The Garden

“Right,” Osamu nods, though Rintaro’s pretty sure his friend doesn’t believe him. He’s not as easy to fool as Atsumu. “Well, I guess if they don’t want to be cared for, there’s nothing you can do. Forcing them to accept it isn’t nice, it’s just harassment.”

“True,” Rintaro puts his phone down at last, glaring at the wall behind the hundred and one posters Atsumu has hung up in his room. “But, you know… what if they secretly want to be cared for?”

“Beats me,” Osamu shrugs. “How would you figure that out anyway?”

Rintaro wants to answer, despite knowing he shouldn’t, but Atsumu's returning puts an end to the discussion. Maybe that’s for the better.

-

Beginning of First year

“Who’s that?” Rintaro asks, pointing.

“Huh?” Atsumu turns. “Oh, that’s Ginjima. He’s on the team with us.”

Osamu rolls his eyes. “Not Ginjima, you idiot. Rin means the girl.”

“I’m not an idiot!” Atsumu claims, hackles raised. “How would I know-?”

“And who is she?” Rin asks, interrupting the impending fight. “She seems familiar.”

“Beats me,” Atsumu shrugs, and Rintaro wonders if he should really be friends with these two. But hey, they’re on his volleyball team, so he kinda needs to at least get along with them.

“Manager's sister, I bet,” Osamu adds after a second. “They’ve got the same nose.”

Atsumu turns, suddenly interested. “You’re right. You think she’s gonna be our new manager? They always pick first years, right?”

“Only one way to figure it out,” Rin says, stuffing his hand into the pocket of his trousers and walking over.

“Ginjima,” he greets the guy, glad that Osamu had told him the name again. “And you are?”

You blink, unimpressed. “Why should I tell you?”

Rin grins. “No need,” he shrugs. “Just wanted to let you know that Atsumu over there,” he points vaguely in their direction, so you can pick whichever twin you find cuter, “thinks you’re cute.”

“Good for him,” you say, your features blank. “Anyway, about English-” you turn to Ginjima, stopping short only once to send Rin a glare. “Do you need anything else?”

“Nah, I’m good here,” he pulls out his phone and stays where he is, seemingly lost in the vices of technology, though listening in.

-

Beginning of Second Year 

“Manager-chan,” Rintaro teases you lightly, taking the heavy bag from your shoulders. “Don’t run.”

“I wasn’t running!” You tell him, your voice dripping with annoyance. 

“Mhm, looked different.” He keeps his steps aligned with yours, slouches under the weight of the bag. “Aren’t you, like, terribly good in English?”

“That sentence sounded wrong,” you point out, “but yes. Why?”

“Just asking for a friend,” Rintaro lies, sending you a smile. “A friend who’s got terrible marks on his last English Exam.”

“Please tell me it’s not Atsumu.”

“It’s not Atsumu.”

You narrow your eyes and send him a glare. “It is Atsumu, right?”

“You told me not-”

“Forget it,” you huff, waving him off. “Is it Atsumu or is it not Atsumu?”

“Well, it’s me, but if you want it to be Atsumu-”

“Thank God,” you groan, rubbing your temples. “He keeps pestering me about his serves, and I don’t want to think about what that would sound like in English. Do you need help with your English Lectures?”

“Meh,” Rintaro shrugs. “I’ll live.”

Your narrowed eyes again, glaring at him as if you could see right through him.

“We’ll meet after school,” you propose. “And I’m sure there’s something you can do for me, as a favor.”

“I don’t suppose you need a lesson in blocking? No. Well, my best subject is Math, so-”

“Did you see my test?!” You ask, suddenly breathless and on high alert.

“What test?”

“My Math test. Did you?”

“Should I have?”

You don’t trust him yet, that is clear. But your shoulders sink lower when he doesn’t seem to respond to your threats, until you breathe normally again.

“Fine. Math it is.”

-

End of Second Year

“You knew I was struggling in Math, right?” You ask, unaware of the way the sunlight is creating a halo around your head, that you’re being framed by the sakura blossoms outside the library window. 

Rintaro would kill for a picture of this, but he’s not sure if he can take a picture sneakily enough. 

“Most people struggle in Math,” he replies casually, but this time spent together, studying, must have changed you as much as him, because you don’t seem convinced this time.

“You’re a filthy liar.”

He smiles, quick and easy, and catches the way your breath hitches at the sight. 

Maybe, just maybe, he’s got a chance with you.

“There you are,” Atsumu announces from the corner, breaking the moment like he’s wont to do. “Are you done yet? Hideko from class D is single again, and I need you to wingman for me.”

“Get Samu to do it,” Rintaro tries to dismiss him, recognizing the signs. How you’re pulling away already, face closing off, the moment lost.

“Samu’s not as talented as you are,” Atsumu pouts, and Rintaro wants to deck him, for real this time.

“You should go,” you point out, moving to gather all your books. “I’ll see next school year, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he taps the table, urging to touch you instead. “Don’t get lost on the way there.”

You pause, something like confusion washing over your face.

“Don’t say things like that,” you point out, a touch of vulnerability to your voice. “People might think you like me.”

-

Beginning of Third Year

Atsumu is talking about nothing else, and Rintaro would like him very much to stop.

It’s one thing to get confessed to on the very first day of the new school year, another that the girl confessing is the most popular girl from the class below, and yet another that he cut her off before she could finish, his answer a resounding “No, thank you”. But the fact that Atsumu won’t shut up about it like it’s the most interesting thing in the world-

“He’s in love, don’t you get it?” Osamu finally shuts his brother up before taking another bite out of his sandwich - his famous second breakfast. “Has been for a while, ya doofus.”

“I’m not a doofus!” Atsumu cries. “What do you mean he’s in love?”

Osamu rolls his eyes so far back that Rintaro starts wondering if he’s looking at the back of his skull, searching for a way to return Atsumu like a wrongly bought pair of socks. 

“I’m not telling you if you haven’t figured it out already, Captain!”

“Not fair, I- Oh, Manager-chan,” Atsumu interrupts himself at your sight, rubbing his neck awkwardly. “Are you here to talk about the Club?”

“No,” you’re glaring at him in a way that tells him you’ve heard the news. “Rintaro, do you have a minute? And bring your Math and English Books.”

-

He follows you down the hallway, up the stairs to the rooftop that’s surprisingly empty for this time of day. Maybe it’s the cold wind that has driven everyone else off, though you wrap your arms around yourself and face it like a champ, turning to glare at him instead.

“You’re my boyfriend,” you tell him, with the voice you usually only use to scold the twins when they’re being stupid. “As of now, you’re my boyfriend.”

Rintaro stares back, speechless for the first time in ages. You falter at the sight of it, your momentum lost.

“I mean, it felt like you, err, like you had feelings for me. The last two years. And if I was right about it, I’d-”

“So you’re ordering me to be your boyfriend?” He asks, unable to keep from smiling. “Instead of confessing?”

“Well, yeah.” You scoff. “Confessing is stupid.”

“Really? So you don’t want me to confess to you?”

You falter again, though more flustered than embarrassed this time. “I mean, I could… err, listen to you. I think it could be nice, coming from you.”

“But not from you?”

Your brows furrow angrily again. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“Oh, no, you can’t have me as your boyfriend and not have me make fun of you. That’s not how it works.”

“So you’re it?” You cut him off, a little breathless, and a little speechless too. “I mean, we’re it? A couple.”

Rintaro grins, slips out of his sweatshirt, and drapes it across your shoulders. “And I want everyone to know it, Baby.”

-

End of Third Year

“The twins are fighting again,” Rintaro mutters in your ear.

“Don’t care,” you reply, leaning further into him. “What do you think of that?” You point his phone at him, his screen filled with pictures of different dresses. “I like the purple one.”

“The purple one is fire,” he pulls you a little closer, and lets his head rest on top of yours. “Babe, there’s a girl staring at me.”

“I’m not sitting on your lap again to stake a claim,” you answer flatly. “And if it’s my reflection again, I’m going to bite you.”

“Oh, I like that,” he teases, laughing when you slap his thigh instead.

Ginjima sighs from across the table, glaring at them. “I hate being single.”

“I’d hate that too,” Rintaro replies truthfully, wincing when you pinch his thigh through his pants. “Ouch. What was that for?”

“For being mean to Ginjima. Ginjima, is there no girl you’re interested in?”

“I mean,” he stutters, flustered under your sudden attention. “Miho is cute.”

Rintaro wrinkles his nose. “Miho has a crush on Atsumu. You don’t want someone with no taste.”

“I used to have a crush on Atsumu,” you admit, giggling when you add. “For about five seconds, until he started talking. Ginjima, you can still win her over. Though don’t listen to Rintaro’s advice, not all girls want freaks.”

Rintaro sighs, as if mortally wounded. “Not all boys want freaks either, but here we are.”

“Oh, boo,” you tease him. “You fell first, don’t lie.”

“And you fell harder.”

“That I did,” you admit freely, before handing him back his phone. “Thanks for buying the purple dress for me.”

He sighs again, exaggerating it. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Oh,” you pinch his cheek lightly. “It’s cute that you think death is going to get you out of this relationship.”

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"my god, shoyo." you groan, raking your nails down the pro-athlete's sculpted back. his tanned skin, courtesy of brazil, smacks against your ass with lecherous plaps! the fat of your ass and thighs jiggle, prompting the athlete to grasp handfuls of your body and knead it under his firm grip.

shoyo groans, holding onto your body as he fucks into your pliant cunt from behind. his breath is short, punctuated with ragged moans that remind you of what you two are doing - fucking in a nameless motel somewhere before the japanese citizens even know he's back.

you meet his thrusts backwards, rolling your hips to match his frenzied, enthusiastic rhythm. his chest presses to your back and he snakes a strong hand around your waist to hold you firmly.

you gasp, feeling the pressure of his hold on your tummy. his weighted grasp, along with his unyielding thrusts make your knees go weak. you feel your cunt spasm against his length, contracting out pulses that only serve to lure him into fucking you better and harder and faster.

you feel his washboard abs press against your back, feel the muscles of his bicep tick as he holds you close. his breath is hot against your neck, his weight delicious against your slack body. you feel all blood rush down your body, leaving you delirious and fucked-out.

"fuck, shoyo." you groan helplessly as he grinds his cock into your gummy walls with endless stamina, "when- when did you... get so fuckin' hot?!"

shoyo laughs from behind you, something boyish and irresponsible, "probably brazil."

"th-thank brazil."

✮⋆˙ kageyama tobio!

the last time you saw the infamous king of the court, you were tutoring him for english. he fucked up that test, and you never bothered teaching him again. but here he was... four years later, with a new lesson to learn.

"slightly to the right..." you moan, breathlessly moving his face against your cunt. his tongue licks down an experimental stripe against your fluttering bundle of nerves and you keen into his touches. your lips part, "yeah. are you sure... you wanna eat me out?"

he only nods eagerly, licking another soft stripe in the same manner.

it only takes a few minutes of adjustments before kageyama tobio proves himself to be the most adaptable man on earth. his fingers dig into your flesh, your hips are pulled hard against his handsome face, and his tongue darts across your pretty clit, pressing messy kisses to it.

"ah-hah..!" you pant, arching off the mattress as he makes a mess of your juices on his tongue. his pink, sultry muscle is quick across your cunt. it licks and nips and bites and then kisses the building ache away. he hums against you, then groans and grunts and whimpers. you feel all of him — all of his feral, borderline animalistic sounds and actions. he loses himself in you.

after making you cum the third time, you pant, droopy gaze going to rest on his flushed, sticky face. you bit down your lips, "kageyama... when did you get... hot?"

he blinks, then immediately flames at your question, tucking his face back against your pussy with a sly blush.

✮⋆˙ tsukishima kei!

not ever in your twenty-something years on earth could you guess you were going to be holed up in some rando's bedroom on a random party, gasping over the sounds of loud and trash EDM as that anti-social, middle school ex-classmate of yours, tsukishima kei, would be fucking your cunt so obscenely.

his brows bunch, rosy-lips parted as sweat trails down his sculpted cheekbones and down his pale skin. he clasps your palms in his broader ones, pinning you down easily as his mushroom tip bludgeons an impression of itself against your gummy walls.

you feel your eyes criss-cross, drooling lips part open in yet another loud moan of his name. you feel your brain turn to mush, effectively growing dumber 'n dumber with each powerful ram into your gushing pussy. you feel your jaw sag open as you gasp, "tsu-tsukki..."

"hm?" a lazy smirk pulls at his full lips as he slows his pace down, deliberately deepening each drag of his cock to give you some space to think, to breathe. his rough words are punctuated with ecstatic pants, "what's up?"

your eyes rake over his body for good measure. muscled body, rippling biceps, sharp eyes. the boy you remember from your childhood was just a tall, awkward, dry-humored fucker! never did you think that your body would be pressed against his in such an intimate dance.

you grin dopily, "when... did you get so fuckin' hot?"

tsukshima scoffs but his cheeks are dusted pink, "shut up."

✮⋆˙ tadashi yamaguchi!

"the audit... report." yamaguchi's words lose themselves somewhere between the sounds of your obscene moans and his whimpers. you cock up an eyebrow at your highschool crush, tilting your head to the side as you ask, "what about the audit report, yamaguchi?"

but he finds it so hard to speak with your foot pressing down on his cock. you're both shut in your office, with your subordinate yamaguchi biting down his lips to contain his moans as you play with his erection as if it's a toy.

pressing down on the bulge, he stutters his hips upwards. his eyes are wide, cheeks flaming as he asks, "why... why are you doing this?"

"i'm asking you for the audit report." you hum, "i'm your boss. is it not your job to get it to me?"

he gulps, eyeing down your foot as you press the heel of your feet harder into his painfully hard cock. he stammers, "i- i mean... this."

your foot moves forward and backwards over the dress slacks. you feel how painfully constricted yamaguchi is under those formal clothes of his. you tut, "think of it as a reward."

he nods without putting up a fight, his body going slack in the chair as he feels the friction build up with your movements. head tipping backwards, he fists his hands as you caress his growing bulge with erratic, hard movements.

one more stroke and yamaguchi stills, chewing on his lips as his cum wets his dress slacks. you tsk, "get me that audit report, yeah?"

yamaguchi nods, all sweaty and undone. standing up on jelly-like knees, he pulls a binder against his crotch as he begins to walk out of your cabin. you call for him and he turns. you smile, "by the way, when did you... y'know, get hot?"

his ears go red as he bows, "i- i don't know...?"

"hm." you shrug, unbothered, "that report now, please."

✮⋆˙ daichi sawamura!

taut blue uniform across his muscled body, and you all but feel your tongue loll out of your mouth like a badly-behaved dog. he grins at your state, whispering, "don't look so easy."

but it's hard not to look easy when officer daichi, your highschool ex, is pressing his hot body against you in the backseat of his government-issued police car and kissing you all mean and mouthy.

you sink down to your knees, your flesh rubbing against the carpeted floor as you tug open his uniform slacks and take his leaky, bulbous tip in your mouth. he bucks under you, groaning heavily as he fists your hair in his hand and maneuvers your head up and down his shaft. his dick is heavy in your mouth, hot as you run your tongue up and down the throbbing veins. he hisses and ruts his hips upwards into your mouth.

your nose hits the tufts of neatly-trimmed hair, eyes rolling back as your ex-boyfriend abuses your throat with short, quick thrusts of his cock inside you. air becomes scarce and you dig your nails within his uniform, tearing moon-shaped crescents into the fabric.

daichi grunts, cumming in your mouth with lazy, slow-dragged pumps. you pull off of his cock with a lewd pop! your voice is hoarse as you mumble, "what happened to my good boy, daichi? hah. when... when did you get so hot?"

daichi shrugs, tugging you upwards with a mean, sharp pull. he pulls your dress upwards as you straddle his hips. his eyes meet yours and he grins, "probably when you broke up with me."

✮⋆˙ sugawara koushi!

you blink at the man sprawling his legs open in front of you. your old highschool classmates smiles up at you, holding a hundred dollar bill as he muses, "i didn't know you got into... this business."

the neon lights of the strip-club colour you in a myriad of shades. you shrug, accepting the money and tucking it into your bra. "i didn't know you were an enjoyer of this business."

pushing him back, you grind on the man. your body hovers over his as you give him a lap dance but your warm flesh never touches his, something that clearly adheres to the rules of the establishment you work at. but sugawara is wrapping his hands around your waist, pulling you down to straddle him.

you shake your head quickly, "i can't." but he laughs off your protest, "i'm clothed. you're clothed. we're not doing anything wrong."

and so, you find yourself grinding down on his erection, looping your hands across his neck for support. his erection is needy, you feel is throbbing against your hot core. your panties drench with your essence, even marking his jeans with sinful streaks of translucent lust. you both grind together, panting in each other's mouth as both of you climb your respective highs. you cum, you with a sweet moan and him with a grunt. he wets his pants with his cum, some of it transferring onto your soaked panties as well.

you smile down at him, all cashmere as you grind down on his sensitive shaft, "my, my. when did you get hot, sugawara?"

he grins back, pulling out another another hundred dollar bill, "another round?"

you tuck the bill into your bra again.

✮⋆˙ ryunosuke tanaka!

"stretch. and just breathe." tanaka whispers in your ears, holding your legs apart with one strong hand as another fucks in and out of you. you're pressed, face-first, into the gym wall as your old flame, and current personal trainer presses from behind, fucking his agile fingers deeper into your slippery, sopping pussy.

you throw your head back, clawing at the motivational wall as your moans ring loud in the closed gym. you feel his bruising erection press into your ass as he fastens his pace. his fingers curl and wiggle around your heat, making you lose your balance. trapped, immobile, between his hard body and the wall, you can't help but do anything other than cry out his name.

"ryu- nghhh fuckk-!" you moan as his other hand circles around your clit. your entire body spasms, "fu-fuck... ryu my husband's gonna be here—"

"soon?" he laughs from behind you, your words nothing but fuel for him to fuck you faster. "yeah, i'd have you cummin' again by the time he's even here."

he pulls your face back and plants a sloppy kiss across your lips. you yelp, feeling an violent orgasm brew in your stomach. with stuttering words and half-working braincells, you gulp and ask, "ryu... when did you... get so-so hot?"

"been like this since forever, baby." he laughs breathily against your lips as you feel you husband's car pull into the parking lot, "you're just slow to- hah, catch up."

a.n: NOT PROOFREAD. ALSO PLEASE ignore that all of them have always been hot, okay? enjoy the nasties mwuah mwuah! pshh, requests are open! old m.list. | new m.list.

"yeah," you laugh. "but i'm, like, 10 minutes late because there was a train thing so i have no idea if the guy he set me up with is still here."

iwaizumi cocks his head. "he didn't tell you who it was?"

you shake your head, your hair following the movement. "he said i'd know when i got here, but now i'm here and i don't see some dude waiting for nothing."

you look around the cafe trying to see anyone you know, so you can't see iwaizumi try to control the twitch he can feel starting at the corner of his mouth. "well," he says, "you can sit with me if you like. and here, get some; this is too much for me." he slides a plate with a few pastries towards you.

you beam. "thanks. can i borrow—thanks," you say as he hands you the extra fork and knife set in front of him. he watches you practically saw off a big chunk of the cinnamon roll he'd bought and shovel it into your mouth. he can't help his snicker.

"horry, ang hongry," you sound out as you try to wrestle with the giant bite you just took. after you finally manage to swallow, you say, "man, thank god that blind date didn't happen. that would've been embarrassing."

iwaizumi smiles. "i'm sure it would be fine. it was funny; whoever oikawa tried to set you up with won't be stupid enough to be turned off by something like that."

"well, we won't know now." you wave your knife in the air. "you want some? this place has great cinnamon rolls."

he watches you cut another piece of the roll and hand the fork to him. he gently takes the fork and feeds himself, chewing thoughtfully. "it's good," he says, handing the fork back.

you grin at him. "can't believe you ordered this by the way. what are the chances?"

he hums and smiles. "anyway, since you're here, let's catch up. i haven't talked to you in a while. how've you been?"

—

you waved iwaizumi goodbye after he dropped you off at your house. it was a great afternoon; even if the blind date oikawa set up didn't happen, at least you had a lot of fun catching up with him.

you'd been friends since last year, meeting through oikawa, who was your classmate first. you and iwaizumi weren't exactly close, you were closer to oikawa, really, but you were friendly and spoke to each other in the hallways. this day brought you closer together, actually, and honestly, hanging out with him today was so much better than some dumb blind date anyway. you enjoyed his company.

it was also nice that he said that you should do that again. you'd said yes immediately, of course. maybe you could watch a movie.

heading inside your house, you toed your shoes off and walked into the living room, placing your bag on the coffee table and relaxing on the couch. your phone vibrates against your hip, signaling the arrival of a text.

oikawa [6:17 PM]: how was the date!

you [6:19 PM]: what date lol it didn't happen

oikawa [6:20 PM]: wtf no way? he told me he was there and he was waiting for you

you [6:21 PM]: who was there??

you [6:22 PM]: i don't even know who you set me up with, oikawa

you [6:22 PM]: but i met iwaizumi there, we just hung out the whole time

you [6:23 PM]: better than some stupid date tbh

you watched as the three dots of oikawa typing showed up and vanished at least three times before he finally sent a message.

oikawa [6:25 PM]: no offense

oikawa [6:25 PM]: but are you stupid

your face contorts into disgusted confusion. "what is this guy—" you start to complain, then something occurs to you

"it's a surprise," oikawa had sing-songed. "you'll know who i set you up with when you get there."

"but the only person i knew there was iwaizumi," you mumble. then your stomach falls to your feet. "OH MY GOD."

you practically punch your phone into your contacts and frantically scroll for a name. when you finally find it, you jab CALL and jump up, pacing nervously across your living room as it rings.

finally, the other end picks up. "hello?"

"it was you!" you nearly shriek into the phone. "oh my god, i'm so stupid!"

iwaizumi laughs on the other end.

you nearly collapse on the couch, pressing your palm hand to your forehead. "oh my god. oh my god. iwaizumi, i'm such an idiot—"

"you're not," he reassures you. "really. you just didn't expect it."

"did you know?" you ask him, pulling your hand away from your face.

"yeah, i did," he admits sheepishly.

"why didn't you say anything?" you whine, leaning back against the couch cushions.

you can hear a noise in the background. "sorry, hold on, getting on the train," he says, and after a shuffling sound, he speaks again, "i... don't know why i didn't say anything, actually. oikawa said the same thing to me, that i'd know who he set me up with then i got there. then you walked in and looked like you had no idea what was going on, so i thought oikawa was kidding when he said he set me up on a blind date."

"but i told you eventually that he set me up!" you point out.

"yeah, it made sense then. but i don't know. seemed more fun if it was just us hanging out without... you know. pressure." he seemed sincere as he spoke.

you laugh exasperatedly unto your phone. "i feel like such an idiot."

"don't. it's kinda cute, actually."

that makes you flush. "my god," you groan, trying not to dwell on it. "oikawa will never let me live this down."

"don't worry about him," iwaizumi says kindly, but you can hear an underlying threat. you vaguely recall someone pelting oikawa with a volleyball in the hallway, coming from iwaizumi's classroom...

you try to laugh but it turns into a whine. "i feel so silly."

"but it was fun, though, right?" he asks, and you can hear him get a little unsure. "i mean, even it didn't work out as oikawa intended."

you sit up on the couch. "it was," you say sincerely. then you sniff.

"and," he continues, and you can somehow tell in his tone that he's trying to muster up the confidence to say this coolly, "the next time can be an actual date... if you want."

you smile. "i'd like that, actually."

“Cherish them. Love them. Maybe get laid, god willing.” 

He scoffs, and leans back against the couch, dropping your hair. “You’re always in my business,” Osamu chastises lightly. 

“I’m just worried about you!” you protest, sliding your legs off his lap to lean forward, poised and ready to lecture.  “You’re always working. It’s so intense, and don’t say it’s not because I can see the bags under your eyes.” 

“I like working,” Osamu counters simply. It’s a nice excuse for him, one that he employs liberally. It’s easy to bury himself in it 

You frown. It’s cute. It almost makes Osamu laugh. “You never meet anyone new.” 

“Why the hell would I want to meet anyone new?” he asks. 

You bring a hand down against his knee, for emphasis. “To get your girlfriend and/or boyfriend!” 

Osamu flinches. “And/or?” 

“Listen,” you start, and Osamu knows he’s in for it, “I’m just saying, as the best friend you have, maybe you’d be a little happier if you found someone to be with.” 

You say it like the words are forced from you, uncomfortably and uneasily. Osamu looks at you and the way you avoid eye contact and wonders if you’re just barely drunk enough to bring up this conversation. He figures you must really be worried about him and his ungodly eye bags. 

But Osamu’s not interested in finding someone to be with, not someone that isn’t you. He hasn’t been interested in anyone that’s not you since the day he met you back in his final year of high school. Which, coincidentally is the last time he’d ever had a girlfriend and/or boyfriend, and Osamu can’t help but feel that that’s a little bit pathetic. So, the conversation’s pointless, he figures. 

He just crosses his arms over his chest and insists, “I’m plenty happy.” 

“Stop arguing with me,” you say, and then your tone shifts slightly, “I know you’re lonely.” 

Osamu narrows his eyes at you. “Yeah? You know everything now?” 

“I can just tell,” you say, eyes dropping down your lap. “From this look you get sometimes. Especially when you see other people together,” you trail off, and then lift your eyes to look at him. “I know you, Samu.” 

For a moment, he thinks he might vomit. From the way that you look at him, the way you say his name, it makes his face hot and his heart leap into his throat. Everything seems dry to him, all of the sudden. “Alright,” he nods, hoping you don’t notice the redness in his cheeks. “Then what would you do if you were me?” 

“If I were you?” you question. 

“Yeah,” Osamu says, shrugging, hoping that it downplays his abrupt nerves. “How would you go about getting a girlfriend and/or boyfriend?” 

You let out a stream of air. “Well, first I’d cut back my hours at work.” 

“Not gonna happen,” Osamu interjects. 

“Oh my fucking god, man,” you groan, dropping your head back in frustration, “just hire more people to help you! It’s good for the economy, anyway.”

He smirks. “Since when do you give a shit about the economy?” 

“Can we get back on track, please, you jerk?” you grumble, and then straighten out your shoulders. “So, I’d cut back on work and I’d spend more time going out with my friends. Be more sociable, you know?” 

Osamu looks over his shoulder and then back at you. “Am I not being sociable right now?” 

You give him a flat, dry expression. “Drinking on Atsumu’s couch with the same twenty people you’ve known since high school doesn’t count. Unless you plan on fucking Aran. I mean like going out. With people you don’t see as much and ideally aren’t related to.” 

“What if I am planning on fucking Aran?” 

“Are you?” you question. 

“No.” 

You roll your eyes. “You love to waste my time.” 

“So you want me to just go out and party until I meet someone?” Osamu asks. 

“Well, yeah kinda.” 

“I’d rather be at work.” 

You groan again, eliciting a light chuckle from Osamu. “You are quite literally the biggest buzzkill on the planet.” 

“What if the love of my life walks through the doors of Onigiri Miya and I’m none the wiser because I was out at a bar trying to pick someone up?” he counters, though he knows it’s not going to happen. He argues to indulge you, because he doesn’t believe there is anyone he could meet that could ever change his mind about you. 

“Oh, and you’re gonna ask for their number while you’re working? Like that’s not creepy.” 

Osamu raises an eyebrow. “Any creepier than asking for someone’s number at a bar?” 

“Alright,” you relent, raising your hands in defeat and flopping back against the soft cushion of the couch, “you clearly do not want my advice. You just want to be alone and single forever. You know what? Fine by me.” 

“Oh, c’mon, don’t pout,” Osamu says, trying to sound like he’s not laughing at you, and not doing well. 

“I’m not pouting,” you say through a very obvious pout. 

“You are.” Osamu reaches over and pokes your cheek. He sees your lip twitch, like your biting back a smile. “C’mon, just smile for me.” 

You wave him off. “No, you piss me off.” 

Osamu sighs. “Alright, what would you do if you found someone then?” Osamu shifts, leaning forward to get closer to you. “Like, say I got someone’s number and we’ve been talking. How would you take it from there?” 

You take a moment to eye him, trying to spot any insincerity. “I’d get them flowers,” you say uneasily after a beat of silence. 

“Flowers?” he echoes. And he doesn’t want to tease you again and risk irritating you further, but he seems he can’t stop himself. His grin is sloppy. “Is that not the cheesiest possible thing you could do?” he asks. 

“It’s not cheesy,” you insist. “It’s sweet. It shows someone you care about them. It shows effort and consideration.” 

“So, you’re so worried about me working too much and being lonely, you want me to go out with people constantly until I meet someone I like enough and then, if I’m lucky enough to get their number, you want me to send them flowers?” 

You nod. “Yeah, pretty much.” 

“Never gonna happen.” 

“Oh, come on,” you complain. 

“It’s a lot of effort. I like my work too much,” Osamu explains. “And really, to be honest, I’d rather just be here with you.” 

Osamu smiles at how easily you relent, how quickly you give into the smile that grows on your face. “Well, I guess that’s another option. Just sticking around me forever. Y’know, I wouldn’t mind it.” 

“Hmm,” Osamu looks at you, and feels warm. “Or maybe I’ll just fuck Aran.” 

gently shaking him awake at night and in your lowest whisper asking, “i’m super thirsty, could you bring me some water please?”

you’re not even sure his eyes are fully open before he’s sleepily stumbling to the kitchen, returning with a full glass of ice water in hand.

“thank you,” you smile up at him, though he can’t see it in the darkness of your bedroom.

it’s not like he even registered your words anyways, nor will he have any recollection of this interaction the next morning.

or you’re standing in line with him at your favorite coffee shop before suddenly realizing you left your loyalty punch card in the glove compartment of his car.

“i almost forgot!” you gasp before hurriedly handing atsumu your purse and rushing out of the shop door and toward the parking lot.

a few moments later, you re-enter the cafe, relieved to see that it still wasn’t your turn to order and you hadn’t held up the line. atsumu’s eyes seem to have never left the menu. he stands still as he was before you left, continuing to study the extensive list of monthly specials.

“tsumu, my purse,” you say, waving your hands in front of him.

that seems to catch his attention. his brows furrow as he looks down at your open hand gesturing him to give you something, and for the first time he notices your purse in his grasp. when did he even take this from you?

atsumu is used to the usual teasing from his brother, but tonight his twin’s taunts seem a little more serious as he sits across from him at the counter of onigiri miya.

“you know, sometimes it seems like ____ has got you programmed or something,” osamu comments as he finishes bagging up his brother’s usual order.

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“i don’t know, it’s just sometimes i watch you two and it’s like you read her mind. do things before she even finishes asking,” he explains. “it’s not bad, just a little funny watching from the outside. didn’t know you’d be whipped like that.”

“i’m not whipped, dumbass,” atsumu scoffs. “thanks for the food, i’ll see you later.”

osamu just waves him off, he’ll figure it out sooner or later.

“honey, i’m home,” atsumu calls out, setting his keys on the hanger next to the door.

“be there in a second!”

atsumu busies himself plating up your meals while he waits for you. cracking open a can of your favorite sparking water and pouring it over some ice as the sound of your footsteps draws closer.

“tsumu can you get one of those cans out of the fridge and pou- oh you already did. perfect,” you smile, noticing the glass sitting neatly on the table next to your plate.

atsumu freezes in place, suddenly trying to recall what he’d even been doing for the past five minutes.