TAKES your food and eats it with his like if you’re eating those flaming hot cheetos he would dip it in his ice cream and if you look at him like he would shove it in your mouth
• you two definitely yell at each other playfully in the car when you can’t decide where to eat and end up going back home ordering takeout or something from doordash
• OH MY GOD HE’S THE TYPE TO PULL PRANKS ON YOU BUT WHEN IT FAILS HE’S LIKE TF ⁉️ WHY DIDN’T IT WORK BUT HE’S THE ONE WHO GETS PRANKED EVENTUALLY AND YOU’RE JUST THERE LAUGHING AT HIM LMAO
• airdrops you random things of the day like horrible pictures of you which are actually cute smh videos of him annoying you and ugly zoomed in pictures of atsumu because he likes to make fun of him
• literally can’t go for a second without him getting into trouble once you left him for 5 MINUTES to go to another aisle searching for something you needed and when you turned around you could see suna standing at the other end of the aisle with a pout
• he wouldn’t answer your questions when you asked him what’s wrong but drags you to another store and you can see his wide smile once he sees his favourite chuupets
• yeah he kept a secret from you that he fought a kid for chuupets that’s why he was pouty
• when you force him to study with you he doesn’t actually study he would just fiddle with the pen and bites it while staring at you LIKE WHAT LOUIS DID IN HIS INTERVIEW WITH MILLIE ‼️
• if you tell him to record a video of your hair from the back he would record your butt for a few seconds then your hair for like one second
• randomly acts out like those boys in episode YES IM REFERRING TO THE GAME suna used to play episode you can’t tell me otherwise
• throws snowballs at your window to wake you the fuck up at like 3 am just for you to see him make a huge ass heart and a ‘i love you’ in the snow with his lil footprints (yes this is from one of my brain rot posts)
• says that he hates prom but once you drag him there he literally becomes the life of the party
• you guys also take the cutest pictures in the photo booth >.<
• gets fascinated by random things like cats squirrels and tiny bugs and when you tell him to hurry tf up he just stands there and stare at it
• when he lays in between your thighs while talking and accidentally says something stupid you choke him with your fucking thighs :D
• yes sometimes you two feel like going on a date in the middle of the night so he would take you to wendy’s to get the fries and dip them in the wendy’s frosty also you two are like the only customers there lmao
• SNEAKING OUT OF PARTIES AND RUNNING WITH HIS HAND INTERTWINED WITH YOURS AND HOLDING YOUR HEELS IN THE OTHER
• or or peppering his face with kisses and taking pictures of him with his lips and face smeared with your lipstick pls he would be so cute omg :,(
• yeah you and him love to annoy atsumu because he loves annoying you two so you blame everything on atsumu and suna chases him around the school like those subway surfers guys ‍♂️ ??
• when you text him and he doesn’t reply (which he usually does) he facetimes you because he says he’s too lazy to reply
• LOVES LOVES LOVES it when you sit on his lap your back facing his chest and he just hugs you tightly while placing kissing all over your neck <3
• HATES IT when his sister becomes the third wheel even if it’s just getting in n out BECAUSE ONCE AN OLD COUPLE SAID THAT YOU GUYS WERE A CUTE LIL FAMILY AND THAT THE CHILD (SUNA’S SISTER) WAS ADORABLE yeah suna started choking on his burger
• feels bad that you have to watch him fight with his sister or else you were forced to play dress up with his sister
• WHEN YOU TWO EAT GRAPES HE FORCES YOU TO THROW THEM INTO HIS MOUTH BUT YOU PURPOSELY THROW THEM SOMEWHERE ELSE AND BLAMES HIM FOR NOT CATCHING THEM BUT HE ENDS UP THROWING HIMSELF ONTO YOU AND TICKLES YOU
• his sister forced him to take her to the zoo once and she wanted to touch the snake but he instantly dropped her from his arms and that day you found out that he was afraid of snakes so you and his sister often tease him about it
• you and his parents are really great friends and get along well with each other so yay going on holidays together but they don’t let you two sleep together so suna’s sister accompanies you guys and forces you and suna to watch disney movies with her
• HAS THE WEIRDEST PET NAMES FOR YOU LIKE snookums, kitten, buttercup, twinkletoes, chipmunk, pudding, hunnybun, peach, sweet pea, jelly belly, sweet thang, pumpkin, my cherie amour, pookie, little mama, babelicious, puppy dawg, fluffball, boo bear, love muffin, wonder girl, pickle, baby cheeks, mama, baby carrot, sugar boo, snugglepuff LMFAO and he says them out loud to embarrass you
• so you call him beef cakes, papi, big boy, sexy beast, muscleman, boss man, big papa, pussy bangs, moving letter C to embarrass him too I CANT THINK OF ANYTHING ELSE

‣‣‣RUN2U !!nine

“ no matter who you are, over and over

it’s okay if i get hurt, i’ll run to you „

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‣‣‣RUN2U !!eight

“ no matter who you are, over and over

it’s okay if i get hurt, i’ll run to you „

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a/n. hiii!! i’m so sorry for being gone for so long!! i just kinda got stuck and had no type of motivation to post on here at all. i’ll be back to updating regularly now hopefully <3 also!! if you asked to be on the taglist and i didn’t add you, pls let me know!

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‣‣‣RUN2U !!seven

“ no matter who you are, over and over

it’s okay if i get hurt, i’ll run to you „

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a/n. hiii!! i’m back, finally! thank you to everyone who was patient and waited! i was really struggling lol. i meant to get this chapter out yesterday, but i’ve been really tired honestly. lots is osamu in this chapter, he isn’t so terrible yall!! but anyways, enjoy this chapter! <3

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‣‣‣RUN2U !!six

“ no matter who you are, over and over

it’s okay if i get hurt, i’ll run to you „

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the house was eerily quiet. yachi could probably hear the sound of your heart thumping from across the apartment. any attempt at calming yourself would just resort to your heart beating even faster.

you didn’t really know why you were so nervous. it was just suna you were talking to. over the past few weeks the two of you had become close, and fast. though, nearly all of your communication had been through texts with the occasional voice message thrown in, never phone calls. what were you even gonna say to him? what was he gonna talk to you about? was this even appropriate? it’s not like it’s easy to get any advice on your situation. hell, you didn’t even know if there was a situation anyways.

after five minutes or so, you finally got the courage to press the call button.

“hello?” the sound of his voice nearly made you jump out of your skin. you knew what he sounded like. you heard his voice countless times. why now was your heart fluttering. “not gonna lie, i thought you got scared and chickened out” the slight chuckle in his voice didn’t go unnoticed by you. he was amused, obviously.

“i’ll be honest, i didn’t think this through fully” you admitted bashfully. him agreeing really didn’t cross your mind. the idea popped into your head and without a second thought you texted him. if you had actually thought about it you most definitely would’ve chickened out. though, your logical thinking seems to go out the window whenever you talk to him.

there was a bit of shuffling in the background before suna replied again, “you? not thinking things through fully? no way” he replied sarcastically, something you learned he likes to do a lot. “but why are you awake anyways? you’re an early bird.”

another thing you’ve learned about him is that he knows just how to get you to say what’s on your mind. you knew your friends had good intentions, but they often treat you like a child. things you say don’t normally get taken seriously. sometimes you feel like they don’t listen at all, only hear what they want to hear just so they can tell you to “be careful.” suna however, he listens to you. he doesn’t undermine your feelings and he actually offers useful help. it’s helped you in the last few weeks.

you knew he would listen to you, but you couldn’t go to suna with all of your problems. especially not the problems you’re having with his best friend.

your friends are done hearing about osama. they don’t like him and they don’t think you should be with him. the only advice they’ll offer to you about him is to cut him off, and you’ve thought about that. a lot. you also really care about osamu. he hasn’t been the best boyfriend in the past, but he also hasn’t been the worst. you love him, you just don’t know if you’re in love with him anymore.

and that sucks because he’s trying really hard for you.

“oh, it’s about osamu right?” by now suna knows that you only hesitate when it comes to osamu. he’s not so different from you though, he doesn’t really like to bring him up either.

anytime he thinks about him a wave of guilt hits up. the two of you haven’t done anything but playfully flirt, but it still feels wrong. suna knows something like this would hurt osamu. that’s why he was hesitant to even pick up the phone. imagine how bad i’d be, getting caught talking to your best friend’s kinda ex at two in the morning. it’s a bad look. how would he even explain it? the last thing he’d want to do is hurt his friend, one of the only people that’s there for him. is he really willing to risk that for a bit of flirting with you? would osamu really be that upset over it?

“yeah. he and i went out today and i just wasn’t feeling it” you told him quietly, interrupting his train of thoughts.

“we had this discussion that has me thinking: oh! maybe we shouldn’t be together” you said, frustrated that you were still stuck on the events from earlier. you tried to move on, you really did, but for some reason your mind kept bringing you back to that one conversation.

“what was the discussion?”

“it’s silly.. i honestly shouldn’t even be upset” suna could almost hear the frown on your lips. he wishes he could see it. “osamu said he doesn’t wanna get married. he thinks weddings are a waste” you bit down on your lip.

whenever you talked to osamu about being in a relationship, it was always long term. talks about living together, growing old, and even kids. but oddly enough, the two of you have never talked about marriage. well not until that convo happened. osamu doesn’t want to get married, he’s got a negative view on it and doesn’t plan on changing his mind. you on the other hand, enjoy the idea of marriage. to you, it’s a beautiful celebration of love. you’ve always envisioned yourself getting married to him. sadly, the thought probably doesn’t cross his mind as much as it does in yours.

“you want to get married, right?” he asked and you hummed in response. “then, that’s not silly at all,” he spoke again after a few seconds. “if getting married is something you want in life.. be with someone who also wants it. you shouldn’t have to live your life longing for something you could’ve had” another wave of guilt washed over him. he knew how much osamu loves you, yet here he is, encouraging you to find someone else. “but you know, you could always talk to your partner and work on it together. you’ve got to compromise sometimes right?”

“you’re right, i should’ve just talked to him about it instead of silently being upset” you pressed your lips together, trying to piece together what he told you. “but, since we’ve got to compromise and all, doesn’t that mean i should as well?” you questioned.

suna laughed a bit. it made you smile, you definitely wanted to hear it more often. “shit, you’re right. i told you that i don’t really know what i’m saying. so just ignore that last part and focus on the first one” he said. “you should be with someone who wants the same things as you in life, long term speaking of course.”

“hmm, do you want to get married suna?” you decided you were done with the problem talk and switch to something more fun. you knew he’d reply with some corny pick up line. they never failed to make you laugh.

“if i get to marry you, then yes,” and if your heart didn’t speed up for that, his next line definitely got you going. “call me rin, please?”

you nodded with a grin , even though he couldn’t see you. “should we start planning the wedding then, rin? do you wanna be added to my wedding pinterest board?” you giggled, now kicking your feet like a schoolgirl with a crush.

him responding “what the hell is pinterest?” only made you crack up even more.

a/n. sorry for all the delays! i wont be updating for the next few days so this is all i’m leaving everyone with? </3. hope you all enjoy the chapter!

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‣‣‣RUN2U !!five

“ no matter who you are, over and over

it’s okay if i get hurt, i’ll run to you „

‣series masterlist|next

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‣‣‣RUN2U !!four

“ no matter who you are, over and over

it’s okay if i get hurt, i’ll run to you „

‣series masterlist|next

a/n. hiii, i hope you all like this au so far. i’m gonna be going on a trip later this week so i’ll be taking a little break from posting chapters probably. thursday will be the last update before my trip. also please check out loona’s intro performance for queendom!! thank uu <3

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