Reblogged
i really needed Shane in Ilya’s Ottawa jersey. exactly in this position
inspired by this awesome fic by theprinceandagcd on ao3!!!!
Reblogged thatsapphicsoprano
peak dynamic in my opinion
Reblogged kae-karo
do you ever re-read your own wips like 'damn the bitch that wrote this oughta finish it'
Reblogged siriuslystarbucks
harry getting constantly turned on by his godfather is a problem
Reblogged
they’re so annoying
original joke from this dinluke comic by pencilscratchins
Reblogged
i am rather fond of a lawlight dynamic where light is kinda possessive and jealous but its soo funny every time because light would have NO reason to be doing any of that. like its not actually a problem he is ever going to have. chill dude NOBODY else on your green earth is trying to get at that. no one is going to take him away from you. they wouldn't even try. well except maybe that one girl from the crowd at their graduation and tennis match but i get the feeling she'd be able to fujo it out
Reblogged halowishes
Osamu tells himself he’s not looking at the clock. He’s looking at the wall where all his awards and certifications and pictures are hung up and the clock just happens to be there too; and if his eyes happen to land upon it, well.
He shapes onigiri in his hands a bit more impatiently than usual. Atsumu, who was chronically late to everything, always turned up at 7:30 on the dot. The change had nothing to do with respect for Osamu’s time and everything to do with the promise of free food. The scrub.
It’s when he retreats to the kitchen in hunt of a few ingredients that the restaurant door swings open. Osamu doesn’t say anything immediately, on account of his head being buried in the industrial refrigeration unit, which turns out to be a good thing when he straightens up and sees a customer by the till.
He scowls. On the second Thursday of every month, he shut shop early so that his customers didn’t have to suffer Atsumu and his boisterous pack of Jackals as they tore through their food. At least they had the courtesy to wash up in the lockers before stepping foot in his restaurant, but he wasn’t going to count that as going above the barest minimum.
The person waiting at the till is more willowy than tall, clearly still growing, and dressed in a hoodie with a surgical mask on their face, like the kind Sakusa Kiyoomi wore.
Sakusa, Osamu nearly groans out loud. If Atsumu brought Sakusa with him, then he’d have to sanitize the whole place again because somebody decided to ignore his ‘closed’ sign. It’s only with the self-restraint learnt from years of customer service that he bites back the impulse to spray this person with the table cleaner like a misbehaving cat.
He hangs his apron up on a peg by the kitchen door and makes his way to the front. Some people were willing to leave once he (politely) informed them that his kitchen was out of service for the night.
“Hello”, he calls, plastering a smile on his face, “welcome to Onigiri Miya. Unfortunately, we’re closed right now, so if you could please-”
Up close, this customer is even younger than he’s thought, and fidgets uncomfortably. They say something garbled through the mask.
Osamu frowns, “I’m sorry, what was that?”
“I said, give me all the money in your register”, the teenager says.
The words don’t make any sense.
“What?”
“I’m robbing you”, the teenager emphasizes, and this is a very stupid sort of prank to pull, this kid with a voice they’re purposely making hoarse and the way they’re clearly sweating bullets telling him this is a hold-up, only it’s not funny, and Osamu can see the glint of something sharp and steel in the front pocket of their hoodie.
He takes a step back as the teenager grips the handle of what looks like a typical meat knife.
“Listen”, he cautions, eyes trained on where his hands meet the blade, “don’t do anything rash”
“I won’t need to do anything if you just give me your money!” The teenager doesn’t surge forward, just takes a single step. But it still makes him aware that he’s alone in the restaurant tonight, no employees around, and his cellphone is in the pocket of his apron.
Osamu had found it annoying when he was younger, the way he always knew where Atsumu was in a room. Just part of being a twin, he supposed. But now, when the restaurant door swings open and he knows without looking that there’s a head of blonde hair and a too-familiar face just a few feet away, there’s no room in him for anything but relief.
“Yo, scrub”, Atsumu calls lightly, fiddling with a volleyball like he can’t bear to be parted from it for even a second, “you better have some food ready or I’m eating Sunarin-”
He falls into silence as he notices the scene. Osamu, trying to maintain his distance from the person who’s clearly holding a weapon of some sort.
Atsumu’s eyes meet his.
Do it, he urges in the secret language of twins, the way they knew exactly what the other was thinking without a word.
Atsumu’s serve has no spin to it, not much speed either. But it’s clean and forceful and it lifts his would-be robber right off their feet when it connects with their face.
…
“I told you to disarm them, not to dislodge their head from their body!” Osamu hisses as he struggles to manoeuvre their unwanted guest into an upright position. The kid didn’t weigh much at all, so thin he could feel the sharp points of their bones even through the thick hoodie, but their body was refusing to cooperate, falling about limply.
“Oh, so this is my fault for trying to help?” Atsumu fires back. Asshole that he was, he refused to help clean up his mess, even going so far as to say they tie them up and dump them in front of the nearest police station.
“Are they seriously fighting over an unconscious body?” Sakusa asks incredulously. Suna doesn’t respond, too busy taking pictures of them both.
People like Hinata took volleyballs to their face all the time and they bounced back quick. Then again, they were people like Hinata, and this kid was clearly underfed and unhealthy.
“You knocked them out!” He snaps, “That’s a crime!”
“Robbing a restaurant at knifepoint is a crime!” Atsumu says, but Osamu catches the fear in his eyes. His stomach knots at that. Now that there’s no weapon being waved in his face, he feels infinitely calmer, but he can’t imagine he’d recover as quickly if he’d walked in on Atsumu in the same situation.
“Gotta say”, Suna whistles, straightening up, “between the two of you, I did not expect Tsumu to be the one to go to jail for attempted murder. Thought Samu would have snapped by now for sure”
“Can it, Sunarin”, Osamu rounds on him, probably too fiercely because he actually looks alarmed for a second. Atsumu was genuinely upset and that meant that he’d go easy on him. That was just part of their deal.
“Ghhg”
“Oh my god, they’re alive”, Sakusa somehow manages to sound relieved and aloof at the same time.
The teenager’s head lolls. But they don’t seem concussed, their eyes fixing on their faces without wavering.
“You!” Osamu gestures. They cringe back in fear.
“Do you want a job here?”
“What?!”
He ignores Atsumu’s outraged squawk, pressing on, “It won’t pay you a register’s worth, but it’s honest work and it should be enough to get you on your feet. Just promise you won’t sue this idiot here for attempted murder or battery or whatever”
The teenager stares at him nonplussed. At some point, he’d have to figure out their name so he could print out a tag for their uniform.
“Is that a yes?” He asks impatiently. The teenager nods from where they’re sitting up against the counter.
“Good. Work starts Monday. You’ll be on the lunch service”, he helps the kid up, walks them to the door, “get some rest and ice your face if it hurts too bad. I expect to see you here in three days’ time, bright and early, alright?”
“I can’t believe you just did that!” Atsumu explodes as he shuts the door on his newest employee’s retreating back.
“I can’t do whatever the hell I want. It’s my restaurant”
“You really are too nice for your own good, Osamu-san”, Sakusa observes, “Miya here is always going on about it”
“How come you call him by his first name and not me?” Atsumu complains, because he’s always complaining about something, “You’ve known me longer!”
“That’s exactly why”, Sakusa informs him blandly, “I know you well enough to know I have no respect for you”
“Aw, scrub”, Osamu swipes at his head, ruffling his hair in the way he knows annoys him, “you talk about me?”
The words are light, but something he hadn’t known was wounded in him heals a little. They’d carved out a ritual for themselves, but it wasn’t the same as living in each others’ pockets like they used to.
“Shut up”, Atsumu grumbles, “I hate all of you. Even you, Omi”
“Why would I be excluded?” Sakusa frowns, watching Atsumu turn a spectacular red. Suna catches his eyes and they turn away to hide their laughs.
So this crush still hadn’t faded, huh?
Osamu can feel a smile taking over his face, “Ah, Sakusa-kun, you reminded me of something I need to tell you about Tsumu here…”
Reblogged halowishes
Reblogged
Walked into that cinema a casual nekoma liker
Left it crying and madly in love with kuroo… WHAT A MAN
Source: twitter.com
