#4: One of the challenges I've set up for myself for this year is to take a prompt and turn its original intention on its head. For today's OsaIwa post, I decided to take a line from an NSFW prompt list and make it fluffy and innocent. Though, it did turn more crack-y than fluffy, but oh well. Atsumu is so fun to fuck with.

If Miya Atsumu had one single regret in his life, it would be that he didn't eat Osamu in the womb. If he had two, it was that he had let Osamu and Iwaizumi meet. Of course, both of these regrets were easy to have in hindsight: fetus Atsumu hadn't known what an absolute shit his twin would turn out to be, and the Atsumu who was fresh off his Olympic high hadn't realized that his athletic trainer had the worst taste known to man, but what could he do? Besides murder Osamu and dump his body in the ocean?

"I think you're overreacting, TsumTsum," Bokuto said as they drew near to the door of Osamu's first Onigiri Miya branch. Atsumu just looked balefully up at his friend. Bokuto loved everyone, even that moron Osamu, so it wasn't unsurprising that he didn't see the problem here.

"Nah, it's not an overreaction," Atsumu said. "If I throw him in the ocean, Ma really would skin me. She's got a taxidermist all picked out ta dye my hair dark and stuff me and set me up in her living room so she can pretend she has one nice, quiet son instead of the two she's got."

"Not what I meant, but man, that's dark," Bokuto commented.

"We deserve it," Atsumu said with a shrug. He straightened his shoulders and opened the door.

"Welcome to Oni-- aw, fuck, it's you," Osamu groused.

"Great ta see you too, scrub," Atsumu snipped. Osamu rolled his eyes.

"Hey, Bokkun, nice ta see ya," he said.

"Hi, Miyaasam!" Bokuto chirped. They took their seats at the counter, and Atsumu squinted around suspiciously.

"What're you lookin' for?" Osamu snarled.

"Nothin'," Atsumu said. Osamu rolled his eyes again, but then a smirk began creeping across his face.

"Hey, babe, we got company!" he called over his shoulder. Hardly a moment later, Iwaizumi emerged from the kitchen - which, rude, Osamu never let Atsumu back there! - and smiled at the sight of Atsumu and Bokuto.

"Hey. How're you two recovering? I caught the stream for that last Jackals and Falcons match. Looked brutal."

"You have no idea," Bokuto groaned. "I thought my arms were gonna fall off at that last spike in the second from Aran!"

"Yeah, Aran-kun's a cannon," Osamu laughed. "Hajime, are ya hungry? I just got done with a fresh batch, extra spicy fer ya."

"You're a menace," Iwaizumi laughed, leaning up to press a kiss to Osamu's cheek - gross - and then walked around the counter to sit beside Atsumu.

"Here, scrub, you can have some too," Osamu said, setting out plates for them. "Tryin' a new recipe. Bokkun, got some tarako here fer ya, so ya don't burn yer tongue off."

"You're the best, Miyaasam!" Bokuto crowed, pulling his plate closer to himself. Atsumu rolled his eyes and grabbed an onigiri for himself. He didn't bother asking what was in it— it could be anything from spicy tuna mayo to some horrific combination of half-spoiled ingredients Osamu had lying around to fuck with Atsumu, and there was no way to find out without taking a bite.

This time, it did turn out to be actual food, spicy kimchi and mayo, and something else that Atsumu couldn't quite put his finger on. He hummed, taking a second bite.

"Balance is off," he said with a shrug, then stuffed the rest in his mouth.

"Which way?" Osamu asked. Atsumu hummed, chewing.

"Yer mayo's overpowerin'. Yer goin' fer spice here, right?" Osamu nodded. "If yer tryin' fer the consistency with how much mayo yer puttin' in, ya may wanna chop yer kimchi finer so it'll mix with less. It'll also bring out whatever that extra spice is— chili sauce?"

"Tried it with siracha this time, fer the consistency yer talkin' about. Not the worst idea you've had," Osamu said. He glanced at Iwaizumi and snorted. "Do ya need to use yer safeword, darlin'?" he asked, and Atsumu promptly sprayed the bite he'd just taken all over the counter. "Tsumu, what the fuck?!" Osamu cried.

"You what the fuck?! You can't just say that shit, ya fuck!"

Iwaizumi burst out laughing. He slapped Atsumu on the back as he accepted the glass Osamu held out for him. "I'd hate to see you react to how we actually talk at home," he wheezed once he had taken a long drink.

"I never shoulda let you two meet," Atsumu grumbled. "You were supposed ta be better than this, Iwaizumi-san!"

"I mean. You've met Oikawa. That's my best friend." Iwaizumi just shrugged and took another sip of his drink. "And yeah, Samu, it is too much for me. You'll get me there eventually, though, don't worry."

"I mean, the process is half the fun," Osamu said, and though to any other ear it would've been completely innocuous, Atsumu knew his brother. He knew when Osamu was fucking with him, and when he meant the double entendres that he always claimed Atsumu was reaching too far for. Atsumu rolled his eyes, scooped up Iwaizumi's plate and dumped his own remaining onigiri on it, and walked out the door. He ignored the sound of his brother shouting at him and Iwaizumi and Bokuto laughing. He'd had more than enough of that moron for one day. Really, for his entire life, but...

At the end of the day, Atsumu did love his brother. Which was why he hadn't eaten him in utero, or murdered him and found some way to dispose of him without facing his ma's wrath. Not that the fucker deserved it.

Though. His onigiri was pretty good.

Come trick or treating in my inbox! Leave a “Trick or Treat” and a character or ship in an ask, and I’ll treat you to some autumn-themed fluff or trick you with some twisted spooky aus!

Trick So as usual, Ezzy and I have no chill, and may or may not have challenged each other to take a list of pretty, soft autumn prompts and use those for our tricks this year. At least, that’s what I heard, in between the sass and the frankly terrifying butter gifs… Anyway, this one’s prompt is “admiring the colors of the fallen leaves"

There was a soft and tender scent in the air, dark, wet earth beneath a cover of leaves that had not yet rotted or blown away from last year’s autumn. Hajime walked as silent as ever through the wide spaces between the trees. Part of him, a vague, half-formed part, wondered if he was even capable of something so human as noise anymore.

A sturdy breeze passed through the canopy, unhooking some of the leaves from their tethers above and sending them drifting down toward Hajime and the rest of the creepy things lurking amongst the roots. He reached up and caught one by the stem, twirling it between his fingers. This one was a mottled collection of colors, yellow and red with a hint of green still clinging here and there. A snapping twig behind him had him smiling. He didn’t even bother looking away from the leaf as he said, “You know, there are other ways to get my attention.”

“You shouldn’t be here.” Hajime’s smile went a little wider, and a little softer. “Gross. Don’t make that face.”

“You going to show yourself today?” Hajime asked. Another breeze moved through, and Hajime caught a second leaf. He settled it next to the first, a bouquet in the making. Kenma didn’t answer. “Okay. You don’t have to,” Hajime said, and walked on.

He knew Kenma was walking with him. The woods were growing silent, a moment’s pause as they neared the edge. Soon, the wailing would begin, the sobbing and the keening, all the sounds that Hajime wasn’t sure he could even produce anymore. Soon, when the fire reached the other end of the village tucked in a little bend in the treeline, like the elbow of a river, like the cradle of a valley, but never meant for human habitation. It was the natural order of things, and Hajime had set it right. Kenma had helped, his winds stirring and shaping the flames so that they lept from thatched roof to thatched roof, but left the treeline alone. Sure, they had kept it mostly away from the innocent. There were casualties in any war, though. The red of the leaves matched the blood on both of their hands.

Finally, Kenma did manifest, a small and cool hand slipping into Hajime’s own to pluck the leaves away. Kenma moved them to his other hand, then twined their empty fingers together. He considered the contrast, one pale yellow elm leaf and one red-gold-green from a maple.

“They’ll be back,” he said, not looking at Hajime. Hajime nodded, not looking at Kenma.

Right here was Hajime’s favorite place to be. Tucked into Hinata’s arms, nuzzling at the crook of his neck, listening to him blabber on and on about his day. Hajime was only half-following, enough to know what was important to his love, but more focused on the sound of his voice than the actual words. 

“Are you listening to me?” Hinata asked, a laugh in his voice and his fingers in Hajime’s hair.

“As long as you keep doing that? Absolutely,” Hajime replied.

“No, really.”

“Yes, I’m listening,” Hajime laughed. “You were telling me about Kageyama’s failure at the jump-float serve.”

“He sucks at it!” Hinata shouted.

“Mhm,” Hajime said, nuzzling closer. “I love you.”

“Wha-?” Hinata’s fingers stopped moving and Hajime made a displeased noise. 

“You are the sun in my sky and the light of my life,” Hajime said, butting his head up against Hinata’s hand.

“That was so sappy, I might vomit,” Hinata droned.

“Whatever, just keep petting me,” Hajime said. 

“All right,” Hinata laughed, and his fingers resumed their circular motions on Hajime’s scalp.

Hajime thought about it as Hinata launched into another description of Kageyama falling flat on his ass. Hajime was so, very, incredibly in love. He’d thought he’d known love before, but that was nothing compared to this. That was a single star, while this? This was the sun, the moon, the Milky Way at night. Hajime snorted; he’d been hanging around Oikawa too much.

“Whatcha thinking about?” The question startled Hajime, and he realized that Hinata had stopped talking some time ago.

“Sorry,” he said. Hinata tweaked his nose.

“Don’t be sorry,” he said. “Just answer the question.”

“I was thinking about you,” Hajime admitted.

“What about me?” There was the smug, competitive air in Hinata’s voice that Hajime loved so much. 

“I was thinking about spending the rest of my life with you,” Hajime said.

“Now I know I’m gonna vomit.”

“Please don’t,” Hajime said. “At least not until I get through this proposal.”

“Pro-”

“Shouyou,” Hajime said, leaning up on his elbow so he could look at Hinata properly. “Marry me.”

“I-” Hinata began shaking. Then all at once his eyes lit up and he yelled, “No fair!”

“What?”

“I was gonna do it!” Hinata shouted. “I had this whole plan, a ring and everything, and we were gonna go out to this surprise dinner tomorrow night, and ugh, you’re the worst!”

“Is that a yes?” Hajime droned.

“No! Not until I get my fancy dinner over with! Then yes!”

“Okay,” Hajime laughed. “That’s fine by me.”

Hey, look, y’all, I’m not dead!! Rated T for naughty language.

Kuroo lay panting, totally spent after Hajime had had his way with him. Twice. Two and a half times, if you counted almost getting caught in the alleyway…

Anyway.

The moonlight filtered through Hajime’s curtains, and Kuroo looked so, so good in Haijime’s bed. Hajime felt it, like he had a million times before, the tug in his chest. The pull toward Kuroo. The gravity that kept them coming crashing back together time and time again. Theirs was a simple arrangement. Fuck it out once or twice a week, get rid of the built up stress and the boredom of having normal day jobs, and then go on their merry ways. There was no room for feelings, for this tug.

“Hey,” Kuroo said, and Hajime’s entire being snapped to him. “I’ve been meaning to ask you…”

“What is it?” Hajime asked. He drew his eyes up Kuroo’s long, long torso, wondering if their was time for another round, before he met Kuroo’s eyes and all those thoughts flew out the window.

Kuroo looked serious. It wasn’t a rare look, per se, but it wasn’t common either. Kuroo was going to break it off, Hajime knew. He was going to tell Hajime all about how he knew about Hajime’s feelings, how he didn’t want anything more than a simple fuck or two, and that would be it. No more Kuroo, in his bed, in his friend-circle, in his life. But always in his heart.

“What is it?” Hajime said again, and Kuroo turned his gaze to the ceiling.

“It’s nothing. Pretend I didn’t say anything.”

Now, that wasn’t right. Kuroo was never afraid to talk. Hajime leaned over and tucked his palm on the far side of Kuroo’s face, nudging him to look over.

“Hey,” he said. “You know you can tell me anything.”

“Not this.”

“Yes, this. Whatever this is, you can talk to me about it. I promise.” Kuroo looked at Hajime like he held all the answers and Kuroo couldn’t even decipher the first one. Hajime did something then that he never had. But if this was the end, he didn’t want it to go without knowing what it felt like.

He leaned in and kissed Kuroo. And, miracle of miracles, Kuroo kissed him back. He made a broken sound in the back of his throat and wrapped his arms around Hajime, pulling him close. Hajime knew he was heavy, but Kuroo rolled him to lay on his chest like he was nothing. When Kuroo pulled away, Hajime closed his eyes and waited for the end.

“Hey,” Kuroo said, nudging his knuckle against Hajime’s face. “You’re crying.”

“Just. Get it over with,” Hajime said.

“Don’t understand.”

“I know you’re going to break this off. So. Just. Let me have it. I’ll get out of your hair.” Kuroo stared at him.

“Hajime,” he said softly. “Do you really think I wouldn’t jump at the chance to keep any part of you I could?” Now it was Hajime’s turn to stare, as Kuroo looked up at the ceiling again, his jaw clenching in frustration. “Look,” he said. “I know this wasn’t supposed to be a thing, but like. I want it. And I’m sorry, because I know I just lost you forever, but I can’t stand it anymore.” He looked into Hajime’s eyes, and his own eyes were molten pools of gold that Hajime could never escape, even if he wanted to. “I love you, Hajime. And I’m sorry.”

“Why on earth are you sorry for that?” Hajime asked, a giggle bubbling out with the words. He threw himself down on Kuroo, laughing harder at the little oof he let out, and tucked himself into the crook of Kuroo’s neck. “I love you,” he giggled into the bruised skin there, littered with the marks of Hajime’s desire. “I love you, I love you, I love you, I lo-”

Kuroo cut him off by rolling them over, leaning up on his elbows to stare down at Hajime.

“You’re not fucking with me?” Kuroo asked. Hajime snorted.

“I’m not,” he said. “You’re perfect and I love you.”

Kuroo grinned, a genuine, bright thing that died and was replaced by the smarmy smirk he usually wore.

“Well, then,” he said. “How about you and I ma-”

“God, don’t ruin it,” Hajime growled. Kuroo’s phone dinged before he could answer, several times in succession. Kuroo groaned. “Who is that?” Hajime asked, petting through Kuroo’s hair and not really caring about the answer.

“Kenma,” Kuroo answered. “He said that if I didn’t confess to you tonight, he would personally come into my house and rip off my balls, because I wasn’t worthy of them.”

“Kinky,” Hajime commented. Kuroo groaned again. “Lucky me, you get to keep your balls. And nope-” he cut Kuroo off, “-don’t respond to that. Whatever is coming out of your shitty mouth, I don’t want to hear it.”

“Even if it’s that I love you and I want to keep you forever?”

Oops lol forgot I never posted this :P

Wakingup next to Iwaizumi was something of a dream come true. Memoriesflooded Tooru, of the night before, of the grasping and the pullingand the sweating and the swearing, of the drinking and the fallinginto each other’sarms. Of the finally,of the atlast,of twenty-seven years of friendship - and fourteen of those of pining- coming to a head. Waking up with Iwaizumi’sarm draped over his waist after so many years of we’retoo old to share a bedwas, in a word, bliss.

I don’t have a favorite Oikawa ship because my favorite Oikawa ship is all the Oikawa ships. But here, have some IwaOiDai anyway.

“Do you believe in aliens?”

As soon as the words were out of Oikawa’s mouth, Hajime knew something was wrong. He turned to face Oikawa with a frown on his face, only to find Oikawa on his back on the floor, staring at the ceiling.

“What makes you ask?” Hajime asked.

“I’m pretty sure Dai-chan’s an alien.”

Oikawa was the biggest moron Hajime had ever met, and Hajime told him such in no uncertain terms.

“No, really,” Oikawa said. “No one that perfect would agree to date us unless they were an alien trying to understand human mating customs.”

“Are you saying I’m not too perfect to date you?” Hajime huffed. Oikawa flapped a hand in his direction.

“Nah, you’re my best friend, you’re stuck with me anyway,” he said. “Dai-chan had a choice in all this. And he knew what he was getting into, when he signed on to be with both of us. Like, the codependency alone is ridiculous.”

“I’m not codependent!” Hajime cried.

“You kinda are, Iwa-chan.”

“Am not. You’re codependent.”

“We both are, dummy.”

Hajime took a deep breath through his nose, reminding himself to get back to the matter at hand. He slid out of his desk chair and crawled over to where Oikawa was laying, maneuvering Oikawa’s head into his lap and running his fingers through soft brown hair. Oikawa’s eyes slipped closed.

“What’s really wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Oikawa mumbled.

“Tooru.”

“Nothing important.” Hajime flicked Oikawa on the nose, gently.

“Mind if I guess?” Oikawa grunted in response. Hajime hummed. “I think you’re feeling insecure, because the three of us are all going to different colleges in a few months,” he said. “I think you’re worried that you’re going to be left behind, that somehow Daichi and I are going to find someone better, or decide we’re better off just the two of us, or something else like that. Am I right?”

“Ugh, I hate you,” Oikawa muttered.

“No you don’t. You love me. And that’s what’s got you so worried.” Hajime bit back a sigh. “One of these days we’re going to convince you you’re worth every bit of love we can give you, and so much more. You’re a star, Tooru, and we’re both caught in your orbit.”

“’M not that special,” Oikawa said. Hajime smiled.

“Do I need to call Daichi and have him tell you the exact same thing? Because I will, and he’ll tell you that I’m right.”

“Don’t wanna bother him,” Oikawa said.

“You know it wouldn’t be a bother.”

“Nah. I don’t need to hear it from him, too.” Oikawa opened his eyes and stared up at Hajime, and the adoration in his big brown eyes made Hajime’s heart skip a beat the same way it had the first time he had realized how hard he had fallen for his best friend. “I’m gonna believe you someday,” Oikawa said. “It’s gonna take time, but I’ll get there in the end.”

“I’ll wait for you,” Hajime promised. “As long as it takes.”

“Love you.”

Soulmate AU and “I swear, it was an accident.” This AU is one where you hear your soulmate’s thoughts as you get close to them, until the moment you actually meet, and then you hear them all the time. Thanks @cattatonically for the idea!

Aiichirou was having a grand ole time, minding his own damn business when the world started crashing down around him. Moving to Tokyo had seemed like a great idea at the time, but then came The Day. The first day he heard his soulmate’s thoughts.

 At first, it was so mundane that Aiichirou couldn’t distinguish it from his own thoughts. Then came the passing wondering of what he should eat for lunch, which made Aiichirou pause. He had just had lunch. Then came the pause, and the quiet, Can you hear me?

 Aiichirou stamped on the thought until it was replaced by quiet amusement. Aiichirou didn’t have time for a soulmate, thank you very much. He had studies to think about, and a job to find.

 Well aren’t you little Mr. Independent, came the next thought. A pause, then, It is Mr., right? I don’t want to-

 Just shut up and go away, Aiichirou thought with all his might. There was a feeling like laughter and utter delight from the other end of the line, but Aiichirou ignored it. He tamped down the curiosity as to what kind of idiot laughed at such an insult, and kept walking.

 The next time it happened, Aiichirou was in the middle of an interview. He was so distracted that he almost blurted out, Oikawa had better be taking care of himself over there. As it was, he stuttered over his answer to the interviewer’s question. The interviewer looked at him strangely, but continued with only a minor pause. When Aiichirou walked out feeling amazingly good about the interview and his chances, there came a quiet, Congratulations over the line. Aiichirou felt a little bad about how he had treated his soulmate, but not enough to reply. He followed this bubble of joy out of the building and in the direction of his apartment, waiting as the thoughts got dimmer and quieter the farther away he got from his soulmate.

 The third time, Aiichirou was pissed. Some moron, some tall, handsome, built moron had just knocked him over, spilling his cappuccino all over the clothes he had so carefully chosen for his first day at work.

 “I’m so sorry!” gushed the moron, hands flittering about like he could somehow whisk the espresso and milk foam off of Aiichirou’s white shirt. Aiichirou fumed in silence for a moment, thinking all sorts of horrid things about this man.

 And then the moron’s lips twitched into a smile. I swear, it was an accident, he thought. Aiichirou’s eyes went wide.

 Oh. Oh fuck no.

 “Is it such a bad concept?” the moron asked. Then he smiled wider. “And my name’s Iwaizumi, not moron.”

 “I don’t want your voice in my head all day,” Aiichirou said. Iwaizumi’s face softened.

 “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “But it looks like, for better or worse, you’re stuck with me.”

 Aiichirou took in the size of Iwaizumi’s arms, the handsome planes of his face, the amused and wondering glint in his eyes, and snorted. “You’re hearing all of this, aren’t you?” he asked.

 “Every bit of it,” Iwaizumi replied. “What’s your name?”

 “What do you care?”

 “I figured you wouldn’t like it if I referred to you as ‘that blue-eyed bombshell’ every time I thought of you,” Iwaizumi said. Despite himself, Aiichirou was amused. He wouldn’t say charmed. That would take time and a lot of alcohol. “You have a job to get to,” Iwaizumi said, “otherwise I’d take you up on that right now. As it is, how about Friday?”

 “For what?” Aiichirou asked.

 “For the time, and the alcohol,” Iwaizumi said. Aiichirou grimaced. This would take some getting used to.

 Hey, Iwaizumi thought, this is all new for me too. But we can work through it together. There was another thought there, buried under the ones Iwaizumi was projecting into his head. Iwaizumi colored with embarrassment as Aiichirou uncovered it.

 “You really think I’m that beautiful?” he asked.

 “You know how attractive you are,” Iwaizumi huffed. Aiichirou rolled his eyes.

 “Fine,” he said. “Friday. Pick me up at work at six and we’ll go to this dive I know nearby and get plastered out of our minds.”

 “Sounds like a date,” Iwaizumi said, grinning. Aiichirou shot him a dirty look and reminded him that it was his fault that he was covered in cappuccino. Iwaizumi cringed.

 “Don’t worry,” Aiichirou said. “You still have a chance to make it up to me.”

 “I look forward to it,” Iwaizumi said, and Aiichirou knew just how very much he meant it. He took a deep breath.

Thething about Akaashi Keiji was that he was Bokuto’s,completely and forever. Even when Akaashi and Hajime started dating,there was always a part of him that belonged to Bokuto, that yearnedto be with him, on the court or off it, in any way he could get.Hajime had accepted that a long, long time ago. He was sure he wasokay with it.

Untilthe day Bokuto showed up on their doorstep with a bouquet and asheepish expression.

“Um,”Hajime said, staring at him. “I. You’re here for Keiji, aren’tyou?”

“I-”Bokuto started, but Hajime found he didn’t particularly want tohear it. He stepped into the apartment, leaving the door open.

“Keiji,”he said softly. “Bokuto’s here for you.” Akaashi looked up fromhis book with a curious expression, one that melted into awe when hesaw Bokuto stepping into the hallway. Hajime walked into the bedroomand tried not to slam the door.

Apart of him had always known this day was coming. That Bokuto wouldpull his head out of his ass and realize what a gem he had inAkaashi. That he would come and take Akaashi away from Hajime. Hajimecouldn’teven blame him for it. Akaashi was everything anyone could want in apartner. He was kind, supportive, snarky, beautiful, intelligent, thelist went on and on. Hajime sighed and sat on the bed, waiting forthe knock.

Whenit came, it was both of them standing in the doorway.

“Hajime?”Akaashi said, his gentle voice so soft and beautiful. “Can wetalk?”

“Wedon’t need to,” Hajime said. “I’ll pack my things and be outby the end of the week.”

“Whyon earth would you move out?” Bokuto asked, his forehead crinklingrather adorably. Akaashi’s brow furrowed, then went smooth asunderstanding dawned in his eyes. He came to sit beside Hajime on thebed.

“Sweetheart,I’m not leaving you,” he said, putting his hand on Hajime’sshoulder. “Bokuto-san wanted - well, we both wanted - to ask you ifyou would be open to the thought of adding him to our relationship.”

“Youwhat?” Hajime asked dumbly. He looked to Bokuto, who watched himnervously from the doorway.

“You’renot interested, are you?” he asked.

“No,god, no!” Hajime cried, and Bokuto deflated. “No! That’s notwhat I meant! I meant no! I mean, no, I’m not not-interested. I’mthe opposite of that. I’m interested. More than interested. God, Ican’t believe you want- I should just shut up now, huh?”

“Probablyfor the best,” Akaashi laughed, and god, that was the mostbeautiful sound Hajime had ever heard. And then Bokuto laughed withhim, and Hajime found he had to reconsider his previous opinions.Hajime patted the side of the bed and Bokuto stopped laughing,turning a lovely shade of pink. He moved to sit next to Hajime, andHajime reached out for his hand. Akaashi took Hajime’s other handand Hajime took a deep breath.

“Okay,”he said. “Okay.”