Bae. @avtso

pretending to get married to your best friend so you can schedule free cake tasting with shops all over town and slowly falling in love along the way

on a morning just like any other, miri goes looking for rei in the bathtub to wake him up. but this time, unlike any other morning, she finds that he's not there.

she stares, perplexed, at the basin where her papa normally sleeps, blinking down at the empty space in confusion. she makes her way back upstairs with the same confused expression on her face all the while.

the sound of the bedroom door opening at the end of the hall on the second level takes her by surprise.

"rei papa," she says, almost like she can hardly believe her eyes, "did you sleep in your bed last night?"

the aforementioned papa pauses in the doorway to his bedroom with one foot across the threshold, as though he's frozen mid-step.

"ah," he grunts, struggling to meet the little girl's inquisitive gaze. "hm."

not even his affirmative hum is enough to satiate miri's need for details.

"why?" she asks, her head cocking to the side. she eyes him, and rei is suddenly uncomfortably reminded of the training he's endured to withstand his composure under unimaginable torture and violence. somehow this is worse. "is rei papa sick?"

"no," he murmurs.

"then why is rei papa so red?" she steps towards him tentatively, intent to get to the bottom of her papa's strange behaviour and very pink face.

"miri!" the little girl is suddenly swept up from her feet, wooshing through the air as kazuki scoops her up into his arms while he sing-songs her name. he holds her up in front of his cheerful face. "your breakfast is getting cold, miri-chan!"

miri blinks into the grinning face of her blonde-haired papa. her gaze slides to the side to peek at rei, and the goes back to the man in front of her. she holds up a hand to cover her mouth from view (though it's on the wrong side to actually hide it from the brunette at the end of the hall.) "kazuki papa, rei papa sleeped in his bed," she mutters from the corner of her mouth, her little lips pursing.

kazuki looks at the man at the other end of the hall, completely still and looking at him with uncharacteristically startled eyes, and then back to the little girl in his arms.

"hmm," kazuki hums, "is that so?"

miri leans closer, and kazuki dips down too.

"maybe," she whispers, her tone even quieter and notably more conspiratorial, "he had... an accident."

kazuki relies on every modicum of self restraint and rigorous training he's endured not to outrightly laugh. instead, he hums thoughtfully with a solemn nod.

"we should be nice to him if he did," miri adds, "he might feel embarrassed."

the laughter kazuki feels welling up inside of him is as real of a threat as any gun that's ever been pointed his way.

kazuki sets miri down and she shuffles over to her other papa, who closes his bedroom door behind him just as she stops at his feet. she stares up at him, with a look that might be considered sympathetic if it weren't on the face of a four year old. she pats him comfortingly on the leg.

"it's okay, rei papa," she says pensively, something almost wistful in her tone. "it happens to the best of us."

and on that note, she spins on her heel and skips towards the stairs, heading to the breakfast that kazuki had promised.

"hold onto the railing!" the blonde calls after her as she sets off down the staircase, and she chirps back affirmatively before humming a little song as she goes.

the two men listen to her footsteps retreat, then the sound of her chair at the table downstairs being dragged across the floor, and eventually the sound of cutlery scraping across her plate.

kazuki turns, peeking at rei over his shoulder, a wicked grin on his face.

"did you have an accident? rei-pa-pa?"

"shut up," rei mutters, his shoulders slumping as he finally relaxes.

behind him, his bedroom door creaks open, and you poke your head out from inside.

"that was close," you say breathily, brushing your hair back from your face, and the two men watch as you slip through the door into the hallway. you have one of kazuki's hoodies on your frame, and a pair of cozy slippers on your feet.

rei looks at you, and you avoid his eyes, staring up at the ceiling and trying not to laugh. he pouts.

"you two are mean," he complains.

"rei," you laugh, reaching for him, but he shies away from you woundedly. the act only last for a few seconds before he's allowing you to slip your arms around his waist from behind, leaning against his frame while you embrace him.

"who are you calling mean?" kazuki sniffs, "i just expertly diverted miri's attention because you wouldn't get out of bed in time to get in the tub before she woke up."

rei and kazuki glower at each other for a moment, but there's no real animosity behind either gaze.

"no fighting," you pipe in from behind rei, peeking out from around his shoulder.

"this is your fault too, you know," kazuki points accusatorially in your direction and you gape.

"me?" you ask, offended. you slip out from behind rei's frame and stalk towards kazuki. "if i remember correctly you're the one who was begging me to stay over last night, and you're the reason why my clothes needed to be washed before i could leave." you poke him harshly in the chest, and he winces–though there's virtually no way it did any real harm.

kazuki chuckles, a breathy little heh, looking away guiltily with your fingertip still prodding his chest.

"speaking of," you look around the hallway, "where are my clothes?"

kazuki perks up, shuffling over to the laundry basket he'd dropped at the top of the stairs and fishing out your freshly-laundered clothes from underneath a pile of miri's. he brings them over to you and places them in your outstretched hands.

"thanks," you say, a little smile pulling at your lips. kazuki offers you his cheek expectantly, and you roll your eyes but crane up on your tiptoes anyway. he turns his face at the last minute, just like he always does, stealing a proper kiss.

you giggle as you pull away, kazuki's greedy hands reaching for you to pull you back, and you let him man-handle you into his hold while you sift through the clothing in your hands. you quickly notice something's missing.

"where are my panties?" you ask, tipping your head to peer up at kazuki who's draped over your back. his brow furrows in confusion, looking at the articles in your hands and then back to the laundry basket.

"there weren't any," he says in confusion, certain that he would have noticed something like that in the load of laundry he'd risen to do at dawn.

rei slips past the two of you quietly, heading towards the stairs.

it occurs to you just a second too late.

"rei," you hiss, careful not to make too much noise and draw attention to yourself. "rei!"

he glances at you over his shoulder, pulling his hand out of the pocket of his sweatpants to reveal a familiar ball of lace in his grip. he shoots you a smug little look, and then continues to descend the stairs, muttering something as he goes that sounds suspiciously like 'it happens to the best of us.'

just my (blood) type | todoroki x reader

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader

length: 5,300 words

summary: The real Halloween treat was how sinfully handsome Todoroki Shouto looked in his vampire costume. But that wouldn’t be enough to save him from the petty wrath of one drunk lobster. (In which you suffer deeply, wingwoman a friend, and pick a fight with the hottest boy at UA.)

tags: romance, sfw, halloween, idiot behavior

warnings: aged-up characters, underage drinking, drunk kissing (the characters knowingly and purposefully keep it to kissing only, and everyone is happy about it, but reader is def tipsy.)

notes: Happy (early) Halloween!! I’m not quite where I had hoped to be with this fic but I will be out most of the weekend and wanted to get this up in time. I hope you guys stay safe and have a super fun day!!

You hadn’t been serious when you’d said it.

At least, not at first—not until you saw how much it could mean to your best friend, how much it could alleviate her insecurities.

It had started as a joke, meant to encourage Eiko to stop being a self-deprecating idiot, and start working up the guts to ask her crush out. The UA third years were throwing a halloween party in the Class A dorms, and it would be the perfect opportunity for Eiko to make her move. You had been working on her for the better part of an hour, wheedling, trying every single angle—until you came to the final, extremely regrettable comment that set everything into motion.

“It’s Sero Hanta,” Eiko wailed, from where she was currently sprawled atop your covers with a pile of snacks and her homework, taking up your entire bed. “He’d never be into me.”

You rolled over from your spot on the floor to glare balefully up at her. “Sero Hanta is a confirmed straight boy. There is absolutely no reason why he wouldn’t be into you like one hundred percent of all other men on this earth.”

If three years at UA had taught you anything, it was that every flavor of man—business student, general course, support course, or hero track—was always interested in Eiko. She was a tiny thing, with shiny dark hair, pert features, and a sweet-tempered charm. Even Bakugou Katsuki wasn’t immune, remembering his manners enough to mutter a “sorry” when he bumped her in the halls—instead of declaring her an extra and demanding she retreat before him like the tides before Moses, which seemed to be his standard for handling everyone else.

Eiko had had a bevvy of admirers since your first day of classes, and their ranks had only grown larger over time. There was no way Sero wouldn’t be into her. She was too pretty, too interesting, and too sweet.

But she was also inexplicably far too shy for her own good.

And far too whipped for one gangly, tape-themed future hero to see they were of the same league.

“There’s going to be a million girls at the party, there’s no reason why I should stand out to him,” Eiko said, running a hand through her dark tresses, before throwing it down on your pillow in apparent exasperation.

You rolled your eyes. There was no reasoning with her when she was like this. You would just have to play along.

You patted your chin as if in thought. “Hmm. If that’s the case, then we’ll just have to make you stand out.”

Eiko blinked, like she hadn’t considered this. “How? I’m just…me.”

God if she wasn’t your best friend you could have strangled her for how oblivious she was.

You’d have liked her less, you supposed, if she was actually as up her own butt as she rightfully should be, but this was bordering on idiotic. She was already going to be the hottest girl at that party, in the tiny black dress and cute little cat ears she’d shown you earlier today.

She’d stand out by just existing.

“I don’t know,” you said, picking your phone up off the floor and absently scrolling. “We’ll spend extra time on your makeup. We can put fun chalk and glitter in your hair. We can hire you a phalanx of men to bear you around like a queen. I’ll even stand next to you dressed as a frigging lobster if I have to—then you’ll look insanely good by comparison.”

You expected a snort to issue from her direction—and it did.

But not before there was a slightly too-long pause, like she had briefly considered the idea.

“….You’re serious,” you said, sitting up. “You want me to?”

Eiko looked horrified. “No, I don’t want you to! You have to be cute, too! What if there is some boy you end up wanting to get to know?”

You’d met the majority of third-year boys, and they generally did not want to get to know you, so her point was immaterial. Even Todoroki Shouto, who was reputed among your classmates for his princely manners, seemed openly mystified by your very existence.

In your opinion you’d done nothing wrong, the few times you’d interacted with him—on school-cleaning rotation, in joint-class assignments, at third-year movie nights—but he seemed perplexed by you nevertheless.

Your first meeting had been in the dorm basements, where he’d stood, looking handsome but utterly lost, like some tragic prince from an ancient ballad. He was gazing helplessly between a basket of laundry, a bottle of detergent, and the washing machines, and you couldn’t stifle the laugh that burst its way out of you.

You’d made your way over, gathered just enough information from him to determine that his laundry had always been done by hired house staff, and then proceeded to talk him through the process of doing his own in your least judgmental tones. You also took care to also detail what he was going to do when it came time to use the dryers, laughing when he acted as though they were going to wake up and bite him.

You made light conversation with him while he worked through the process, and then you’d dumped in your own laundry and bade him farewell. You’d thought the entire interaction had been normal enough, as you hadn’t talked for that long or discussed anything super serious.

You guessed you must have stepped wrong somewhere, however, as ever since then, Todoroki had watched you with that same little wrinkle on his brows, like he was just as confused by your existence as he was the washing machines downstairs. You tried your best to act normal whenever you ran into him after that, but nothing seemed to disabuse him of his prejudices.

Whatever.

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i am so tired. can we normalize knowing what plagiarism is and not rewrite another fic author's plots wholesale/entirely scene for scene :'(

Taste Of You | H. Sero

Summary: It all starts with a question, and ends with… well, this.

Pairing: Hanta Sero x AFAB!reader

Warnings: Swearing, smut, fingering, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, a lil bit of dirty talk, Sero has a thing for eating pussy, Sero is a dork, all characters are 18 years old!

Word Count: 4.7k

Available on AO3 here

Note: This is a little something I wrote because I had Sero brainrot. It takes place in this little au I’ve created for myself and is a preface to the Sero fic Sickly Sweet, which is coming next week. Enjoy :)

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cool kids

summary: Kunimi x Reader. "reader's the one simping hard for kunimi and kunimi's just like "😑😑😑" but secretly likes them too" as requested by an anon!

word count: 2k

cw: uhhh two swear words

a/n: tysm for the request!! hope i did your boy justice

You just think Kunimi is nice to look at.

His hair is straight and natural and never greasy or obviously gelled; it looks soft and shiny. He probably rinses with cold water. You like how dreamy his eyes are— they’re deepset and often narrowed into a lazy smirk, but they have a faraway quality to them that makes the gray-brown shade reminiscent of the misty moors you’ve read about in books and seen in movies. You like the lean muscle on his thin frame, the way you can feel how deceptively strong he is whenever he decides that you’re his makeshift pillow at school.

“Is this comfortable?” He asks, slumping over you, forcing you to wilt over your desk beneath him.

“Not at all,” you answer honestly. “Your elbows are pointy, ow ow ow—” you wriggle until it no longer feels like he’s pressing directly on a pressure point— “but by all means, keep crushing me.”

“Hmm, thanks,” he hums into your back. “Class was so boring today.”

“The teacher is still in the classroom, Kunimi,” you say, voice muffled as he tries his best to become dead weight. “He can hear you, because we’re still in the classroom, missing lunch.”

“Nah,” he says, but graciously gets off, standing next to your desk while you gather your things, then holds out a hand to help you up. You take it, and it’s more the feeling of his skin on yours that makes you wobble on your feet than anything else. Your heart beats fast in your chest as you follow him, although he’s already let go.

“Where are we going?” You say into his ear, over his shoulder. He gives no indication that he heard you, so you do it again, speeding up your pace so you’re walking in stride with him.

“Gotta get a spot on the rooftop before everyone else shows up,” he says offhandedly, dodging a group of people standing still in the hallway. Obnoxious, you know he’s probably thinking.

“Ooh, the rooftop?” You tease. “Planning a confession?” There’s a saying about how all the best jokes have a grain of truth in them. In this case, you’re joking with a silo of hope.

“Too corny,” he wrinkles his face up, casting a disgusted glare towards the students who walk by in pairs, joined hands swinging between them. “PDA is gross, you know.”

You grab his hand again, his lack of protest reassuring you.

“You’re just jealous because you’re single.”

“Not for too long, I hope,” he says, eyes sliding to your face. You blink and drop his hand.

“What? Who? What?”

Your questions go unanswered, his volleyball seniors choosing that moment to swarm him. You wait on the edges of the group, mind spinning as you consider who your friend— your crush— would be interested in. You’re pretty sure that the only person he spends more time with than you is Yūtarō, and from the way Kunimi speaks about his teammate, you know it’s not him. You hope that it’s you, considering that you’ve been flirting overtly with him since the festival last summer, since you’d developed feelings for him. He’s never rejected you directly, after all, only made general comments on the futility of love and romance and relationships. You blow out a breath.

“Hi, sorry,” a face you recognize as a girl in another first-year class bows her way through the group of volley-boys. She’s biting her lip, clearly nervous, clearly clutching a letter behind her back. She has the locker next to Kunimi’s, you recall. A sick feeling rises in your stomach while all the others make a path for her straight to Oikawa. She makes a turn just before she reaches the third-year. “Um, hi, Kunimi, do you, ah, have a moment?”

You can’t look. You pay attention instead to the third years, watching Iwaizumi clamp a hand over Oikawa’s mouth before he can coo over his junior’s first confession. While they struggle, you bite your lip hard, shoving your hands in your pockets, feeling suddenly too hot and too cold all over. You’re probably allergic to watching people you like get confessed to or something, and now you have a fever.

Unwillingly, your gaze slides back to Kunimi, who, for once, looks wide-eyed and surprised. The girl appears to have finished her part, and he looks frozen as his eyes dart to the other people around, then back to her, then away again. Finally, he lands on Oikawa, who appears to have escaped his friend’s grip and has a disturbingly wide smile on his face.

“...Fine,” Kunimi says, and you watch him walk behind her to the stairs.

“Ah, so cute,” Oikawa says, leaning on the wall and sticking his nose up, an air of great wisdom and experience surrounding him. “Young love is in bloom today!”

You don’t want to wait for Kunimi to get back, so you adjust your bag and start to walk away, blinking rapidly.

“Don’t say shit like that,” you hear behind you, and then Iwaizumi is running up behind you, grabbing your shoulder. “Are you okay?” He sounds hesitant, and a little like he’s choking as he speaks.

“Yeah, of course I am,” your own voice sounds far off and too quiet for your words to be true. “Thank you for asking, Iwaizumi-san, don’t worry about me.”

“You’re crying,” he notes, and your eyes widen in alarm as your hands fly up to pat your cheeks, checking for wetness. “Well, not quite crying, but when Oikawa said that, your face, it kinda,” he gestures to his own. You look at him quizzically, unsure what he’s trying to mime. “...Crumpled?”

“Oh,” you say. “Yeah.” Both of you seem at a loss for words, then, but he walks with you all the way to the lunch stand and then he follows you to the back of the gym, where you sit with your knees curled up to your chest.

“Sorry you wasted your lunch period with me,” you mumble after twenty minutes of picking at your food.

“I didn’t want to leave you alone to wallow,” he says, mouth full of melon bun. “It’s bad for you.”

“Is that your professional medical opinion?” Your voice is watery, but you can feel the corners of your mouth lifting.

“For sure,” he tells you. “Are you feeling any better?”

“I guess,” you sigh, and look down. “I just really, really like him.”

“I get that,” Iwaizumi has a reputation for being loud and kind of rough, but his voice is softer than you’ve ever heard it.

“Thank you for staying with me, Iwaizumi-san,” you say, standing.

“No problem,” he smiles sympathetically at you. If Kunimi were here, he’d call it pity. You’d rather call it kindness.

The bell rings, and Iwaizumi bounds off around the corner.

“Sorry,” you hear him apologize to someone before his footsteps echo away. When you turn the corner yourself, you see— shiny hair, dark eyes, and a tall, narrow frame. One plus one plus one equals heartbreak.

“Y/N!” He says in greeting, then tilts his head upwards, seemingly searching for something to say.

You pause in front of him. “So?”

“So what?” He looks confused.

“The confession,” you say.

“Oh,” he says, straightening a little. “It was whatever. Look, I just wanted to tell you, uh…”

“Yes?” You say. You’re late for class. You’re not sure why you’re still standing here, face hot, waiting to hear whatever he has to say.

“Wait for me?” He asks, and you blink. You weren’t expecting that, of all things.

“Why?”

“I don’t,” he tucks his chin into his jacket collar, dark eyes resting on you warily, and despite yourself, you smile a little. “I don’t want to rush things, and I’m not— I don’t wanna mess up something I know’ll be good, okay? So just wait a little longer for me.”

“What about the, uh,” you swallow. “The girl who you were talking to earlier? I’m not waiting if you’re not.”

“Her?” He makes a grossed-out noise. “I rejected her. Why would I want anyone but you?”

The ‘12-’13 Seijoh VBC ten-year reunion is nothing short of chaotic.

You’re there because you joined (in the form of management) shortly after Iwaizumi sat with you during that fateful lunch period, and everyone else is there because playing volleyball with Oikawa apparently results in some kind of gravitational effect that keeps one circling him loosely forever. You, Kindaichi, and Kunimi huddle in a sort of commiserating bunch, even though the three of you have more than kept in touch over the years; where Oikawa is an Argentinian celebrity and Iwaizumi is well compensated for his career in athletic training, the former first years are barely out of undergrad, still working and suffering beneath the weight of recent student loans.

It’s Hanamaki who opens up the conversation, complaining about his recent bout of failed interviews, while Watari pats him on the back and Yahaba lists off places he could begin networking.

“What have you been doing?” You address Matsukawa, who is slumped on his elbows on the table, a slight smile on his features as he watches Hanamaki talk, formally.

“Me? Oh, I’m a mortician, or working towards it, anyway.”

“Of course you ask Mattsun first,” laughs Kindaichi. “You still think he’s ‘tall, dark, and handsome?’”

“No,” you groan, while the others at the table perk up considerably. “Don’t bring that up, please, I’m begging.”

“You had a crush on Mattsun?” Smirks Hanamaki, laying an arm across his shoulders.

“Not really!” You protest, waving your hands in front of you. “He was only the best looking of the third years, anyway.”

Oikawa makes a wounded noise, and Mattsun sticks his tongue out at him. Next to you, Kunimi lifts his glass and takes a long sip.

“Only the third years?” Asks Yahaba, raising his brows. Kindaichi grins. In your peripheral vision, you can see Kunimi drawing a line across his neck and mouthing shut the fuck up, shut up, shut up, shut up.

“Everyone knows that Y/N only had eyes for Kunimi, really,” Turnip-Head says anyway, and every head at the table swings toward your seatmate, who drops his hand and shuts his jaw with a click. "You were obvious!" He says in response to your embarrassed expression. He's not wrong, but you're still covering your eyes with your hands, peeking through the gaps.

“Do you have eyes? Why haven’t you changed your haircut?” Kunimi says, his voice bored. “Don’t you get tired of being called names because of it?”

Undeterred, Kindaichi takes another swig of beer and continues, nudging Kunimi hard, which only has the effect of pushing him into your side as he tries to escape his friend.

“He used to get jealous, after Y/N called Matsukawa-san hot, anyway,” Kindaichi adds. “He’d try harder in practice and everything.” There’s a chorus of oooohs around the table. Kunimi groans and drops his head onto your shoulder. You pat him reassuringly. His hair is soft.

“Kunimi has a crush,” Shido grins.

“It was a decade ago,” you feel the need to defend him.

“Yeah,” Kunimi says, sitting upright. There’s a scowl on his face, but his ears are subtly red.

“You should’ve said yes to dating back then,” Hanamaki butts in. “Then you wouldn’t be single now.”

“What do you mean I’m single now?” Kunimi arches an eyebrow. “That’s news to me.”

“Why didn’t you bring them, then?” Mattsun points at him. “That’s bad etiquette, you know.”

“Yeah, Akira,” you murmur affectionately, tucking his hair behind his ear. “You have bad etiquette.”

There’s a moment of silence as your former classmates look at you, then at Kunimi, then back at you. Then at both of you, holding hands under the table.

“You’re dating?” Yells Yahaba, standing up and swaying a little. General clamor ensues as you laugh and Kunimi brings your hands up to rest on the table, his eyes narrowly focused on Matsukawa, who seems happily oblivious as he knocks back more of his drink and attempts to rouse Makki into a thumb-wrestling match.

“He’s rubbed off on you,” Kindaichi tells you later, as you exit the restaurant. Kunimi drapes his jacket over you and rests his chin on your shoulder, putting his hands in your pants pockets.

“I hope so,” you smile softly. “Almost ten years together will do that to a person.”

On the way home, Akira asks you, almost sardonic (but you know he’s being genuine), "Was the wait worth it?"

You beam and kiss him, pulling him close by his shirt collar.

"Of course it was."

tagging: @crystal-lilac , @kohi-zeri

lgbt (linguine, garlic, basil, tomatoes)

Omg I’ve been binge reading your headcanons these last couple of days and I am absolutely I’m love with your writing!! There was just an idea that popped into my head, can I request the haikyuu boys scolding their pregnant s/o as they caught them doing something they definitively shouldn’t do, for example climb a high chair or shelf to reach something? I am in my baby fever feels 🥺🥺 with iwaizumi, suna, atsumu kuroo and whoever you like 🥰

scolding their pregnant s/o for doing something “dangerous”

↳ timeskip!iwaizumi, suna, atsumu, kuroo, kita

↳ a/n : stoppp omg tysm i’m so happy so hear that!! <333 apparently i’m on a baby fever roll too so here you go my dear nonnie😽 and thanks again!

↳ CLICK HERE FOR PART 2!

 — IWAIZUMI

“you seriously thought i wouldn’t catch you disobeying me?” he rhetorically asks when he sees you trying to get off of the counter as soon as you hear his footsteps in the corridor. obviously he doesn’t just stay there with his arms crossed but instead tells you to hold on to his arms to help you get down. surprisingly enough, he doesn’t really scold you for your recklessness... and you understand why the next day. it’s only 7am and morning sickness is what wakes you up, but you only get out of bed after realizing iwa isn’t next to you. and clearly you didn’t expect to see him sitting in the kitchen surrounded by wooden planks and metallic tools. “what?” he asks in front of your surprised expression, then explains himself very naturally: “these shelves are obviously out of reach for you, i have to rebuild them”

— SUNA

he knows you want to prove that you’re still capable of doing everything you used to do; and that’s why, after grabbing what you needed on the shelf, he has no choice but to threaten you in his own way: “if i ever catch you doing this kind of shit again, no more belly rubs for you, understood?”. but in fact he did catch you ‘doing this shit again’ a few days later... and your belly was still thoroughly rubbed that same evening. sat between his legs with a satisfied smile spread on your lips, you watched him point a finger at your belly: “now listen up, little one” he started with a very serious tone “don’t you dare be a stubborn baby, because i won’t be able to handle two of you... i can barely handle one”. chuckling at his words, you laid your head on his shoulder and grabbed his hand to put it back on your belly, “don’t worry, i think you handle me perfectly well, rin”

— ATSUMU

unlike iwaizumi, it’s through words that atsumu calmly communicates you his concern. “BABY WHAT’RE YA DOIN’??! ARE YA OUT OF YER MIND? WHAT IF TSUMU JUNIOR GETS HURT, HUH?”. but as soon as he sees you trying to get off that chair on your own, he runs to you with his arms stretched out in front of him. “for the last time, we’re not calling our baby tsumu junior” you reprimand him as he carefully carries you to the couch, where he sits down to put your legs on his lap. “but think about it!” he exclaims, “that way ya won’t ever have to say ‘i love ya’ to someone whose name isn’t atsumu...”. you roll your eyes, amused, and point out that he seems to have already thought everything through. and his answer is the same as usual: “well what else’m i supposed to think about if it’s not the two of ya?”

— KUROO

suddenly this smart mouth loses the ability to string more than two words together: “wow- wait! wha-hold up, don’t- you shouldn’t-”. in other terms, he’s panicking. “relax, tetsu. i’m ok” you try to calm him down as he carries you to help you get down from that chair with a worried look in his eyes. “what’s the point of having a tall husband if you’re still trying to reach the shelves on your own?!” he asks after making sure you’re safe and sound. hearing that, you flash him a smile that you know he won’t be able to resist, before wrapping your arms tightly around his waist: “this”. and you were right, as much as he’s still upset about what just happened, he really can’t resist that smile. “ok you got me there”, he chuckles, but promises himself to actually lecture you after the hug...

— KITA

a single glare from kita is enough to make you understand that you’re in trouble. big time. but as usual he doesn’t even raise his voice, which might even be worse... “what did i tell ya?” he asks once you have both feet on the floor. at first you don’t think that he actually expects an answer, but he absolutely does. so you give it to him, almost reciting it by heart: “if you ever need something, call me before doing anything stupid”. he nods approvingly, but you still feel the need to defend yourself, telling him that you didn’t want to bother him while he was busy outside. “whatever it is that i’m doin’ outside, it can’t be more important than not lettin’ ya get hurt”, he replies before outstretching his arm to grab two chocolate bars on the shelf: “i guess this is what ya wanted?”, he asks in a softer tone before putting them in your hand with a gentle smile. “you know me too well shin”, you mirror his smile, placing a quick peck on his lips.

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osamu + “we’re fake dating! why did you tell them we were engaged?!” for @amarinthe thanks for requesting this! it's probably one of my favourite prompts

the moment you open your front door, you kind of regret it.

because while your totally hot neighbour is standing in your doorway in his dark jeans and fitted black t-shirt glory, you’re rocking shorts and an unreasonably large sweatshirt.

“osamu,” you blink, tugging the hem of your shirt down a little. “hey.”

“hey,” he replies with a smile that makes your knees weak, holding up a takeout bag. “i brought some onigiri home. wanna share?”

thinking about the instant ramen currently boiling on your stovetop, you couldn’t possibly refuse his offer (especially if it’s from miya osamu, whose very successful restaurant is quite literally across the street).

so you open your door wider, letting him step inside and slip his shoes off while you move into the kitchen, placing two plates on the counter.

“so, how was your day?” he asks, unpacking the setting two onigiri on each plate. “anything interesting happen?”

you slide into the stool next to him, swinging your legs lightly as you munch on happily on the food. “not particularly, you?”

“actually, yeah,” he starts, taking his cap off and running a hand through his hair (you think it’s unfair, how good it still looks, even after spending all day smushed under a baseball cap). “my ma called today.”

“your ma?” you hum through a mouthful of salmon and rice. “what’d she say?”

he picks disinterestedly at the seaweed on his onigiri. “she, uh, asked that i visit home for dinner tomorrow night.”

“that’s sounds fun,” you start, pausing when he visibly grimaces. “unless it’s...not?”

“my brother’s bringin’ his girl again,” he shrugs. “and i know that means ma’s gonna be on my ass about why i’m not datin’.”

“yeah, i’ve had that conversation with my parents before,” you shudder, patting his shoulder in understanding. “the future, grandchildren, the passive-aggressive judgement from siblings. you should just call and say you’re sick.”

“can’t,” he sighs heavily. “i already cancelled twice. she may disown me if i skip a third time, or worse, show up at my place.”

it’d probably be funny, you think, seeing mama and brother miya across the hall, bugging osamu. “then maybe you should bring someone,” you suggest off-handedly. “just to keep them off your back a little. when was the last time you went on a date?”

when he doesn’t answer, your happy chewing slows, and you glance over at him. “jeez, that long ago? i thought you had more game than that, miya.”

a slow grin spread across his face when he meets your gaze. “last time i went out with someone was...four months ago, actually.”

“four months ago? that was around when we—” your eyes widen slightly, heat spreading to your cheeks. “oh. that...was not a date. that was a slightly intoxicated but very satisfying sexual exchange between friends.”

osamu chuckles, ducking his head a little and making those eyes at you (the ones that’d lured you into fucking him on your living room floor at two in the morning). “maybe don’t bring that up when ya meet my mom.”

“excuse me?” you laugh. “you cannot bring me home to meet your family.”

“why not?” he questions, looking genuinely confused. “you’re the one who suggested it. it’s just for one night anyway.”

“i just can’t!” you insist, looking at him incredulously. “i’d be nervous even if we were dating. what if they ask questions about--”

“i’ll give you free onigiri for a month.”

_____

“so, how did the two of you meet?” osamu’s mother asks as she pours you a generous glass of wine.

you freeze, blinking a few times. when you open your mouth, nothing comes out.

(it’s funny how, on the hour-long drive to hyogo, the two of you hadn’t discussed any basic information about your relationship. instead, you’d spent your time debating the best taylor swift album and making fun of the other tenants in your building.)

you almost flinch when someone places a hand on the small of your back, but relax when osamu’s faint cologne meets your senses. “actually it was the day after she moved in next door,” he says. “i brought some onigiri over because she’d asked me that morning where the closest grocery store was so i figured…”

you smile fondly, recalling the day you’d run into him at the mailboxes, and he’d shown up a few hours later with food. he’d claimed they were just leftovers even though it was mid-afternoon.

“i can’t believe you remember that,” you murmur.

he hums quietly, gaze flicking over your face briefly. “i guess it’s just when i knew.”

you’re sure that your heart stutters in your chest. surely he’d stolen that from some cheesy romance flick?

“how long have you two been together?” his mother follows up with, glancing between the two of you expectantly, a slow smile spreading across her face.

“eight months,” you say.

“almost a year,” osamu answers at the same time.

across from you, atsumu hides a smile behind his glass of water.

“i mean, who’s counting?” you laugh, quick to recover, reaching over to your ‘boyfriend’ blindly, meaning to pat his shoulder but instead catching him on the cheek. “time flies when you’re in love.”

you turn to stare at osamu when you feel him clasp your hand, pressing a kiss to your fingers, lips curling against them.

your stomach flutters a little at the gesture.

“‘tsumu,” he continues, redirecting the conversation. he rests your clasped hands on the table, thumb brushing the back of yours gently. “i thought you were bringing your girlfriend.”

“oh, she’s at her place doin’ some packing,” he answers easily. “she’s movin’ in next week.”

“that’s great news!” their mother beams, osamu’s hand tightening around yours as he blurts,

“yeah, well, we’re engaged!”

this time, you choke on your bite of chicken, almost hacking up a lung as you whip your head towards your neighbour/friend/fake boyfriend turned fake fiancé.

he shoots you a pleading gaze as he rubs firm circles on your back, and when you finally dislodge that traitorous piece of meat, you draw a slow breath and sigh. “babe, i thought we were going to wait until you made it official.” you lift your left hand, pointing at your empty ring finger before turning back to his mother and brother. “do you mind if we step away for a second?”

they both wave you off, and you snatch osamu’s wrist, dragging him out the back door, making sure it’s shut tight before you whisper-shout,

“we are fake dating! why would you tell them that we were engaged?”

he rubs his hands down his face, groaning. “i’m sorry, i panicked! it’s just that when atsumu mentioned moving in i got weirdly competitive because we’re twins—”

“so naturally you told your mother we were getting married? what’s next, atsumu mentions a joint bank account and you tell them that i’m pregnant?”

osamu lowers his hands to peek at you. “can i actually do that?”

“no! this is so not worth the free onigiri!” you growl, smacking him on the shoulder a few times, osamu yelling in protest.

(inside, atsumu and their mother peek out the kitchen window to watch the both of you, the latter murmuring, ‘definitely engaged.’)

_____

“you cannot tell that story in your toast,” you laugh, three years later with a very real engagement ring on your finger.

“why not?” osamu whines, completely invading your side of the bed to wrap his arms around you. “it’s how we got together, isn’t it?”

“by lying to your family.”

“soon to be your family,” he reminds you happily. “and i didn’t have to tell them you were pregnant.”

i know this is a bit old-school tumblr style posting., but the tags and search engine of tumblr stresses me out, so ill do it this way!

id really really like to follow more active haikyuu, bnha, dgm and jujutsu kaisen writing blogs! (and maybe catch some new moots as well ahaha jk! ....unless?)

i am a sfw gender neutral reader-insert writer for hq, dgm and bnha myself! im 29 years old and i dont mind following blogs that also write nsfw, as long as its properly tagged. just beware i will generally only interact with your sfw parts !!

so if youre writing any of the aforementioned fandoms and post semi-regularly (any posts are fine, writing is an ebb and flow, so reblogs count in activity for me). please reblog this post and ill follow you !! (specifically a reblog so that it will reach more, thank you!!).

i will follow from my main blog, @/lordpopuko.

i try my best to reblog fics and foster community as often as possible. i also like adding several comments to the fics that i reblog, so theres no downside to having me follow you ehehehe 🥺 <3 (check out this tag of recs to see examples of my type of comments if ur curious?)

if my moots or other followers would be kind enough to reblog this as a boost, id be eternally grateful in my quest to find more activity on my own dash. ill send you all a gift basket filled with cookies, berries and plenty of snøfle fur to go round thank youuu🥰

ps i also wont expect follow backs btw i just need more on my dash :) so no obligation to do so! only if youd like to !!! ✨