you and yachi are new to dating, and after some convincing yachi agrees to try kissing with you. which leads to a bit more…
tags: established relationship | fluff | making out | might be suggestive |
for: @wystiix | w.c.: 469
leafy's notes: here's a quick one for you all <3, yachi might be ooc...
“Hitoka…we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”
You reminded, your voice kind as your fingers gently brush her face. You both were so close you could feel her breath on your face, although you could tell Yachi was still shy.
“no no it’s fine! um…I don’t really know how to kiss.”
You looked at her slightly flustered face, recogizing her familar expressions so well it felt comical.
“Neither do I…but I want to try, at least a little bit.”
You answered, letting your hand fall to intertwine with her fingers, you froze feeling as Yachi bruhsed her thumb across your knuckles. She was trying to use your touch to ground her.
“Okay, I’m fine.”
She told you, glancing down at your hands as she met your eyes just as you leaned in making you freeze up all over again.
“Quit staring…Hitoka you’re making it hard to focus…!”
You complained, not being completely serious as you started to giggle.
“Ah! Im sorry…!”
She exclaimed, genuinely feeling guilty, squeezing her eyes closed. As you finally kissed her you felt her stiffen against your lips, trying to urge her to ease up a little you moved your hand back to gently caress her face. It did seem to work, although you couldn’t help but flinch as you felt Yachi finally kiss you back.
“Sorry! Did I scare you?”
She asked, leaning back just enough to meet your eyes. You smiled slightly, your thumb moving to brush against her temple.
“You shocked me…”
You mumbled, watching how her eyes widened making you giggle. Although you didn’t give her much of a chance to respond as you went back to kissing her. This time, she did finally relax, laying back on her bed as she let her hand go to your hair. Your fingers brushed against her chin, angling her jaw to a more comfortable postion.
Yachi finally started to kiss back now that she was laid back, every kiss was sloppy and showed clear inexperience on both sides, but you both seemed into it.
“Can I um…”
You spoke against her lips, feeling her give a small nod, although clearly shy she seemed to understand at least somewhat what you meant. Yachi opened her mouth just enough to give you access as you slipped your tongue in her mouth. The two of you had never been in a relationship, but kissing couldn’t be that hard, right? When you finally pulled away you both were left feeling out of breath, you sat up a bit brushing at Yachi’s lips as you found traces of your lip tint.
“Sorry…”
You answered, your thumb brushing against her lips to wipe it away but Yachi gently pushed your hand away.
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Omd watching Haikyuu and I love Yachi sm oh my god she’s so me wdym her first introduction is literally just her ranting about how pretty shimizu is. ALSO YURIIII?????
Wild cause wdym she literally calls her moles sexy in her thoughts first seeing her
tricked into a marriage booth with yachi.
wc: 1.4k
perks of being my friend is this, any fic for your imagination 😭 req by @kkenaori
the air in the karasuno high school hallway smelled like cheap chocolate, desperation, and the lingering scent of kageyama’s milk carton. it was a minefield. yachi was currently vibrating at a frequency usually reserved for tectonic plates or hummingbirds on an espresso bender. she was trying to blend into the locker bank, hoping that if she stood still enough, she would simply become part of the school’s infrastructure.
this was a survival tactic. today was valentine’s day, and yachi’s heart was currently doing backflips over a barbed-wire fence. specifically, it was doing backflips for you.
you were currently walking toward the gym, looking entirely too pleasant. it was offensive, really. how dare you have hair that looked that soft? how dare your uniform fit you in a way that made her brain short-circuit into a series of error messages? every time you breathed in her general vicinity, yachi felt like she was being hit by a freight train made of marshmallows and pure, unadulterated longing.
"y/n!" a voice boomed, sounding far too energetic for a school afternoon.
yachi’s eyes widened. it was the chaos trio: tanaka, nishinoya, and hinata. they were huddled together like a group of gremlins plotting the downfall of a kingdom. before she could dive into a nearby trash can to hide, she felt a hand grab her shoulder.
"yachi! just the person we needed!" tanaka grinned, his face looking suspiciously like a mischievous gargoyle.
"wait, no, i have papers to—"
too late. she was swept up in the whirlwind. before she could process the physics of what was happening, she was being shoved into a makeshift wooden structure at the end of the hall. it was the "marriage booth," a local festival staple that the volleyball club had hijacked for their own chaotic purposes.
and then, the door clicked shut behind her.
yachi turned around, her soul nearly leaving her body. there you were. standing in the dim light of the booth, looking confused and ruggedly handsome in a way that made her want to scream into a pillow for forty-eight hours straight.
"oh, hey yachi," you said, your voice smooth as butter on a hot pancake. "did they get you too?"
yachi made a sound that could only be described as a teapot reaching its boiling point. "i—uh—yes! trapped! we are trapped in the box of matrimonial doom! i’m so sorry, y/n! i’ll pay for your therapy! i’ll build you a statue as an apology for this indignity!"
you chuckled, scratching the back of your neck. the sound of your laugh was yachi’s favorite song. she wanted to record it and play it on a loop until her ears fell off. she wanted to bottle the scent of your laundry detergent and sell it as a premium fragrance. she was, quite frankly, a goner. she was a puddle of goo on the floor of your existence.
"it’s fine, really," you said, leaning against the plywood wall. "it’s kind of cozy in here. better than being chased by nishinoya with those heart-shaped stickers."
yachi’s brain was currently processing the phrase 'cozy in here.' cozy. with her.
she felt like she was being cooked in a microwave on the 'popcorn' setting. her thoughts were a chaotic mess of he’s so close and if i accidentally touch his arm i will literally explode into a shower of confetti. she watched you. she couldn't help it. she watched the way your eyes crinkled when you looked at her. she noticed a small stray thread on your sweater and felt an overwhelming urge to jump off a bridge because of how cute it was. she wanted to dedicate her entire life to making sure you never had a stray thread ever again. she wanted to be your personal bodyguard, your chef, your dedicated fan club president, and your wife, all at the same time.
the booth was narrow, and the walls were covered in tacky red streamers that smelled like glue. through the cracks in the wood, you could hear the muffled chaos of the valentine’s festival outside—the "message in a bottle" booth run by the drama club and the smell of sugared crepes from the home ec room.
"they really went all out on the decorations," you observed, pointing at a plastic 'certificate' taped to the wall that declared you and yachi 'officially hitched until the end of the lunch period.'
yachi stared at the paper as if it were a holy relic. "wedded! we are wedded in the eyes of the volleyball club! the paperwork is going to be a nightmare! i don't even have a dowry! would you accept a collection of high-quality mechanical pencil lead and some lukewarm sports drink?"
"i'd take the sports drink," you teased, stepping a bit closer. the booth was small. really small. your shoulders were almost touching hers. yachi’s skin felt like it was being electrified by a million tiny, benevolent lightning bolts.
"you're really quiet today, yachi," you noted, tilting your head.
"my lungs have ceased function!" she squeaked, waving her hands frantically. "i’m currently operating on backup batteries and sheer willpower! the oxygen in this booth is being consumed by my internal screaming!"
you laughed again, and the sound reverberated in the small space, vibrating right through yachi’s ribs. she felt like a frantic kitten being offered a warm bowl of milk. she was desperate to be near you, yet terrified that her very existence might be too loud, too much, or too weird for someone as grounded as you.
"yachi," you said, your tone dropping into something more serious, something that made her knees feel like they were made of overcooked noodles. "look at me."
she looked. she had no choice. your eyes were like gravity, pulling her in until she was orbiting your soul.
"i've been trying to find a way to tell you this without the guys hovering over us," you admitted. your thumb brushed over her knuckles, a sensation so divine yachi thought she might actually transcend this mortal plane and become a constellation. "but being stuck in this booth? it’s actually the best part of my day."
yachi’s heart wasn't just beating; it was performing a drum solo that would put professional musicians to shame. she felt a sudden, fierce wave of bravery. it was the kind of bravery you get right before you jump out of a plane.
"y/n," she started, her voice trembling but determined. "if you were a star, i would spend my entire life building a telescope just to look at you. if you were a book, i would memorize every single comma. i think—i think i’m so far gone for you that i’ve forgotten where the ground is. you’re like... the sun. and i’m just a tiny, very nervous sunflower."
you stared at her, stunned for a heartbeat, before a massive, genuine grin broke across your face.
"a sunflower, huh?" you pulled her hand up, pressing a quick, soft kiss to her knuckles.
yachi’s brain officially evaporated. she was no longer a human girl; she was a collection of happy atoms vibrating in a school blazer.
"then i guess it's a good thing i've always wanted a garden," you murmured.
"i'll grow anything for you!" she blurted out, her face a shade of red that outdid the streamers. "i'll grow prize-winning tomatoes! i'll grow a forest! i'll become a botanical expert by tonight!"
outside, the muffled sounds of hinata cheering and tanaka weeping with joy echoed through the wood, but yachi didn't care. she was too busy trying to memorize the exact temperature of your hand against hers, realizing that the marriage booth was, in fact, the greatest invention in human history.
she leaned her head against your shoulder, a shaky, happy sigh escaping her lips.
"i'm going to make you so many bento boxes that you'll forget what hunger even feels like," she whispered into your sleeve.
"i'm counting on it," you replied, squeezing her hand tight.
the booth door creaked open, spilling light into their private world as the 'priest'—a very teary-eyed sugawara—proclaimed the ceremony finished. but neither of you moved immediately. yachi was exactly where she wanted to be: anchored to the person who made her world stop spinning and start shining.
as you both stepped out into the chaotic, pink-hued hallway, she didn't let go of your hand. instead, she held on with the grip of a drowning person who had just found a very handsome life raft.
"so," you said, swinging your joined hands. "want to go hit the crepe booth? my wife must be hungry."
yachi made a sound like a punctured balloon, her soul floating somewhere near the ceiling. "wife! he said the w-word! yes, crepes! i will buy you every crepe in the prefecture!"
you laughed, pulling her closer as you walked through the crowd, yachi following you with an expression of pure, unadulterated worship.
n: was giggling so hard while writing this that i choked harshly and almost died.
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ok hear me out. kageyama and yachi start fake dating to throw off kageyama's admirers (he was late to practice because he had to turn down a girl again (which made him lose a point to hinata (which is simply unacceptable))). yachi agrees because?? to help a friend?? kageyama is very direct and earnest about it. hinata doesn't know it's fake. he's feeling feelingsTM about it.
