How's Volleyball Been For You Lately?

he’d gone home that night, buried his face into his pillow, and kicked his legs like a victorian maiden who had just been perceived by a duke. he fully expected a text by 8:00 pm. a tearful confession by 8:30 pm. perhaps a marriage proposal by next tuesday.

instead, you showed up to school the next morning, aggressively yawning, and used that exact textbook as a makeshift shield against the morning sun while sitting on the brick wall outside the gym.

kuroo watched you from five feet away, his soul slowly evaporating from his body like rubbing alcohol left out in the sun. you didn’t even open the book. you just used the heavy-weight cover to fan yourself when the humidity hit. the actual love of his life was using his bleeding-heart declaration of eternal devotion to circulate lukewarm morning air onto her collarbones.

“you look like you’re tracking a gazelle,” kenma murmured from beside him, eyes glued to a handheld screen. “and not in a cool, predator way. more like a very sad, hungry dog.”

“she didn’t read it,” kuroo whispered, his voice cracking like a dry twig. “kenma. the paper density alone should have changed the gravitational pull of the textbook. how did she not feel the shift in equilibrium?”

“maybe she just hates chemistry.”

“impossible,” kuroo hissed, clutching his chest. “i’m chemistry.”

phase two required a complete lack of subtlety. if you wouldn’t stumble upon his heart by accident, he would simply have to leave breadcrumbs.

the next afternoon, you opened your locker to find a small, neon-pink post-it note stuck directly onto the metal grated vents. written in shaky, black sharpie was a clue that looked less like a romantic hint and more like a ransom note from a criminal who specialized in stem subjects:

‘the elements of life are carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, and oxygen. but the element of my life is currently trapped on page 142. look closer, or i will literally spontaneously combust on the cafeteria floor.’

you blinked at the sticky note. you reached out, peeled it off, and stared at it for a solid three minutes. kuroo, who was hiding behind the corner of the hallway with his face pressed so hard against the brickwork that his nose was flattened, held his breath. this was it. the catalyst. the moment you would pull out the textbook, flip to page 142, and realize that he was completely, utterly, and devastatingly yours.

instead, you let out a soft snort, muttered, “yaku must have lost a bet to standard level science,” and stuck the pink note onto the front of your binder because you liked the shade of neon.

from behind the wall, kuroo felt his knees give way. he slid down the bricks until he was sitting flat on the linoleum, a hand dramatically draped over his eyes. his heart was performing a full, aggressive drum solo against his sternum, furious at the rejection it hadn’t even technically received yet.

by day three, the desperation had reached a critical mass. kuroo tetsurō was a man possessed by a singular, burning directive: make the prettiest girl in the third-year corridor realize that he wanted to hold her hand until their joints turned to dust. he couldn’t function. he missed three consecutive serves in practice because he kept visualizing the exact layout of page 142 and wondering if he should have used a highlighter.

“if you don’t fix whatever is rotting your brain, i’m going to set your shoes on fire,” yaku warned during evening clean-up, leaning heavily on a broom. “you’ve been staring at that volleyball like it owes you alimony.”

“it’s an intellectual standoff,” kuroo said, his voice hollow as he rolled a ball between his palms. “a battle of wits. she’s testing my resolve, yaku. she’s checking to see if my devotion can withstand the vacuum of her absolute oblivion.”

“she doesn’t know you left a note, does she?” kenma called out from the bench, not looking up.

kuroo threw himself backward onto the polished gym floor, starfish-ing beneath the bright fluorescent lights. “i made it so obvious! i used neon! i referenced atomic structures! what else does she want from me? a billboard? a sky-writer? should i tattoo the chemical equation for dopamine onto my forehead?”

the next morning, he forfeited all remaining scraps of his dignity. if poetry wouldn’t work, and clues wouldn’t work, then raw, unadulterated public exposure would have to suffice.

you walked down the science wing at 7:50 am, holding a half-eaten convenience store bun, only to find a small crowd of second-years hovering around your locker. they were whispering, giggling behind their hands, and pointing at the metal door.

as you approached, the crowd parted like the red sea, revealing the monstrosity kuroo had unleashed upon the school infrastructure.

there, stuck entirely to the center of your locker with roughly four entire rolls of heavy-duty, industrial neon green painter’s tape, was the original, beautiful, cream-colored love letter. it was trapped beneath a lattice of green adhesive so thick it looked like it could withstand a category five hurricane. and slapped right on top of the whole mess was a giant piece of cardboard ripped from an old volleyball equipment box, featuring a frantic, jagged scrawl:

“please for the love of god notice my affection. page 142 was an innervation of my entire soul. i’m begging you to interact with this literature.”

you stood frozen, your bun halfway to your mouth.

from the far end of the hall, leaning against a drinking fountain with his arms crossed in a position he clearly thought looked casual but actually made him look like he was suffering from severe muscle spasms, was kuroo. his signature bedhead seemed even more chaotic than usual, a few strands sticking straight up like frantic antennae. his face was completely flushed, a deep, dark crimson that started at the tips of his ears and pooled all the way down into the collar of his school uniform.

you looked from the neon green monstrosity on your locker, to the heavy-grade paper trapped underneath, and then finally down the hall at him.

the silence stretched. a second-year student cleared their throat nervously.

slowly, you walked over to the locker. instead of tearing the cardboard off, you carefully slipped your fingers under the edge of the painter’s tape, working at the thick adhesive until you managed to pull the cream-colored letter out from its bright green cage. it was a bit crinkled at the borders, but the elegant, sweeping ink was fully intact.

you flipped to the back, your eyes scanning the dense, beautiful paragraphs where he had written about how your presence made his brain short-circuit like a faulty capacitor. you read the lines where he confessed, with terrifying honesty, that he spent his biology lectures drawing the exact curve of your shoulder blades in the margins of his notebook.

your chest did something strange—a sudden, warm domain expansion that felt remarkably like a small firework detonating right behind your ribs. your face grew hot, the heat spreading rapidly across your cheeks as the sheer weight of his ridiculous, beautiful, overwhelming feelings hit you full-force.

you folded the paper carefully, tucked it into your blazer pocket, and began marching down the hallway straight toward him.

kuroo’s eyes widened. the cool, leaning posture evaporated instantly. he straightened up so fast his spine made an audible clicking sound, his hands dropping to his sides like a soldier caught off guard. “uh. hey. so. the tape is entirely bio-degradable, if you were worried about the school property damage—”

you stopped right in front of him, reached out, and grabbed the lapels of his uniform jacket, tugging him downward so he was forced to bend his absurdly tall frame until his face was level with yours.

“you absolute menace,” you breathed, your voice a mix of a breathless laugh and total disbelief. “you could have just told me you liked me during lunch. you didn’t need to sacrifice a perfectly good moving box.”

kuroo stared at you, his eyes auditing your lips and then back up to your eyes, his brain completely liquefying under the proximity. up close, you could see the tiny, frantic flutter of the pulse point in his throat.

“but the prose,” he squeaked out, his voice a full octave higher than normal before he cleared his throat and tried to recover his usual low drawl. “the prose was exquisite. i compared you to a stable isotope. that’s high praise coming from a guy who fails literature.”

“it was incredibly dramatic,” you agreed, your thumbs brushing against the fabric of his blazer. “and it’s the most beautiful thing i’ve ever read. even if it was buried under three pounds of adhesive.”

kuroo’s expression softened, the frantic, manic energy draining out of him all at once, replaced by something so profoundly tender and vulnerable it made your stomach do a backflip. he reached up, his large, warm hand covering yours where you held his lapels, his thumb gently smoothing over your knuckles.

“so,” he whispered, a small, genuine smile finally breaking through his nerves, making his eyes crinkle at the corners. “does this mean the experiment was a success? are we experiencing a mutual reaction?”

“we are,” you said, letting go of his jacket only to slide your fingers into his, locking your hand with his large, calloused one. “but you’re still helping me scrape that green tape off my locker before the vice principal sees it.”

kuroo let out a loud, booming laugh that echoed down the corridor, squeezing your hand so tightly it felt like he never intended to let go, his chest swelling with enough joy to lift a house off its foundations.

n: my beloved @ryomenlettuce asked for this, huehuehue.. it’s from my scrapped ideas 

© showhay — don’t copy, repost, or translate without my permission. do not use/feed my works to AI.

If you asked anyone from Nekoma about Kuroo Tetsurō, they’d probably describe him the same way.

Confident. Flirty. Smooth-talking. The type who could charm literally anyone in five seconds flat.

And honestly? Kuroo encouraged it.

He loved grinning lazily at people. Loved teasing underclassmen. Loved acting smug like he knew everything about romance and life. As captain of Nekoma, he carried himself with this relaxed confidence that made people think he had everything under control.

But that image shattered immediately the moment you were involved.

Because somehow—against all odds—the so-called charismatic captain became the shyest person alive around his crush.

“Kenma.”

“Hm.”

“I saw her today.”

Kozume Kenma didn’t even look away from his game. “Congratulations.”

Kuroo pulled a chair dramatically beside him anyway, already spiraling. “No, but listen. She walked past me in the hallway and we made eye contact for, like… two seconds.”

“…Okay?”

“And then she smiled a little.”

Kenma pressed another button on his console. “You’re acting like she proposed marriage.”

Kuroo leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling dreamily. “…Maybe she was thinking about it.”

“You’re insane.”

The worst part was how little interactions affected him.

One greeting from you? His entire week was made.

If you sat beside him in class because every other seat was taken, Kuroo would sit there so stiffly you’d think he was being held hostage.

“Morning, Kuroo-san,” you’d say politely.

And suddenly this six-foot volleyball captain forgot how human speech worked.

“…M-Morning.”

Meanwhile, internally?

She said good morning to me.

We’re basically engaged.

I can hear church bells.

Our future children will probably have your eyes.

“Kuroo.”

“Hm?”

“You’ve been staring at the same notebook page for ten minutes.”

“Sorry. I’m thinking about my future wife.”

Kenma finally looked up slowly. “…You mean the girl who borrowed your eraser once?”

“She touched my hand, Kenma.”

“You need help.”

The thing was, Kuroo wanted to approach you normally. Really.

He’d rehearse conversations in his head all the time.

“Hey, Y/N, how’s your day?”

Casual. Cool. Mature.

But then you’d actually appear in front of him, and suddenly his brain blue-screened.

One afternoon, he saw you struggling to reach a book from the top shelf in the library.

This was his moment. His romantic comedy protagonist moment.

Kuroo confidently approached from behind, reached over your head, grabbed the book easily, and handed it to you with what he thought was a smooth smile.

“…Here.”

You blinked up at him warmly. “Oh! Thank you, Kuroo-san.”

And that should’ve been it. Simple. Successful interaction.

Instead, Kuroo panicked so hard from your smile that he accidentally knocked another stack of books over with his elbow. The crash echoed through the entire library.

Kenma, who witnessed the whole thing from another table, slowly lowered his game console.

“…Pathetic.”

Kuroo crouched on the floor in humiliation while helping stack the fallen books. “I hate feelings…” he whispered weakly.

But despite all the embarrassment, despite how nervous you made him, Kuroo couldn’t stop himself from talking about you constantly.

“Kenma, she tied her hair up today.”

“Wow.”

“She looked really cute.”

“Incredible.”

“And yesterday she asked if practice went well.”

“She wants you carnally.”

“RIGHT?!”

Kenma stared at him blankly. “…I was joking.”

Meanwhile, the Nekoma team suffered daily.

Yaku got tired of hearing Kuroo sigh dramatically during breaks.

Lev thought their captain had developed a fever.

Kai looked genuinely concerned for his mental stability.

Because apparently, the loud, smug, teasing captain turned into a nervous wreck over one girl smiling at him in the hallway. And the funniest part?

You actually thought Kuroo disliked you a little.

Because every time you approached him, he’d get weirdly stiff, avoid eye contact for two seconds, then immediately start rambling nonsense.

One day, after class, you finally asked him directly:

“Kuroo-san… are you nervous around me?”

Kuroo stopped functioning. Completely. His soul left his body.

Kenma, sitting nearby, didn’t even bother looking up from his game when he muttered:

“…There he goes.”

Because the captain of Nekoma—loud, clever, charismatic Kuroo Tetsurō—was secretly just a shy idiot hopelessly in love with you.

a/n : who's the girl next door living in the haunted mansion better learn my name cuz it's ashleyyyy

༊*·˚ Reno Ichikawa

✎ Meeting him – You're both standing in line for Defense Force registration. He's quiet, flipping through a dog-eared handbook, underlining passages with a mechanical pencil. Someone cuts the line. He doesn't say anything—just shifts his weight and keeps reading. You're the one who calls out the line-cutter. Reno glances at you, then back at his book. But the corner of his mouth twitches. Later, he finds you during break and says, "That was smart." Not "brave." Smart. He noticed.

✎ Falling in love – He watches you train from across the field. Not in a creepy way—he's cataloging your form, your stamina, your tells. One day, you stumble during a drill, and he's the first one beside you. "Your left foot is landing too hard. Adjust your stance." No pity. Just help. You start studying together in the library. He talks more at 2 AM—about his parents, about why he joined, about how he's scared of being average. You listen. He notices you listen. That's when he knows.

✎ Who confessed first – You do. He's been dropping hints so subtle that even Kafka didn't catch them. (Kafka catches nothing.) One night, you're walking back to the barracks. The moon is bright. You stop walking. "Reno. I like you." He stops breathing for a full three seconds. Then: "I know." A pause. "I mean — I like you too. I've known for a while. I just didn't know how to —" You take his hand. His palm is warm. He doesn't let go for the rest of the walk.

✎ Fluffy moments – He always carries an extra energy bar because he noticed you forget to eat before missions. When you fall asleep on his shoulder during briefings, he doesn't move—even when his arm goes numb. He fixes your gear without being asked; you'll find a loose strap tightened, a scratched visor replaced. His love language is I noticed. You once mentioned in passing that you liked a certain brand of tea. Three days later, there's a box on your desk. No note. Just the tea.

༊*·˚ Soshiro Hoshina

✎ Meeting him – He's running a sword drill when you first see him. The way he moves is almost lazy—loose wrists, half-lidded eyes— until the blade connects. Then it's a blur. You're standing too close to the practice ring. He finishes his set, turns to you, and says, "You're in my light." Not angry. Just stating a fact. You step aside. He doesn't look at you again. But the next day, during your own training, you feel someone watching. It's him. He's leaning against a post, arms crossed, that same lazy expression. "You're dropping your shoulder on the recovery," he says. "Fix it." Then he walks away.

✎ Falling in love – He starts giving you "pointers" that are really just excuses to stand close. His hand adjusts your grip on a practice sword. His breath is warm on your neck. "Like that," he murmurs. "Now don't mess it up." You catch him staring during meals. He doesn't look away—just smirks and takes a bite of his food. The moment you know it's real: You're both pinned behind cover during a live-fire exercise. A kaiju's tail swings toward you. He pulls you behind him, blades out, and says, "Stay down. I'll handle it." Not "stay safe." I'll handle it. Like it's obvious. Like he'd never let anything touch you.

✎ Who confessed first – He does, and he makes it a game. During a sparring match, he disarms you (easily) and pins you to the mat. His face is inches from yours. "You know," he says, voice low, "I don't let just anyone get this close." You're breathing hard. "Is that your way of saying you like me?" He grins. "Depends. Is it working?" You flip him over—you'd learned his tells by then—and kiss him. He laughs against your mouth. "Yeah," he says. "That's what I thought."

✎ Fluffy moments – He leaves his favorite sword oil on your workbench because he noticed you struggling with yours. When you're tired, he pulls you into an empty storage closet and holds you for exactly five minutes—no talking, just his chin on top of your head. He calls you by your last name in public but whispers your first name in your ear when no one's listening. One time, you catch him sharpening your blades instead of his own. He shrugs. "Yours were dull. Annoying to watch." But the tips of his ears are pink.

༊*·˚ Iharu Furuhashi

✎ Meeting him – He shoulder-checks you in the hallway on your first day. Not on purpose—he's just running at full speed, as always. You both go down in a tangle of limbs. He's on his feet instantly, offering a hand, already talking. "Oh man, I'm SO sorry, I wasn't looking, are you okay? That looked bad. That looked really bad. Are you bleeding? You're not bleeding, right?" He's still holding your hand. You haven't said a word yet. "I'm Iharu! Iharu Furuhashi! What's your name? Wait, don't tell me—let me guess—" You tell him your name just to make him stop. He grins. "Nice name. I'm gonna remember that."

✎ Falling in love – He's loud about it. Everyone knows. He shouts "GOOD MORNING" a little too enthusiastically when you walk into the mess hall. He volunteers to be your training partner every single time. During a break, he throws an arm around your shoulders and announces, "This one's my favorite person here." Kafka raises an eyebrow. Reno hides a smile. You shove him off, but you're laughing. The moment you know: He gets hurt in a mission—a gash on his arm, nothing serious—and you're the first person he looks for. "Did you see me out there? I was so cool, right?" You're cleaning his wound. Your hands are shaking. "Don't do that again," you say. Your voice cracks. His eyes go soft. "Hey," he says, quieter than you've ever heard him. "I'm okay. See? I'm okay."

✎ Who confessed first – He yells it. Of course he yells it. You're walking back from the training grounds, and he's been uncharacteristically quiet for about thirty seconds. Then he stops dead in the middle of the path. "I LIKE YOU. LIKE, A LOT. GO OUT WITH ME." A bird flies away. Somewhere, a door slams. You stare at him. His face is red. His fists are clenched. "That was the plan," you say. "The whole time?" "The whole time." He makes a sound like a deflating balloon. Then he grabs your hand and starts walking again. "Okay. Cool. Great. I'm gonna be normal about this." He is not normal about this.

✎ Fluffy moments – He gives you his jacket when you're cold—even if he's colder. He shows up to your bunk with snacks at 2 AM because he "couldn't sleep" (he was thinking about you). During group photos, he stands next to you and throws up peace signs, but his other hand is always hovering near your back, not quite touching. Once, you fell asleep during a movie night. You woke up to him carrying you to your room. "Didn't want to wake you," he whispers. He tucks you in. He steps on the corner of your blanket and almost trips. You pretend to stay asleep. You're smiling too hard to open your eyes.

༊*·˚ Gen Narumi

✎ Meeting him – You're assigned to a joint exercise with the First Division. He doesn't show up on time. When he finally strolls onto the field—yawning, uniform half-untucked_he barely glances at you. "New faces," he mutters. "Great." He wins the exercise in four minutes. You're the only one who noticed he cheated. Later, you find him alone in the equipment shed, cleaning his combat suit. "You used a banned stabilizer," you say. He doesn't look up. "Got proof?" "Your left gauntlet has a scratch pattern that doesn't match standard issue. Want me to keep going?" He finally looks at you. Really looks. "Huh," he says. "You're not boring."

✎ Falling in love – He starts "coincidentally" being where you are. The mess hall. The training yard. The armory. He never admits it's on purpose. "I eat here sometimes," he says, sitting across from you with a tray. He's never eaten here before. During a mission, you get separated from your squad. He finds you first—not because he was looking for you, he insists, but because "your comms signal was weak." His voice is calm, but his hands shake slightly when he checks you for injuries. The moment you know it's real: You're both pinned in a collapsing building. He could escape easily—he's faster, stronger. He doesn't. "Go," you tell him. "I'm not leaving you," he says. Flat. Final. Like there's no other option.

✎ Who confessed first – Neither of you say the words for a long time. It's a game of chicken. He shows his feelings through actions: he leaves his favorite protein drink in your locker, he "accidentally" saves you the last seat next to him in briefings. One night, after a near-fatal mission, you're both sitting on the roof. He's looking at the stars. "You scare me," he says. You wait. "Not because you're dangerous. Because I don't scare easily. And you—" He stops. Rubs his face. "I think I'd burn the whole world down if something happened to you." You lean your head on his shoulder. "That's a lot of pressure, Narumi." He laughs—a real laugh, not the sarcastic one he uses on everyone else. "Yeah," he says. "Welcome to my life." You never say "I love you." You don't need to.

✎ Fluffy moments – He falls asleep on your shoulder during transport. His head is heavy, but he looks younger, softer. You don't move. When he wakes up, he pretends it didn't happen—but he stays close for the rest of the ride. He learns your coffee order without asking; one day, your usual cup just appears on your desk. No note. He's the only one who could have known. On rare quiet nights, he lets you play with his hair. He doesn't admit he likes it. But his eyes close. His breathing slows. Once, he whispers, "Don't tell anyone about this." You pinky swear. He rolls his eyes. He pinky swears back.

✦ BONUS: Haruichi Izumo (Tech Nerd Sweetheart)

(so this is extra. I couldn't write the others if ever it's cause I barely did any character analysis of them.)

✎ Meeting him – You walk into the tech bay with a broken comms unit. He takes it, fixes it in seventeen seconds, and hands it back without a word. "Thanks," you say. He grunts. You come back the next day with a "broken" tablet. He fixes it in twelve seconds. "This wasn't broken," he says. You blush. He doesn't smile, but he doesn't tell you to leave either.

✎ Falling in love – You start bringing him snacks. He starts saving you a seat in the corner of the tech bay. One night, you fall asleep on his workbench. You wake up with a blanket over your shoulders and a sticky note on your forehead: "You snore." It's written in his handwriting. You keep the note.

✎ Who confessed first – He leaves a folded piece of paper in your locker. Inside: "I would like to date you. Please initial below if interested." There's a checkbox. You write "YES" in all caps and add a smiley face. He initials it back. It's the most romantic thing he's ever done.

2. You wake to his warm weight settling between your legs, his chin propped on your stomach so he can watch you slowly come to wakefulness.

He may flick your nose and grin as he compliments your 'radiant' morning face. Even in the most tender moments, Soshiro is an inescapable and ruthless tease.

3. You wake, disoriented, perhaps after a fleeting and disturbing dream, to the full length of his back pressed to yours. It's grounding, warm, and you often drift back to sleep, finding reassurance in the slow cadence of his breathing.

4. He rouses you by nibbling on your ear, or kissing your cheek softly. It's his favourite way to wake you when he wants to spend the day with you.

You must, of course, start early, so that every precious hour is bracketed, preserved, stolen moments of bliss layered between the golden mundanity of walking along a sun-warmed pavement, hand in hand.

5. Your head is tucked against his shoulder, one arm draped over his solid abdomen as the first light of dawn breaches the gap in the curtains.

He likes resting his chin on top of your head. It affirms his role as a protector, the contact assuaging any doubts about your safety. You're always most secure when you're with him, of course.

You half-wake to him slipping out from beneath you to get ready for work.

6. You wake fully, half an hour later, to the feel of him kissing the top of your head, the edges of his unbuttoned jacket draping cool against your skin. Every goodbye should be a proper one, after all.

7. You wake at midnight, or some other ungodly hour, to the feel of him climbing in beside you, his cool skin warming against yours.

For the first time that day, he shows his exhaustion, sighing and hissing slightly as you ease your hands over sore muscles, carefully feeling for the edges of bandages.

Soshiro never speaks of his pain, and you've taken it upon yourself to seek it out, to soothe it in the ways that only you can.

8. You wake to the sight of him, naked, the firm, sinuous lines of his bare back visible above the blanket where he lies sprawled out, in the kind of dreamless sleep that comes after a night of lovemaking.

His hair is tousled, mouth half open, deep breathing audible, a rare sight. He cracks one eye open the instant you brush his hair away from his brow, his smile lazy, content and utterly yours. 

Gen Narumi

1. A cold foot shoves against the back of your knee, the rest of Gen's body spread out away from you. This is how he sleeps when he's been restless, eager for a new challenge, until the desire inhabits him, body and soul. He dreams vividly, tossing and turning.

2. Gen can mimic a koala bear with frightening strength. His arms surround your waist as you sleep on your side, his head planting solidly against the middle of your back. It is his breathing that tickles you awake.

This usually occurs when he comes in tired from a mission. He knows he's going to wake you, but the weight and warmth of his body, the security of his arms, will lull you back soon enough.

3. After he's well fed, showered and ready to hit the hay, Gen can also resemble quite a fetching starfish, lying on his back, arms outstretched, light snoring waking you in the middle of the night.

There is, however, plenty of room on that chest for you lie on. Gen may tuck one arm around your shoulders as you sleep, nose buried in your hair.

4. You may wake up to an empty bed. Beating the next level on his new game is sometimes worth forfeiting sleep.

He's been surprisingly considerate, though, by shoving a pillow between your arms and bent knees. You've had a blissful sleep, and your annoyance evaporates when you find a steaming mug of coffee on the counter as he mutters over the muted sounds of the game.

5. You might wake up to cackling befitting a foggy Scottish moor before Macbeth makes an entrance, Gen's elbow lodged in your ribs.

He's posted something else on social media that has gone viral, and he's risen early to see the number of likes and comments. As soon as you're awake, he launches into a rundown of the highs and lows. His elbow stays wedged against your side, in case you fall asleep while he's gloating.

6. You rise a little late, and can tell, immediately, that he is pretending to be asleep. You play the game and shake him awake, aware that he was watching YOU sleep. He grumbles about how pushy you are, as if his voice isn't gruff with early morning tenderness.

7. Gen doesn't really have preferences on whether he's the 'big' or 'little' spoon. Both positions have their merits.

If it's post-coital, he's usually the big spoon. You wake up to his body pressed against yours, nose buried against the back of your neck, and impossibly soft kisses pressed to your shoulder.

This is Gen's most precious, private self, the face only you get to witness, and neither of you break the silence spun by unspoken intimacy. 

8. He brings you cup noodles and an onigiri in the morning. The scent wakes you, and if it doesn't, he waves the cup under your nose until the spice makes your nostrils twitch.

He calls it the breakfast of champions, and he would know, because he's the strongest in Japan, even when dressed in rarely-viewed fleece pyjamas with a bear embroidered on the front (they were comfortable).

♡ “It’s not real. Just a bad dream.” he mumbles sleepily.

♡ His snores tell you that he’s fast asleep yet he still holds you in an iron grip. His heart beats and snores lull you to sleep.

Satoru

♡ He can’t comfort people to save his life.

♡ So comedy and lame puns are his go to. “Damn aren’t you worried your eyes are gonna be swollen in the morning?”

♡ He’s met with a pillow to the face.

♡ The face he makes finally has you laughing.

♡ “The great gojo is here!”

♡ “No one can get past my infinity. You’re welcome <3”

Kento

♡ Sits you on the arm chair.

♡ Warm drink at the ready.

♡ Maybe a muffin to eat with the drink.

♡ Doesn’t say anything. Wait till you’re better to go back to bed.

Sukuna

♡ Squishes your face in his hands, says, “Do you know who I am? I am the great Ryomen Sukuna. Nothing can stop me. Do you hear me?”

♡ You nod, “But my brain doesn’t get that.”

♡ “Listen here, brain! If you don’t stop messing around with my girl I’ll show you what happens when you mess with what belongs to Sukuna!”

♡ “How are you gonna do that?” 😭

♡ The ridiculousness of it all has her forgetting the nightmare cause sukuna’s so STUPID!

Suguru

♡ Distracts you by talking about the randomest things ever.

♡ Your conversions make no sense cause he asks you things like “would you rather be stuck in an elevator with gojo or go to a haunted house with nanami?”

♡ He only sleeps when he hears you slurring your answers.

Yuuta

♡ Guard puppy mode 

♡ He’s usually the one being babied but in this case he babies you back :(

♡ Yuuta’s talking you in a baby voice because aww his strong brave adult pro max wife is scared :(((

♡ His fingers are gentle when they wipe your tears help.

♡ Holds your hand until you fall asleep :(((((((

Hiromi

♡ Places your head on his chest.

♡ One arm around your waist as he listens to you telling him about your nightmare.

♡ He’s mostly silent but he doesn’t say anything unnecessary because he knows you know that and he knows that sometimes you just need to let things off your chest.

○ Suguru Geto ○

Superiority complex + prioritizing other things

Geto isn't the type to directly talk down to you, but his long rants about the flaws of the world and Jujutsu society begin to feel like lectures without his intending for them to. Inside, he feels as though he's the only person who understands the issues he cares about, which leads to an unspoken but very real issue in the relationship of him subconsciously looking down on you. In addition, his days are spent handling things at the cult, with his family, and regarding any cursed spirits he may wish to exorcise, meaning dates and plans get pushed aside or rearranged often.

○ Kento Nanami ○

Burnout + excessive focus on the future

Nanami has every intention of having you with him when he retires. But often, it's all he thinks about. He works long hours, overtime, and takes on extra tasks at work while saving up for it, but comes home running on empty. His mornings are spent readying himself for the shift, and his evenings are spent winding down before sleeping. Weekends end up full of errands as a result, and though he takes you along, you have very little time alone that isn't spent handling something practical. He has a habit of neglecting the present to plan for the future, and winds up with little to give you in the way of time or emotional availability.

○ Ryomen Sukuna ○

A lack of consideration for you

Sukuna isn't an easy person to know. You love him dearly, and he reciprocates, but it's a rose with plenty of thorns. His unintentional rough handling of you combined with a red-hot temper and general irritation with most things lead to the relationship being...tumultuous. He views sympathy as pity, and believes pity is a waste. There's very little tenderness for you, save for the occasion when he can relate to your feelings. As such, you often find yourself needing comfort but lacking it, while being self-conscious about seeming weak.

○ Toji Fushiguro ○

Vulnerability issues + a lack of direction

Toji doesn't want to end up like anyone from his family, but he's not exactly okay with being emotionally open or seeking comfort either. Often bottles it all up. He's the type to reply with "fine" when you ask how he is regardless of how he's really doing. On top of that he doesn't really know what he wants to be doing. Now that he has other things to do in life besides just surviving, he has a tendency to drift from job to job without firmly deciding upon a set life path, and avoids discussing it at length.

○ Hiromi Higuruma ○

Burnout + slight savior complex + bringing work home

If a case ends in a client receiving prison time when he truly believed they were innocent, he'd carry it with him deep down. If there were multiple such cases in a short period of time he'd become withdrawn and irritable, though he'd try not to. The long hours and emotional weight would leave him tired and often unwilling to go out much, so you'll often find yourself at home or alone when you do go out. Even if he apologizes, it would be rough to handle just how engrossed he could become with work, and just how much a ruling could effect the mood at home.

○ Choso Kamo ○

Differing commitments + difficulty adapting to modern dating standards

Choso's brothers have been crucially important to him his whole life, and that continues on, especially with Yuji in his life, and an ongoing desire to give the others a good life. It would be something that takes quite a bit of time, and would sometimes take from his time with you. Expect for him to talk about it at length, and often. Dating is also new to him. The concept didn't exist in his past, so he struggles to adapt to the standard of planning dates, celebrating anniversaries, and choosing specific jewelry for different occasions. At times he'd likely slip back into practices of the past, with a 'courtship' mindset.

○ Kenjaku ○

Dehumanizing + disrespecting you

He doesn't necessarily do it to be mean, but Kenjaku is with you to satiate curiosity. He expects you to go along with his ideas for dates, activities, intimacy etc without objecting. If you said no, he'd most likely get to work 'convincing' you until he got a dubious yes. Swaps bodies without warning, often scaring you on purpose before you see the stitches and realize who it really is. Condescending when he thinks you need to take care of yourself better, and forceful if you oppose him too much.

○ Naoya Zenin ○

Unrealistic expectations + sexism

Naoya sees a woman like a customisable doll, and would enter a relationship with the mentality that he could alter you to suit his fancy, body and mind. Not changing on his whim would sour his mood and lead to him getting angry and frustrated. He both expects you to follow antiquated standards while also pushing back enough to keep him entertained, and he'd start arguments if he were especially annoyed. If you weren't performing some ridiculous balancing act of all his desired traits, he would deem the relationship pointless.

⋆.𐙚 ̊. BOKUTO KOUTAROU, he wonders, how is it possible for you to be this beautiful?

Your lips purse together tightly, forming a straight line. You grip the metal handrail, hard, as you watch the ball once again, get hit out of bounds. Not even a single breath leaves your lungs. Things are getting too heated even to take a moment to breathe.

The numbers on the scoreboard for both teams are like heaven and earth. Fukurodani High School is losing against their rival school team, causing the tension in the court to rise so high that your relaxation techniques are no longer working.

You turn around, and notice the people supporting Fukurodani are already beginning to laze off from cheering. Their expressions are dull and bored, seemingly out of energy, lacking motivation to support their team anymore.

You do not blame them. It’s a tough spot for Fukurodani, the chances of them turning the tide are way too slim.

Then, there’s also the ace of the volleyball team, the captain. His once spiky hair, and eyes filled with a lovable glimmer— now reduced to a gloomy deflated state. You notice how he loses his focus on the game, and ends up missing the ball multiple times.

Bokuto is currently experiencing his emo mode, and even Akaashi’s efforts are futile in cheering him up, “Bokuto-san…”

The disheartened captain laggardly perks up, his limbs swaying around weakly, “Huh…?”

Heck, Akaashi looks like he can’t even handle his own emotions well. No one in his team can. Their hopes are crushed by not a rock, but an entire meteor.

A twinge of hurt aches at your heart, seeing Bokuto acting so clueless and depressed while he wanders around the court like a lost baby owl. You know he can do better. You know he has potential that’s yet to be unlocked. You know you have to do something.

At the same moment, Akaashi locks eyes with you. In the pool of gloominess, you catch a tiny spark of desperation, as if he is pleading with you to act.

And so, you did.

In a heartbeat, before Bokuto brings the ball up to the sky to serve, you stand up tall. Gritting yout teeth, you hear all the curious whisperings about your action. Red humiliation fills your face, but you clench tight on your fists, unwilling to back down, not now, not when Bokuto needs you.

A newfound courage overwhelms you when you lean over the handrail, letting your whole existence be known to this little world in this little court. Then, you shout:

“KOUTAROU—!”

As if suddenly, this little colourless world has transformed into a serene oasis, where the sunshine kisses the most beautiful parts of the universe. Bokuto turns his head. He sees it. The way the overhead lights glow up your being. This enchanting ray of light falls gracefully on your face, framing your beauty, and even the little details, making you appear in a way that Bokuto has never seen.

He doesn’t want to look away. His heart is racing a bit too quickly for his own good, and he knows it.

Somehow, an invisible force pushes Bokuto to fly high.

“—YOU CAN DO THIS!”

And his palm, as if he’s accumulated his years of sweat and hardwork, everything at stake at that one moment—  he slams hard onto the ball, letting a loud thud echo throughout the silent court. It takes flight, and before anyone in the rival team can react, the ball becomes a sharpened arrow, then crashes perfectly into the centre.

…

Everyone goes quiet.

Then, a shaky, last breath is released, and Bokuto balls up his fists. He shouts at the top of his lungs with surreal vigour as he swings his head to look up at the sky, “HEY HEY HEY!”

All the cheers and yells begin erupting like a hot volcano. The thick tension has dissipated, and has been replaced by a brand new layer of hope. Hope for their captain, their ace, Bokuto Koutarou.

At that moment, Bokuto lets his head look up, and oh gods, he looks good. Drenched with sweat that drips off the sides of his forehead, his heavy pants leave his chest panting for air. Yet, a wide, very wide smile rises on his lips. It grows so bright that it even rivals the sunshine.

You hear the people behind you scream in delight at Bokuto beaming at them.

However, you do not know why, but you feel like his eyes are pinned onto you, and only you, as if he’s trying to tell you, ‘I did it!’ to your face.

Bokuto turns around, and walks forward with a dense aura of confidence surrounding him, ready to serve another win. The rival team’s arrogant grins drop to the floor at the sudden turn of events, their feet standing at the edge when Bokuto suddenly becomes this huge, towering predator about to feast. 

Meanwhile, his teammates rejoice at the return of their ace. Akaashi even offers you a grateful smile from below, which you gladly return.

The whistle blows, putting the court into silence again. Everyone, including you, has their gaze on Bokuto, but then, the unexpected occurs.

Bokuto grips the volleyball, and looks up at you in the bleachers with the most vibrant grin you’ve ever seen. He points his index finger towards you, as if he is passing on the spotlight to you. His voice, radiating pure energy and… admiration, declares:

“Y/N… THIS NEXT ONE IS FOR YOU!”

⋆.𐙚 ̊. KUROO TETSUROU, he tries to appear fine, but his brain goes all haywire before you.

“Kuroo. You have to stop. You have been repeating the same joke for days, it’s not even funny anymore,” You facepalm, hiding your face in your palm because you are so done.

Your ears are nearly bleeding from hearing the familiar joke for five days straight. Somehow, Kuroo still finds it funny, even altering the tone and build-up of the joke every time he says it. He has gotten to the point where you don’t have energy to even react anymore, yet he continues laughing by himself like a lunatic.

“You’re probably thinking that your facial muscles deserve to relax from my amazing jokes, but…” Kuroo breathes in deep, “What kind of fish is made out of two sodium atoms?”

A loud agonising groan leaves your mouth, barely audible from you pressing your face closer to your palm. You wish to dig a hole, and bury yourself in it, never leaving it to see the sunlight. You especially do not wish to see Kuroo Tetsurou’s face again while you are embraced by the soil. You do not want him to be the gardener who tends to the soil.

You do not want to hear his chemistry jokes again, but you still force yourself to answer with a monotonous tone, “2-Na…”

As if you tickled his pickle, Kuroo bursts out into a big fit of laughter again, cackling so hard he holds onto his sides to prevent himself from sliding off his chair. He wheezes, attempting to catch his breath, but then breaks out into continuous laughter again.

You are too humiliated to face him. Everyone is looking at you in the cafe. The staff, the customers, the ones who are busy having a Zoom meeting, and the ones who have earphones plugged in with music. You don’t dare to stare back at them. You can already feel their annoyance drilling at the back of your head.

In a state of great embarrassment, you silently mumble, “Tetsurou… Stop laughing, oh my god, everyone is looking at us… I’m gonna cry.”

Like the gods have finally taken pity on you, or maybe the world is about to reach its finale, the laughter suddenly ceases.

“Seems like calling you by your first name does take you off guard, huh?” You mutter to yourself, still shielding your face.

You thank whoever is aiding you in the background, the gods, your guardian angel, whoever it is. The long-earned silence eases into your mind, making your shoulders relax. The near sounds of typing reach your ears, followed by the humming noises of the cafe’s espresso machine.

However, the silence reaches the point where it feels… Strange. Too strange. Kuroo is too quiet. Is he alive? Perhaps he laughed too much, his lungs gave up and popped like balloons?

Your head looks up, expecting to witness a lifeless Kuroo spread on the table, but the sight before you, deems you speechless.

Kuroo Tetsurou is blushing. He’s not just blushing red in the cheeks, but his entire face, to the tips of his ears. Crimson red brushes over his tanned skin like fairydust. Not to mention, his eyes, both unfocused and in a daze, with nothing in them. He gawks at you stupidly, as if he’s drunk too much alcohol into his system.

Kuroo opens his mouth to speak, but nothing, not a word, manages to stumble out of his throat. He immediately shuts up, and quickly covers up the lower part of his face. The way he is currently acting elicits great concern from you. This is not the confident and playful Kuroo you know, more like a high school girl who has taken over his tall, muscular body.

“Um… Kuroo, are you okay? You look like you are about to die.”

No shit, he’s about to die because of you. He doesn’t say it out, and instead, takes in a very deep breath, slowly easing the tightness of his limbs, letting his high-valley shoulders relax. He counts himself down: three, two… no, five, four, three… He tries. Keyword, tries.

He attempts to speak again, but only a jumble of mess is enunciated.

He groans in anguish, and in one quick second, lets his head fall onto the table. A loud thud reverberates through the cafe’s walls, making heads turn towards the commotion. Your concern grows even larger at Kuroo’s uncharacteristic antics, so you reach out for his hand at the side, but to your surprise, he ends up yelping.

You blink in astonishment when he lets out a sound like that, exposing a terrible red mark on his forehead that somehow blends in with his flustered expression.

“T-This…” He gulps, gripping the corner of the table so tightly, his knuckles turn bony white, “This is so unfair…”

Wait, is Kuroo Tetsurou pouting?

The raven-haired boy takes a swig of the hot black coffee in front of him. Bitter! He nearly spits it out, but forces himself to chug through it. The strong bitterness conquers his throat, and hits him like a truck, bringing him back to reality.

“This is fine. I’m fine,” Proceeds to drink another big sip of black coffee.

Kuroo doesn’t bring this up again, never. When you dare bring it up in front of any of his friends, he clamps your mouth shut as fast as lightning. This leads to his friends, especially Bokuto, getting on his knees to beg for this precious piece of gossip. He swears loyalty to Kuroo, but in the end, he has also been rejected.

The reason is simple. He doesn’t want anyone knowing this, a little secret shared between the two of you— solely yours, and his.

He remembers how his heart fluttered at the sound of his first name rolling off your tongue. It was and still is the most perfect memory he will hold close, to the childlike heart of his that beats only for you.

⋆.𐙚 ̊. KITA SHINSUKE, he doesn't react dramatically, but he does like it a bit too much.

The volleyball team is busy with diving drills again, their shoes squeaking against the smooth tiles of the practice court. The entire team has been working hard for days, only taking breaks when necessary. They might even die of dehydration if you aren’t there.

A big match is coming soon, and the coach has been pressuring them to be at the top of their game for it, ensuring that every flaw is fixed, and that they don’t commit any mistakes. 

You huff, crossing your arms in deep thought. Just how important is this match anyway? It’s not like they aren’t the best. Your pride and joy is this volleyball team, and your trust in them has never faltered.

At the corner of your eye, you have noticed that the team’s morale is getting low, especially with how exhausted they are with practising endlessly. Even Atsumu, fantastic setter, mood-maker, the one who’s always shouting ‘one more!’ can’t take it no more.

Kita is no better. Although he is one of the most disciplined, hardworking, stable members of the team, you can see the tiniest cracks beginning to form at the edges. Being a captain means having multiple responsibilities, but he’s always managed to handle them without breaking a sweat. Yet, you notice the slight sluggish movements when he heads to receive the ball.

It doesn’t take long before your other friends approach you in aid of your support.

“L/N, please. Aran tried, and he left lookin’ like he jus’ saw a ghost. Yer the closest to him, so ya need to help him. He’s gone bonkers,” Osamu voices out his concern in full seriousness.

Suna shakes his head, and adds, “Our captain is suffering from a mental illness. He’s nearing death, I can feel it.”

Then, the blond twin screeches with agony, “PLEASE, YA OUR ONLY HOPE. I JUS’ SAW HIM GIVIN’ OUT A WATER BOTTLE TO NO ONE! EMPTY SPACE! INVISIBLE MAN!” He pauses, and continues after a deep exhale, “KITA ALSO SMILED AT ME TODAY, FOR THE FIRST TIME! HE’S SCARIN’ ME, L/N. I CAN’T—”

Cut to the scene where you are standing in front of the door to the court, anxiety prickling on your skin. Regret drowns out the loud hits of the ball inside, and also your own peace. You can’t believe you are doing this, throwing away your pride and dignity, just for the sake of the team. A living sacrifice, that’s what you are.

Atsumu owes you a month’s worth of banana milk.

“Here goes nothing…” You mutter to yourself, and step inside, walking towards the members practising their receives.

You stand behind Kita, a few metres away from his back, and call out, “Shinsuke, it’s time to take a break.”

FWOOSH!

The ball that he has initially prepared to receive suddenly bounces off his wrists at a weird angle, sending it soaring to the side. Thankfully, no one has gotten hurt, except that everyone has gotten stunned not at your sudden appearance, but at Kita’s reaction.

The captain, his back still facing you, slowly shifts back to a normal standing position, like a robot low on battery. For some reason, your heart thumps loudly in your ears, in fear of him not liking you calling him by his first name.

Just when you are about to say something, Kita turns around with an evident look of worry, “I apologise for that, L/N.”

“No, it’s okay…” You internally punch yourself, because Kita doesn’t seem to be fazed at all.

However, to your surprise, he does listen to you, and announces to the team, “Take a break, everyone. Good job. Be back in fifteen.”

That’s how you end up sitting on one of the benches, rethinking your life’s decisions, when Kita joins you. He takes a seat beside you, back straight, and the two of you sit in awkward silence.

Your shoulders tense up like bricks built on top of bricks, while Kita drinks water calmly without a care for your crumbling world.

“I’m sorry for calling you by your given name without asking, Kita. I won’t do it again,” Your head dips down low in self-disappointment.

The silence returns, even thicker than before. You sigh internally, unsure of what to do anymore, feeling helpless as the situation unfolds.

“Ya don’t need to apologise,” Kita continues to gaze at the cascading sunset rays, peeking from outside the door. It’s beautiful. Then, his gaze drifts off to the side, and he sees you in your full appearance.

The way your lower lip slightly juts out when things go wrong, like now. When your shoulders slouch a little from feeling dejected. Your fingers that twirl when you are faced with silence, and the way you call out to him, like it’s the most natural thing anyone can do in this universe.  He notices it all, the tiny things that make him yearn.

So, he doesn’t stop his yearning, and fishes out a handkerchief from his pocket, and uses it to wipe off the sweat on your forehead.

Your heart is going a thousand miles per hour. You are sweating even more now, but Kita continues to brush the fabric across your skin, like you’re the world’s most fragile item to him.

Kita Shinsuke allows the corners of his lips to quirk up into a rare, gentle smile. One that makes people fall straight into his arms, a smile that even Aphrodite gets jealous of. Kita is attractive, but a smiling Kita is the end of the world.

Caringly, he tucks the fallen strands of hair behind your ear, and you know it’s already too late, there’s no going back when he admits to you—

“I like it. Ya can continue usin’ it all ya like.”

If the gods are watching all the time, as his grandma said, he thanks them for giving him the greatest blessing of all time, the chance to hear his name fall off your lips.

Who knows, he might just get a little bit closer to you, day by day, just to hear it again.

…

“OH MY GOD, ‘M GONNA CRY, THEY LOOK LIKE THAT ONE K-DRAMA WE WATCHED, ‘SAMU!” Atsumu screeches from outside the door, his tuff of mustard hair poking out at the side.

Aran shuts him up by clamping his hand over the loud boy’s mouth, forcing him to yell out incoherent words. Yet, Aran’s eyes remain pinned on the newly established situationship, “Lord, have mercy on me, ‘m becomin’ a godfather soon…”

You imagined what his hands would feel like around yours. Perhaps a little bony, but larger than you'd initially expect. You thought about returning to a shared place after a mission. Patching up his wounds while he dried your hair. You daydreamed about how your first kiss would go. Would it be romantic or would it be in the spur of the moment?

These fantasies would fill your head, constantly. Without a doubt, you were his entirely— he lived in your mind day and night. Yet, this stayed in your mind forever. And that made you wonder if these thoughts really were so harmful. If thinking of him in this way was so horrible, if he was forever out of your reach.

However, there was a shift. You couldn't quite point out an exact event, but something was different now. If your eyes met, his gaze would linger for a second too long. If his fingers brushed your skin, you'd sense it'd be for a moment extra. Oh, he knew you felt this way about him.

But something in you told you he felt the same way. Perhaps these thoughts weren’t so bad, if the feeling was mutual. Perhaps they’d be forgiven, if he too, had the same thoughts about you. You weren’t sure for the longest time, but today, you’d finally find out.

The sun had just set as the two of you worked through files, researching away in this messy office. You got up to stretch a little, and took a sip of your coffee before sitting back down. Giving yourself a little break, you looked over at him, and perhaps your eyes lingered for a moment too long.

“Hey,” he said, his eyes meeting yours, instinctively making you look away. “Don’t look away.”

You brought your gaze back to meet his, and his eyes were serious, but also a little hopeful.

“Do you give everyone that look?” he asked, and you slowly shook your head. You weren’t certain where this was going, but your heart thumped so loudly you could hardly hear him. “I think about you all the time. I see you in books I read and the songs I hear. I’d been assuming you did the same, but had I been wrong?”

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “You know how I feel about you.”

He smiled. “I could never be certain.”

“Do you really feel the same?” you asked, your voice a whisper, and he laughed. He got right out of his seat and threw his arms around you.

A kiss to your lips and a whisper only you could hear, “I love you a million times more.”

his blue eyes follow your movements from behind his sunglasses. you step closer to him, your small hands travelling up to gently hold onto his jacket. you gulp before balancing your entire body on your toes—creasing your shoes a bit by doing so.

at this point, satoru knows what you’re trying to do. your actions are absolutely adorable and make the man giggle. he wants nothing more than to squish your cheeks together for being so cute.

especially because you’re failing to reach his lips.

“oh, do y’need help maybe?” satoru asks with a smug grin. you frown and try to stand on the tips of your toes, though that didn’t seem enough. your lover needs to lower his head a tad more for you to kiss him.

satoru tilts his head backwards instead. he loves to see you pout and struggle to carry out such an affectionate act.

he can’t help it—you’re so fun to tease, “c’mon, you can do it, baby!”

when you give up due to his constant teasing, the white-haired man gasps dramatically. you smack his bicep and turn around with a huff, “forget it.”

before you can take another step away from him—satoru’s hand reaches out to hold your wrist. he pulls you back against his chest, warm palm holding your cheek and tilting your head up so his glossy lips could meet yours.

“sorry,” satoru mutters against your mouth. his tongue sneakily swipes against yours which causes you to squirm. he gives your bottom lip a playful nibble in response, “couldn’t resist teasing you a little.”

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

“welcome home, dear!” you greet kento at the front door as per usual. he sighs in relief and smiles tiredly, appreciating your appearance before him. he seems utterly exhausted from his most recent mission.

“it’s good to see you, sweetheart,” kento shuts the door behind him. he takes off his shoes and places them where they belong before doing the same with his coat. he looks down at you as you help him tidy his belongings, “you’re looking beautiful tonight.”

to say you’re flustered is an understatement. kento always knows just how to get you shy and embarrassed from the casual way he compliments you. you’re in your pyjamas and apron—barefaced with nothing extra going on and yet your lover is completely engrossed by your looks.

“thank you,” you murmur back with a bright smile. kento smiles as well after seeing your happy expression. that’s what he does it for.

you hold kento’s hand and feel its warmth engulf your skin. his palms are a little rough; probably from the hard work he put into those recent missions he did. you look up at the blonde man in front of you and want nothing more than to kiss him—show your gratitude for everything he does for you.

thus, you lean in and stand on your toes, balancing on one foot whilst the other floats a few centimetres above the wooden floor. it’s hard to find a balance, though your attentive partner is quick to lend a hand.

“careful,” kento whispers, his voice so husky that you feel a shiver run down your spine. his big hands settle on your waist and he doesn’t waste a single second after that.

he leans in as well, head lowered to yours and your noses lightly brushing against each other. kento’s lips find your soft ones—interlocking them in a passion filled kiss. you can feel his entire body relax even more. as if he’s waited all day to be back home. to be back to you.

to kiss and hold you close.

𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈

“over here, princess,” toji calls you over with a subtle wave. he’s leaning against a brick wall, hands in the pockets of his black jacket. you walk over to him with an excited smile—happy to spend some quality time together with him today.

“hey, i missed you,” you comment and wrap your arms around his waist. you nuzzle your face against his chest to which toji reacts by giving you an awkward head pat.

the older man lifts your head up and away from his body by holding onto your chin. his eyes run over your face, letting out a short content hum. he’s missed you a lot too. not that he’d tell you that directly.

“how’s uni for ya?” toji asks. the pad of his thumb rubs your cheek and you lean into his touch. it brings a little smirk to his face—seeing how easily you become putty in his hands is rather amusing.

“been okay for most part,” you shrug and fail to maintain eye contact with your boyfriend. he probably doesn’t do it on purpose, but his half-lidded eyes makes your lower abdomen feel funny.

you’re still so nervous around him, though you’ve got the guts to at least kiss him first. you missed the feeling of his lips against you after all. the constant, soothing rubs of his thumb against your cheek only intensifies your desire.

you lift yourself up on the tips of your shoes. your cold hands cup toji’s face and he immediately gets what you’re trying to do. he snickers at the sight of you struggling to reach him and acts like he doesn’t know what you want.

. . until you whine about how you really want to kiss him. that man is sold the moment he hears your whiny voice.

“fuck. c’mere, little girl,” toji’s veiny hands go around your waist and move down to cup your ass, his lips crashing down onto yours with a desperation he’s never kissed you with before.

𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎

“do i need to add salt? she’s talking too fast,” choso ask whilst scratching his head. he’s watching a youtube video on his phone; specifically a cooking one. he’s attempting to copy a recipe in his kitchen and you’re helping him since he doesn’t know too much about phones. and cooking apparently.

you giggle and grab the phone from the counter. the lady’s words are incomprehensible due to the video being on two times the usual speed. you return the settings to normal with a light hearted chuckle, “yeah, because you’ve sped up the video, silly.”

“oh,” choso smiles sheepishly. he checks the stove and makes sure the food isn’t burning before turning towards you, “thank you. you’re a lifesaver, heh.”

you can’t help but admire the view of choso in front of you. he’s in an apron which is too small on him since it’s yours—his chiseled chest accentuated by the fabric. his black hair is up in a small ponytail and his cheeks are red. probably from embarrassment.

“you’re adorable,” you comment lovingly. choso’s cheeks turn even redder by your compliment and he sputters some words about how he ‘needs to focus on his cooking’.

you interrupt his stammers by getting closer. your lover stops and his lips are parted—giving you the perfect chance to capture them into a kiss. well, you try to at least

choso notices your silent struggles and blinks. it takes him a second to fully grasp the situation before he decides on helping you. he smiles warmly, his beefy arms effortlessly lifting you up to his height, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist.

one hand is on your thigh, the other holding the back of your head to deepen your shared kiss. choso pulls away and attaches his lips to your neck, settling you the counter, “want more, angel. you drive me crazy.”

kuroo stares up at you, heart suddenly jumping to life behind his ribcage with a renewed vigor, eyes roving from the teacher's nametag clipped to your dress to the soft, friendly smile that you're giving him.

he nods, wholly aware that he's probably coming off rude because he's just sitting there staring up at you dumbly. but for a man whose job it is to chat up strangers on the daily, his tight throat feels like it's at an impasse, tongue lost with no viable route to reconcile this instant attraction. there's no other word for it.

"it was really nice of you to come do this," you comment, sitting down next to him to watch bokuto play ringleader to a gaggle of laughing children.

kuroo almost closes his eyes on his first inhale of your perfume, tongue hitting the back of his teeth at the gentle, summery scent.

you're smiling at him again when he turns to look at you, and kuroo forgets every smooth line he's ever used in that moment, brain coming up woefully empty, hypnotized in a kaleidoscope painted in the floral pattern of your dress. the corner edges of his business card are sharp as he thumbs over the one in the pocket of the suit jacket sitting beside him, as he runs the tip of his finger over the raised edges of his cell number—

(as he wonders how inappropriate it would be to—)

"i always wanted to learn how to play," you sigh wistfully, your elbow on a knee of your crossed legs, chin in hand.

"it's never too late to learn." kuroo puts his chin in one of his hands as well, fingers meeting the hint of stubble making its way along his jaw. "i might know a guy, if you're interested."

you don't look away from him as you ask with amusement in your voice, "is it one of those two loud ones down there?"

he hears the sound of atsumu's voice, followed by a shrill whistle, and kuroo regrets letting him swipe the one from his office.

"do you want it to be?' he asks.

you tilt your head slightly, the corner of your mouth twitching. "is there a third option?"

kuroo acts like he's thinking it over for a moment before he sticks out his hand.

"Starving," You say emphatically. With the busyness of the morning, you haven't had time to eat much. The delightful smells coming from the kitchen are only making you hungrier.

"What're ya in the mood for?"

You know immediately. You usually do. "Spicy tuna."

"Ya sure?" He quirks an eyebrow. You frown as he leans in closer across the counter, a smirk growing on his face. "I mean, it sounds so normal."

"Oh, stop it!" You huff. "It's been months!" You aren't sure if he'll ever let you forget the bizarre onigiri combinations your pregnancy cravings had produced.

"Yer lucky I love ya," He says fondly, ducking back into the kitchen before you can make any kind of retort. It isn't long before he returns, setting the plate of onigiri in front of you with a flourish.

"Thank you," You say, tilting your chin up in invitation. Osamu glances around, the few regulars in the restaurant familiar enough with the two of you, before taking you up on the invitation, kissing you a little more deeply than he might have otherwise.

"Yer welcome," He says softly as he pulls away, "Better eat it before it gets cold." You don't need any more prompting, eagerly reaching for one of the onigiri and taking a big bite. You close your eyes in delight, savoring it. Across from you, Osamu rests his forearms on the counter, content to watch in silence as you enjoy the food he'd prepared for you.

You're nearly finished when the bell above the door jingles again, and Osamu greets the customers who have just entered.

"We should get going," You murmur to him, and he nods. You pop the last bite in your mouth and gather your things while he takes the order, stopping back by your seat after dropping it off in the kitchen.

"I'll see you both when I get home," He says, brushing his fingertips against your son's soft cheek.

KUROO TETSUROU

"Go ahead," Tetsurou insists, "Go take a shower. A long shower. Or a bath, even. I've got this." He bounces your daughter in his arms, still fussing even though she's just been fed.

"But, Tetsu," You look down at her scrunched up face, the sounds of her unhappiness tugging at your heartstrings.

"She'll be fine," He says in a soothing voice - you aren't sure whether it's for your sake, or the baby's. "And you deserve it. When's the last time you've taken a shower that lasted longer than five minutes?" He asks pointedly.

"Dunno," You mumble, resting your hand on her tummy. She does seem to be settling down, just a little. "If you're sure," You say, beginning to relent.

"I'm sure," He says, in a tone you usually know better than to argue with. "I'll get her changed and all ready for bed by the time you're done," He promises.

You do as he says, taking an admittedly much-needed shower. You take your time washing your hair, even using the fancy hair mask and body scrub your friend had gifted you at the baby shower - a little something for you, she'd said with a small knowing smile. You hadn't even opened them until today.

You're surprised by how much better you really do feel, afterwards. You're warm, your hair is soft, and you smell good. Once you slip into your cozy pajamas, you're almost ready to fall asleep right then and there. You have to check on your husband and daughter, though.

They aren't in the nursery. The bedroom sounds suspiciously quiet. Slowly, you push the door open, not expecting the sight you're greeted with.

Your husband is lying on top of the covers, head tipped back against the pillows as he dozes. On his chest, your daughter is snuggled up, her pudgy cheek smushed against him, fist clutching a handful of his t-shirt. He has a hand resting protectively across her back, holding her close. For a few moments, you're frozen in the doorway, taking in the sight before you. You press your fingers to your lips as the emotions well up in your chest.

You must make some kind of sound, because Tetsurou soon stirs, turning his head to look at you. "Hey," He says blearily, "I was just resting my eyes."

You smile softly, finally making your way across the room to them now that the spell is broken. "Sure," You tease gently, not begrudging him the moments of sleep he'd managed to steal.

"How was your shower?" He asks as you curl yourself against him, cheek resting on his shoulder as you look down at your sleeping daughter.

"Good," You whisper. "Really nice. Thank you." He presses a kiss to the top of your head in response. You watch her in silence for a few moments, sleeping so contently snuggled against her daddy's chest. "You got her to sleep," You comment softly. It shouldn't come as a surprise - it's one of your favorite places to fall asleep as well.

"Yeah," He hums, "I think she just wanted some snuggles." He tucks the fingers of his fee hand beneath the hem of your shirt, tracing aimless shapes there. "Sounds a little bit like someone else I know," He adds with a soft chuckle.

"Well, we can't help it that you're just so snuggly," You murmur. You reach out to gently brush your fingertips against her fist. You don't want to wake her up, but you can't resist. You tilt your head up to look at him. "You help us feel safe," You add.

He shifts her on his chest, just enough that he can crane his neck far enough to kiss you. "Good," He murmurs against your lips.

KAGEYAMA TOBIO

You wake with a start. It comes back to you - Tobio had gotten up to check on your daughter when she started fussing, and you'd been waiting for him to come back to bed. You must have drifted off, but he still isn't back in his spot beside you. His pillow is cold now, and you aren't sure just how long he's been gone.

The house is quiet, but you can't shake your concern. Slipping out of bed, you pad to the nursery just a few steps away. In the warm glow of the night light, you see him sitting in the rocking chair by the crib, arms folded on the edge of it and chin rested on his arms.

"Tobio?" He jerks his head up, turning to look at you. "What are you doing?" You move beside him, taking in the sight he seems so enraptured by. Your daughter is sleeping, her small chest rising and falling with her soft breaths. Her nose scrunches, just for a moment, then relaxes again. It makes your heart twist in your chest.

"Sorry. Got distracted, I guess," He whispers, lowering his head to his arms again. "I was just thinking, her nose looks a lot like yours. Doesn't it?" He turns to look at you.

"I guess so," You murmur back.

"It's a nice nose," He says matter of factly.

"I guess so," You repeat with a quiet laugh. "Don't you want to come back to bed?"

"Soon," He nods, "Just a couple more minutes." You both fall silent then, and he slips an arm around your waist, pulling you down onto the arm of the chair. Slowly, you lean your head against his. You find yourself thinking that you could stay like this forever - pressed up against him, looking down at the perfect little person that is your daughter.

Sure, you'll be tired in the morning, but what else is new?

SAKUSA KIYOOMI

"That doesn't go in the dishwasher," You say from your spot on the couch, the one seat with a perfect view into the kitchen. You're feeding your son, and Kiyoomi is cleaning up.

"I know," He says evenly, turning and setting the bottle next to the sink with the others. "I'll wash them after the dishwasher is loaded."

"Oh," You say softly. It's been harder for you than you'll admit, accepting so much help from Kiyoomi. You'd been so confident that you could still do everything, even after the baby came, but it's proven to be much more difficult than you'd so naively anticipated.

"I'm sorry," You say with a sigh, watching as he rinses off the dinner plates before slotting them in the dishwasher. "You shouldn't have to be doing this. I could have done it, right after he's finished eating."

Kiyoomi stops, putting the mug he'd just picked up back in the sink. He crosses the kitchen, sinking down next to you on the couch. You put down the bottle, adjusting your son in your arms.

"Hey," He says quietly, dipping his chin to meet your gaze. "Don't do that."

"Do what?" You ask, tugging a wrinkle out of your son's onesie and using the action as an excuse to look down at him instead of into your husband's eyes.

"Think that you have to handle everything. We're a team, remember?" You make a sound that he could interpret as agreement if he wanted to. He sighs. "You're incredible, and I love you," He says, tilting your chin up with his fingertips so you have no choice but to look at him again. "A month ago, I watched you do the hardest thing you've ever done, and I couldn't do anything to make it easier for you. The least I can do now is wash a few dishes."

You want to smile. You want to cry. Hormones are stupid. "Kiyoomi," You say softly as his thumb swipes away a tear you hadn't realized slipped down your face.

"I'm going to keep doing my part, so you might as well accept it." He leans in and presses a kiss to your temple. "Okay?"

"Okay," You say, smile growing on your face. "Kiyoomi?" You add after a beat, when it's clear he isn't getting up quite yet, "The dishwasher isn't going to load itself, you know."

"Why are you apologizing?" He asks softly, reaching to unstick a sweaty strand of hair from your face.

"Because, it's so gross. You didn't have to come in here," You insist. "I'm an adult, and - you really shouldn't have to see that." You purposefully avoid glancing in the mirror. You don't even want to know what you must look like right now.

"But I don't want you to feel gross alone," He says as if it's simple. You open your mouth, searching for some kind of retort, but nothing comes. "I know you can take care of yourself, but you shouldn't have to," He continues. "Not when I'm right here."

It's so surprisingly sweet that you feel your face start to crumple. "Tetsu," You squeak out.

"Shh," He shushes you, "Just tell me what I can do. Do you need anything?"

"I just want to go back to bed," You admit, reaching out to grab the edge of the sink as you feel yourself begin to waver.

"Okay then," He says, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before he scoops you up in his arms, slowly carrying you back to the bedroom and setting you gently on top of your pillows. "Try to get some rest," He murmurs, pulling the blankets up over you. "I love you," He adds, brushing the hair away from your face.

"I love you too," You murmur back, leaning into his touch and the comfort of the knowledge that he'll always be right here.

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI

Your alarm feels even earlier than usual, and after confirming that it is indeed time to get up, you turn it off with a groan. You're feeling particularly at odds with the world already today, and part of you just wants to pull the covers over your head and go back to sleep. Instead, you slither out of bed, standing next to it as you check the e-mail notification that had popped up overnight.

"Oh," At the sound of his voice, you turn to look at Wakatoshi. He's sitting on the edge of the bed, and he's looking at you with a slight frown on his face. "My love..." He gestures down at your side of the bed, and to your horror, you see a streak of red on the otherwise pristine sheets.

Suddenly, the way you're feeling is making a lot more sense. "Oh no," You drop your face in your hands, muffling your words. "That's absolutely disgusting. I'm so sorry." You don't even want to look at him, but at the sound of rustling sheets, you finally drop your hands. Your boyfriend is methodically stripping the bed.

"Why don't you get in the shower? I'll start washing these." He says matter-of-factly. There must be something in your expression, because you see his face soften. "It's alright. It's natural," He assures you.

"But-" You can't put into words how mortified you are. Natural or not, he shouldn't have to see it, much less clean it up. "At least let me do that," You insist finally, reaching for the pile of bedding.

"No," He twists away so that it's out of your reach, "I've got it. Just get in the shower, okay?"

"You shouldn't have to, though," You say more softly.

"I don't have to," He agrees. "I want to help you. Can I do that?"

You bite your lower lip, trying not to let your hormonally-charged emotions win this battle. "Okay," You say finally.

"Okay," He echoes you, dropping the sheets into the laundry basket before crossing the room back to you, gently taking your face in his hands and pressing a kiss to your lips. "I'll make you some tea to have with breakfast," He adds after he pulls away. "Will that help?"

"Yes," You whisper, the I-love-you hidden in his words practically echoing in your head. You can't resist pulling him back in for one more kiss, hoping he feels the I-love-you-too that you press into it.

MIYA ATSUMU

"Atsumu!" You knock on the bathroom door, "Are you soon done?" It's moments like these when you really regret that this apartment has only one bathroom.

"Just got in!" He shouts back above the sound of the running shower. You bite back a sigh. He's famous for his long, hot showers.

"I really have to go!" You call back. "Can't you make it quick?" You're on the verge of pacing back down the hallway, just to help you hold it in.

"The door isn't locked! Can't ya just come in and go?" You freeze. It might be silly, but it's an unspoken milestone that you haven't crossed yet - peeing in front of each other.

"But!" You groan.

"But what? Ya've seen me naked before," You can practically hear his smirk.

"Tsumu," You whine, but in a matter of moments, you open the door anyway. It's gotten to the point where you don't have much choice. With only a moment's hesitation, you put up the toilet lid.

"How was yer day?" Atsumu begins conversationally.

"We're not doing this," You say quickly. "I'm going, and then I'm leaving the bathroom."

You hear him sigh. "Want me to get out and pee too, so we're even?" He asks, completely serious.

"No!" You say quickly. "I'm leaving now." Before he can say anything else, you're closing the door behind you.

About 10 minutes later, Atsumu finds you in the kitchen, towel wrapped around his waist as drips of water slip from his hair. "Guess we're a real couple now," He grins, leaning in and pressing a damp kiss to your lips.

"We weren't before?" You ask, quirking an eyebrow.

"'Parently not. Didn't know it was such a big deal," He says with a smug grin. "How will I ever look at you the same again?"

"Hey!" You swat his bare shoulder indignantly. "It was your idea." You remind him.

"Guess so," He hums. "Know what? I think I still love ya just as much." His smile is softer somehow, despite the teasing glint in his eyes.

"Oh?" You ask, struggling to maintain your haughty expression.