Looking Out For You Husband!timeskip!ushijima Wakatoshi X Gn Reader

  looking out for you ᵕ̈       husband!timeskip!ushijima wakatoshi       x gn reader ˎˊ˗

⋮⋮ ˒ ₍ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 𖥻 ⿻ : " tired " means nothing ⋮⋮  when ushijima virtually worships the ⋮⋮ very ground you walk on

📋 content     ♡ # 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧 🐮     ♡ # 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘭𝘦 🥛     ♡ # ~830 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴

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💬 kuroppiii─ “ not on shuffle bc it ’ s not relevant at all but i still love the song — i guess i should stoppp lookin out for youuu like i always doooo :) ”

the padding of your shoes reverberate throughout the hallway leading to your apartment door. your jacket ruffles as each trudge of your legs feels like an eternity. work today was hell.

by the time you’re stood in front of the apartment door, you let out a heavy sigh and drag a hand across your face before you go to dig for your keys in your jacket pocket.

the jingling sound they emit as you go to unlock the door rings in your ears unpleasantly. you physically cringe a little at the invasive sensation as it crashes through your brain that’s already surging with an annoying headache.

you need to lay the fuck down. now.

after you crack open the door and slip your way into the apartment—too lazy to even open the door all the way—you notice the light at the entrance that also doubles as your apartment’s small kitchen’s light was already on. the rest of the lights are off, though.

in the dim lighting, first you see a familiar pair of sneakers already neatly placed in their spot on the shoe rack.

second, however, you also notice a duffel uncharacteristically left haphazardly on the hardwood floor.

third, you glance up and see ushijima’s back. his arm reaches up as he rubs the back of his neck tiredly. the lighting highlights how his back muscles flex as he tries to rub away the soreness. you can see in the way his tall frame sinks down a bit and how his head hangs low that today’s practice must’ve taken something out of him.

he turns around at the sound of your arrival. when he looks up at you, for a moment you both look at each other, and in your eyes you exchange the same expression in an unspoken language: exhaustion.

“welcome home, darling,” his worn-out voice mumbles out just barely enough to reach your ears.

“hey toshi… you just got back, too?”

“mhm.”

and he starts making his way over to you. once he’s in front of you, he casts a shadow over you from his sheer height blocking out the kitchen light. most would find the image threatening—scary, even. it was probably the sight many volleyball players saw as your husband went to block their points up at the net during countless games.

but even in the dark, you can find his eyes. and whenever they’re gazing at you, they’re nothing but soft.

the light quickly reappears as he kneels down. at your feet, he starts to help you out of your shoes. you briefly feel the cold metal of his wedding band nudge against the skin of your ankle as he does so and your hand finds its way to gently card through the hair on the top of his head, a mix between a sigh of relief and a scoff in disbelief escaping your lips.

he stands back up and your hand is forced to retreat to sliding down to cup the side of his face as he returns to his full height. he reaches around you to help take your work bag, and you brush your thumb over his cheekbone,

“aren’t you tired too?”

his actions pause for a moment—just as he’s about to help you shrug off your heavy coat—as he replies back with a curt,

“yes.”

that wasn’t going to stop him, though—your toshi. you knew this. he never failed to remind you of his love for you: a love that even trounced his love for volleyball.

he reminded you through his constant doting over you.

or late night confessions admitted in a hush by your ear.

“you’re the best thing that’s happened to my life, i love you.”

or like right now. always the gentleman, he resumes gathering your jacket in his arm. but before he can step away from you to hang up your stuff, both your hands bring his face closer to ensnare his lips with yours.

as you kiss—one mixed with a sickening sweetness and a very late-night laziness—you feel the pressure of his big hand on the small of your back. he’s still holding your bag, and it slightly sways and bumps the back of your legs, making you smile into your kiss.

when you pull away, your husband looks adorably dazed as he was caught off by your sudden gesture. he looked the same way on your wedding day after you sealed your vows with a kiss, as well. some things never change.

you’ll never get tired of this. you’ll never get tired of how ushijima always looks out for you. you’ll never get tired of rewarding him with all the love you can muster to throw right back at him.

you feel compelled to give him another quick peck, and for a short second after you do, you admire how his eyes flutter and a tiny smile tugs at his lips.

“takeout tonight?” you suggest with a fond smile.

“takeout tonight,” he dumbly nods, subtly hugging you closer to him.

i say we need more reddit style smaus SO SUE ME

[masterlist] new notification!

msby!atsumu x reader Atsumu is quick to act when a misleading photograph of him and you (the Jackals' nutritionist) gets published. But soon enough, he starts to regret it. Some would tell him that he's made his bed, and that he needs to lie in it. Atsumu's not so sure. He decides to ask the internet. It's only too happy to help.

a/n: a cute, silly little fic for my fav fake blond. probably one chapter weekly?

Chapters

Intro

One

Two

Three

Four

💖 bonus chapter

💖 end notes

my three halloween costumes this year

1. slutty ghostface

2. kuroo tetsuro (but if he was a bad bitch who wears baggy jeans w his jersey☝️)

3. felix catton from saltburn’s “a midsummer night’s dream” angel

FUCKING FINALLY 🍾🎉🎊

somebody please make an edit of kuroo to frank ocean’s american wedding i’m begging on my hands and knees please

UGH SO GOOD CHLO

chapter 01. blue color grading

a/n. hi guys (imagine me saying this with a super cheesy grin). it's officially out!! first rewritten chapter of the art of film. i absolutely love this chapter. my proofreaders love this chapter. i hope all of you love this chapter. ugh i'm so excited. reblogs & comments are super super appreciated!

individual chapter content/warnings. 2nd person pov, swearing, lowercase intended, reference to food allergies, annoyingly descriptive, 1 mention of vomit, 1 vague mention of a creepy guy going thru y/n’s dresser, very teehee.

you leaned back against the soft plush of your pillow, eyes fluttering shut. twilight played softly in the background, your christmas lights hanging from your window casting a small glare against the screen. one of your cats climbed over to you and laid on your abdomen, curling into a ball while the other made itself comfortable at your feet. it was warm. the fluffy blanket and space heater kept the chilly september air at bay.

you dreaded the idea of atsumu’s friend coming to stay for a while. the last time that had happened you’d found some hungover guy vomiting into your sock drawer while going through your dresser. you’d made him vow never to have his friends you didn’t know overnight after that incident.

a soft knock on your door broke your moment of respite, the sound of knuckles rapping on wood. you sighed and sat up, a bored expression on your face.

 “come in.”

the brass doorknob turned before the door creaked open to reveal a familiar blond standing there in the hallway, an apologetic expression on his face. he stood wearing a t-shirt and a pair of joggers, a dark figure in the shadowy hallway behind him.

“your donuts are on the counter,” he said, quietly.

you just nodded and stared back at him. the dark figure behind him shifted uncomfortably. a white light lit up his face as he looked down, mindlessly scrolling through his phone in an attempt to make the situation less awkward. in the poor lighting, you could make out a tall build– taller than atsumu.. 6’2? 6’3 maybe? his skin was pale and a bit blotchy from the cold.

atsumu spoke, words coming out in a rushed tangent. “sunarin’ll behave i swear. i’ve known the guy since middle school, he won’t make a peep. promise.”

this ‘sunarin’ looked up from his phone at the familiar nickname and took a short step forward. flashes of color danced along his cheekbones, illuminated by your christmas lights. he waved and introduced himself with a curt nod, apologizing for the intrusion in the process.

suna rintaro found the contrast of your cold demeanor to the warmth and coziness of your room fascinating. you shot atsumu a bitter glare, eyebrows furrowing. suna watched you quietly as you spoke to atsumu, asking questions about how long he’d be staying and why he couldn’t go home. while atsumu rambled on about komori’s lame antics, suna’s eyes wandered around your room.

posters of your favorite musicians and actors covered the walls, intermingling with polaroids of you and your friends. a tall bookshelf sat in the corner of the room, filled to the brim with an assortment of books. little figurines decorated the shelves. plants hung from the ceiling, probably vibrantly, but it was hard to tell from the dim lighting.

you had a mildly disheveled appearance. your hair was a bit of a mess, frizzing around the crown of your head. your eyelids drooped with a mixture of exhaustion and irritability. the cats around you purred softly, nuzzling in closer to you. his eyes flashed to the television and he grimaced. he’d recognize that blue color grading anywhere. his sister had shown him clips of the movie as a very poor attempt to change his mind about watching his. it didn’t work. he’d refuse each and every time, believing each clip he was shown was somehow worse than the last. 

“‘kay, we’re gonna go to bed. night y/n, sleep well,” atsumu said, turning around to face suna, socked feet sliding against the hardwoods.

you smiled softly, choosing forgiveness. he seemed genuinely apologetic. “night, make sure to lock my door when you leave.”

atsumu clicked the lock shut without giving her a second glance and closed the door. he lazily pointed towards his bedroom and grabbed some throw blankets from the linen closet. suna quietly opened the bedroom door and glanced around.

atsumu’s room was uniquely barren compared to yours. it lacked a certain sense of mellowness. his furniture was pale in color, bedroom decorated with various accounts of volleyball memorabilia and pictures of him and his high school team. suna saw photos of himself on the walls and grimaced.

his trance was broken by a spare pillow hitting him square in the back of the head. he turned around and glared at atsumu, who was stood in the doorway with a shiteating grin on his face. he pushed past suna and dropped the remaining comfort items on the floor before collapsing in his own bed with a sigh. 

suna gave him a halfhearted glare and arranged a makeshift bed on the floor. oh, coach was going to kill him when he finds out he slept on a carpeted floor all weekend long. he laid down, hearing atsumu shuffle around under his comforter.

atsumu rolled over in bed, facing suna, whose back was turned. “do you have any food allergies?”

“what?” rintaro said, turning around. “what the hell- no? why?”

atsumu shrugged, “y/n’s makin’ breakfast tomorrow, she told me to ask you.”

“oh. no, i don’t.”

atsumu nodded, responding with only a quick “‘kay” before going back to typing away on his phone.

suna just laid on his back, shifting uncomfortably as the breaks between blankets revealed carpet that scratched at his lower back uncomfortably. he pulled his shirt down and sighed through his nose before going on his phone to mindlessly scroll through twitter once again.

his eyes grew heavy exhaustion from his long day finally seeping into his system. he drifted off to sleep, lips forming a soft pout. his dreams were a whirlwind of blues and greens, colors seeping into the stories playing behind closed eyes.

notes.

GUYSSSSSSS IT'S HERE

i had so much fun writing this

wrote the whole thing this morning

anyways.

suna rintaro is a canon twilight hater but he's literally NEVER seen it. he just knows his sister likes it and thinks its dumb

i need this shirt i need it i need need need it