M♥︎

synopsis; (y/n) is on her way back to the inarizaki dorms when she gets caught in the rain, and ends up stranded under a shed with one of the miya twins

this fic is part of the off-season quartet™ series!

back when they were still in high school 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

The downpour came out of nowhere.

That's the thing about April—the weather is always unpredictable. One minute the sky was an almost perfect blue, the sun shining with the promise of spring; the next, the sky had opened like a bucket tipped from the clouds. A fine mist clung to the ground where heavy sheets of rain crashed onto the tarmac, kicking up the scent of wet asphalt and earth. Even the temperature had taken a turn, dropping enough to raise goosebumps along her arms.

And of course, today of all days, (y/n) had forgotten to bring her umbrella.

Her shoes slapped against the wet pavement as she hurried for shelter. Her damp skirt brushed against her thighs, arms wrapped tightly around her schoolbag as she sprinted toward the nearest cover: a small, tin-roofed rest stop at the edge of the school’s walking trail. It was a ruddy old thing—just enough space to duck under and breathe—but it was better than being caught in a storm.

She burst beneath it, chest heaving, hair plastered to her face, and let out a startled gasp when she nearly collided with someone already standing there.

The boy blinked, just as startled. His silver hair was damp and messy, darkened at the ends where the water hadn't dried. Like (y/n), he was wearing an Inarizaki school uniform, the fabric a little wrinkled where water had soaked through.

I know him, she thought.

Well, not exactly. She’d seen him earlier during volleyball practice—one of Suna’s teammates. More specifically, one of the twins.

Luckily, not the blonde one.

His eyebrows lifted in recognition. "Oh. It’s you."

His voice wasn't hostile. Though it wasn't particularly warm, either. It was flat, maybe a little blunt. But at least, unlike his brother, he didn't look particularly displeased by her presence.

Imagine if I'd have bumped into the blonde one.

(Y/n) attempted to make herself more presentable as she fussed with her uniform. The fabric was soaked through, clinging in all the wrong places.

“You remember me?" she asked.

He nodded, tilting his head a little in recollection. “From earlier. Ya came to watch Suna, right?”

She hesitated, wiping water from her cheek with her sleeve. Remembering names and faces hadn’t always been her forte, but theirs had definitely stuck.

Hard to forget such loud presences.

Nodding, she offered a polite smile. “Mhmm. You're Miya, right?"

“Osamu.”

His response came out quick, but not sharp. More like... corrective. Like he was used to making that distinction.

(Y/n) paused, a little stunned by the first-name basis. At first she thought he was acting bold, but then she figured... yeah. If she had a twin, she’d probably want people to call her by her first name too. Probably easier for everyone.

She wondered absently if that’s also why they dyed their hair different colours.

“Sorry—Osamu," she tried to familiarise herself with the name. She'd be seeing him every day at school, then at practice, so she might as well. “Got it.”

Osamu hummed approvingly, then shifted to the side without a word, giving her more space beneath the overhang. She hadn’t even realized how narrow the shed was until the small gesture brought her just out of the edge of the rain.

Now they stood shoulder to shoulder, close but not quite touching. Close enough to hear the rustle of his uniform as he tucked his hands into his pockets.

“Some weather, huh,” he murmured.

“Some weather,” she echoed, exhaling softly.

Outside, the neighbourhood had turned an almost eerie shade of dark grey. Like dusk had crept in early, dragging the clouds with it.

The steady beat of rain drummed against the tin roof, accompanied by not much else.

Should I speak? (y/n) asked herself. She could talk about the weather—now would certainly be a good time—but Osamu had beat her to it.

So, now what? Standing in silence just felt so awkward. They were in the same class, and technically they had met before. Although they hadn't exactly spoke much—if at all. Still, the fact that they were acquaintances made her feel as though she needed to fill the silence.

"I take it you got caught in it too?" she offered at last, looking out at the downpour. She realised a second too late that that had been a stupid question.

"Nah. I love takin' walks in rainstorms."

(Y/n) pursed her lips, feeling dumb indeed. But Osamu didn't rub it in, just chuckled as she shook her head at her own social inaptitude.

"I'm not usually this awkward," she sighed. "I just couldn't think of anything better to say."

Osamu's lips quirked into a faint smile. "Yer fine," he said. "I was tryna think of somethin' to say, too."

(Y/n) relaxed at that, feeling relieved... and a little flattered, too. He was giving her the time of day—something she hadn’t really expected from him. Not because she thought he was a bad person, but because his twin had acted like he wanted nothing to do with her. She’d assumed he’d be the same. Only now did she realise maybe she’d been unfair to think that way. So, she let her guard down a little.

It was then that she noticed him rummaging through his duffle bag. She glanced sideways at him, curious, and blinked as he pulled out what looked to be a sports jersey. Burgundy, a little wrinkled, and—if (y/n)'s memory was correct—the same one he'd been wearing during practice.

"Here," he said, handing it to her. "Sorry if it's a little damp, I was usin' it to dry my hair."

(Y/n)’s lips parted in genuine disbelief. Kind—this boy was being so kind. Now she just felt worse for lumping him in with his ass of a brother. “Are you sure?”

Osamu offered a light shrug, then jerked his head at the outstretched jersey, hinting at her to take it. "Might as well. Yer pretty soaked."

(Y/n) gingerly took the jacket off him and began running it through her wet hair. Indeed, the fabric was cold and still a bit damp as it brushed against the back of her neck, and it smelled like a typical boy, too. Like deodorant and fresh laundry detergent. However there was a warmth to his scent she couldn’t quite place. A faint trace of food, like he’d left the jacket hanging in a kitchen while someone was cooking.

"Thanks for this," (y/n) smiled, squeezing the lengths of her locks. "Makes me feel icky when I have wet hair."

Osamu gave a soft hum, a dismissive little sound. “All good. Ya looked like ya needed it.”

They both laughed quietly at that. Then, as an afterthought, he added, "Plus I'd be guilty if ya caught a cold, or somethin'."

"You would?" she asked, curious.

Osamu suddenly sounded playful. "Yeah. I mean who else would come n' watch Suna practice?"

(Y/n) bristled. Paused mid-wipe. And turned to look at him.

Osamu only offered a little smile, perhaps a coy one. Or maybe she was just being paranoid.

"He asked me to come, for the record," she defended mildly. Though it wasn’t a lie. Suna really had invited her to come and meet the team.

"Cute," was all Osamu replied. But when (y/n) narrowed her eyes at him, he gave a light chuckle and held his hands up placatingly.

"I wasn't bein' condescendin'," he clarified. "I meant it—you and Suna seem close. It was cute seein’ ya cheer him on.”

He sounded sincere, though maybe that was because anything sounded friendlier with a Kansai accent. It was charming, and perhaps (y/n) was feeling just a little bit charmed.

"We are," she smiled. "We've known each other since we were kids. Went to the same schools and everything. That’s why I came to Inarizaki, actually—because Rin—Suna—got scouted here."

She regretted saying the last part. But if Osamu picked up on her sudden bashfulness, he didn't let it show. He did, however, seem genuinely intrigued as he glanced down at her from the corner of his eyes.

"So are you two..."

He trailed off, but the implication was clear.

"No."

The word came out fast—too fast. And a little too blunt.

Osamu turned to look at her, eyebrows lifted in surprise.

“We’re just friends,” she amended, forcing her voice steady. She was thankful that the rosiness on her cheeks could be blamed on the chill in the air.

Osamu didn't press any further. Didn't comment on her little outburst. Instead, he just turned back to the rain with a thoughtful nod.

“Got it,” he said. “Just friends.”

He didn’t sound all that convinced, but (y/n) was thankful he didn’t pry. Thankful, too, for the jacket in her hands—something to keep her occupied, to stop her from thinking too hard about Suna or how flustered she might’ve looked.

She gave her hair a final pat-down, the strands likely frizzed beyond repair. But honestly? She couldn’t bring herself to care. Osamu didn’t seem like the type to notice, let alone judge.

He’d been… nice. Surprisingly nice.

Maybe that’s why she hesitated, then pulled the jacket a little closer. The wind had picked up again, sending chilly waves beneath the overhang, and before she could overthink it, she draped the jersey over her shoulders.

Something told her he wouldn’t mind.

“Sorry if my brother gave ya a bad first impression," Osamu said out of nowhere.

She glanced up at him, about to respond, but he cut in before she had the chance. "He's not always like that."

"He isn't?" (Y/n) couldn't quite believe that. His brother—Atsumu—seemed like the type of guy to always run his mouth. Your typical arrogant jock that ought to be put in his place.

"Well," Osamu continued, his voice a bit strained. He seemed to search for his words.

"Just most the time?" (y/n) tried to finish for him. She hoped that wouldn't offend him. They were still brothers, after all.

"Yeah," Osamu eventually conceded. "Most the time." And at that, his voice turned a tiny bit softer.

As for the rain, it seemed to soften a little too. The storm had turned into a manageable drizzle. Above, the dark clouds were beginning to disperse, thin rays of sunshine making the wet tarmac glisten prettily.

"Thanks for this, by the way." She shrugged her shoulders, bringing attention to the jacket draped over them.

Osamu looked down, only now noticing. He smiled the way she'd expected. "Suits ya."

The way he said it sounded a lot like, you don't have to give it back just yet, so she didn't.

She stepped out from under the shelter, careful not to slip on the wet concrete, and breathed in deep. The air was fresh and clean now, scented with petrichor and moss. The path ahead glistened under the faint glow of returning sun, raindrops clinging to tree branches like little silver ornaments.

She barely made it two steps before Osamu fell into pace beside her.

“Yer headin’ back to the dorms, right? I can walk ya,” he offered, looking at her for confirmation.

(Y/n) was taken aback by his gallantry. The walk wasn't far by any means, nor was it a dodgy area. She could easily make her way back on her own. But for some reason, she didn’t feel like protesting.

She’d actually enjoyed her little encounter with him. It’d be a shame to cut it short when he was offering to spend more time with her.

“You’re quite the gent compared to your twin, aren’t you?” she teased.

Osamu chuckled at that. “Someone’s gotta make up for his crappy attitude.”

(Y/n) gave a little laugh.

They walked in silence for a little while, their footsteps thudding against the damp trail. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, though. In fact, it felt surprisingly easy. Like neither of them felt the need to fill the quiet.

Osamu didn’t seem like the type to talk just for the sake of it, and (y/n) found she liked that about him. It reminded her of Suna.

Her eyes flicked sideways at him every so often, taking him in quietly. His posture was relaxed, hands tucked in his pockets again, eyes on the path ahead. There was something grounding about him. Something easy-going and kind without being performative.

A stark contrast to the other Miya, she thought.

It's funny how two people could look identical and yet feel completely different. Atsumu had been nothing but loud and cocky from the moment she’d met him. All sharp smiles and an even sharper tongue.

But Osamu? He didn’t seem like that at all.

At least, that’s what their short interactions had led her to think.

By the time they reached the dorm gates, the sky had cleared into a soft blue, streaked with the last remnants of grey clouds.

She stopped by the gate, turning to face him. “Thanks for walking me back, Osamu. And for your jacket.” Her smile was genuine as she handed it back. “It was nice seeing you again.”

“No worries,” he said, giving her a small nod. “We didn’t get to talk much earlier so ‘m glad I bumped into ya. Or ya bumped into me, rather.”

(Y/n) bit back a laugh at the recollection of her almost colliding into him at the shelter.

For a second, she thought he was going to leave it at that.

“I assume I’ll see ya at practice?” he asked, but the question was all mischief—the corner of his mouth quirking in that coy, knowing way.

He meant Suna’s practice. And after today, it was probably obvious she’d show up again.

She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help her smile. She had to admit, his wit was a little amusing. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Osamu ducked his head, chuckling under his breath. The wet tarmac slapped beneath his heel as he hopped down the steps.

“See ya later, (y/n). Was nice meetin’ ya properly.”

He gave her one last wave, and just like that, he turned and headed off down the path.

(Y/n) lingered a moment longer, watching him go. Then, with a quiet smile tugging at her lips, she slipped into the dorms.

You had gone over to Kuroo's house for just a normal study session, since you needed help in chem, and he was the self proclaimed "Albert Einstein of Chemistry" or whatever the hell he had said. You don't remember, since it was like 3 hours ago.

You had started dozing off when he had started rambling on about the behaviors of matter, since his voice was just so soothing to you. He kept himself in his own little world at his desk, as you kept nodding off, your head in your hand as you layed on his bed.

He noticed how tired you seemed, and his eyes softened by the slightest bit. "Sleepy over there?" He teased, his voice soft nonetheless.

"I'm as awake as ever, Tetsuro.." You said, attempting to open your eyes to make yourself seem more awake. You sat up and stretched, adjusting yourself into a sitting position as Kuroo goes back to talking about matter.

Soon enough, you finally nod off. He hears soft little snores, and turns around to see you with you elbows on your knees, using your hands to prop your head up. "Always so stubborn.." he says, sighing.

You wake up when a strong beam of sunlight shines onto your face, and you whine in discomfort. You sat up, but felt something warm and cozy wrapped around you as you looked down at yourself, just to see Kuroo's hoodie. "When the hell.." you start to mutter, looking around the room, until you spot him.

Kuroo, in all of his messy hair glory, resting his head on his arms that were splayed on the desk, and asleep. You couldn’t help but let yourself crack a small smile, adoring just how peaceful he looked at the moment.

You couldn't help but walk up to him, running your fingers through his bedhead, and pressing a kiss to the crown of his head, to which he doesn't stir. You laugh under your breath, mumbling a soft "sleep tight, sunshine.." to him, and you watched his chest rise and fall with each soft, peaceful breath.

Oh, how you adored him.

ღAccidentaly sending them nudes part 4

ʚCont: slightly suggestive, gn!reader, use of babygirl (as a joke), swearing

ʚCharacters included: Atsumu, Osamu, Suna, Kita, Sakusa

⤑Back to navigation

ʚContent: suggestive content, swearing, use of pretty, babygirl (ironically), mostly fem! reader but can be read as gn

ʚcharacters included: Hinata, Kageyama, Tsukishima, Yamaguchi, Tanaka, Noya, Sugawara, Daichi, Asahi

⤑Back to navigation ⤑Part 2, 3

characters: mikey, chifuyu, rindou, ran, baji, kazutora, sanzu

synopsis: how he reacts when you ask the chat to watch him for you.

warnings: the haitanis are kinda short

note/s: i’m back on my writing shit… i think, anw, please enjoy these short drabbles while i force away the rust in my writing, glad to be back 🩷 (i also plan to write a wbk version of this so heads up for that one!)

mikey:

“can you babysit my boyfriend for me?” you say to your camera as you propped it up in front of your boyfriend who paused midchew.

“babysit?” mikey asked, mouth filled with dorayaki, his dark eyes looked like a confused puppy as he looked at you, who walked away without giving him a response.

mikey swallows the sweet treat before he stares back at the camera with a confused expression. he mentally counts the seconds being recorded, confusion still etched onto his face before he brushes away the blonde strands that were framing his face.

“wanna see a cool trick?” mikey asks no one in particular before he grins and picks up the phone and props it onto a higher place.

synopsis: title is self explanatory i fear

a/n; guys idk. sometimes an idea pops into my head and i just feel compelled to share it

anyway enjoy this pure brainrot

this fic is part of the off-season quartet™ series! for more, click here :p

(Y/n) hummed, idly scrolling through her phone. “Y’know, I’ve always wondered…”

Atsumu, from across the room, barely looked up from his drink. “That’s dangerous.”

(Y/n) ignored him. “‘Smack my ass like you spike a volleyball’—how hard would that actually be?”

Atsumu choked on his drink. “What!?”

"You heard me," (y/n) said, voice comically serious.

After composing himself a little, Atsumu actually— like actually pondered her words.

"Ya know, I've had a fan tweet that at me before and I don’t think they realise how painful that would be.”

Suna, who had been listening in on the entire conversation, eventually piped up, without so much as a blink. “Isn’t that the point?”

Atsumu pressed on, his tone almost urgent. “No. No, I mean, that shit would really hurt.”

(Y/n) shrugged, then stood up. “Okay, let’s try.”

Atsumu nearly dropped his cup. “You want me to smack yer ass??”

(Y/n) deadpanned. “No, you clown. Slap my hand like you’d spike a volleyball and I’ll tell you if it hurts.”

Atsumu stared at her, then at her outstretched hand, then back at her face. “Are ya sure?”

“Yeah.”

“This is really gonna hurt.”

“Stop stalling and slap me already!”

Atsumu groaned, stretching his wrist like he was warming up for Nationals. “Jesus. Alright, woman. Don’t say I didn’t warn ya.”

That was the moment Osamu walked into the room.

He took one look at the scene—(y/n) standing there, hand out, Atsumu poised to slap her like he was about to serve match point in the Olympics.

Osamu blinked. “What is happening.”

Suna barely contained his smirk. “(Y/n) is asking Atsumu to slap her.”

Osamu’s stare turned exponentially more judgmental. “…What.”

Suna shrugged but didn't question it. “Dunno either.”

Atsumu waved a hand at them, then jerked a thumb at (y/n). “Hey, don’t look at me, she’s the freak here.”

Osamu sighed, rubbing his temples like this wasn’t even in his top ten weirdest experiences with them. Meanwhile, Suna casually pulled out his phone, thumb hovering over the record button.

(Y/n) rolled her shoulders, steeling herself. “Alright. Moment of truth. Hit me.”

Osamu groaned. “Tsumu, don’t actually hit her—”

Too late.

A loud, cracking smack sliced through the air as Atsumu swung his hand full force against (y/n)’s palm. The sheer impact made the sound echo off the walls.

(Y/n) immediately yanked her hand back, shaking it out furiously. “OW—”

Atsumu looked horrified. “I TOLD YOU, WHAT DID YOU EXPECT—”

(Y/n) fanned her stinging palm. “MY HAND BURNS.”

Osamu stared at them in pure disappointment before shaking his head and walking straight out of the room like he was clocking out of their nonsense.

Meanwhile, Suna, still filming, zoomed in dramatically on (y/n)’s face. “Well?”

(Y/n) flexed her fingers, pain still written over her features. “That actually hurt way more than I thought it would.”

Atsumu scoffed. “I am a literal professional athlete, what on earth did ya expect?”

Suna panned his camera to Atsumu. “Subtle flex.”

(Y/n) rolled her eyes, still shaking her hand. “Okay, athlete. Anyway, I can now confirm that your fangirls do NOT want to get spanked like a volleyball.”

Suna stopped recording, nodding sagely. “Amen.”

Osamu’s voice drifted from the hallway. “Y'all need therapy.”

A beat of silence.

Atsumu grinned at (y/n), waggling his eyebrows. “‘Kay, now turn around, babe. S'time to try out the real deal."

Suna immediately hit record again.

(Y/n) screeched and protected her precious backside.

“ABSOLUTELY NOT.”

synopsis; (y/n) could've sworn "power play" meant something else. (aka she misuses it in a sentence and accidentally exposes one of atsumu's kinks)

this fic is part of the off-season quartet™ series! for more, click here :)

It was supposed to be a chill evening.

The volleyball match on TV was intense—national-level, high-stakes, and exciting enough to have the boys talking over the commentators.

Atsumu and Osamu were perched on the couch, already deep in a serious debate about serve formations. Suna lounged in his usual armchair, one leg hooked over the side, sipping from a half-empty can of Coke and muttering the occasional critique like a low-effort sports analyst.

(Y/n) sat cross-legged on the beanbag in front of them, a warm cup of tea in hand, eyes drifting between the scoreboard and the increasingly animated boys behind her.

The energy in the room buzzed—not just from the game, but from the commentary bouncing back and forth around her.

A particularly aggressive rally played out onscreen—fast, brutal, ending in a decisive spike that made Atsumu sit forward with an impressed “Oof!”

“S'about time!" he roared, throwing his arms up.

And then—completely unprompted—(y/n) turned toward Atsumu with a thoughtful crease between her brows.

“Wait—Atsumu,” she said, eyes shining with genuine curiosity. “You’re into power play, right?”

Even the world stopped to listen.

Three heads whipped toward her. At the exact same time.

Then slowly swivelled toward each other.

Then snapped back to her.

In the background, the referee's whistle could be heard.

Osamu’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline.

Suna looked like Christmas had come early.

Atsumu looked like he didn't know whether to feel immense pride or shame.

“I—I’m sorry, what?” he stammered, blinking like he’d just needed to reboot his brain.

(Y/n) blinked back, confused but earnest. “Power play? I swear you mentioned liking that once..."

Within the span of ten seconds, Atsumu went from pale, all the colour drained from his face, to a fierce shade of scarlet. The kind that crawled from the tips of his ears down to his neck. “I mean—I wouldn’t say into it, but—”

Suna was practically hanging off the edge of his seat.

Even Osamu had leaned forward, jerking his thumb towards the hallway with an impish grin. “Should we be leavin’ the room, or...?”

“I just mean,” (y/n) went on, blissfully unaware, “you’re always going on about fast-paced games and momentum shifts—so I figured power play was your thing.”

Atsumu opened his mouth. Closed it. Then opened it again.

He started putting the pieces together.

“What... do you mean by power play?” He asked cautiously.

She gestured innocently toward the screen. “You know. When one team’s got the advantage? More players at the net, tighter rotation, big swings—high pressure, high risk. Power play.”

She said it with full confidence. With absolute conviction and positively zero clue.

And that was what broke them.

Suna wheeze-laughed, slapping his hand against the couch. “Oh my god,” he gasped. “Who the hell told her that’s what it meant?!”

(Y/n) turned defensive. And frankly, a little confused. Very confused. "Nobody! As I said, i just assumed."

Osamu was doubled over. “There's no way," he said, shoving Atsumu’s shoulder. “Look at you—turnin’ beet red thinkin' she'd outed one of yer kinks."

“I thought she was callin’ me out!” Atsumu barked. “What was I supposed to do—deny it? Pretend I wasn’t into—ya know what, forget it.”

(Y/n)’s eyes went wide with creeping realisation. “Wait—kinks? I'm confused. What else does it mean, then?”

Suna, without an ounce of trepidation, smirked. “It’s a sex thing.”

(Y/n) went crimson. “Oh my god—really? No! I didn't—!”

Atsumu had officially recovered.

He grinned, teeth sharp, pride blooming now that the worst had passed. “Too late, sweetheart. It’s on record now."

Osamu was giggling. Actual giggling. Shoulders shaking like a schoolboy in sex ed.

“Oh, (y/n),” he said, wiping his eyes. “Bless yer little heart.”

“I swear I didn’t know!” she groaned, smacking a pillow into her own face. “I was talking about volleyball!”

“And yet,” Suna said, gesturing toward Atsumu like he was presenting a rare species, “you managed to expose this degenerate without even trying.”

"He's right," Osamu chimed in, eyebrows raised thoughtfully. "She said ya mentioned it to her once."

He tutted. "Ya filthy, filthy pervert."

The grin finally slipped off Atsumu’s face, replaced with something halfway between wounded pride and defensive panic.

“Okay, first of all,” he said, holding up a finger. “You all have your weird little kinks. Don’t act like I’m the only one.”

Nobody denied it.

And (y/n) cursed herself for noticing.

Her eyes flicked to Osamu—stoic, unfazed, arms crossed—and then to Suna, who just sipped his drink with that same old unreadable expression.

...Somehow that made things worse.

Her brain, against her will, began to spiral. Did she even want to know?

No. Probably not. Definitely not. But maybe...

God, her imagination was already filling in the blanks—

“(Y/n).”

Atsumu’s voice cut through her thoughts, and when she looked up, he was wearing that infuriatingly smug grin.

“If ya ever wanna talk strategy,” he said, all faux innocence. “Volleyball strategy, of course.”

He winked.

“Ya know where to find me.”

The boys howled.

(Y/n) groaned, dragging her hands down her face. “Don’t start.”

synopsis; the twins are doing some manual labour under the hot sun and (y/n) can't help but catch a sneaky glance or two or three when they eventually take off their shirts.

a/n; what can i say guys? im in france and the sun's got me feeling all silly

this fic is part of the off-season quartet™ series! for more, click here :)

In her defence, (y/n) hadn’t meant to stare.

It just… sort of happened. Like blinking. Or breathing. One moment she was sitting in the kitchen sipping iced tea, gloriously unbothered. The next—

Well.

The twins had taken their shirts off.

And really, there should’ve been a warning. A government-issued alert. Maybe a health advisory. Something to prepare the public. Because this? This was just cruel.

They were scattered across their tiny backyard, moving a bunch of supplies from the car to the shed—lumber, bags of soil, some mystery item Osamu had bought for his garden project that weighed roughly the same as a baby elephant.

And okay, yeah, she could have offered to help.

But someone had to supervise. For... For safety reasons.

And hydration. Since she was already sipping tea.

It was boiling out—sun glaring, air thick, the kind of summer heat that made everything sticky and slightly unbearable. It made sense that they’d stripped their shirts off. Necessary, if you asked her.

Now, here’s the thing about the Miya twins: sure, they were genetically identical. But when it came to thirst?

Very different flavours.

Atsumu was golden and obnoxiously pretty, all tan skin and arrogant smirks. Every time he flexed his biceps lifting something heavy—grunting like an Olympic athlete, on purpose, she was sure—she could've sworn she'd seen God. His hair clung to his forehead with sweat, and every time he reached for something overhead, his whole torso flexed—showcasing toned abs and the kind of sinful V-line that made her question her faith.

Meanwhile, Osamu looked like he’d walked out of a home renovation fantasy. Dust on his forearms, jaw tense with focus, sweat beading down his neck. Those forearms. Those shoulders. The way his back flexed when he lifted a bag of gravel? Criminal.

The kind of guy who could build you a deck and then build you a reputation, if you caught her drift.

He grunted once. (Y/n) almost passed out.

She bit her lip so hard she nearly bruised it.

"I’m not better than a man," she whispered to herself, staring through the window like a Victorian widow at sea.

Double the muscles.

Double the sweat.

Double the hotness.

She was dizzy. Delirious. Probably dehydrated from the sheer amount of drool she was swallowing.

“You’re disgusting,” came a voice to her left.

She jumped.

Suna.

Of course it was Suna.

He was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, staring at her like a disappointed parent.

“Do I even wanna know what’s going through your filthy little mind right now?”

“No,” she said quickly. “And also, yes. But mostly no.”

He snorted. “Why don’t you just go up to them and tell them they’re hot?”

“No way,” she said, aghast. “That’s like walking up to a fire and saying, ‘hi, I’m flammable.’”

He raised a brow. “So you’re gonna keep ogling from the shadows like a little perv?”

“Correct.”

Suna poured himself a drink. Took a sip. Didn't argue. “Respect.”

She thought the worst of it was over.

She thought, I’ll survive this. I’ll just finish my tea, cool off, pretend I didn’t spend the last ten minutes mentally objectifying my friends.

She thought wrong.

Because a few minutes later, the screen door slid open with a bang, and in walked Atsumu—shirtless, sweaty, pressing a water bottle to the side of his neck.

Condensation trickled down his shoulder. His collarbone. His chest...

(Y/n) choked on her peach tea.

Suna snickered into his glass. “Karma’s so efficient these days.”

Atsumu didn’t seem to notice her state of physical and spiritual collapse—at first. He crossed the kitchen with casual swagger, cracked open the fridge, and stood there like he didn’t just set the room on fire.

That’s when it happened.

He looked over his shoulder—right at her. His eyes flicked across her face, clocking the flushed cheeks, the guilty stillness.

Then he grinned.

“Ya been watchin’ me, angel?”

(Y/n) froze, mid-sip, brain absolutely blank.

No thoughts. Just panic. And lust. And more panic.

“I—what—no,” she said, like someone who had absolutely been watching him. “No, I was looking at… the shed.”

Atsumu turned fully, eyebrow raised, lips twitching like he just knew. “Oh yeah? …The shed," he deadpanned.

“Yeah,” she said, defensive. “Very… shed-y. Strong architectural presence.”

He tilted his head, slow and smug. “Right.”

Suna, from behind his drink, drawled, “She almost passed out when Osamu grunted.”

“RIN.”

Atsumu burst into laughter, clutching his glorious sixpack stomach. “Shit, you were watchin’ us!”

(Y/n) dragged her hands down her burning face. “I hate this house.”

“Aw, don’t be shy,” Atsumu cooed, leaning against the counter with full, blinding confidence. “If ya wanted a private show, all ya had to do was ask.”

She groaned into her palms. “I’m gonna combust."

“‘Cause of the heat?” Atsumu asked innocently.

“Because of you,” she snapped, glaring like this was all his fault. "And your stupid brother."

"You guys talkin' shit about me?"

(Y/n) nearly fainted on the spot.

Osamu had just walked in from the yard—towel around his neck, water bottle in hand, faintly furrowed brow and a voice that somehow always sounded like it was five minutes from dragging someone by the collar.

“She’s been oglin’ us,” Atsumu said gleefully.

(Y/n) bristled. “I HAVE NOT—”

Suna twirled his glass between his fingers like a fine wine. “She has. She's a closeted pervert."

Osamu raised a brow, turning to glance at her—really glance. His eyes flicked from the way she was half-curled on the chair, to her burning cheeks, to her wildly defensive expression. His mouth quirked.

“Ah,” he said mildly. “So that’s why I felt eyes burnin’ into my back. Or was it my chest? Abs?”

“I hate all of you,” she muttered.

That was when it happened. The unholy alliance.

Atsumu and Osamu exchanged a glance—brief, wordless, deadly.

Twin telepathy.

And just like that, they moved in. One on each side. Like predators scenting blood.

(Y/n) blinked. “What—?"

Atsumu leaned down on her left, arm braced behind her chair, golden skin still glistening from the sun.

Osamu mirrored him on the right, towel draped lazily around his shoulders, bottle of water dangling from his fingers.

“Ya like this, sweetheart?” Atsumu murmured.

“Yer lookin’ a little flushed,” Osamu added smoothly.

(Y/n) was actively dying. Palms sweaty. Heart racing. Brain spiralling. She could barely breathe—and she was no longer even outside.

This was a coordinated attack. A planned execution.

It was rare for the twins to agree on anything. They thrived on bickering, on chaos, on contradicting each other at every turn.

But when they did team up?

It was borderline lethal.

“Don’t you two have something heavy to go lift?” she managed to croak.

Atsumu smirked. “Thought you liked watchin’.”

“I’ll throw this tea at you,” she warned.

Osamu tilted his head. “Seems like a waste of good tea.”

(Y/n) groaned and dropped her face into her hands again. “I prefer it when you guys are arguing.”

Suna snickered under his breath, but everyone caught his next words:

"Bet you'd prefer it if they did something else."

Atsumu barked a laugh at the insinuation.

Osamu groaned and swatted at him with the towel. “Don’t make it weird."

(Y/n) didn’t dare look at any of them. She folded her arms on the table and buried her face like a horny ostrich.

Did that stop her from feeling Atsumu’s hot breath at the back of her neck?

No. No it did not.

“Maybe if ya ask nicely…” he murmured.

Her mind went rampant.

Curse Suna for throwing her under the bus.

Curse the twins and their stupid muscles and their criminally good genes.

Curse this house for being the most cursed and blessed thing to have ever happened to her.

And curse her, most of all—for loving every second of it.

kenma

stares at you like you’ve grown two heads

LEEEETHAL. side eye.

“um. no.” He blinks

and you pout

“but why?”

YOURE HIS BESTFRIEND THATS WHY

but he’s also has had the fattest crush on you since like ever

yet he’s still skeptical

“what’s the catch?”

“there isn’t one…?” You tilt your head.

a blush rushes to his cheeks when he nods. your big eyes gleaming at him as you scoot closer

your hands cage his face and his lip juts out, staring at the side

when your noses touch he finally looks at you

a small gasp erupting from him when your lips finally meet his

it’s quick, between a peck and a kiss

you pull away with a smile, giving him an exaggerated kiss on the cheek

“Thanks Ken!”

“Mhm.”

he’s still thinking of the warmth from your lips

yuu

A KISS!?!;$:&;

F-F-FROM YOU!?!

he’s praising every deity known to man

THANKING ALL

for this grave opportunity

“I would be honored.”

he’s so fucking dramatic bye-

on a knee and a hand covering his heart

you snort at his reaction but he doesn’t let up

HES ALLL BARK NO BITE

because the minute your face to face

he is CRUMBLING

his whole body is buzzing, face completely tomato red

“So do we just, like just a kiss, or what did you-”

STEAL THE MANS POOR WORDS FROM HIS MOUTH

because your lips are on his and he’s on cloud nine

his hands twitch but they fly to your waist, squeezing it when you deepen the kiss

he definitely chases your lips when you pull away

successfully landing a peck that makes you giggle

he’s BREATHLESSsss

tsukishima

“Absolutely not.”

“Aw come on Kei, I don’t bite.”

you were his childhood bestfriend

he grew up with you!

And you wanted to kiss him?

scratch that.

just for fun?!

ok MAAAYYYYBE HES thought of it.

BUT ONLY LIKE ONCE…or twice…or

“just a quick one I promise~” you tease, pushing his glasses to the top of his head

he glares at you but of course you don’t miss the way his neck and ears flush red

“this is so dumb.”

As his hands literally circle the small of your back???

“You look cute right now.”

“You said kiss not compliment me.”

“I can’t flatter my bestfriend?”

“Just shut up and kiss me.”

“Oh?”

He’s gonna die from your teasing

Kei has the biggest soft spot for you so he always goes easy with the come backs

“You’re too tall!” You pout and he grins.

“Oh well.”

You take that as a challenge, pushing him on the couch and kissing him straight on the lips

HE IS FROZEEENNN

EYES WIDEEE

with a furious blush on his face

Literally panting after, staring at you in complete awe

osamu

Blushes almost IMMEDIATELY

but he absolutely swears he’s nonchalant

like bro you’re about to shit yourself.

He has to make sure he heard you right

“Ya want a kiss?”

You hum and he quirks a brow

He leans down swiftly, pecking you on your temple

You melt at the act but laugh

“No on the lips silly.”

“Yer crazy.” He huffs, crossing his arms

“Come on samu!”

“No.”

“Please!!”

He glances at you.

“This ain’t gonna change anything?”

“Of course not.”

You wanted to be reassuring but he wished you said it would.

“Fine, C’mere.”

HE ACTS LIKE HE DOESNT WANT IT

grumbling and everything

But the minute your lips meet his, he’s softening

At your disposal

His hands quickly cupping your face, pulling you into him

kinda a makeout sesh tbh….

You guys def had a lot to talk about after that…

Kuroo had imagined that if he ever had a meet-cute with his future girlfriend, it would be something out of a rom-com.

Maybe she’d bump into him in the hallway and drop her books, and their hands would brush as they both reached down. Maybe they’d get locked in the school’s storage closet and have no choice but to talk, discovering they had an undeniable connection. Maybe he’d do something particularly cool in front of her—like nail an impossible volleyball save—and she’d be so impressed that she’d fall for him on the spot.

You know, a great story to tell his future kids later on.

What he did not imagine was this.

He had barely settled into his seat in chemistry lab class when the teacher rattled off instructions about the elements they’d be working with today. Kuroo, who had only half-listened, glanced at the laminated periodic table on their lab station. There were a lot of elements, and he was already regretting not paying closer attention. With a sigh, he turned to the girl beside him.

“Hey, can you check which elements we’re supposed to—”

He paused.

For one, you looked a little startled, like you hadn’t expected him to speak to you so soon. Your lips parted slightly, and your fingers thrummed against the edge of the table, but you didn’t immediately respond. Kuroo furrowed his brows.

Maybe you didn’t hear him?

Before he could repeat himself, you blinked a few times and slowly turned to the periodic table. Your expression shifted into something that could only be described as deep concentration, like you were trying to decipher some ancient text rather than a chart of chemical elements.

Seconds passed.

Then a full minute.

Kuroo’s eyebrows inched up.

Still, no answer.

“Give me a second.”

your phone vibrated against your pillow, pulling you out of sleep. squinting, you reached for it, barely registering the time—12:01 am—before kuroo’s name flashed across the screen.

kuroo: happy birthday, dumbass. i win.

you groaned, rubbing your eyes.

you: win what?

kuroo: being the first to say it, obviously. now open your door.

you blinked, still half-asleep.

you: no

kuroo: yes. i’m already here.

you froze. that woke you up. kicking off your blanket, you padded over to your window first, pulling the curtain back. and there he was—kuroo tetsurou, standing under the streetlight in his hoodie, a plastic bag in one hand, looking way too pleased with himself.

sighing, you grabbed your jacket and made your way downstairs, the cold air biting at your skin as you cracked the door open.

“kuroo.” your voice was flat. “what the hell.”

he grinned, stepping closer. “midnight birthday delivery. it’s tradition now.”

you raised an eyebrow. “you’ve never done this before.”

“exactly. new tradition.” he held up the bag. “onigiri and pudding, your favorites. got them fresh before the store closed.”

your heart did something weird in your chest, but you ignored it, arms crossing. “you seriously walked all the way here at midnight? just for this?”

he shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “it’s your birthday. of course i’d show up for my best friend.”

there was something in the way he said it—too casual, like he was brushing past something. the weight in his voice didn’t match the easy smirk on his face.

“you’re ridiculous,” you muttered, but you reached out anyway, taking the bag from his hands. your fingers brushed his in the process—just a second, barely anything—but it sent warmth up your arm despite the cold.

he didn’t move away, still watching you, still standing too close.

“you gonna make me stand out here all night?” his voice was quieter now, lower.

you swallowed, gripping the bag a little tighter. “you’re the idiot who came here.”

“yeah.” his smirk softened. “guess i am.”

for a second, neither of you said anything. the night air was still, the only sound your quiet breathing.

then, kuroo exhaled, stepping back with a lopsided grin. “alright, birthday kid. go eat before it gets cold.”

you rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest stayed.

“thanks, testsu.”

he shoved his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels. “anytime.”

a/n: “best friend” yea right 😒 kuroo gave you a big fat hug after

contrary to popular belief, osamu miya is not any better than his twin brother, especially when he’s with you.

this must be your fourth date this month, and it’s barely even two weeks in. so, in order to save money, osamu proposes a little life hack. a cheat code, if you will.

“baby, i got this ring at a pawn shop,” he takes a small, rusty ring from his pocket and presents it to you as he continues, “i’ll pretend i’m proposin’ to ya and all ya gotta say is yes, okay? free dinner, easy peasy.”

you sigh, holding back your laughter as you pinch your temple. “‘samu, that’s unethical.”

“whaaaat? no way, come on, baby. we’ll get to go on dates more often if we do this,” he says, and you know you shouldn’t say yes. you should be the angel in this scenario, guiding him towards the right path. the path of the just and the good.

...but then again, why would osamu date you if you weren’t at least a tiny bit similar in terms of thinking?

“fine.”

“hells yeah!” he celebrates, looking around and waiting for one of the staff members to enter your vicinity. luckily, it doesn’t take long until a blonde girl walks to the table next to yours and starts cleaning up the leftover dishes the previous party has left behind.

osamu looks at you, grinning before he gets off the chair and gets on his knee. you cup your mouth with both your hands, seemingly in shock; though in reality, you’re doing it to prevent yourself from laughing like a madman.

“my sweet, beautiful, gorgeous girlfriend. i’ve loved you since i’ve known you, and i’ll love you for as long as i do. will ya marry me?”

and the restaurants’ guests just eat. it. up. the crowd cheers, much like how they do in his games, and they chant “yes, yes, yes!”

“yes!” you burst out in laughter, jolting out of your seat and hugging him. he lifts you up slightly before putting you back to the ground and kissing you, lips soft and at your mercy.

osamu puts a ring on your finger as the crowd yells and howls, and later that night, the manager approaches the two of you and tells you not to worry about the bill.

atsumu’s been rubbing off on your boyfriend too much.

and so this becomes a ritual, though you’re both careful not to overuse it. you reserve it for anniversaries and small celebrations, like his team winning a big tournament or you getting a high score from a grumpy professor.

and though it doesn’t always work, you guys at least get a little dessert on the house.

until one day, when you’re a high end, fancy restaurant. you’re wearing a silk, red dress with so much jewelry, you’re practically shining. the chandelier lights reflect off of his rolex watch, and you both have just finished eating.

“this place is really good, osamu. we should come here more often.” you take a sip of the wine, drinking in delight.

“yeah... hey babe, what’s that?” he points behind you and you turn immediately in curiosity.

“...huh? ‘samu, i don’t see anything,” you turn back around to face him, but lo and behold, osamu miya is down on one knee.

your eyes look around in shock, clearly taken aback. “wha— babe, we didn’t plan this?!”

“i know,” he chuckles, pulling out a ring similar to the one he bought at the pawn shop, except brighter, cleaner. with more diamonds than you could ever even imagine. “my love, i’ve loved you since i’ve known you, and i’ll love you for as long as i do. will ya marry me?”

sure is a good thing osamu’s got practice.

your laptop sat open on the desk, half-forgotten as your fingers trembled over the keyboard. the assignment deadline loomed, but it was really hard to focus when your boyfriend was buried between your thighs, lapping at you with slow, deliberate strokes.

kuroo had been at it for at least twenty minutes, taking his sweet time, letting the occasional deep groan vibrate against your pussy just to watch you squirm. he was always like this—half a menace, half a worshipper—dragging you right to the edge only to pull back and start over. it was infuriating.

you bit your lip, trying to stay somewhat composed, your hips shifting toward his mouth as he sucked your clit between his lips and rolled his tongue against it in that obscene way that made your toes curl. you barely managed to type another sentence before a sharp whimper escaped your throat, and he chuckled—smug bastard.

“mm, getting close?” his voice was muffled, lips brushing against your slick folds.

“y-yeah, so stop—”

but of course, he didn’t stop. he paused. and that was somehow so much worse.

instead of diving back in like a decent boyfriend, he lifted his head slightly, fingers idly tracing patterns against the inside of your thigh. “you know, i read this study the other day about how the female orgasm actually lasts three times longer than the male’s,” he mused, voice far too casual for someone who had his face drenched in your juices. “it has something to do with the way the pelvic muscles contract—”

“tetsu, i swear to fucking god—”

“no, but listen—” he pressed a quick kiss to your clit, as if that would make up for his absolute nonsense. “the average male orgasm lasts about six seconds, right? but for women, it’s closer to twenty. and some women can even have multiple in succession. isn’t that fascinating?”

your entire body twitched with frustration. “tetsurou.”

“what?” he asked, blinking up at you with faux innocence, lips glistening with proof of just how not innocent he was.

“either put that mouth to better use or—”

you barely had a second to brace yourself before he groaned—that deep, gravelly sound that sent heat curling in your belly—and devoured you like he had something to prove. his tongue flicked against your clit, fast and relentless, two fingers pressing inside you with that perfect curl, stroking the exact spot that made your back arch clean off the chair.

you barely had time to suck in a breath before pleasure slammed into you, your entire body trembling as you came with a broken, desperate moan. and he didn’t stop.