arara

god, you have to fight the absolute urge to not laugh, only smiling at his blank expression. honestly, he was dying inside and didn’t want to reveal to you that there was something possibly wrong with this dish since you worked so hard on it.

he’s blinking far too many times and quietly attempting to clear up his throat. he eyes the ice cold water bottle waiting for him on the kitchen counter that’s pleading for him to take a sip. he fights it though, pushing back the small grains of salt that found it’s way to rest on his teeth.

however, ran doesn’t know a thing or two about cooking so he’s not sure if you rushed the process or if maybe you just added a bit more than what was offered in the serving size.

he offers to taste it again, perhaps just the one taste clouding his judgement.

this time you decided to give him another bite just without the teaspoon of salt and he instantly feels on cloud nine, eyes rolling and moaning in pure satisfaction from the taste. now this is what he should have tasted the first time.

once you tell him about the prank and show him the video, he smiles a bit at your laughter and pinches your side playfully. touche.

he has no problem with you playing a prank with no harm, plus he gets to enjoy your delicious cooking.

rindou haitani

     rindou definitely acts like the guy in the tiktok 😭😭. it’s almost sad how nice he is about it. he knows how to cook too so he suggests adding in some more ingredients to lessen the amount of salt. i mean, it was a shit ton to him. he was scared. internally he’s a bit freaked out over the amount of salt and the fact you didn’t notice. there’s still bits of grains in the crevices of his mouth that he wanted to wash out.

but once he aims to take another bite just to make sure his eyebrows furrow in the most purest form of confusion. i mean, rin will literally stand there like a dad with a hand on his hip, taking continuous taste tests of the sauce because… it’s quite literally the best thing he’s ever tasted so why the fuck did it taste so salty the first time???

you’re biting down on your lip to stop the laughter forming in your throat but you are harshly mistaken if you think he doesn’t notice. he knows everything about you. then he squints at you and clicks his tongue.

“the hell did you do?”

at that point you couldn’t fight it anymore. you let out your laugh and tell him about the prank. all he could do it roll his eyes at your childishness. it was silly how one little thing could make you laugh so much.

he supposes it’s one of the many things he loves about you but he definitely makes you promise not to do it again.

haruchiyo sanzu

     okay. believe it or not, haru actually TRIES to be nice about it but everything unintentionally comes out mean 😭😭😭.

“why’s it so salty? holy shit. maybe you should put in more sauce, babe.”

like SANZU 😭😭😭 jeez.

that’s his way of nicely trying to tell you to add more sauce so there’d be less salt but damn, the cursing and his facial expression’s, god, the facial expressions 😭😭😭. if his mouth doesn’t have much a filter his face surely doesn’t i mean, he grimaces and sticks his tongue out as if he just completely forgot you were there.

HE REALLY IS TRYING TO BE NICE THOUGH. because when he sees your falsified frown, he quickly sits up and places a hand on your arm, apologizing profusely and asking for you to forgive him along with a few small suggestions of what to add to the food.

it’s hard to stay fake mad at him because he’s begging and pleading and telling you how much he wants to try it again.

you perk up at the suggestion of him trying it again and he’s just shitting his pants on the inside cause he’s not sure if he can handle a spoonful of salt again. so he closes his eyes tightly as you aim the spoon towards his mouth but immediately relaxes at the heavenly taste.

haru tilts his head in utter confusion, slowly opening his eyes. he asks for you to give him another spoonful, only to taste the same food laced with absolute heaven.

“are you sure this is what you gave me the first time?”

honestly, i’d just ????

and when you tell him about the prank, rather than you be the one laughing, he is and not even a little, i mean, he finds it so hilarious since he was so scared to tell you that what he tasted was bad.

hajime kokonoi

     you think sanzu had no filter??? let me tell you something. THIS MAN RIGHT HERE??? this is the definition of no fucking filter. i mean, wow… you’re so surprised at the amount of honesty.

“jesus, that is fucking salty. why’d you put so much? you could hurt yourself.”

immediately he grabs a water bottle, nearly chugging the whole damn thing. you didn’t even want to laugh anymore cause it’s like ??? okay damn, we get it, it’s salty. and it’s the fact he’s also trying to be nice??? about it because he watched you cook it.

“should i look on youtube for some help on the recipe? i don’t think it was good to put that much, sweetheart.”

your face is blank as ever. scooping up another teaspoon of the sauce and holding it in front of him. he shakes his head and pushes the spoon back. he’s grateful that you want him to keep tasting but he didn’t want to have to go through that again.

of course, you didn’t budge and now you're practically forcing him to take another taste of it. koko was definitely scared in that moment but took another bite just for you and… he swears… in that moment he died and had a one on one conversation with all the angels above.

the taste of the sauce hitting the buds of his tongue. wow. incredible.

just like haru he asks if that was the same thing you gave him and proceeds to taste it some more. and now he’s confused on the complete 180 of taste.

once you tell him, he apologizes and promises he’ll make it up to you with a nice dinner out.

"i told you that i don't like you leaving without telling me."

his statement came off as possessive and overbearing, but you knew that it was far from it—in fact, you considered it to be the opposite. though it may not seem like it to outsiders, rindou's insistence on knowing where you were at all times stemmed from a place of love; it was his way of protecting you. your known association with rindou made you a target for enemies of bonten—and they had plenty. he worried for your safety and in an attempt to not bombard you with security details, rindou's one ask was that you keep him informed on where you travel without him.

"would you rather i have waken you up?" you asked, picking out the items from the bag and setting them beside you. you hadn't planned on going to the store but it was clear that you needed to pick up a few things, all of which were for rindou. pain relievers, a green smoothie, and honey graham crackers because you knew he preferred them over the saltine ones.

"yes, actually." he ran a hand over his forehead to brush all of the hair pasted there away.

you smiled at his bluntness. in the time you had been with rindou, you had grown familiar with his direct way of speaking; you'd even go as far to say that you enjoyed it. you never had to wonder what was on his mind when he spoke so freely.

your nimble fingers worked at opening the cardboard box housing the crackers. you grabbed a sleeve, tearing the plastic and carefully pulling out one of the brown rectangles. you held it out to rindou as a form of apology. "i'm sorry. i just thought you could use all the sleep you could get after last night."

"about that," he spoke, accepting the snack from your hand. he took a bite from the corner. crumbs fell from his mouth down to the sheet covering his legs but he couldn't be bothered to clean up the mess. "what exactly did i get into?"

rindou was having a hard time recollecting the events of the previous night. if you asked him how he spent the rest of his day after work, he wouldn't be able to tell you much. one thing he was sure of, though, was that he and most of the executives of bonten went out to celebrate a successful arms deal. everything after that was fuzzy.

"mm," you hummed, stealing one of the crackers to take for yourself. you mimicked his actions, biting a small piece off from the corner and chewing thoughtfully. "i'm not too sure. ran called me saying that you were drunk off your ass and kept asking for me. so i went and picked you up from the bar."

he swallowed thickly, your words sparking recognition within him. most of it was still unclear, but rindou could piece together a vague picture.

"c'mon, rindou, don't be a pussy." sanzu sang from across the man while holding out another shot.

he ignored the glass, opting to flick his pink-haired associate off instead.

"what's the matter? you lost your touch or something?" koko spoke up from beside him, throwing back a shot of his own. a grin pulled at his lips as he narrowly eyed rindou.

rindou scoffed, practically snatching the drink from sanzu and taking it down in one motion. he turned to koko with a smirk of his own. "fuck you."

the seemingly never-ending drinks continued to pile on for the remainder of the night. rindou prided himself in having a heavy tolerance, and he did for the most part, but as memories of him calling out for you flooded his brain, it was clear that he had overdone it. not once before last night could he recall a time when he'd gotten so drunk that he was virtually begging to see you.

your lips curled upward at his silence. it wasn't often that you found yourself in a position where you held something over his head. after the events of last night and his uncharacteristic behavior, it would be a waste not to poke some fun at him.

"y'know," you started, reaching for the pack of hangover relief pills. "i could barely drive home because you kept trying to climb over the console."

a smirk lingered on your lips as you tore open the small package and shook the medicine out into your hand. you hummed and pointed to rindou's closed fist resting on his thigh. he caught on quickly, turning his hand over to receive your offer. the tablets dropped from your fingers into his open palm.

"i didn't do that." rindou denied, tossing the pills into his mouth and promptly swallowing. his throat was parched and he wanted to blame it on the fact that he had just taken pills without water but in reality, it was because the information resurfacing was difficult for him to believe.

"okay, maybe that was an exaggeration," you laughed. his adamant rejection of your claim only made you want to tease him even more. "but you're totally a clingy drunk."

lilac eyebrows furrowed as rindou thought back to the ride home from the bar.

"rin, cut it out or i'll crash the car." you quickly slapped his wandering hand away before returning yours to the steering wheel.

a loud, whiney groan filled the otherwise silence of the car. "why don't you want to hold my hand?" you glanced over to see rindou's head rolling back and hitting the headrest of his seat. his eyes were squeezed shut but it was clear that he was frowning at your refusal of affection.

you bit the inside of your cheek to hold back a giggle. was this the same stoic man you had come to know? it looked like a shot too much was all it took to turn him into a nearly unrecognizable and touchy variant of your boyfriend. "i do, but we have to do it when we get home. i have to drive now."

rindou turned to you with narrowed eyes but there was an uncontrollable grin of excitement tugging at his lips. "promise?" he asked.

you nodded. "i swear."

as if it weren't bad enough that you reminded him of that awkward conversation, rindou was beginning to piece together the moments afterward, specifically, when you pulled into the parking garage. if he looked down at his hand, he was sure he'd be able to feel the ironclad grip he had on you as soon as you two got out of the car. the thought sent a shiver down his spine.

"i am not clingy." he shook his head, partly to disagree with your words but also to rid himself of the embarrassing memories.

"hmm, maybe not." you played along although you had a clear recollection of last night. you figured his denial must have stemmed from a place of pride because if he had been in your shoes, if the roles were reversed, you were positive that he'd be pestering you about how handsy you had been.

"you're pretty dependent, though," you continued. there was one more interaction you were itching to bring up. "i'd even go as far as saying needy."

rindou fell back to lay on his pillow. he had a feeling your statement would mean more humiliation for him. despite that, he couldn't ignore the tiny bit of curiosity that nagged at him. "what's that supposed to mean?"

a knowing smile crept its way onto your lips as you crawled to sit beside him. amethyst eyes met yours, the brows above them raising in question. "you don't remember me having to brush your teeth?"

"open," you instructed rindou, poking his cheek with your index finger. he sat on the lid of the toilet, head lolling from side to side.

your simple direction went in one ear and out the other as rindou ignored your request. instead, he puckered his lips and leaned forward.

"we can do that later," you assured him, gently pushing him back into his former position. "say ah." you opened your mouth hoping that he would follow your example.

thankfully, he mimed your actions this time around. tipping his chin up, you began to brush his teeth. the process went smoother than the prep and the man stayed still as you cleaned each of his teeth.

"c'mon, time to spit."

you helped him up from his seat and led him to the sink. too busy turning on the faucet, you didn't notice rindou quickly approaching. his lips pressed to the side of your face in an open-mouthed kiss.

"rindou!" you pulled away, snatching the nearest towel to wipe the foam he left behind on your cheek and the corner of your mouth. he's going to be the death of me, you thought as you tossed the towel into the hamper. you spun on your heel to face your drunk mess of a boyfriend. "i said later."

"it was later." his words came out jumbled due to the toothpaste lingering in his mouth. the froth was starting to drip down to his chin.

you sighed. "just rinse, please."

rindou covered his face with his palms. his cheeks were burning hot; they must have been visibly red. he would have been better off remaining clueless about the previous night's activities.

"i'm never drinking again," he spoke through a groan.

"aw, i thought it was cute." you pulled his hands away and flashed him a smile. his rapidly beating heart calmed at the sight. "but you should probably set a limit for next time. you're kind of a handful."

he huffed out a laugh. based on everything he pieced together and your first-hand account, "handful" was an understatement. he didn't think it was possible for him to act in such a way but it seemed that even the inconceivable was achievable.

you patted rindou's shoulder. "you go shower while i make breakfast. unless you think you'll need my help in there, too." you jokingly wiggled your eyebrows.

he smirked. "are you offering?"

"god, you're shameless." your hand came down to playfully smack his bare chest. you jerked your head in the direction of the bathroom. "go."

you made a move to get off the bed and start toward the kitchen, but rindou caught your hand before you could leave. you looked at your joined hands and then to him. a glint of mischief passed through his wisteria eyes. "are you really going to make your clingy, needy, handful of a boyfriend shower all alone?"

the flustered rindou who might as well have been wishing the earth would swallow him whole only minutes ago was nowhere in sight. as cute as that unexpectedly soft and affectionate version of your boyfriend was, you'd be lying if you said you preferred it over the side you'd grown accustomed to.

"fine." you clicked your tongue. a beat of silence passed before you accusingly pointed your finger at him. "but i'm not doing all the work like last night."

rindou dropped your hand, opting to hold your cheek instead. "of course you aren't. i'm going to make it up to you."

⋆｡˚ CHIFUYU would be worried.

He’s so confused when he gets home and is met with your loud voice, which was so unusual as you were pretty calm and composed most of the time. You sounded pretty angry but he had no actual idea what you were saying. It wasn’t that he’s unaware of your differing mother tongue, though you rarely spoke it when he was around, because you think that it’s disrespectful towards him. But then again, you were alone at home just a minute ago… maybe you were on the phone with a family member and complaining about him? If that were the case, why couldn’t you just talk to him? Deciding to investigate the matter, he followed the sound of your hissing and shouting. When he finally found you, he didn’t expect to find you sitting on the living room floor surrounded by a bunch of books. Inching closer to your hunched figure, he could actually pick up some of your mumbling as you rubbed your swollen toe. Oh…

“Am I hearing things?”, he gasped from behind you while frowning, startling you in the process. “Are you actually cursing?”

“No?!”, you shrieked in surprise, embarrassed that your lover heard you spout such undignified words. Hiding your face in your shoulder, you mumbled, “You didn’t hear anything, ‘kay?”

Chifuyu just chuckled and shook his head. “Surely”, he reassured you and knelt down to inspect your injury.

⋆｡˚ RINDOU would be weirdly offended.

After hearing a dull crash from the kitchen, he slammed the door and immediately rushed towards the source of the sound, wanting to ensure your safety. Though when he arrived, his mind was quickly intrigued by something else and Rindou took full advantage of the fact that you weren’t aware of his presence yet.

There you were in your full glory - dressed in Rin’s your baggy clothes that were way too big for you, but you always insisted that they brought you maximum comfort.

Though the state you were in right now screamed the absolute opposite of that. You were jumping around on one foot like a lunatic while clutching your other one close to your chest. However, seeing you in this unhinged fashion wasn’t even remotely as amusing to Rin as the words you spouted.

“What’s that pretty mouth running, huh?”, he chuckled at you. You whipped around at the sound of his voice, but the action made you lose balance. Before you could register what was happening, Rindou had his arms wrapped around you, preventing you from crashing into the fridge. “Woah, hold it.”

It didn’t even take a second before you pushed yourself back on your feet again, huffing and crossing your arms at him. “What’s it look like, huh?”

Rindou just raised his eyes at you in an almost pitiful manner, finally taking in the sight of the kitchen floor, where several appliances where scattered around. He sighed and flicked your forehead lovingly, “I can’t believe it.”

“What?”

“I can’t believe that a freaking frying pan made you lose your cool more than I ever did.”

If your foot hadn’t hurt from being attacked, you sure it would have connected with your boyfriend’s gut.

⋆｡˚ MIKEY is absolutely shameless and a menace.

“What were you talking about earlier?”, Mikey inquired while wrapping a bandage around your swollen foot. While he did so he was making sure that it was firm yet didn’t apply too much pressure, handling you with care. His eyes were fixated on you and it made you squirm underneath his gaze. Adjusting your seat on the brink of the bathtub, you made sure to not move the foot in Mikey’s grip too much before answering him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His eyebrow cocked up at your answer, but he just finished up your bandage and after fixating it he spoke up again, “You gotta teach me.”

The heat on your cheeks just grew further with every word that came out of his mouth. “T-Teach you?”, you parroted him and he nodded eagerly. “Teach you how to drop packages on your foot?”

He immediately dropped the smile and replaced it with a deadpan look. “No, that’s not what I meant.”

With a sigh he rose from his kneeling position on the ground, flicking your forehead. “What I was trying to say is”, he started to explain and stemmed his hands on his hips, as well as plaster a pout on his face to further emphasise his point. “You gotta teach me how to curse in your language!”

Your hand came up to scratch your neck as you nervously chuckled, “I-I wasn’t….” But as you saw how your boyfriend squinted his eyes at you and his pout deepened, you decided that it was no use and to finally come clean. “Why do you want to know?”

His face practically lit up like a kid’s on Christmas Eve, taking your answer as a yes. “I have my reasons”, he grinned and pulled you up to indulge in his request.

At every opportunity to call and every time his finger has hovered over your contact, his mind is pervaded by the lingering memory of your tired eyes sagging with sleeplessness, hunched over your overheating laptop and he locks his phone again, throwing it and himself against the cushions. Ran had called once during the time you’ve been gone and Rindou had only partially listened, keeping his ear trained on the door for the jangling of keys, your tinkling laugh, the click of your heels on the concrete pavement. 

“Yeah and then I had to do all the shit he left behind.’ Rindou heard shuffling down the receiver as Ran slid into his car and slammed the door.

Rindou only hummed, and fished around in the cabinet drawer for the painkillers you were sure to need, throwing a water bottle into the fridge in the meantime.

“Are you even listening?” Ran said and Rindou had grimaced when he heard the exacerbation in his Brother’s voice, the tiredness and irritation.

“I am!” 

Rindou sees your silhouette first, the dark and shadowy shape of your body fumbling with keys through the frosted glass of the front door and his chest does a flip almost immediately. He watches you stumble in on shaky legs, turning back to wave off your friends with a grin as your handbag slips down your arm. He can already feel the jolting thrum of energy bouncing off you. That’s how you are. Boundless. 

You turn towards the hallway and brace a hand against the wall for support as you try and fail to unbuckle your heels. There is a smile on your lips that Rindou doesn’t have to see to know is there. It's in the way you spring into the house, the looseness of your shoulders that tells him you’ve had a good night. 

Rindou allows himself a soft and hesitant smile, watching you frown and pout at the fastening and the way it sticks and refuses to budge. It is the small moments like this, when you assume he can’t see you, where he gets to witness you as you are, and they almost make the danger of this relationship worth it. Smiling, soft around the edges, the frail and fragile tendrils of your happiness leaking from your unguarded laughs and giggles. His heart swells in his chest. You grope around for the light switch and Rindou takes that as his cue to swoop in.

‘Let me Princess.’ His shoulders brush the walls as he bends to lift you and scoop you into his arms. In truth, the bedroom is ten paces away, and you could very easily stumble your way there but he won’t allow it. Instead, he’ll hold you and let the corner of the table in the hallway brush the back of his legs so you don’t stumble, tucking you against him so the glare of the TV doesn’t hurt your eyes. Rindou knows he's being excessive, meticulous, routined even, that he overthinks every decision he makes when it comes to you. But it’s the routine with which he shows he loves you. The extra care he takes when he slides his arms under your knees and presses you ever so gently against his chest, the ends of his hair brushing your cheek as you sag against his warmth. 

It’s not as if it’s unusual. Rindou is meticulous about you in all aspects. It’s in the way he walks on the side of the cars when you’re out together, the way he covers the corners of the table as you brush by, the way the coffee is always hot and ready when you wake. 

It’s meticulous and it’s extreme and it’s him. And if being extreme with his efforts shows you the vastness of his love for you, then you were happy to receive it. 

‘Rin!’ Your voice, usually vibrant and buzzing with energy, is quiet, a breathy whisper in the otherwise silent apartment. The only other sound is the drone of the TV in the adjacent room, left running on some channel that Rindou has hardly paid attention to. The glow of the TV set illuminates the dark hallway and bathes the two of you in soft blue light as Rin tentatively pads towards your bedroom.

‘Did you have a good time?’ He says and nudges the bedroom door open with his hip. Your hair is soft against his neck, lips brushing the skin of his collarbones every so often and Rin feels his heart thud painfully in his chest, his blood ringing in his ears. He shudders when your hot breath kisses the dip in the middle of his throat, his tattoo bobbing up and down as he swallows.

‘Mmh,’ you hum and sigh contentedly, your eyes fluttering with the weight of fatigue settling on you. Your limbs are sluggish by now, arms dropping from where they’d clutched tightly to his shirt, the fabric bunched up in your fists. The thin cotton of your skirt did nothing to protect you from the early spring chill and you shiver against him, slotting yourself against the crook of his neck. He’s warm, and you find yourself rubbing your bare arms against his abdomen just to share in it.

‘Let’s get you to sleep then yeah?’ Rindou’s voice is husky, rough, and you can tell from the scratchiness of it, that he’s had a few cigarettes in the time you’ve been gone, that it’s laced with the sluggishness of sleep that he’s fought off for your sake, washing his face and rubbing his tired eyes as he waited up for you. You catch a faint whiff of nicotine and menthol, minty toothpaste and shower gel when he tucks you against his chest.

You look up at him through your daze, the world a little too sharp and fast, the burnt copper glow of the streetlights just beyond your bedroom window leaking into the room, and yet, you feel safe. He feels safe. Nothing is strange, nothing is dangerous. There is only you and him and the drunken stupor that makes your heart swell when you look up at him, the lilac flash of his eyes, narrowed into slits and the crease of his brow as he concentrates on holding you tight. 

‘Hey Rin?’ You say as he stands you up, holding you by your shoulders in front of your bed. He tugs gently on the hem of your shirt, and his eyes are imploring, seeking, asking for permission. You nod your assent, holding your arms up as he pulls your shirt above your head. He’s gentle about it of course, and his touch on the bare skin of your arms is so feather light that the hair on the nape of your neck stands on end.

‘Hm? Something wrong?’ He folds your shirt and places it carefully on the chair, fishing around in your wardrobe for a clean pajama shirt before slipping your arms and your head through the holes. 

‘No…’ You say and your eyes flick to the cheap plastic chandelier in the middle of your ceiling. The cobwebs are numerous, and the cracks stretch from the centre down to the corners, snaking across the alabaster white of the ceiling. Your house, filled to the brim with memories. It's not fancy, not luxurious like you'd expect it to be considering who he is, but it's yours. It's the first house you ever bought together. 

Rindou pulls your hair out from the back of the shirt and ties it haphazardly with the hair tie he keeps around his wrist. He’s prepared, of course he is. He knows you, knows your heart. The weight of the years between you has always sat heavy on his shoulders. Every kiss is thick with memory. Maybe that’s all it was, the weight of time and memory, the masses of grief and happiness you had both shared together, that taught him everything he knew about you. 

‘Something else then Princess?’ He tugs on the zipper of your skirt and it falls to the floor in a pool of silk. The draught from the open door makes you shiver. Or maybe it’s that here you are, in your vulnerability, and he his, and the moonlight is the only witness to it. 

‘I love you…’ you say and your eyes, fighting to stay open, are genuine and honest, and brimming with unshed tears. He almost doesn’t catch the breathy whisper, the softness of it rolling off your tongue. He stops,hands halting as he bends to pick up your skirt.

His cheeks are aflame almost immediately and god he hopes the darkness hides him enough for you to mistake the pink tint for something else. 

He wants to say it, wants to tell you he loves you too, wants to tell you you’re the most genuine thing that’s ever happened to him. But the words are thick in his throat, sitting on the tip of a tongue that feels too heavy for his mouth. 

He doesn’t return it and you’re not mad nor angry. This is how he is, how he’s always been. These things are hard for him. So you smile, and the corners of your lips turn up and Rindou feels his heart settle in his chest at the unspoken understanding. 

He brushes his lips against yours briefly, soft and supple and pliant and the jolt of electricity thrumming under his skin runs along his veins. His heartbeat is so loud you must be able to hear it in the otherwise quiet room, he thinks.

‘I love you so much, you know that?’ Your lip wobbles and Rindou’s heart beats its wings inside him. ‘You’re my moon and stars.’

You don’t mean for it to sound so breathy, for your lip to tremble and your eyes to brim with tears despite the smile on your face. Maybe it’s the drink talking, the world tipping sideways, or maybe it’s just the feeling of his warmth so close to you but the lump in your throat settles like a stone when you swallow thickly.

‘You’re…’ Your tongue is slack in your mouth and Rindou’s face burns with the intensity of your gaze. From here, the orange gleam of the streetlight splicing through the parted curtain illuminates a patch of skin, the light coming in shafts across his lips, his nose, the dip in his chin.

‘You’re the moon in my sky, and whenever I’m lost, I just follow your light to lead me home.’ The soft tendrils of your love, the immeasurable tenderness leaks into your voice and Rindou’s chest squeezes itself painfully. You want to blame it on the alcohol, on the bitter coldness of the night that has your limbs sluggish and slow, but you know in your heart that isn’t true, that it’s desire forcing these words out. 

‘You’ll take me there one day right? To the stars?’ You cup his face as a shaft of white moonlight spills across the carpet. From here, the moon is pure white, looks close enough to reach out and touch. Perhaps you could, one day, the two of you, just reach out and brush your fingers against the limits of the sky, go where no one else had.

Rindou isn’t quite sure what to say, but he looks at you, at the love in your eyes, the way your gaze softens when it falls on him, and he knows instinctively that he’d do it. He’d carry you there on his back if he could.

‘Sure Princess,’ he says, and he isn’t lying. This isn’t him humouring you, placating you. This is him showing he gets it, that he’d do anything you asked no matter how outlandish or absurd. 

‘I’ll even get you the biggest star as a gift yeah? How’s that?’ He adds as an afterthought, relishing in the way your face glows with the thought.

‘You will?’

‘Of course.’ He means it. Wholeheartedly. 

You giggle and clap excitedly and Rindou’s heart is so dangerously close to falling out of his chest. 

Loving you had not come naturally to him. Loving did not come naturally to him at all. There was Ran, and then there was everyone else, and everyone else was dangerous. Perhaps it was a testament to you, the both of you that is, that despite the obstacles, he had found you, and you had found him, and try as he might to deny that he loved you, he had known the opposite was true. That in the many years you’d shared, you’d had ample opportunity to walk away from someone like him and you didn’t, and perhaps if you had, he wouldn’t want this so much.

But he does. He wants life, all the mundanity of it, the picnics and the walks in the parks, the soft morning sex, the movie nights and cafe trips. He wants them so much it makes him sick to think about.

While he might have been the moon and stars to you, you were the sun to him. And all the light that you claimed led you home, was only what he borrowed from you , the thing he was redeemed by on the days he felt the sickening churn of self loathing and inferiority in his stomach. 

I  love you, I love you, I love you- he wants to say like a fervent prayer at an altar, a wish clinging to the back of his throat. But he can’t and the words are boulders in his chest. Rindou, who swore he’d never get attached, never allow himself the fantasy of love or whatever it entailed, who told himself he was content when it was just him and Ran as it always had been.

He sits you on the corner of the bed and bends to remove your heels, your eyelids fluttering. He places your heels carefully underneath the bed and then, with one hand on the small of your back, sets you underneath the covers, pulling them up till they rest just underneath your chin, your hair now splayed across the pillow in wisps of silk. The sheets are cold and you rub your legs together for warmth. 

He tucks a few loose strands behind your ear and bends to press a kiss to your forehead. It's rare to see such vulnerability from him, to see him looking so loose, so open, so tender and with hands that are so gentle against your cheek, tracing the arc of your jaw. 

He kisses your cheeks, the corners of your mouth and then finally, your lips. They’re soft, hesitant even, as he brushes them against yours, and even in your partial slumber, the pulsing in your eyes getting more noticeable by the second, you can taste the nicotine and mint on him. Your chest fizzles with warmth. 

He sees you smile abashedly and pull the covers up further to cover your exposed neck, believing it to be the result of just a good night out and not the feeling of his lips on yours, or the soft tickle of his hair against your collarbones.

For all of his smarts, he still doesn’t quite see, you think, the waves of love you’re willing to give to him. Could you do this forever? Could you trail after him forever, amid all the guts and blood, the death and danger and guns? Would it matter so much if you had him? 

Rindou stands and reaches over towards the bedside table, flicking off the lamp, smoothing the bedcovers down again in that meticulous way of his. He moves towards the door, casting a final glance at you huddled under the sheets. 

He pauses at the door, his hand on the doorknob, the light from the TV in the room opposite streaming across the carpet, and the moonlight pouring in through the open curtain and Rindou smiles tentatively. 

He closes the door with a soft click, avoiding the floorboards he knows creak, bracing himself against the wall to lessen the noise, his heart lifting when he hears the soft sighs from your sleeping form.

Goodnight, he thinks, the sun in my sky.

a/n: hii everyone I am so sorry for not posting in so long! I have been working on things, and I had fun writing this, I hope you all have fun reading it too. Writing for Rindou feels so natural I'm not quite sure why, and I'm not entirely sure where this idea came from but thank you all for all the lovely and wonderful feedback so far, I adore you all. Likes and reblogs are well appreciated as always, thank you all again. And happy anniversary my angel, I hope you enjoy my gift.

“The fuck ya smilin’ so much about?” Osamu says when you show up at his place that day. You’ve been so giddy the past few days, practically bouncing with every step. Osamu’s harsh words didn’t even phase you, it was almost as if you weren’t even listening to him.

“You seriously don’t know?” you ask, barely able to contain the smile on your face. Osamu eyes you curiously, you’re never this expressive (unless Osamu did something particularly mean to you) but Osamu doesn’t feel like playing your games today.

He turns on his heel to head back to his room. “If yer not gonna tell me, I’m takin’ a nap,” he grumbles, hoping you’d join him but you’re sitting on the couch looking at the front door every once in a while. Osamu stops for a second...Couldn’t be. He thinks before continuing back to his room to shut his eyes.

His sleep doesn’t last long. About an hour later, Osamu’s stomping back into the living room ready to yell at you for waking him up with your shrieking. But he stops dead in his tracks when he sees you in the arms of someone else.

Atsumu.

It’s as if you leaped into his arms after he walked through the door. His bags are dropped near his feet as he holds your weight, laughing along with your excitement. You don’t even spare him a passing glance as you bombard Atsumu with questions about how training camp is going. During your rambling, Atsumu’s brown eyes flick over to his younger brother, smiling at the grimace on his face.

“Ya said ya weren’t comin’ back for another week,” Osamu says, crossing his arms. You finally turn your head to where he’s standing and your eyes widen for a second—fear?—but Atsumu curls his arm tighter around your waist and offers his twin a shrug.

“Vacation started early,” he smirked, walking towards the couch while still holding you. He plopped down, with you in his lap. “Thought I’d surprise ya.” It was a surprise as far as Osamu was concerned. He thought he had more time until the hurricane that was his loudmouthed brother eventually came home.

It had been a few months since Atsumu had been back. He had been off at training camp since graduation. At first, he came home every other weekend but as the training became more intensive, he decided to stay at camp longer to focus on his regimen. Osamu remembers the day his brother left. Atsumu had been your best friend since childhood and when he went off to camp, you couldn’t stop crying. The never-ending flow of tears pissed Osamu off to the point that he eventually did something about it.

It ended up with him fucking you in Atsumu’s bed.

Since then, it was Osamu whose shadow you were always in. Talking to him so sweetly and doing whatever you could to please him. He didn’t have to share you with anyone but now his biggest competition is back and it isn’t even a fair fight. Five minutes in, and you’re practically straddling him talking nonsensically about all the things you can do now that he’s home. Osamu’s fuming but he doesn’t react, he’s been in this position before.

“Oh, you’re probably starving. We should get some food,” you say, moving off his lap to grab your phone. “I bet you’re not in the mood to cook, Samu. Let’s order something!” Atsumu hums in agreement, never taking his eyes off you as you walk out the room to figure out what to eat.

Once you’re gone, Atsumu turns his attention back to the upset man in the room. “Not gonna give yer brother a hug?” he asks, comically holding his arms out.

But Osamu is ready to clock him in the jaw for that stunt he pulled. Most people know to stay away from you if they know what’s good for them. Osamu was never too far away from you most days—walking you to and from class with an arm wrapped around your waist. Any guy who was dumb enough to try to get with you usually became well-acquainted with Osamu’s fist. But Atsumu is the only person he couldn’t face, not when you looked at him as if he hung all the stars in the sky.

Osamu always locked up when Atsumu was around. Everyone favored his brother—he was the nicer twin, the life of the party, people loved being in his presence. You were no different. Osamu can think back to all the times you ran into his brother’s arms, much like you did today, after “big, bad Samu” hurt your feelings.

With his brother gone, Osamu showed a different side of him. Sure, he’s still calling you an “idiot” every other sentence but Osamu noticed you leaning into his touch, asking for kisses, and holding his hand absentmindedly. Things you never did when Atsumu was around.

“So ya told her you were comin’ back but not me?” Osamu asks, ignoring Atsumu’s request.

Atsumu feigns a sad look. “She wanted to tell ya, but I thought this was funnier,” he smirks. “I was right.”

Despite wanting to rip his brother’s head off, Osamu sits next to him. “I can already tell the next few days are gonna be a bitch,” he groans while Atsumu laughs.

“I don’t need ya to keep me company, Samu.” Atsumu teases, pinching his brother’s cheeks. “y/n will take care of me. She’s been lookin’ forward to this fer weeks.”

Osamu freezes again, thinking back to how you were buzzing with anticipation before Atsumu’s arrival, anxiously waiting by the front door for him. Everything’s going to revert back to when you were kids again. Walking with Atsumu hand-in-hand while Osamu is left alone in the corner.

He’s going to ruin everything.

~

Osamu had been right when he said his brother’s visit would be exhausting. For the past few days, you and Atsumu were joint at the hip. If you two weren’t cuddling on the couch for a movie night, you were probably in the backyard tossing a volleyball around which usually ended with the two of you rolling around in the grass. If Atsumu’s need to be touching every part of your body wasn’t bad enough, he wasn’t shy about giving you compliments whenever Osamu walked in the room.

“Yer so pretty when ya smile like that,” Atsumu cooed one morning while Osamu was making breakfast—it took all his energy not to fling the skillet at his brother’s head. To make it worse, you’d blush every time he threw a stupid line like that. Osamu tried to ignore it but it seemed as though Atsumu made it his mission to shower you with affection.

“You’re mad,” you pointed out. Atsumu had left the house to hang out with some of his former Inarizaki teammates, leaving you and Osamu alone. You crawled into Osamu’s bed, mumbling the words against his lips. “Don’t be…”

He lets you kiss him, lets you run your fingers through his dyed locks. Osamu won’t admit that he’s missed your touch but when he inhales your scent, all he can smell is his brother. “Why didn’t ya go off with him?” he grunts, pushing you off before rolling on his side.

You don’t give up, though, wrapping your arms around him to be the big spoon. “Don’t be upset. It’s been so long since we’ve seen Tsumu. Obviously, I want to spend time with him,” you explain, doing little to soothe Osamu’s bad mood. “You should too, he’s your brother.”

“I’ve hung out with him enough to last a lifetime,” he huffs. Osamu can feel your hands wandering, stopping just as they’re about to slip past his pajama bottoms. Part of him wants to let you continue, but he can’t bring himself to. With his brother around, Osamu hasn’t had the chance to get his hands on you. Every time he turned a corner, you were perched in Atsumu’s lap, laughing at whatever bullshit he spewed out. When he was younger, Osamu would just get pissed off and sulk in his room but things feel different now. He’s been able to have you—he’s seen you writhing underneath him, moaning from his touch, and screaming his name. To see you hanging off his brother now stings a bit more. “Can ya fuck off? Go spend time with Tsumu since yer so worried about him.”

Osamu shoves you away, nearly pushing you off the mattress. He hears you whine in discomfort when your phone goes off. “H-hello?” you mumble, rejection heavy in your voice. Osamu doesn’t have to try very hard to know that it’s his brother on the phone. His annoying voice came through the speaker. “Uh, no, I’m not doing anything...yeah, I can meet you there.” Osamu caught the hesitation in your voice but tried not to dwell on it, you were still leaving him anyway. “No, you don’t have to come get me—oh, okay…”

The call ends a few minutes later, Osamu hears your footsteps fade as you leave the room. He wished you said something before you left but you were probably too scared that you would piss him off.

“Is she datin’ anyone?” Atsumu asks later that evening, once again bothering Osamu while he was cooking. You were next door at your place, grabbing a few things before returning for dinner. You must have been exhausted with the way Atsumu dragged you around everywhere.

“Excuse me?” the younger twin asks, staring at his brother incredulously.

Atsumu rolled his eyes. “y/n, stupid. I was askin’ Kita about it but he wouldn’t give me an answer. Figured if anyone knew it’d be ya.” he said, leaning on the counter. “You’ve been takin’ good care of her since I’ve been away, yeah?”

Osamu feels his face heat up, thinking about the last time the two of you had sex. You looked so cute in the new skirt you had on and Osamu couldn’t help himself—he had to embarrass you by flipping it up and showing off your pretty pink panties in front of your friends just to see the tears form in your eyes. You had bitched at him all the way home, crying about how mean he was being.

He thought you looked so adorable when you were upset, leaning in for a kiss in the middle of your ranting. “Ya ever shut up, ya fuckin’ brat?” he asks condescendingly, running his hands along your body. “Will ya stop cryin’ if I stuff you with my cock? Fill ya up ‘till all ya can think about is me?”

The way your eyes light up when Osamu talks like this never fails to amaze him. Such an innocent façade you put on for the rest of the world but only Osamu knows what a cock drunk little bitch you become, begging for “more, more, more” when he has you under him. He knows he doesn’t have to do all of this just to get you in bed but there’s a sick pleasure Osamu feels when he does something to make you upset. It makes you more eager to please, so submissive. There’s no better sight than you fucked dumb, whimpering how “it’s too much, samu”.

“Earth to Samu,” Atsumu grunts, snapping his fingers in front of his brother’s face. “Have ya been listenin’ to me?”

Shaking his head of his lewd thoughts, Osamu grumbles a response. “She’s not my fuckin’ problem. How should I know if she’s with someone?” he lies, going back to his food that, thankfully, hasn’t burned. “Why so concerned all of a sudden?”

Atsumu sighs dramatically. “I’ve thought about askin’ her out,” he muses, eyes giving his twin a once over before continuing. “Ya think she’d say yes? She’s always so affectionate when I’m around, it’s cute. Wondered if ya figured she’d be interested.”

Osamu’s ability to keep his composure has to be some kind of record. He can feel his vision blur and his hands clenching. For once, he thought he could have something to himself. Something Atsumu couldn’t ruin for him—like he’s done all his life. You might have been Atsumu’s friend growing up but the “relationship” you and Osamu shared was something his older brother could never understand.

He was going to mess it up, just like with everything else.

And Osamu couldn’t muster up the courage to tell him to back off. He wasn’t your boyfriend, something he’s made that clear to anyone stupid enough to ask. That never stopped him from getting jealous, though. Getting pissed off at you for letting another man flirt with you at a party or getting antsy when you ventured off too far from him. All he’s ever wanted was your attention but Atsumu’s always been the brighter, shinier one of the two.

“Do whatever ya want,” he says. “Not like I care.”

~

You started feeling tired after dinner, mumbling something about heading back home to rest. Atsumu offered his bed for the night but Osamu shuts it down quickly. “She can sleep on the couch,” he barks, shoving past his brother to get extra pillows and a blanket. He doesn’t miss the pained look on your face. It’s normally Osamu’s bed you sleep in, wrapped up in his arms every night. However, every time you tried to initiate something with him, Osamu pulled away. It’s to the point where he won’t even kiss you anymore and each time you get too scared to go any further.

But now, hours after both you and Atsumu had gone to bed, Osamu’s sneaking into the living room. You always looked so peaceful when you were sleeping. Normally, you were at your wits’ end, exasperated by Osamu’s revolving door of mood swings. So innocent, so easy to corrupt. Just the way he liked.

He curled up behind you, pulling you to his chest. The movement doesn’t seem to bother you as your form snuggles into him, as if you knew exactly what to do. Osamu takes a second to hold you—the past few days felt like an eternity and Atsumu’s words rattling around in his head have made it worse.

“I’ve thought about askin’ her out”

The thought of you in Atsumu’s clutches was too much. You’d fall so easily for his charms, everyone always did. He’d sweet talk you—fill your head with praises and promises to get you into his bed. He may have been your friend but Osamu staked his claim on you ages ago. Would that mean anything in the end?

Osamu’s hand is already down your shorts, fingers collecting the essence from your cunt. The familiarity of it all makes him groan in your shoulder. Softly, he runs his fingers along your slit, spreading your legs a bit for easier access. The constant prodding has you stirring in your sleep.

Still, Osamu refuses to slip inside you just yet, he wants to make you work for it a bit. There’s nothing you could have done to prevent Atsumu’s arrival, but he’ll gladly take his anger out on you. You slightly raise your hips, hoping for some relief in your slumber. Osamu holds you down, makes you take it at his pace. “Ahhh…” a sigh falls from your lips.

“I know,” he whispers, finally entering your warmth with two fingers. Your body tenses, mouth opening as a whine escapes. He shushes you as he angles his digits to reach for the sweet spot, the one that makes your walls spasm with pleasure.

“Samu,” you whimper, hands balled into fists. That’s right, he thinks, better know who you fucking belong to. He could tell you’ve been needy for him with how your slick coats his fingers. Osamu grinds his clothed cock against your ass—oh, how he wishes he could fuck you how he wanted, send you into a deep sleep with a belly full of cum. But you get so loud when he’s inside, tears running down your cheeks while getting railed.

What would Atsumu say if he saw? His precious y/n getting fucked by his younger brother who’s always been nothing but a menace to her since they were kids. Maybe Osamu should tell him how he took your virginity the night Atsumu left for training camp. How Osamu dragged you to his brother’s bed and had you bouncing on his cock. He should talk about how pretty you looked, cumming over and over until the only name you could remember was Osamu’s.

The sound of your cries brought Osamu back to the present, he had been ignoring your clit all this time and you were desperate for your release. Feeling generous, Osamu grinds the heel of his palm against your neglected bud, offering the stimulation you’ve been craving. Your head leaned back as another gasp escaped. Your hips started jolting, pitifully fucking yourself on Osamu’s fingers to reach your high.

Your eyes shoot open when you cum, creaming around Osamu’s hand with his name falling from your lips. He can feel his cock straining against his sweats as he feels your juices drench his fingers, the filthy sound of your pussy fluttering makes him harder with each passing second. He stops when your hand reaches for his wrist, your body shuddering from sensitivity.

Osamu shifts you around so you’re facing him, your breathing is still heavy as you try to calm down. “Just looked so pretty while you were sleepin’, dummy,” he hums against your lips. “Couldn’t help myself.” You sigh into his mouth when he kisses you properly, holding him close with your still-drowsy limbs.

He sucks in a breath when he feels you press your center against him, silently asking for him to fuck you. “Can’t,”

“But you’re hard,” you whine, moving your knee in between his legs to tease him more. Osamu moans at your touch, the pressure inside is telling him to push you on your back and have his way but he can’t bring himself to do it. Not when he’s upstairs. “Please?”

“Not tonight,” he says. That rejected look is back on your face before your brows furrow. To Osamu’s surprise, you return to your original position with your back facing him. “Don’t act like that—”

“Goodnight, Samu,” you bite back, not willing to hear him out anymore. For once, Osamu doesn’t have an insult to hurl at you, the urge to put you in your place isn’t there. Instead, he peels away from your form. He takes one last glance at you but you refuse to look at him. Feeling unwelcomed, Osamu heads upstairs to his room. He stops for a moment when he spots the door to Atsumu’s room and wonders if you’d say yes to him if he asked you out.

He shakes the thought away and continues down the hall.

~

Osamu ended up sleeping in the next day, the clock reading half past noon when he woke up. He doesn’t like being in bed that late and he wonders if you had breakfast in the morning.

He turns over to find you standing by his door with a hard-to-read look on your face. You shut the door behind you, crouching by Osamu’s bed. This feels wrong—you should have been in his bed last night, he should be holding you right now, whispering in your ear with a softness that was reserved for this time of the day. Osamu even made space for you on the mattress but you wouldn’t take it.

“What’s your problem?” you asked with a ferocity in your eyes that he’s not used to seeing. “I mean, really, Samu. Ever since Tsumu’s been here, you’ve been pushing me away. Did I do something?”

“What’re ya bitchin’ about now?” Osamu groans, rolling over to ignore you but your hand on his shoulder stops him. You keep it there, forcing him to face you.

“I’m serious, you’ve been so nasty to me...more than usual.” you’re looking at him in the eye, something else he’s not used to. “And last night—that was the first time you’ve touched me in days…” your cheeks flushed, thinking about Osamu’s fingers plunging in and out of you.

He thinks back to how you looked last night, delirious from sleep and his hand down your shorts yet still so willing to get him off. Even right now he wants you underneath him, to hold you close and feel every part of you. After hearing his lack of response, you puff out your cheeks and Osamu smiles softly. He’d never say it out loud but he finds your small defiance cute.

“Um, me and Atsumu…” you start and Osamu feels his stomach drop, fearing the words that are about to leave your lips. “We made breakfast this morning because we wanted to let you sleep and we started talking.” Your eyes flicked over at Osamu’s, the attitude you had completely disappeared. “He asked me out on a date.”

The sinking feeling in Osamu’s stomach starts to burn. He can feel the rage building up inside but he can’t take it out on you, he needs to think first. “Excuse me?”

Your cheeks flush, hands shaking a bit. “It came out of nowhere! We were talking about how he’s going back to camp soon and he was saying how much he missed me…” It’s as if you’re choosing your words carefully, worried what Osamu’s reaction might be. “And then he said that we should get dinner and at first, I thought he meant the three of us but… He said he wanted it to be the two of us—like a date.”

“What did you say?” he asks through gritted teeth. You stare at him sympathetically and Osamu knows you said yes. Once again he comes in second place to Atsumu, the golden child. How could he compare? He sits up finally, towering over you crouched on the floor, bracing himself for your answer.

“I told him I’d think about it,” your answer doesn’t make him feel better. You should’ve told him no right then and there. But then again, rejection has never been in Atsumu’s vocabulary. “I wanted to talk to you first.”

“What’s there to talk about, y/n?”

You shoot him an incredulous look. “I figured you’d have some opinion on it since—you know…”

“Because I fuck ya?” Osamu can feel the venom bubbling in his throat. He didn’t know why he was acting this way. “If ya wanna fuck Atsumu too, go ahead. I can’t control ya.”

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about, Samu!” you snap, catching him off guard. “Just tell me you don’t want me to go.”

“I don’t care what ya do,” he says, getting out of bed and shoving past you.

But you, persistent as ever, followed him down the hallway. “You don’t care? You always seem to care when you think someone is flirting with me. Or when you caught Suna staring at my ass that one time.” you stand in front of his path to get his attention. “I know you don’t want me to go, just say it!”

You’re giving him a way out. I don’t want you to go out with him, he wants to say. I want you to stay here with me. But the insecurity creeping away at him wonders if part of you wants to be with his brother instead.

“I’m not yer boyfriend,” he says, his go-to argument. One that you’ve heard a million times.

“God, I’m so fucking tired of hearing that,” you reach for Osamu’s face, forcing him to stare back at you. He doesn’t want to talk about this right now. It would be so easy to brush you off and act like this conversation never happened—he’s done it so many times. But the look on your face tells him you’re not standing for it. “Sometimes I wonder if I actually mean anything. Am I just someone for you fuck, Samu?”

No, he thinks. Osamu can feel his hold on you, the one he’s worked so hard to keep, slipping away. Shouldn’t you know how he feels for you at this point? Why does he have to put a label on it?

Osamu’s the one who takes care of you when you’re sick, snapping at you for being so reckless with your health. He’s the one who picks you up at the bar when you’ve had too much to drink, who holds you when you’re having a bad day and all you want to do is cry. Why couldn’t you see that part?

But then he thinks of how you’ve been looking at him lately. Your arms reach out to touch him, to hold him, and he slaps them away. Brushing past you as if you hadn’t said anything. And every time he does it, you end up going to Atsumu. It’s history repeating over and over and Osamu doesn’t have the nerve to stop it.

Your frustrated sigh breaks his trance. “You can’t have me whenever you want and then act like you don’t care. Either I mean something to you or I don’t.”

He softens in your embrace. “Ya mean a lot more than just somethin’, y/n,” he says, fingers tugging at your shirt to bring you closer to him.

“How would I know that?”

There’s nothing Osamu wants more than to kiss you right now. He’s deprived himself of your touch for so long and he wants to drown in it. You’re mine, he thinks, you’ve always been mine, not his.

And who should round the corner at this very moment? “Am I interruptin’ somethin’?” Osamu peers over your shoulder and there he is, smirking as if he knows a joke that everyone else is privy to. Osamu feels your body tense up and your hold on him waver, it’s subtle but he notices it immediately.

He’s suddenly shoving you away from him. You would have fallen on your ass if Atsumu wasn’t there to catch you. “Hey!” Atsumu scolds as your body falls into his arms. “The fuck is wrong with ya?” Brown eyes shoot daggers at Osamu.

But he can only focus on how you look as if you’re about to burst into tears—eyes rimmed red and lip quivering. Why did he push you away again? Why was he always bringing you back into Atsumu’s grasp? Osamu opens his mouth to apologize, something he rarely ever does even when he knows he’s in the wrong. But the sad look on your face starts to harden and you’re staring at Osamu with a wave of anger he’s never seen before.

“I never answered your question, Tsumu,” you mumble, turning in Atsumu’s hold so you’re facing him. The blonde is a little confused at first but he catches on after seeing the small smile on your face.

“Really?” he asks as if he wasn’t furious just seconds before.

“Yeah,” you look up with a sparkle in your eyes that has only been reserved for him. Osamu wants to pull you away but he freezes upon hearing the last few words that leave your lips. “I’d love to go out with you.”

~

Osamu is in the kitchen when the two of you leave for your date. He wants to rip Atsumu’s head off when he wraps his arms around your waist. He’s never seen you look so excited about something and wonders if you’ll have a good time.

He distracts himself by drinking with friends but he can’t have a good time knowing that you’re probably giggling at one of Atsumu’s stupid jokes right now. His brother must be a blushing mess by now, bashfully admitting how he’s always wanted to ask you out. Would you fall for his lines and admit that you’ve always wanted him too?

What would happen when Atsumu eventually had to go back to training camp? Would you end back up in Osamu’s shadow, hoping for a sweet word from him? No, he thinks. He’s ruined any chance of that by now. He so desperately wanted you all to himself and he let you get away.

Not because Atsumu was better than him. Not because you didn’t want him. But because he couldn’t show that he had given a shit about you.

Osamu stares down at the amber liquid in his glass. He can’t remember how many drinks he’s had tonight, he just keeps asking the bartender for more. Taking his glass in hand, Osamu knocks back what’s left, feeling the alcohol burn in his throat.

“Geez, how drunk you trying to get?” Suna snorts, pausing the conversation he was having with Ginjima.

Osamu considers Suna’s words for a second, starting to feel the effects of the liquor in his veins. But he can still picture your hand on Atsumu’s chest, leaning in closer and closer until…

“Drunk enough to forget tonight,” he grunts, motioning the bartender to get him another drink.

“Don’t you think you’ve had too much?” Ginjima asks, a worried look on his face as Osamu sips his alcohol. But the fact that he’s still sober enough to remember that you and Atsumu are out on a date right now means that he needs more. Osamu’s looking to get absolutely shitfaced if it means he doesn’t have to see your face in his head anymore.

Somewhere in his haze, Osamu must have brought up the situation with Atsumu as Suna lets out a very fitting “Yikes,” and the mood shifts. Everyone knew about the strained relationship with the twins and how you were always in the middle of it—both of them tugging on your arm like you were a toy to be fought over.

They saw how Osamu’s demeanor changed when Atsumu went away. Sure, he was still an insufferable grump who saw red anytime another man so much as breathed near you. But when he was with you, he was softer—though he’d never admit that. You were the only one that could quell his anger and stop his emotions from getting the better of him.

He was so secretive at first when the two of you started fooling around. Nobody could know what went on between you but after a while, Osamu would tell on himself constantly with the firm grip he had on your hand. He’d hold you close, whisper in your ear, and eventually start kissing you in front of everyone but somehow expected his friends not to ask questions. We’re not dating. He’d say one minute before punching some dude at a party for thinking he could dance up on you.

“Funny,” Suna quips, nursing his own drink, though it’s still the only one he’s had all night. “I can’t believe Atsumu would ask her out again,”

“Again?”

Suna’s brow quirks. “You never knew? Astumu asked y/n out back in high school. Caught him crying in the locker room when she turned him down,”

Atsumu had asked you out before? And you turned him down? You had never mentioned anything about that to Osamu but, to be fair, the two of you weren’t exactly friendly to each other back then. As soon as Atsumu left for camp, Osamu made him a taboo subject to bring up in conversation. Most girls would have killed to be with his brother back then—even now, Atsumu can light up a room better than anyone else. But you had rejected him. Why?

But then Osamu remembers that you went out with Atsumu anyway while he’s sitting at a random bar. Whether or not you turned down Atsumu and why you did it doesn’t matter all that much.

He swallows the remainder of his drink and immediately orders a round of shots. Ginjima groans while Suna, eager to get drunk as well, claps him on the back. But Osamu’s not trying to have fun tonight, he wants to forget how badly he fucked everything up—until your face is no longer etched in his brain.

It’s the middle of the night when Osamu makes it home, or he thinks so at least. He’s not sure how he managed to leave the bar but suspects Ginjima called him a cab. He stumbles through the front door, knocking into furniture with every step. He’s usually good at handling his liquor but that’s because you’re there, making sure he’s limiting himself.

His blurred vision prevents him from noticing everything blocking his path, bumping into chairs and tables as if he doesn’t know the layout of his fucking house. Going upstairs to his room would be too much of a hassle by now so, in his drunken state, he makes his way toward the couch to sleep there for the night.

At least, he tries to.

Osamu, the drunk idiot that he is, bangs his knee into the coffee table and crashes to the floor. “Shit,” he grunts, holding onto his knee in pain. It doesn’t help that his head is pounding and the room is spinning too. Osamu thinks he might have drunk too much tonight but, unfortunately, you’re still weighing heavy on his mind which means he didn’t have enough.

“Samu?” says a shrill, familiar voice. “What the hell are you doing here?”

A lamp flickers on and Osamu groans as the light hits his eyes. He waits for them to get used to the light before directing his attention to the source of the voice.

You’re at the foot of the stairs, scowling at the boy curled up on the floor. “You look like shit. Do you even know where you are right now?”

Osamu furrows his brow. He forces his eyes to focus on the living room. Only then does he realize that nothing looks right—the coffee table doesn’t have the broken corner on it from when the twins were play-fighting a few years back and the pictures hung on the wall look different.

This is your house.

It doesn’t take much brainpower to figure out that Osamu must have wobbled his way to your place instead of his. Your houses were right next to each other and he’s always had a spare key.

“Shit,” he grumbles, feeling stupid. His body is too sore to make the trek back home. He decides he’ll leave in the morning.

You’re next to him in seconds, kneeling at his side and helping him off the floor. “Let’s get you to the couch, okay?” Osamu grimaces—whether it’s from the pain in his knee or the fact that he can still smell the faint scent of your perfume, he’s not sure. He takes in the sight of you, your hair slightly tousled and framing your face, eyes full of concern, and lips plump and soft. He’s angrier than he’s ever been but more than anything he just wants to kiss you. That’s when he notices you’re wearing pajamas. A t-shirt that’s much too big for you and your cute sleep shorts. Only this one doesn’t look like his.

As you guide him across the living room and sit him down on the couch, Osamu grabs a fistful of the shirt and pulls you forward. “The fuck is this?” The force of him snatching you sends you down to your knees, staring up at him.

“It’s yours,” you say quickly, hoping he’s too drunk to notice that you’re lying. But you’re preaching to the choir. Osamu doesn’t own anything that looks like this—he knows someone who does, though.

“Is he upstairs? Did ya bring him here to fuck him?” That tried and true anger of his is festering in the pit of his stomach. His grip tightens, threatening to rip the fabric off of you.

“Samu, you reek of booze,” you try to reason, small hands fighting against him. “Nobody’s upstairs, okay? Nothing happened tonight.”

“Don’t believe ya. What the fuck would ya have this on, then?” You’re his. It didn’t matter if Atsumu got his clutches in you already, you always belonged to Osamu, even when you were little. Before you can open your mouth with some stupid excuse, Osamu’s pushing you to the floor and hovering over you. “How could ya hurt me like that?”

You scoff. “Like you haven’t been hurting me? What do you want from me, Samu?”

“Ya still don’t know?” Osamu pulls the ugly shirt off you, revealing your tits in the warm, dim light. He can tell you’re frustrated by the deep blush spreading across your cheeks. He’s refused himself of your body for so long. He’s going to devour you.

Osamu latches onto your breast, biting down on your bud. The whimper that leaves your lips goes straight to his cock. He should’ve done this days ago. “Samu! You’re too drunk, we shouldn’t.” Of course, one of you has to be responsible, Osamu figures but he’s not stupid. He can feel you grinding on his cock.

“So tell me to stop,” he says against your chest, hand slipping down to cup at your clothed cunt. He takes note of how your body tenses up when he does it. “That’s what I thought.” He sucks on your breast while his hand creeps past your shorts. Already so wet, he chuckles, running the tips of his fingers along your slit.

You can’t stop gasping, unable to grab onto anything to ground yourself, and balling your hands into fists. It’s so cute how you hump Osamu’s hand, eager to get off. He fumbles to undo his own belt, freeing his half-hard cock with one hand before he starts jerking himself off to the noises you’re making. It only makes you more desperate, cries leave your lips as you reach out to touch him.

“Oh, ya want my cock, dummy?” he coos, tugging your bottoms down and leaving you fully naked under him. He doesn’t miss how quickly you nod, yelping when his fat cock slides against your folds. Osamu ruts into you while he continues his assault on your tits—rolling your nipples in between his fingers and sucking at the sensitive skin. He makes sure not to catch the tip of his cock on your clit so you won’t be fully satisfied.

“Samu!” you whine, just like he knew you would. Your fingers tug on his hair, pulling him away from your chest. “Don’t tease me, please.”

The tears forming in your eyes make Osamu’s dick twitch. “Tell me how bad ya want it,” he orders, snapping his hips against your center so your thighs tremble. But you’re hesitating, eyes not meeting his as if you’re afraid to say what’s on your mind. Suddenly, Osamu’s heart is sinking to his stomach. Had he gone too far? Did he say something wrong?

His intrusive thoughts are interrupted when he feels your soft hands cradle his face. “I just need an answer, Samu. Am I yours or just someone you fuck?” A few tears run down your cheeks. “I can’t keep doing this anymore.”

Osamu presses his forehead against yours. “I’m not good at this,” he says, pinning your hands above your head, fingers intertwining. “But you’ve always been mine, y/n. All I’ve ever wanted was you.” With a kiss, Osamu sinks into your cunt and has to get used to how tight you are—it really has been too long.

The sensation drives you crazy as well, arms wrapped around Osamu’s neck, sobbing in pleasure. “Say it again,” you cry against his lips, ignoring the slight pain of getting used to having him inside you again. “Tell me I’m yours again, please. Wanna hear it.”

Both of you sigh when Osamu finally bottoms out. He looks down towards your stomach, where it’s slightly bulging. “Mine, and only mine, yeah?” he breathes, taking a few seconds to get used to your walls squeezing down on him. Slowly, he pulls back a little before grinding back into you. “Fuck, I’ve missed ya so much.” he gasps, hands reaching underneath your thighs to press them to your chest.

Your high-pitched cries fill the room as Osamu pounds your sweet cunt. You’re trying your best to keep your eyes on him but each thrust knocks the wind out of you. “Feels s’good, Samu. Missed you too—fuck!” Your walls choke his cock, thigh shaking as your orgasm comes crashing down on you. “Gonna cum, gonna cum!”

“Cum for me, then. My sweet lil dummy, yeah?” Osamu growls, quickening his pace until the sound of skin slapping is overwhelming. The force of your orgasm nearly pushes Osamu’s cock out of you. Cries leave your lips while you come down from the high. Your eyes are red and puffy from all the tears you’ve shed. Osamu takes a moment of his own, staving off his own release.

Osamu sits up, shedding the rest of his clothes before pulling you into his lap. You grimace when you feel him lining himself up to enter you once more. “Sensitive,” you mumble, face in the crook of Osamu’s neck.

But you don’t fight back when he’s inside you once more, cock stretching you out until your hips finally meet. “Ya can give me another one, hm? For me?” Osamu kisses along your jawline, giving you a breather before he’s fucking you proper once more. “You’re mine, remember? Gotta fill ya up nice and good with my cum, yeah?”

His words have you moaning against his skin, unabashedly fucking yourself on his cock despite your poor cunt already spent from your last orgasm. “Love it when you say that,” you cup his face between your palms, kissing him over and over. “Want your cum, Samu. Want you to fill me up, please, please, please.”

Seeing you so fucked out, bouncing in his lap and begging for him triggers something primal in Osamu. He snatches your hips, nails digging into your skin. Tears flood down your face while the rhythm Osamu sets becomes brutal. “Gonna ruin ya for everyone else,” he snarls, feeling the precipice of his own release. “This body was made fer me, yeah. Just me…” His hand slips between both your bodies, catching your clit to send you over the edge once more.

“Just—just you!” you cry, chanting Osamu’s name like a prayer when you cum for a second time, making a mess of both of you. The way your walls convulse around him as Osamu’s cock twitching before he’s spilling inside your warm, willing cunt. It’s not long before you’re whining from how full you are. Osamu’s cum has always been thick and too much but he’s been pent from not fucking you for what felt like ages. “Full…” you whimper.

“Ya can take it,” he shushes, keeping both of you in that position until he’s sure you’ve milked him dry. You’ve relaxed in his arms, body exhausted from a rough and thorough fucking. He pulls out after a while, his cum seeping out of you and he has half a mind to finger it back inside but he restrains himself and gets you both cleaned up.

He must have sobered up at some point by how efficient he is at getting the two of you in your tub, cleaning off the sweat and cum from your bodies before dressing you in fresh pajamas. Thankfully, he always keeps spare clothes in your house. Osamu carries you to bed, ready to curl you into his side and doze off into a peaceful sleep. But somehow, with tired limbs you climb into his lap, arms wrapped around his neck.

“You meant what you said, right?” you ask, sleepy eyes staring up at him. “You’re not going to push me away again?” And Osamu can see the fear in your eyes, the worry that he might take his words back in the morning and send the both of you back to square one. He can’t blame you, he’s had his moments where he’s been inexplicably sweet to you just to go back on his word.

You continue, “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Samu. I only did it ‘cause I’ve been hurting for so long. I thought maybe I was wasting my time here because you wouldn’t commit to me,” You play with the ends of his hair, softly tugging on the freshly-washed strands. “I just wanted you to tell me not to go on the date because you wanted to be with me. Sometimes I just feel like some girl you caught dibs on or something...as if you don’t actually care to be with me for me.”

Osamu sighs, he thought he was already showing those things for you—in his own way. But what you wanted was validation, something concrete to show that you meant something to him. Maybe that’s why you sought comfort in Atsumu who’s never been shy about expressing how special you are to him.

“I’m sorry,” he says, the words feeling foreign in his mouth. Your eyes grow wide with shock. Osamu’s never apologized to you before, for anything. There were moments when he wanted to but something, pride or stupidity, always stopped him. When he’d upset you, he’d cook your favorite meal, buy a gift or fuck the anger out of you. But he knows that can’t be his default anymore. “I should’ve seen that I was hurtin’ ya but…”

Osamu’s afraid of what he wants to say next, afraid of what your reaction might be but it’s something he needs to do.

“The truth is seeing ya with Atsumu makes me so scared. ‘Cause...you’re just so happy when he’s around and I get worried that maybe you’d prefer him over me. Most people do...” he feels your hand cup his cheek and he leans into your touch. “I wanted to make ya happy like that but seeing you with him made me so angry that I just took it out on ya instead.”

Now or never, Osamu thinks. “You’ve never been just some girl. You’re the only girl that’s ever meant anything to me. I’ve been in love with ya since we were kids and I’ve just been too fucking stupid to realize it. I’ve always loved ya and all I’ve wanted was for ya to love me back—not cause yer stuck with me or somethin' but cause ya actually mean it.”

His body is shaking and he feels like he’s going to vomit from nerves. Somehow, Osamu musters up the courage to look you in the eye and he sees that you’re crying again. But these are different tears because you’re leaning in and kissing him feverishly. Again and again and again. It isn’t until he feels your fingertips rubbing his cheeks that Osamu realizes he’s crying too. Fuck, he’s actually crying.

“I do love you,” you proclaim with the biggest smile Osamu’s ever seen. “And I’ll keep saying it until you know it’s true.” But Osamu just needed to hear it only once to believe it. You love him.

And he loves you.

~

“You’re indulging him,” Osamu complains, pulling you into his lap as the two of you sit at the bottom of the stairs watching everyone else mingle in the living room.

“He wouldn’t shut up about it if we didn’t do it,” you remind him for the hundredth time. “Just be nice tonight, okay?” You kiss the pout off his face but Osamu still grumbles under his breath.

Atsumu was leaving in the morning but he, of course, wanted a going away party to see him off. Osamu thought it was a bit dramatic—his brother would only be gone for two months tops but Atsumu always craved the spotlight.

As usual, he charmed everyone with his stories from training camp and all the amazing athletes and coaches he’s working with. How he’s already being scouted for professional teams. Just a few more hours, Osamu thinks.

The one highlight is that this is Osamu’s first official outing as your boyfriend, something he feels a bit smug about since it takes some of the attention away from his idiot twin. Some people were surprised when you two finally made it official. Others, Suna and Kita, weren’t as shocked and wondered why it took so long to happen in the first place.

“What is the grumpy Miya Osamu thinking about right now?” you ask, head leaning against his shoulder.

Osamu kisses your temple. “How much I’d rather be in bed than listen to Atsumu tell this story again. What about ya?”

You smile at him with a sparkle in your eye that Osamu knows it's just for him. “How much I love you,”

Osamu snorts, hoping it covers the blush that’s most definitely on his cheeks but he’s sure you see right through him. “I love you too, dummy.”