wonderstruck

it’s a wonder that atsumu shares identical genes with osamu, and it’s a wonder that he’s gotten as far as he has—alive. he shouldn’t have survived this long with his inability to do simple tasks.

“what have you done to my kitchen—”

“baby, don’t worry,” he quickly insists. “looks worse than it is,” he offers you a reassuring smile, but he cringes slightly when you glare at him.

“miya atsumu,” you say harshly, and he deflates, pouting as you cross your arms and tap your foot. he looks like a toddler being scolded, and maybe if you weren’t so annoyed, you’d giggle at the sight. all six foot three of his stature screams dejected, and all of yours is done with his nonsense.

“baby, don’t yell at me,” he mumbles. “hurts ma feelin’s.”

“oh, i’ll hurt your feelings,” you raise a brow, “i gave you one job. one job, atsumu! i said, ‘tsumu, i’m coming home late today. pick up dinner from samu, i don’t feel like cooking.’ and what did you do? you turned my kitchen into a war zone and—”

“technically it’s our kitchen,” he interrupts, pouting deeper. he shrivels back when you take a step towards him menacingly. “we share it,” he adds.

atsumu is incredibly brave to be testing your patience, especially now that you have to clean an utterly atrocious kitchen because of his failed cooking attempt. and you wonder how one brother could be so gifted at a basic life skill, while the other manages to light up everything he touches, but you suppose atsumu’s a special kind of his own. but you’re certainly not thrilled by it at the moment.

“we won’t be sharing very soon if you keep it up,” you scowl. “why can’t you ever do things how i tell you? you always have to go and do the opposite and make my life a thousand times harder and—”

“wanted ta surprise ya,” he says quietly, staring down at his feet. shattered glass is swept into a neat pile before him, and he grabs the dustpan to broom the shards onto it. “jus’ thought it’d be nice.”

and just as quickly as your anger comes, it fades, and your features soften as you stare at your boyfriend. he’s always been a little dim, and he drives you to the edge of sanity and back, but he’s got a heart of gold—and you don’t think you could ever stay mad at him. not when his lips curl into a sad pout like that.

sighing, you take the broom from his hands and dust the broken glass yourself, avoiding his eyes as he watches you.

“tsumu, you’re a horrible cook,” you roll your eyes.

“wanted ta try,” he mumbles.

“the worst cook i’ve met,” you continue.

“don’t need ta rub it in,” he grumbles.

“maybe start with microwaveable meals. just so we can make sure you actually know how to use one,” you raise a brow, and he scowls, huffing as he crosses his arms.

“i know how ta use a microwave like a professional. reheated samu’s meals all the time before i met ya.”

“good thing we have samu, then. or you’d be dead before we could’ve met,” you snort, and atsumu glares at you with jutted lips, and you reach over to pinch his cheek with a chuckle. maybe a small part of you is touched that he attempted to surprise you, but he doesn’t have to know that. not yet, anyway.

“then maybe ya should jus’ go date samu then, if he’s so cool and helpful and—”

“but you’ve got thousands of instagram followers,” you pout. “he’s not nearly as famous—”

“always knew ya were after ma fame,” he points accusingly at you, and you giggle, letting him pull you into his chest as he flicks your forehead gently. you wrap your arms around his neck, and he attacks your cheeks with kisses, making you laugh louder as he moves on to your jaw.

“only at first,” you tease, “now i’m after your riches.” atsumu narrows his eyes at you, but the amusement in his irises makes your expression soften. maybe he’s not as gifted in the kitchen, but he certainly knows his way around your heart.

“gonna dump ya in front of all ma fans after ma next game,” he bites back. “can’t wait for it ta be all over the headlines.” and you both giggle, leaning in and sharing a soft kiss as the burnt pan in the sink and the messy counter and the broken glass is all forgotten.

it’s a wonder that atsumu’s made it this far, but you suppose he’s a little miracle that way—and you’re glad he’s your little miracle.

“what if i move onto samu then?”

“are ya trying ta break ma heart?” he whines, digging his head into your neck, and you chuckle, threading your fingers through his strands and kissing his temple.

you’ll certainly go back to cursing his name when you inevitably clean your horrendously messed up kitchen, but for now, you grasp atsumu a little tighter—and you smile to yourself when he squeezes you a little tighter too.

last new year’s day, atsumu hadn’t gotten out of bed until well past noon. and the year before last, and the year before that. it was pretty much tradition, spending the first day of the new year curled up in his sheets.

so what the hell was he doing, blinking awake at— a peek at his too-bright phone screen says…7:30 in the morning? he ignores the multiple text messages, flipping the phone screen down.

fuck, his eyelids feel like they’re stuck together, his mouth is drier than osamu’s dm’s, and when he sits up, the room is still spinning a little. yeah, he’s pretty sure he’s still a little drunk (stupid samu and his bottle of tequila.)

he goes to shake your shoulder to tell you, because he knows it’ll make you giggle. like the way you’d giggled when he’d cozied up to you in the living room that first night. the one you’d breathed lightly into his ear after you’d kissed up the side of his neck just last night, whispering something that’d made him shudder. what was it, again? his brain is still a little foggy.

yet he sobers up a little when he pats the space beside him and finds it empty.

his confusion is short-lived when he hears your quiet groan from the bathroom. so atsumu rolls out of bed, rubbing his eyes and swaying a little on his feet until he gets to you.

you’re leaning against the tub, an arm thrown over your eyes, makeup a little smudged, and hair stuck up in odd places and dotted with confetti.

(it’s funny, he thinks then. how before you, he’d never been the type of guy to check on girls when they’re in his bathroom the morning after. he’d been the type to slip out at the distraction.)

“never thought i’d find you out here.”

you turn at the sound of atsumu’s voice. “hey, i didn’t notice you.”

“hi,” he smiles back, voice much softer. “why are you out here all alone?” he asks. “the party’s inside ya know?”

“well the life of the party is unfortunately out here with me,” you sigh, not missing atsumu’s proud smile. “plus it’s all stuffy inside.”

he laughs, “i’ve been chatting up quite a storm havent i?“

“you really have, i can’t keep up.”

and he only laughs again because even after he’s grown up and changed, it’s always been like this. atsumu’s always been the life of the party, the person with all the interesting stories and jokes that kept people laughing (even thought you always thought they were subpar). he was someone that had enough energy to lift everyone’s spirits and helped them forget any struggles or life problems they had yet to solve. he had this gravitating energy that pulled others towards him.

and unfortunately you were no different.

“but the life of the party needs a break every once in a while,” he smirks.

“so is that why you’ve come out here to annoy me?“

his eyes narrow, “i could never annoy you.”

and your face falls flat, “you could,” you deadpan. “you definitely could.”

but the blonde only rolls his eyes, ignoring your comment before asking, “so why are you out here?”

“fresh air,” you sigh, not missing the cloud of white that escapes your lips. “plus i’d rather count down new years out here than inside.”

atsumu quirks a brow, “really?”

and you nod, “it’s much nicer anyway.”

“so you’d rather spend the first few seconds of the new year out here in the cold instead of being inside with your friends?”

“are you implying you want me to be inside?”

“Hey,” Suna breathes into his phone’s microphone before swallowing thickly.

“It’s me,” he pauses, “Suna, I mean.”

“How-” he croaks out, “how have you been?” he asks before dragging a calloused hand down the length of his face and mumbling, stupid fucking question.

“I didn’t expect to not be blocked,” he says mostly to himself as he stares into the darkness of his room, quiet except for the sound of his rhythmic breathing.

A few beats pass in silence as he composes his next sentence in his head,

“I heard you’re getting married tomorrow,” the words come out strained and are followed by a deep inhale, his eyes begin to prick but he continues anyway, “feel free to stop listening and delete this voice message now, it really won’t be getting any better,”

He waits a few moments before continuing, “so Samu huh?” his grip on the armrest of the chair tightens.

“He’ll take good care of ya,” he adds, “I’ll make sure he does,”

There’s a deep sigh, it resonates in the room illuminated only by his phone screen.

“Look,” he whispers as he runs a hand through his hair, feeling his chest get tighter and head get lighter. “I know how selfish this is, to call you after years on the night before your wedding,”

“But I guess I can’t run away forever,” he adds much quieter this time.

“what’re you doing, weirdo?”

you’re pouting up at yourself in the cctv of the convenience store just down the road from your home, when you watch suna approach you.

there’s traces of sleep lacing his features but he still feels warm when his arms wrap around you from behind, resting his chin in the space between your shoulder and your neck—because it always fit perfectly, before he’s meeting your gaze in the monitor, and even in the dull lighting you can still make out a familiar glimmer in his green eyes.

“rin, i look tired.” “yeah you do.”

you hear suna snort when you playfully bat at his chest with a huff followed by a giggle, and even though you feel the ghost of a peck on your skin after—his gaze is still locked on your figure in the monitor. because even at 2:34 AM in the convenience store down the road—you still look so pretty when you’re caught between a smile and a laugh.

shit, he loves you—suna thinks to himself when he stuffs his hands into the pockets of the hoodie—his hoodie thats draped over your figure, and he smiles because your hands were already outstretched as if waiting for his.

he rocks you both slightly on his heels and for a second—in the empty aisles of the supermarket, it really feels like the world is truly yours. you hear an exhale from over your shoulder before your world shifts and suna leans forward to kiss you once on the cheek, and there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his lips when he pulls away to drag you along those same empty aisles because he still loves you.

“come on, pretty baby. we gotta get home.” suna sighs, rubbing his eyes a few times before blinking lazily towards you, and he feels his shoulders relax when your arms reach forward to wrap around his bicep instead—nuzzling into his warmth like you’d truly found your space in the world and he softens before he kisses you again, because he thinks that maybe he’s found his too. 

you allow him to guide you around the aisles to grab what you came here for before you’re snapped from your daze when the jelly sticks hit the counter. you blink, eyes focusing onto the snack that’s placed so carefully next to his and you feel something in your chest warm—because he knows it’s your favourite.

“for you. spoiled brat.” he hums, and he really means to tell you it’s because you’re cute when you’re tired, but instead he finds himself shooting you a smirk that’s laced with something a little teasing—but you can’t help but smile back and suna feels something in his chest jump, because fuck, you’re still pretty.

he shuffles to wrap his arm around your shoulders and when you stifle a yawn before melting into him—he smiles, one a little more lovesick that he tries to disguise by haphazardly shoving a jelly stick in his mouth, until he looks at you again.

and he knows his space in the world, will always be with you.

he’s so annoying but damn if i won’t kiss him anywhere he wants.

kuroo tetsuro is a nuisance, like the sting of a minuscule paper cut or stormy clouds rolling in on a beach day.

in the time that you’ve been working with him, you’ve learned that he’s annoying, smug, and unbearably witty. he doesn’t hold the elevator for you, takes his coffee black in the mornings, and seems to have taken an actual liking to getting on your nerves.

yet you can’t help but watch as he flirts with the jva sports promotion division’s newest hire. she’s sidled up next to him in the breakroom, batting her lashes enticingly and edging her seat closer to his.

and he indulges her, preening at the attention. he’s charming and handsome in a way that comes easily to him. especially when he’s laughing in that fake way he does— the way he laughs at your boss’ terrible jokes or when he wants something from your other co-workers. when he smiles with his mouth, but not his eyes. it’s just stroking his ego, bolstering what you think can afford to be knocked down a few pegs.

you’re not sure why you feel heat behind your temples when he lets her touch his arm so casually, as if they hadn’t just met this morning. you’re not sure why you get annoyed when he leans in and whispers something into her ear.

judging from the way she giggles, he’s probably said something lewd. judging from the way she hurries out of the room, he’s probably just propositioned her or—

wait. why is he looking at you? why are those eyes, those bedroom eyes, watching you, and not the woman who’d been flirting with him all morning?

it’s just the two of you in the break room now, but the air is…heavy.

“jealous?” he asks, arms crossed over his chest as he smirks at you.

“no,” you snap, like a liar.

“i dunno,” he shrugs, though his tone indicates otherwise. “maybe i think you want me to flirt with you instead.”

your roll your eyes, but don’t argue. you’re better than this. you’re better than—

“i didn’t invite you over here,” you grumble as he pulls out the seat next to you, making himself comfortable.

“i know you wanted to,” he simpers, nudging you with his shoulder. “just like i know you want me to flirt with you. you probably wanna kiss me too, don’t you? you probably wanna kiss me so bad—”

“and what if i do?” you cut in, his brows raising in surprise, a blush bleeding up the collar of his shirt. you lean closer to him, so you’re almost nose-to-nose. “what, are you all talk? c’mon kuroo. kiss me.”

to your surprise, he hesitates a little, blinking a few times. “i— okay.”

you draw back with a laugh, but your cheeks feel uncomfortably warm and you think your heart is beating a little too fast. “oh my god! did you think i was serious?”

a few more confused blinks, then he hangs his head a little, chuckling quietly as he fiddles with his shirt sleeve. “i was just waiting for you to call your own bluff, babe.” when he looks up, he’s smiling at you.

ft: multiple characters

synopsis: haikyuu boys doing thigh clenching things and making me want to smooch their face with my dior lip glow lip gloss.

content warnings: suggestive so like 17+ i am begging. some of this can also be considered bare minimum for men irl but those standards don’t apply to these kings here.

notes from the author: i keep telling y’all i’m gonna write something original but that’s not gonna happen right at this moment i’m sawri so enjoy this timeless masterpiece 🙏🏽. reblogs, likes, and comments are appreciated as always. but anyways i revamped this and made it better and less age appropriate lol.

— Such a tease oh my fkn god. Likes to say such condescending shit like “mhm really” or “oh yeah?” in that voice (y’all know the one!) and he does it in the most inopportune times. Likes to whisper it in your ear and

MATSUKAWA ISSEI, miya atsumu, SUNA RINTAROU, morisuke yaku, TSUKISHIMA KEI, yūji terushima, futakuchi kenji, kenma kozume

— When he’s hot from like workouts or practice or something he’ll put his shirt between his teeth and rub at his abs. Sweat dripping from his face and dripping onto his chest YES PLEASE. He will smirk if you catches you staring at him like sir you good how can I not stare?!

ARAN OJIRO, oikawa tooru, ATSUMU MIYA, iwaizumi hajime, daichi samamura, tanaka ryūnsoke, KUROO TETSURO, BOKUTO KŌTARŌ

they WOULD oh my god

atsumu »» initially he’s not as obvious about it, and is probably more nervous for her but covers it up with teasing and trying to be cool with it. he comes into her room while you’re helping her get ready to poke at her cheeks and ask a few thinly veiled questions about the s/o that he might not even realize come from concern. but then she’s gushing about them, and eventually he’s thinking about what 17 year old him (a big believer of kissing on the first date) would do. now the date is here to pick her up, and he’s standing in the door with a less light expression, shaking their hand a little too tightly, then turning to his daughter and saying things like “that lip gloss better stay on your lips only, young lady,” and probably some bullshit like “if you kiss someone you might die” earning a roll of the eyes from her and a kick to his shin from you (who’d been kissed by him on that first date in high school). definitely invites samu over at the last minute to help with the mild intimidation.

sakusa »» right off the bat will voice his displeasure. not to his daughter, but to you. insists that she’s not ready, that she’s too young and that she could get hurt. his daughter is perfect in his eyes, but he knows what some teenagers can be like. you have to talk him down, convince him that she’s still learning, asking what would have happened if you hadn’t taken that chance on him. so he hovers while she’s getting ready, asking if she’s sure, telling her it’s not too late to back out and reminding her that he’ll drive wherever and pick her up early if she needs him. then the s/o arrives, and he puts the fear of god in them. anyone would be scared, seeing this hulking 6’4 man looking down the bridge of his nose at them with a glare so sharp it could cut glass. no polite smile, just a straight face that’s the cocking of a metaphorical shot gun no one sees, but everyone knows is there.

unlike him, his son gets into football—which makes bokuto emo. he gets SO depressed when his boy talks about messi and ronaldo like they’re gods because son why what about your daddy 🥺 and your son goes “but you’re my daddy!” and it takes him a while to figure out that daddies are MUCH cooler than football players ☺️

when i read this i pictured it so clearly bcs it’s so accurate 😭

your senses tingle with apprehension as you eye the alarm on your nightstand. it’s 8:19am on a weekend, and at least one of your children should have crawled into bed to wake you and your husband by now.

no household with a five year old and two toddlers should be this quiet, but for some reason it is, and it makes you instantly worried.

when you roll over to tell bokuto this, he’s nowhere to be seen. you sit up, throroughly confused.

“kou?” you call, in case he’s in the bathroom.

no answer.

you throw the duvet aside, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed and heading out the bedroom door and into the hall. you peek into your children’s rooms, anxiety spiking when you find them all empty.

you’re halfway to a full on meltdown when you hear the giggling coming from downstairs. it’s followed by bokuto’s shushing, and you instantly relax. you pad lightly down the stairs, interested to see what your boys are trying to get away with now.

well, nothing looks broken, but the shoes in the genkan are haphazardly thrown around, as if they’d been slipped off in a hurry. you peek into the kitchen, where a box of pastries from the bakery in town sit on the counter, along with a small bouquet of lillies. there’s a steaming cup of coffee waiting for you, in the mug your son had decorated with his handprints at school.

how he managed to herd all three children out the door this early without waking you is a mystery. the man’s never known quiet a day in his life.

atsumu opens the door to his house and is greeted by muffled voices and a dark first floor. it's to be expected; it's nearly midnight, and he got stuck in traffic.

toeing off his shoes by the door, he leaves the keys to his car on the console table and uses the flashlight on his phone to help him navigate in the darkness. he climbs up the stars and the muffled voices get a little louder. it sounds like a movie.

the upstairs hallway is fairly lit, so he uses the sound to guide him to his child's door. gently, he turns on the knob and pokes his head in. there's a laptop playing a children's movie on the desk, a flurry of toys on the floor, and a mother and child snuggled on the bed.

"hey," he says softly, grinning when he catches his daughter's attention and she perks up.

"mommy," she says, tiny hands tapping her dozing mother's cheek. "mommy, daddy's here."