oya?

events

holiday 2024 300 follower event 🎄

2026 new years event 🎆

fics

akaashi

parenthood

atsumu

benched

the fiancé drabbles 1 / 2 / 3

kill it

queen of the castle / trials / holiday wishes

sparring partner

daichi

distraction

iwaizumi

blind date

dress up

of rumors and wrong assumptions 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

kageyama

hand care

kuroo

cheater!

morning dance party

honey, i'm home

morning light

sneaky

mattsun

scheduling conflict

nishinoya

lf: tutor

osamu

chances 1 / 2 / 3

sakusa

compromise

sugawara

flirting (?)

irreversible 1 / 2 / 3

tsukishima

“love you, daddy,” she says cutely, letting go of your neck and leaning towards your husband. he carries her effortlessly and she giggles when he nuzzles his nose into her neck to tickle her. “daddy!”

“we’ll go now,” atsumu announces. his daughter gives him one last squeeze before she wiggles, the universal signal to put her down. she runs back to her presents as soon as her feet touch the floor.

“you’re staying?” you ask osamu as you walk over to say good bye.

he nods, leaning in to buss your cheek. “yeah. restaurant’s closed until the 27th, so i’m sticking around. hanging out with my niece and mom would be better than my empty apartment.”

you smile at him. “well, if you want me to introduce you to any of my friends, just let me know. i’m kinda with your mom on this one.”

he grins through his groan. “seriously?”

“yeah, but no rush,” you add. “i worry about you, too, you know.”

“you’re too good to me, angel,” he tells you, slinging an arm over your shoulder to kiss the side of your head. “how atsumu managed to get someone like you is beyond me.”

“mutiny!” atsumu cries, pointing at the two of you.

you laugh and osamu lets you go. “bye, osamu,” you call one last time, slipping your hand in your husband’s.

“bye, you two.” he makes a face at his twin and flips him off with both hands while their mother’s back was turned. atsumu counters with one hand and the same face, before you tug him away to leave.

when you get to the car, you turn on the heat as he straps himself in. “it’s so cold.”

in true atsumu fashion, he turns to you with a sly smiles and wiggles his eyebrows. “we could warm up in the backseat."

you roll your eyes. “just drive, ’tsum.”

he grins and the car rumbles away, his fingers threading together with yours over the center console on the ride home.

—

before you can even take off your coat, he kisses you soundly. “merry christmas,” he says, breath brushing against your face.

“merry christmas,” you say with a smile.

“you wanna get a drink?” he asks letting you go and shrugging off his coat, and you admire the lean physique that rests beneath his sweater.

“not really feeling it,” you say sheepishly. he flashes you a look—you’d also avoided wine the whole evening, excusing yourself be feeling bloated. “but i could use some tea.”

“okay,” he says. he takes your face in his cold hands and smirks down at you. “i have a present for you, by the way.”

“atsumu, if you’re gonna put a red ribbon on your penis like last year—”

he guffaws. “no, no! a real present. i swear.” he kisses you. “but my present last year was fun.”

“it was ridiculous,” you say with a shake of your head, cheeks mushing against his palms. “but i’m already married to you. i knew there was no escaping.”

“this was all part of my grand plan,” he declares jokingly. “i will unleash my terrible holiday gifts on you year after year.”

“the horror,” you deadpan, and he laughs.

“i’ll go get your present,” he says, kissing you one last time before helping you take off your coat.

“can you also get mine?” you tell him as he walks off. “i’ll take care of the drinks.”

he perks up and looks at you. “i get a present? is it….” he wiggles his fingers. “is it lacy?” he makes a small gasp, like he'd just stumbled upon something. "is it sheer?"

you make a face. “just get it. it’s on the bed.” you’d put it there before you’d met him in the car to head to his mother’s; no way you were asking him to root through your stuff and discover all your hiding places.

he responds with a thumbs up and you pad into the kitchen to prepare a glass of wine and some tea. your hands tremble slightly as you do, your belly coiling pleasantly.

“this is a big ass box,” comments atsumu as he sets it down on the kotatsu. “mine’s tiny compared to yours.”

“it’s not a competition,” you say, walking in to the living room and setting the glass of wine down in front of him. you lift the segment of the duvet next to him and insert yourself snuggly beneath it. “although, i think i might beat you this year.”

“i thought it wasn’t a competition.”

you shrug. “just stating a fact.”

“mine’s pretty good, though!” he grins, handing you a thin envelope. he seems like his normal pompous self, but after knowing him for a while and being married to him for a few years, you can tell that he's not as confident as he normally is.

you raise an eyebrow. “tickets?”

“nope.” he leans closer, still exuding that nervousness. “open it.”

you gently pull the tab open and slot your fingers into the envelope. you pull out a clean sheet of paper and unfold it, reading the inside. your eyes widen. “what—?”

“so you don’t have to worry about timing, or getting older, or anything,” he says, rubbing his hands together nervously. “and i’ll pay for it, too.”

your eyes scan the words again.

FERTILITY CLINIC TOKYO

COST ESTIMATE

SERVICE — OOCYTE CRYOPRESERVATION

“egg freezing?” you ask, getting nervous. “have you paid for this?”

“not yet,” atsumu says, clearing his throat. “but i… i wanted you to have the option.” he squirms a little. “are you… are you mad?”

no, you’re not. you’re the opposite of mad. you’re not even remotely close to mad. but it doesn’t come out of your mouth. “i'm—i… atsumu. i'm—”

“i’m sorry,” he blurts, “i was—”

you struggle to find the words, so instead you launch yourself at him, and kiss him on the mouth. “thank you,” you sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck. “i'm—thank you.”

“so,” he asks tentatively, hands holding your sides. “you’re not… mad?”

“no, i’m not,” you laugh, shaking your head. you pull away and look over the paper again. “i can't—i just can’t believe you… this is so sweet of you, atsumu. thank you.”

“i didn’t want you to, like… stress out about it,” he says with a sniff. “it’s okay. even if my mom says otherwise, we’re still kinda young. it’s an option for us—for you—if you want it.”

you turn to him with a soft, affectionate smile. “i mean it, atsumu. thank you. i love you.”

he reaches over to tuck a lock of your hair behind your ear. “i love you, too.” he grins, self-satisfied. “bet i beat your gift, huh?”

you grin, confident. “nope. i still won.”

his face falls. “what? no way. did you see how great my gift was? i totally won!”

“no, no—i swear, i still beat you,” you laugh, pushing the large box towards him.

he scowls and proceeds to rip open the box in a scarily similar fashion as your daughter. “if i don’t win, you better have a back up gift. and it better be sheer.”

“just open it,” you say, rolling your eyes.

he shoots you a confused glance when he pulls out another box, and another, and another, and another, until he reaches a small, modest-sized black box. “is this it?”

“open it,” you encourage.

he sets it on the table and uncovers the lid, and his eyes widen. “what—”

“surprise,” you say softly, and he pulls out a positive pregnancy test and a photo of an ultrasound with trembling hands.

“oh my god,” he says, voice cracking as he stared at the ultrasound. another baby. his baby. “oh my god.”

“i wanted you to know first,” you say, scooting closer. “but i think your mom has an idea.”

“this is why you’ve been avoiding alcohol all night,” he realizes.

“yeah,” you say. you reach forward to pat his knee above the duvet, letting him take his time absorb the news.

he’s silent for a long while. then, he takes a deep breath and his voice strains when he says, “you totally beat me.”

you laugh, brushing your knuckles against his cheek. “i told you so.”

“and i’m gonna be mom’s favorite next year, too.” his voice cracks this time.

you giggle at that.

he looks up at you, eyes wet and glassy. your heart swells at the sight. “i love you.”

“i love you, too,” you say, heartfelt and happy, smiling at him with all deep affection.

the corner of your lip twists up. "he said he was okay with next week,” you supply, but naturally, as atsumu does when it comes to anything about his brother, he kicks up a fuss.

"why would you ask him?” your husband demands, looking back into the mirror and threading his hands through his hair, more roughly then earlier.

“it’ll be easier than asking your parents,” you mumble to yourself, low enough so he won't be able to make it out. louder, you say, “she’s been asking for him a lot. i think she misses him.”

he lets go of his hair and spins to face you, a white towel looped over his defined hips. you watch him walk (march?) closer as you sit on the bed.

“yes, but what if he brainwashes her into thinking he’s the better twin?”

you blink up at him, then raise an eyebrow. “seriously?”

he throws his hands up in the air. “yes, i’m serious! there’s no telling what that idiot would say to her!”

you roll your eyes. “you’re her father. she’s legally obligated to like you more.”

that was evidently not the right thing to say. “that doesn’t make me feel better!”

you ignore him. “and it’s just for two days max, anyway. you have a whole week to indoctrinate her into your osamu-hating ways.”

he thinks about that for a moment. that was the right thing to say. “okay, yeah, fine.” he drops his hands on your shoulders and the left over serum makes his fingers glide gently over your skin. then, in a rare moment of perceptiveness, he asks, “what’s on next week, anyway? did i miss something?”

okay, that was a lie. atsumu is very perceptive in general, but especially when it comes to you. you should've known you wouldn't be able to hide much from him.

with a sigh, you squirm in your seat and look straight at his abs—inappropriate, perhaps, but it was much easier than looking him in the eye for this. “i may be… uh."

"hm?" he prods, still rubbing your shoulders.

you force it out. "i’vebeen trackingmyperiod, and maybe wecouldhaveanotherbaby.”

his fingers pause over your skin. “wait, what?” his tone doesn’t hold a hint of humor, only curious consideration. he crouches down in front of you to meet your gaze, and his hands slide down to grab hold of yours. “babe, did you... are you serious?”

“i’ve been thinking about it,” you admit, and you can feel your heart beat a little harder, “i know you want more kids, and you know i’m still thinking about it, but…”

his thumbs circle around your knuckles. “but what?”

your belly flips in nervousness. “we had such a hard time with her,” you recall, pouting in an effort not to tear up.

atsumu squeezes your hands just slightly, and relief covers you like a blanket. you can tell this man anything. “it was so hard to get pregnant—two years, atsumu. just for her. so—so maybe if we start now—” you cut yourself off and bite your lip.

he nods. “i don’t want you to pressure yourself into it,” atsumu tells you gently, brow wrinkled in concern.

“i know, but—atsumu, she’s already four. what if we run out of time?”

he smiles at you, so sweet and tender that it makes you squeeze his hands. “baby," he tells you softly, "i want kids, but i don’t want you to feel like you have to give them to me.” he reaches up with one hand and brushes his knuckles over your cheek. “i may act like an asshole but i’m not a dick.”

you can't but let out a laugh at that, but it's weak, even to your ears. “i know that, i just—”

he shakes his head firmly. “i love you, alright?" he says, giving you a gentle shake. "anything you can give me, i’ll love, too. one kid or one more or two more or however more. even if we had none," he says, tucking a fallen lock of your hair behind your ear, "i'll love you just the same."

god, you want to cry. instead, you take a deep, steadying breath. “yes, i know that, but i just…" you sniff, "i don’t want you to feel like you missed out on the family you always… you’ve always dreamed of.”

he sighs at that, smiling a little. “but you’re the family i’ve always dreamed of.”

that's the one—you can’t help the way your chest clenches and eyes tear up. “oh my god, you’re so cheesy.”

he laughs then, and gets up to sit on the bed next to you. he settles an arm around your shoulders and kisses the top of your head as you wrap your arms around his bare torso. “don’t worry about me, alright?” he murmurs into your hair. “i’ll be fine. if you’re happy, then that’s more than enough to make me happy.”

“i love you,” you tell him earnestly, pulling away to look at his face.

“i love you, too,” he says, then pauses to think. “although, if i’m being honest, i am absolutely not opposed to practicing baby-making. like, at all.”

you know he says it to cheer you up (god, you love him so much), so you roll your eyes affectionately. “of course you wouldn’t.”

there’s a pause in your conversation, and realizations set in.

"so," he starts.

“we haven’t been alone like this in weeks,” you point out.

he nods slowly. “you said she's asleep, right?”

“yeah.” you share one last glance before he bolts for the door and twists the lock while you hurry out of your sleep clothes. “what time do you have to be at practice tomorrow?”

“we have weights at nine,” atsumu says, running to the bathroom to finish his hair.

you glance at the clock hanging over your dresser as you kick your pants off your legs. “nine, eight… we have less than an hour—”

“more than enough,” atsumu declares, whipping off his towel as he launches toward the bed, grabbing your arm in the process.

you laugh as you both land with a bounce on the mattress. in a flash, he's grinning as hovers over you, hands traveling up your bare sides to hold your face.

“i love you,” he says, sincerely.

you catch your face in your hands and let out a sigh you try to keep as quiet as you can, and the tell-tale click of a stove being shut off cuts the silence in the air. it’s your first big fight since you’ve moved back in, and all things considered, you think that three months was a good run. he hadn’t proposed officially yet, even though he made clear that there would be no one else, but you could let that go. still, reality was wont to hit sooner or later.

osamu isn’t perfect.

he quietly walks into the living room, standing by the end of the couch. “time for dinner,” he says softly, and you look up at his shadowed face. 

he looks… sad, of course, but more reserved, nearly emotionless, when all you wanted to do was look at his face and immediately sense what was going on in his head, like you did almost half a year ago before you moved out. osamu was the less reactive twin, compared to atsumu who had zero control of his facial muscles, but you can tell that this was purposeful.

it left a sour taste in your mouth that he wasn’t letting you read him.

the vivid memory of osamu’s back to you as you slept in the same bed felt like you were staring at a mirror, and your stomach coils unpleasantly.

you swallow and stand up, looking at anywhere except him. “‘m not really hungry.”

“what?” he asks as you collect your jacket from the back of the couch. there's something in his tone that unnerves you, but you decide to step away. “where are you going?”

you don’t answer, instead opting to pick up your keys from where you left them on the counter.

“where are you going?” he repeats, but you give him silence. you just… you just don’t want to do this, you don’t—

“please,” you hear as soon as he jerks at your wrist, and you turn to find his face hardened, eyes glossy with unshed tears, and the emotion he wears on his face hits you like a brick. “please, please tell me where you’re going,” he begs, voice breaking.

you’re taken aback, unable to say anything.

osamu’s stricken, and he pulls his hand away. “i’m sorry,” he whispers, stepping back. “i’m sorry, i—i shouldn’t have—”

and you’re watching him, this towering figure of a man, retreating and cowering in fear, more unsure of himself than he’s ever been in his life.

osamu has always been pretty certain with what he wanted, you’ve come to realize throughout the years of being with him. he shared that trait with his brother. he was sure he wanted to do something in food, wanted to have his own place. he had a pretty set plan on how he was going to live, at what age he was aiming to get married, how many kids he kind of wanted.

so seeing him like this broke your heart.

“osamu,” you say, reaching for him. he recoils in the slightest, and your heart aches. your hand cradles his cheek. “osamu, talk to me.”

he swallows as he looks to the side, turning away from your palm, his lips pressed together. warmth pricks the backs of your eyes as he distances himself, but you ignore it and rest your hand on his collar.

“please,” you ask, looking up at him to meet his gaze.

it takes him a while to speak. “i don’t want to… i don’t want to make another mistake again,” he admits, voice small. 

"i don't..." you start, unable to understand. you shake your head. "i'm sorry, i don't..."

he brings in a big, shaky breath, then turns his head to meet your gaze. “don't leave me again.”

your breath gets knocked out of your lungs.

“i don’t want you to leave me,” he says again, trying his best not to cry. “i’ll—i’ll do everything right. i promise. i’ll—i won’t mess up this time. i swear to you,” he tells you, begs you, and you’re sharply reminded of him getting on his knees and asking for another chance.

the heat behind your eyes pushes tears down your cheeks. you hurt him, whether your meant it or you didn’t.

“i’m so sorry,” you tell him, stepping forward to wrap your arms around him.

“no, i’m—”

“no, osamu, please,” you insist, voice thick and wet and miserable, because for months you were thinking that everything was fine, that everything was working out, when in reality, osamu was going out of his mind just trying his best to keep you.

he couldn’t trust you to love him.

“i won’t leave you,” you cry against his shirt, then look up at him. “have you been thinking that all this time? that you mess up, and then i’ll leave?” something occurs to you. “is that… is this why you haven’t asked me to marry you?”

he swallows and he looks guilty, and it brings you so much anguish.

“i’m sorry,” he mumbles. anger bubbles within you.

you’re so angry with yourself, with how everything worked out. that you had the love of your life back but lost him in the clutches of the insecurities you planted within him. you were together but so far apart, and you can’t believe that you’ve been making mistakes you didn’t know were mistakes, but above all, you can’t believe osamu let you keep making them because he thought it would make you stay.

you feel like shit. and it’s all your fault.

osamu isn’t perfect, and you know this. but neither are you, so who are you to ask him to be?

“i’m sorry,” you sob over and over again, unable to stop, because you’re the worst person in the world for hurting the only man in the world you’ve ever loved, who was just trying to love you in return.

—

you wake up in osamu’s arms, and it takes you a second to make sense of everything. your eyes feel thick and tight and it’s from the crying, you’re sure, and you reach up to rub them.

“stop that,” you hear in a low grunt, and soon your fiancé’s grasp comes up to pick your hand away from your face. “you shouldn’t do that.”

“ngh,” you grumble, burying your face against his neck. “i’m probably super ugly right now.”

“probably,” he mumbles, then groans when you smack his torso.

“shut up.”

he relents silently, opting instead to turn and collect you in his arms, and you muffle your cries against his bicep. you take an exaggerated breath when he finally lets you breathe. “you’re such a dumb butt.”

“did you actually just call me a dumb butt?” he chuckles, voice rough from sleep. “are you six years old?”

you playfully pinch his arm in response, and you laugh when he yelps. it’s a nice change of pace, after all that’s happened last night.

when your laughter dies down, the smiles fade from your faces as you meet each other’s eyes.

“i’m sorry,” you tell him earnestly, bringing a hand to brush back his hair.

“i’m sorry, too,” he mumbles. he comes closer to press an earnest kiss to your forehead. “i love you so much and i was—i was just really scared. you leaving me… it was my worst nightmare. and thinking it was happening again, i just—”

you recall the tears he cried last night, and heat pricks at the back of your eyes. “and i’m sorry for not making you feel like what you were doing to make up for it wasn’t enough,” you remind him, caressing his cheek.

“i forgive you,” he whispers, kissing you softly.

“i forgive you, too,” you respond, voice cracking just a little. “you know that right?”

his face opens up with a gentle affection. “yeah. i do.” 

“good.”

he smiles and kisses away the tear that escapes the corner of your eye. “i want to hear you say that you love me again.”

you nod. “i love you so much.”

he squeezes you close. “again.”

“i love you, osamu,” you say with utmost sincerity. you kiss his jaw. “now say it back.”

his eyes shine with joy. “i love you so much.”

“say that you’re so excited to marry me.”

he beams. “i’m so excited to marry you.”

you tilt your face closer to his, kissing him soundly, morning breath be damned. your chest was swelling with happiness, and it was all because of him.

"say you're excited to marry me, too," he mumbles.

you smile, unconsciously twisting your brand new engagement ring with your thumb. “i'm excited to be yours forever, osamu.”

he pulls you impossibly closer and you let out a sigh.

it’s simple, but perfect. you come over the day before, and you both stay awake until midnight, sharing a slice of strawberry short cake from the local convenience store to cap off his birthday.

it’s a luxury not many are allowed in high school, and he’s still wondering how on earth you two never got interrupted in one way or another. not that there was anything to interrupt, but still. (or maybe you were, but were just left alone, in which case, kuroo was grateful.)

he’d made peace with the fact that that tradition would break when you both entered university. knowing you were so far away made his chest ache something fierce, but he didn’t show that he was disappointed. he was sad, of course, as were you, but hey, it’s okay, life happens. you’d agreed, nodding with a desolate sigh, fingers laced through his.

which is why he’s completely confused as to what you’re doing at his dorm room with a backpack and small plastic bag on the 16th of november.

“i—” he stutters, blinking. “how—”

“the shinkansen is amazing, isn’t it?” you say with a grin, ignoring how flabbergasted he is. kuroo’s thinking if this was planned, because his roommate had already removed himself from the room in favor of some party.

"where's your roommate?" you ask, as if reading his mind.

he can't find the words to answer you as you stride into his room as if it’s yours, taking off your shoes by the door.

he shuts the door behind you and stares, a little slack jawed. “you—” he tries, and when that fails, he shakes his head. “i’m… what—”

you turn and look up at him, smiling, but your brow is wrinkled in the middle. "you okay?"

finally, his remaining brain cells start to work. "what are you doing here?" he asks, not accusatory, but definitely feebly.

you shrug. “my prof for tomorrow’s class got sick, so i decided to just skip my entire morning schedule and book it here.”

that makes him frown. school is important. “hey—”

“it’s okay," you say with a wave of your hand. "it’s just some first year orientation thing,” you then take off your backpack and settle it on the foot of his bed—you’d seen it when he toured you through facetime—and hitch up the plastic bag, reaching into it with your free hand. “oh, i got this before i came here.”

his eyes stare at the slice of white, fluffy cake you pull out, decorated with strawberries between the layers, encased in clear plastic, his dumbfounded gaze following the dessert as you extend it towards him. 

you're here. not only that, you're here for him.

for his birthday.

his heart twists, and his eyes feel warm. “aw, man,” he whimpers, lip trembling. he takes the dessert and places it gently on the bed, before taking you in his arms. “thank you,” he mumbles earnestly against your hair, and you settle into his embrace.