arcade night 🕹️🦇

They had time for a quick nap

— touch of you

“you ok?” your question cuts through fuzzy visions and the constant thrum of city noise in the background.

“yeah,” oikawa nods, “i was just-” his arm stills mid air, halfway into a point when he notices the paused tv. “just thinking,” he finishes lamely, biting back the urge to wince at his poor response.

he’s not lying. he was thinking. it’d been a long day and oikawa craved your touch. he’d been hoping you’d angle yourself ever so slightly to the side, giving his head a place to rest on your thighs. or that you’d sink into his side, hugging his arm to anchor yourself from melting completely.

but you didn’t.

and then oikawa’s want turned to guilt, pooling heavy in his stomach as the recognition of his selfishness surfaced. because you’re so kind and caring and you’d let him pick the movie tonight, and it’s taken some time but oikawa had learnt to understand how you love.

you’re not touchy. not one to thoughtlessly trail featherlight fingertips down oikawa’s abdomen or offer open arms mindlessly. instead, your shows of affection are quiet and subtle, barely there displays that seek only to bring oikawa some ease, some warmth.

and despite what you’d expected from someone with such a large presence and commanding nature, oikawa had been nothing but patient and willing and lovely.

he let you set the pace, encouraging smile enticing the actions from you whilst still remaining aware of your boundaries. the first time you’d linked pinkies with him had been after a series of careful brushes of the hand, sending electricity coursing through his veins, heart jolting and singing at once. but rather than let his excitement flood and overwhelm, oikawa had curled his finger around yours, settling for a pleased little grin and holding tight onto that feeling of happiness that always bubbled up when with you.

it’s a feeling you get too, tucked away next to your heart where you keep all things precious - fond memories, kind words and tooru’s smile. it’s a place only he’s familiar with. and it drives you to shift, leg swinging over oikawa’s lap so that your chests are pressed against each other’s.

your confidence is beginning to wane by the time oikawa settles, head dropping into the crook of your neck with a satisfied hum. his arms wrap around your torso, giving you a brief though tight squeeze as if beginning to recharge, as if to say thank you.

oikawa’s happiness spills in an instant. it’s as infectious as ever - at a family gathering, at flattering admiration and praise, at the end of a winning match - and it has your arms travelling upwards, coming to rest across his shoulders and behind his neck.

“what are you thinking about?” you murmur, voice low like you don’t know.

the corners of tooru’s lips peak up. a sign he’s thought of something entirely ridiculous to say.

“you.” it’s also the truth.

you try for a dismissive scoff, it comes out amused instead, dampened by your smile. “you’re awful,” you chide, groaning.

“you love it,” oikawa rallies easily.

“i love you,” you shrug, words flowing like second nature.

“now who’s the awful one?” oikawa beams, nosing your cheek, “the awful, cheesy, corny one.”

“you’re contagious,” you nod seriously, though wriggling threateningly on his lap as he continues to pile on wet, lovesick adjectives. your bluff is silently called, the both of you are fully aware you’d already decided against leaving for a while.

it’s a funny sort of statement, its meaning an insult but lined with all the adoration of a compliment. and it has tooru replacing his stock of sticky, fond words with a declaration of “i love you.” he couldn’t go too long without returning the sentiment after all.

his lips are pressed against your skin in hopes it’ll allow the confession to seep through directly into your heart, “i love you so much, you don’t even know.”

the chuckle that escapes you rumbles through into oikawa’s chest, filling him with joy. “course i do,” you comment matter-of-factly, eyes curving with pride, “i know everything about you, everything about loving you too.”

and tooru can’t help but boldly agree. because it took only a thought and you had found yourself comfy on his lap, wrists looped around his neck to pull him flush against you. it started perhaps slightly rough, actions somewhat rare, and still, greedily tooru thinks all the time in the world with you is too little. for, how could he ever have enough of your touch, of you?

lithe fingers play with the wisps of hair that fall upon his nape, a sly trick you’d long since learnt would make tooru turn boneless in your arms. and all bothersome cares and worries leave his mind.

throat suddenly syrupy thick, tooru replies to your affection with three taps at the base of your spine, just enough pressure to be firm and steady and sure.

you know what they mean too.

⊹₊꒷︶꒷꒦‧₊˚⊹︰꒷ ⊹₊ Notebook entries ‧₊˚⊹︰꒷⊹₊꒷︶꒷꒦‧₊˚

... silence welcomed the profi athlete.

Nothing more, but sheer silence.

Stumbling over his own shoe's, against the wall into the kitchen and chunking two glasses of fresh water down, he somehow made his way to the bedroom and passed out, right beside the actual bed.

He must had one tequila shot too much, that he hadn't even felt any pain, while his body hit the carpet floor.

Beside his own snoring, the silence continued to fill the apartment.

There was no other soul.

No black and white kitten bumping it's head affectionate against it's drunken owner.

No wife trying her best to wake her husband up and help him lay onto the soft sheets of the bed.

Nothing, the apartment was silent.

If he wouldn't have been drunken, the silence would have suffocated him, the same way it had suffocated you, while packing all your things and preparing a little yellow sticky note with your decision of divorce.

The silence would have crushed him, if he would have found the sticky note with your ring and your wedding photobook on the table... and you nowhere to be found, in the middle of the night, after he had been with and in another woman.

But he didn't, he had stumbled past the table and hadn't even registered the suffocating cold atmosphere of the once loved and warm apartment.

While the athlete was sleeping the intoxication away, you reached the door of the only person who could catch your broken pieces and hold them for you.

The only person who would do anything to bring a smile back and the only person you trusted with your entire soul.

The only one who knew all your secrets.

The only one who never judged you.

The only one who had warned you and still stayed by your side.

Your best friend since High school Years...

The door swung open, revealing a sleepy and confused...

"I'm divorcing him, Motoya"

Blinking slowly, his eyes mustered you in worry. There was something in your expression, he couldn't read, which made him feel way more worried and even anxious.

You seemed... too calm.

Perhaps that was the product of bottling up emotions and stopping yourself from getting into arguments nor being able to confront your cheating husband.

Komori stepped aside, letting you and your kitten, which was hiding in your hoodie all along, in.

He would have loved to throw his arms around you, pull you into a tight hug and whisper words of comfort, but it seemed as if just one strong blow of air, against your fragile figure, would break you completely.

Just one word, would make the tears brimming in your eyes, fall down your cheeks like a waterfall.

Just one touch, would make your knees give in and make you fall on the ground, crying and screaming your heart out.

That's what it seemed to be.

Closing the door, he faced you again.

The black and white kitten already making its way through the apartment in search for new adventures.

You had placed your bag down and looked at your best friend, your heart ached, arms felt weak and head dizzy. A lump formed in your throat, hurting you.

"Can you hold me, please?" barely a whisper.

His eyes softened, he quickly walked over to you and pulled you into a tight hug.

Your weak hands clenched into his shirt, face buried in his chest and muffled cries escaped your parted lips.

Patting your back gently, he didn't said a word. No words could help you right now, but what did was his presence...

- Atsumu / Komori

extra note:

I saw the reblogs and comment about wanting a pt.2, I did it a bit differently and hope that it's fine too 🤍✨️

Also I wanted to thank everyone for reading, I hadn't expected that anyone would love to see a part 2 so yeah sobbing right now hehe

🎀 LIKE OR REBLOG IF YOU SAVE/USE!! 💘

the broken hearts club.

summary: who knew a mere crush on your high school best friend could be so destructive in the end?

pairing: iwaizumi hajime x fem!reader

wc: 3.6k

genre/cw: pining (seriously, severe one side pining), best friend!iwa, angst (no fluff), naive!reader, reader who doesn’t set boundaries, memory-style fic (lots of flashbacks n past tense), college!au, (mentioned)high school!au, ft. oikawa, mentions of makki & mattsun.

a/n: dedicated to bby @apricunts bc this has been in my drafts forever </3333

knock, knock, knock.

you rub at your eyes, whether it was to push the fatigue or still festering sadness, it’s not clear, as you tread from your bedroom in the direction of your apartment’s front door. your feet pad quietly against the hardwood floors as your arms wrap around yourself from the chill summer night air coming in from the open window of your living room that you forgot to shut before heading to bed.

approaching the door with a perplexed expression, you raise slightly on your tiptoes to look through the peephole but it’s too dark in the hall – you really need to talk to your landlord about that broken automatic light – to see who’s there.

you pray it’s not some sort of stalker or murderer knocking on your door, and decide to pull it open with a tired, “hello?”

it’s after midnight, though, so who the hell is knocking on my door at this time?

maybe it’s ms. kim from the apartment above yours who lost her cat again and she’s wondering if she’d snuck into your place through the fire escape, an event that never actually happened but she claims to have.

it was an annoying instance at best, having the woman appear at the strangest hours of the day, whether it be midnight or at the crack of dawn, worrying about her cat. although, you did understand on a certain level, caring for an animal companion and being worried of their safety, ultimately you were usually bothered.

“y/n.” the deep, gravelly, familiar voice is what makes your eyes spring open and you snap your neck up to meet the eyes of the subject on the other side of the doorframe.

“what’re you doing here?” you ask coldly, demeanor immediately shifting as you bring your hand up to clasp the door and begin shutting it. “go home.”

“wait, no, y/n.” the man on the other side of the door, iwaizumi hajime, easily braces the impact of the door shutting on him by holding out his arm, one much stronger than yours, and preventing it from closing. “will you please hear me out?”

curse his strength, really, you can’t help but think with an eye roll.

“what on earth makes you think i should?” your eyebrows furrow in frustration and the tiredness your mind and body feel don’t help your mood as you stare daggers at the frowning man.

you’re broken, you believe.

and you blame the man in front of you for it.

“i… i-” he’s at a loss for words, evident by his stammering. the flush of his cheeks – wait, did he run here? nevermind, that doesn’t matter– deepens as he struggles to find the words.

but you don’t let him.

“how many times are you going to put me through this, huh?” you ask, humorless chuckle bubbling in your throat. “you want me one day, the next i’m a friend and and until now, i’m a stranger you couldn’t care less about. pick a damn dynamic and stop playing with me, iwaizumi.”

you’re exhausted at this point. tired of the game iwaizumi has you playing. though, it not very fair when he’s the one playing you.

General Dating Headcannons w/ Iwaizumi Hajime

꒰ 8:45 P.M. ꒱❛ miya atsumu x reader ༉‧₊˚✧

“you don’t get to just do that!” you scold the taller man, feeling your cheeks flush hotter than they already were.

atsumu stands tall in front of you, crossed arms over his chest as he looks over at you boredly - boredly! he has the audacity to act nonchalant in the middle of getting an earful from you!

“do what?” he asks, jutting his chin out in feign innocence.

“do what-" you scoff, repeating him. “you third wheeled my date!”

“wasn’t your date the dinner?” atsumu asks skeptically, putting a hand to his chin in thought. “i didn’t third wheel nothin’.”

you groan in frustration at the blond. miya atsumu may be your roommate and best friend, sure, but you wanted to strangle him ninety-nine percent of the time.

you’d gotten back from a date just an hour prior, bringing your date home along with you since he (and well, you didn’t mind) wanted to continue after your reservation at the nice spot in the center of town.

“you can’t seriously by playing dumb right now,” you mutter, turning away from him as you trudge back over to the living area where coasters and a near empty (mostly atsumu’s doing) bowl of chips are settled on an end table. first, you put the coasters back in their place on the lower shelf of the table for the next time you have company — thanks to atsumu though, you don’t think that’ll be soon.

then, grabbing the bowl, you walk back toward the kitchen where atsumu’s leaning against the counter, closely watching your movements.

“the first date i’ve had in months and the guy’s never gonna call again,” you c muttering. it’s toward your roommate but you’re not exactly talking to him, more like talking into the air, well aware he’d catches it.

at your less frustrated expression, atsumu's original playful and mischievous gleam in his eye dissipates. you look more solemn, shoulders hunched as you do the dishes in the sink – after all, it was your turn to do the chores.

𝐌𝐲 𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐍𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞

summary: You have a group project with the most annoying guy on campus. But this time, you don’t mind his presence.

paring: Iwaizumi Hajime x Reader

genre: enemies to lovers, comedy, fluffy, two brats in love.

word count: 1111.

note: remastered fic from a Christmas event I've made last year, and also a present to my precious beautiful friend @tameshrimp!❤️ (who also asked for Bokuto and me to be inserted in this story hehe).

“It will be fine!” She said. “There’s things much worse than that. And it will end soon!”

You still can’t get why you keep believing her.

College is already a nerve-wracking place to deal with, increasing even more in junior year. You need to work on your assignments, do presentations, and fight yourself every day to not procrastinate 24/7 or call off sick ‘cause your bed is too appealing. And in the end, you always freak out with your final exams, coffee becoming your best friend and clock your worst enemy.

So, why, in such a mad environment, do you still need to do group work?

And why, of all the people on campus, did you get paired up with Iwaizumi Hajime?

The stress is real.

It’s not that you hate him, but his face alone makes you want to change sidewalks even if the traffic light is green and Formula 1 is happening on Myagi streets.

It all started with a single bump on the cafeteria entrance. His unnecessary hard body bumped against your hot chocolate cup, making all of your precious drink spill and fall into your new white All Stars sneakers, staining the fabric and burning your skin to the soul.

And he had the nerve to say “You need to watch where you’re going” before giving a quick apology and leaving.

You never forget it, refusing one day later to lend him your notes of an important class, right before exams. It’s not your fault that his bicycle tire got pierced on the way, he should have been prepared and woken up early like every poor student in this college.

This “not so pleasant but still fulfilling” war has been going on for a few months. But unfortunately, his presence became more than a nuisance to you, and you absolutely detest the way your heart quickens flustered as you see the punk walking on the hall.

Annoying, handsome, punk.

make me bad.

> pairing: atsumu miya x reader, sakusa kiyoomi x reader

> summary: in which your ex boyfriend drunkenly shows up at your door unannounced, and things take a turn for the worse

> warnings: exes to...strangers?, angst, cursing, mentions of alcohol consumption/abuse, ex bf! atsumu, husband! sakusa

— "Hey."

The alcohol carries strong on his breath, the barley scent of it burning your nostrils as you take in the sight before you. It's the Atsumu you know — at least, you used to.

The man in front of you now is far from the one you're familiar with. His glow is faded, from being under the influence or his natural presence altogether, you don't care to find out. Face flushed raw and red from the substances swimming in his veins, you're surprised he's even still capable of standing. An arm leans bent against the wooden frame of your door, boots crossed precariously at his feet. There's a shyness to him, riding the line of pathetic when he can't even bring himself to look you in the eye after all these years. Yet has more than enough audacity to show up at your door unannounced.

between lightning strikes

summary: Oikawa x F!Reader. as a prince, he can have whatever he wants. it’s a shame he wants you—his wife.

word count: 1.3k

cw: fighting, arranged marriage/royalty au, enemies to lovers, fake history stuff, angst to fluff, just like. the writing as a whole

a/n: my deepest apologies i promise i will never write a historical romance novel. happy late birthday oikawa [starts sobbing]

Oikawa Tooru can sense it: a shift in the wind, a burning in his muscles. Like a bloodhound, he can smell the storm coming.

His wife is angry with him.

Loving Atsumu Miya is just impossible not to do — that you know to be a fact. Your family adores him; especially your dad, who found himself charmed by Atsumu’s stupid, bad jokes that had their own special way to, somehow, being funny. His favorite thing is to sit down with him with a nice, hot cup of coffee while he listens to Atsumu speaking nonsense, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t happy about it. There’s something fulfilling of seeing them take him in like he’s already part of the family because, in a way, he is. And since he’s already met your family, it’s time for you to meet his — so here you are, watching him with a cocked eyebrow as he rubs his own arms in a feeble attempt to create some heat, his thin, long-sleeved shirt not doing much to warm him up.

“I told you to bring a jacket,” you say, shaking your head with mild disapproval.

“I didn’t know it’d be this cold,” he grumbles, wrapping his arms around himself.

You heave a sigh and take your hands to your neck to unwrap the red scarf around it. Atsumu watches you intently, following the movements of your fingers with his eyes, and he arches his eyebrows when you reach up to wrap the fluffy fabric around his neck.

“You have to give it back, Tsumu,” you warn, a serious look on your face so he knows you mean it. “It’s my favorite.”

He inhales deeply with closed eyes and a soft smile on his lips, his fingers curling around the scarf to nuzzle his nose against it.

“Well, it’s my favorite, too.”

You scrunch up your nose, brow furrowed.

“It’s not even yours!”

“And that’s exactly why. It reminds me of you,” he explains with a light shrug, “because it smells like you. I like it. It’s almost like having you wrapped around my neck.”

You blink at him with pursed lips, a smile slowly spreading across your face.

“I didn’t know you were into choking.”

Atsumu deadpans at you and lets out a deep huff.

“I don’t know why I even try to be romantic with you.”

And, with a hearty laugh, you take his hand in yours and lead him to the car.

• two dreams

Oikawa is harassing you over a secret on your husband's 27th birthday.

tags: angst, fluff, domestic

note: not as polished as I want to be but here we are. have fun!

𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓’𝐒 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 — 𝐌𝐈𝐘𝐀 𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐔

დ ft. miya atsumu & gn!reader

დ wc: 3k

დ info + warnings: fluff, slice of life, a hint of jealousy, atsumu doesn't know how to deal with his feelings.

დ summary: atsumu didn't have time for high school crushes. all the confessions he received were met with bitter rejections and the notes that made it into his locker were promptly thrown away. volleyball took precedence over puppy love. now, as an adult, atsumu's having trouble identifying the feelings he harbors for you.

"why are you here?"

it wasn't unusual for osamu to see atsumu lounging at the bar of his restaurant. the blonde had made a habit of dropping in whenever he pleased, even if he wasn't visiting for food. what did strike him as odd, though, was that he wasn't blabbing his ear off. as osamu stood wiping down the counter, atsumu sat on one of the stools, both of his elbows propped on the surface, his eyes gazing nowhere in particular.

"what? i can't come by my brother's shop now?" his reply was strange, too, osamu thought. not the words themselves, but the delivery. he wasn't rowdy or boisterous—didn't get defensive and didn't try to pick a fight. as annoying as it could be at times, it was normal. the absence of his typical behavior worried osamu.

"sure you can. you're just never this quiet." osamu slung the towel over his shoulder, moving to stand in front of his brother. a pair of honey eyes met cloudy grey ones. an unfamiliar glint of strife swam behind the golden irises. "so what is it? did you get cut from the starting lineup or somethin'?"

"no," atsumu grumbled. he couldn't find the energy to roll his eyes at the ridiculous assumption. "you really think i'd be upset over that?"