In The Rain

in the rain

characters: bokuto and gn! reader; post! timeskip

wc: 1.8k

warnings: none that i can think of?? it’s pure fluff

tagging: @ichigomis​

a/n: i had fun writing for this collab! please head on over to @ichigomis blog for more! i'm not too happy with how it turned out but i hope y'all like it...also this is loosely inspired by the umbrella scene in the first season of miraculous ladybug, the song just makes me emotional okay? okay! also, one umbrella leads to the song on youtube while the other leads to the song on spotify! happy reading!

give this a listen while reading ☂ ☂

The rain didn’t seem like it was going to let up anytime soon, and unfortunately, you can’t afford to be late to work. You let the curtains close with a sigh before walking to the couch. You reach for the TV remote and turn off the TV, the room falling silent save for the pitter patter of the rain. After grabbing your bag, which you had dropped at the foot of the couch the night before after work, you pulled on your rain coat and shoes. Your fingers reached for the keys in the bowl by the entrance, the metal cold against your skin, while your other hand slings your bag over your shoulder before grabbing an umbrella from the coat closet.

Stepping outside, you shove the keys into your bag after locking your front door. A shiver skitters down your spine as a gush of wind rushes past you, lifting your hair slightly. Pulling your coat tighter, you open your umbrella and begin your walk to the bus station. Maybe you should’ve worn rain boots, or a warmer coat, or maybe if you had a boyfriend so doting that they’d drop anything for you, maybe then you wouldn’t have to deal with this rainy weather.

While you enjoy the grey skies and the smell that clings to the dew in the air after it rains, you only like it when you’re staring outside from the comfort of your apartment. You debate turning around and using one of your sick days because the temptation of being indoors, enveloped by the warmth of your blankets and the heat that seeps into your body from the mug of hot cocoa in your hands, is too great. But you continue trudging along, because who else is going to be responsible for you if not yourself.

Unbeknownst to you, a man with black and grey hair was also trudging toward the same bus station as you. Normally, he wouldn’t mind this sort of weather, but today he just couldn’t deal with it. He had forgotten his umbrella amidst his rush in getting out of the door. He had forgotten to set his alarm after getting home late after practice, making him late this morning. He even skipped breakfast so as to not miss the bus; he knew today would be worse than the day before because not only was he tired, but he was hungry. He’s just glad he packed his lunch last night before going to bed, so at the very least he has food for later.

Grumbling to himself about how he was soaked through and how his hair was getting into his eyes, he sighs in relief upon seeing the bus station that would provide some cover from the pouring rain. He picks up his pace, ignoring how ridiculous it may seem that he’s running for cover despite him being completely drenched, droplets of water dripping from the ends of his hair, some landing on his face and others landing on the ground. His eyes widen in surprise as he sees your dry figure, wrapped up in a coat appropriate for the weather and an umbrella clutched tightly in your hands. He wasn’t expecting anyone to be taking the bus this early, usually he was the only one waiting.

You tilt your head up, gaze following suit when you hear footsteps quicken their pace. Your eyes land on a pair of golden ones that are widened in…confusion perhaps? It didn’t really matter, because you swear the rain is gone the minute you look into his eyes. And after one look, you know he’d put the sun to shame.

You both step up to the bus stop at the same time, with small smiles exchanged instead of hellos, and stand with a respectable amount of space meant for two strangers. You close your umbrella and wrap the chord around your wrist so as to not leave it behind.

Despite the cold seeping into his skin, he can’t help but smile at the warmth blossoming in his chest. Because even though you threw one smile his way, that was all he needed to know that he’d like to see you smile again…but he wants you to smile with him, not at him.

You notice that he keeps adjusting his hair, the frustrated pout on his lips endearing as you side eye him while he fights to get his hair out of his eyes. You bite back a smile and look down, hoping he won’t catch you biting your lower lip in a poor attempt at holding in your laugh.

He shuffles in his spot a bit as he readjusts the strap of his gym bag over his shoulder. His movements catch your attention, which was what he was going for. His gaze catches yours and he gives you his best smile, despite it being too early for anything of the sort. You return the smile as best as you could, but who are you kidding? It’s not even seven in the morning. He extends his hand out to yours then pulls it back, and instead settles on waving his hand ever so slightly, which he then plays off by scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment.

He lets out a breathy laugh, a puff of air slipping past his lips. “Sorry, I just…I never see you at this stop.”

You turn your body so you’re facing him, an open invitation to a possible friendship. Your fingers fiddle with the chord of the umbrella as you breathe out, your warm breath mixing with the frosty air. You shrug and let out a huff of air, “I never go to work this early, but there were things that needed to be taken care of before the beginning of my shift so…” your sentence drifts, somewhat unfinished. He looks at you with an expectant look, gaze unwavering, interested.

He tilts his head in pure intrigue. “So?”

The smile you had been fighting earlier returns and settles itself permanently on your lips. “So…no one wanted to go in early to finish it and since I live the closest…well, you can imagine.” He hums in understanding, then looks over his shoulder to check if the bus had already turned onto the street.

“What about you?”

He whips his head toward you, eyes wide once again. “Huh?”

You laugh and unconsciously take a step toward him. “Why do you take the bus so early?”

“Oh!” He returns your laugh with his own, and you swear you’ve never heard anything more wonderful than that. “I head to the gym before practice starts.”

At that, you cringe. “You purposely wake up early?”

He nods his head, seemingly not as excited as before. “I don’t like it, but I do love my job. So, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.” He bites his tongue, wishing he hadn’t said that to you. Once seeing your unchanged expression, however, his shoulders relax.

“What do you do?”

His smile grows fonder. “I play professional volleyball.”

You don’t mean to look so surprised, but you can’t help it. His cheeks flush a soft pink, and you think he can’t get cuter than he looks in this moment. You can tell he enjoys what he does with almost a childlike innocence, but by his discipline you can also tell he takes it seriously. And that’s when you take note of how his wet clothes clings to his figure, and you can tell he’s well built. Suddenly, you wish his bus would arrive sooner so he doesn’t see your obvious ogling, and yet you’re disappointed to see it turn the corner moments after.

His smile softens at the corners, the pout he sported earlier breaking through his smile. “That’s my bus.” His voice is hushed as he tells you, afraid he’ll shatter the comfortable silence that had settled for a brief moment.

Your own smile falters a bit, and you look down at your umbrella. You chew on your bottom lip as you debate whether or not you should give it to him. You recall that you had sewn a patch onto it with your name and number in case you ever lost it. While you are aware that it’s just an umbrella, you somewhat pride yourself in not having lost it ever since you were in high school. And as you see the bus inch closer, and see the slight anguish in the man’s eyes as he looks at you as though he’s never going to see you again, you realize you don’t want to let the moment slip through your fingers.

“To hell with it,” you mutter under your breath as you step into his personal space. You open the umbrella and extend your arm, hoping he’ll take the umbrella.

He looks from you, to the umbrella, to the bus rolling to a stop. His eyebrows furrow. “I can’t take it. What about you?”

“I’ll be fine, just take it!” You look at him expectantly.

His hand reaches forward, his fingers brushing against your own, his larger hand encasing yours for a split second as you slip the umbrella into his grasp. Upon feeling the warmth of his hand your cheeks heat up.

“What can I give you in return?”

“Your name.” You say it with a slight lilt in your voice, clearly amused.

“Bokuto.”

You repeat his name barely above a whisper, and it’s already the sweetest thing he’s ever heard. And he wants nothing more than to hear you say his name again.

The bus driver honks, giving Bokuto a warning. He gives you a sheepish smile as he climbs onto the bus. Only when he’s in his seat does he realize he never got your name. As he’s putting your umbrella into his gym bag, he notices the patch you had sewn onto the umbrella with your name and number embroidered into the patch of fabric.

And yeah, maybe Bokuto hated the rain this morning, but having rushed to catch his usual bus on time, effectively forgetting his umbrella, led him to you. Your conversation, mundane as it may have been, would be the most eventful part of his day, even more so than his stressful morning.

Bokuto pulls out his phone, fingers adding your number to his contact list without a second thought, your name rolling off his tongue in a whisper, lips pulling into a soft smile.

He wastes no time in tapping on the call button, bouncing his leg while he waits for the phone to dial. The call is answered after the first ring, and he waits with baited breath to hear you speak his name again.

“Bokuto?”

He releases the breath he was holding, a boyish grin spreading across his face. He swears he can hear the smile in your voice, in the way you say his name like a prayer, and his smile only grows as he looks outside the bus window, a few grey clouds parting to show the hazy blue sky that had been hiding behind them.

“Hey, y/n.”

4:17 pm

atsumu goes to his brother’s restaurant enough to know everyone that works there, be familiar enough with the regulars, know who belongs there and who doesn’t. which is maybe why he’s so brash in asking..

“who’re you?”

you blink at him from behind the counter, raising an eyebrow up and pointing to the name tag. “uh, yn?”

“why’re ya here?”

your eyebrows scrunch up at his question, giving him a ‘really?’ look as you refill his cup of water sitting in front of him.

“i work here?” you answer, and maybe you should watch your tone, being that you know this is your boss’ brother (the face is a dead give away, obviously).

“since when?” atsumu presses, leaning across the counter and narrowing his eyes at you. this close you can tell he needs to touch up his roots a little bit.

“like, three weeks ago?” you sigh, sliding a tray full of a table’s order onto your palm and balancing it with only just a slight wobble, something you’ve slowly started to get the hang of since being hired. “now, if you’ll excuse me.”

atsumu’s eyes follow you as you make your way from behind the counter, swiveling through the path of tables and customers until you make it to the corner booth, placing down the family’s order onto the table, smile wide—much unlike the slight frown you’d been giving him a second ago.

he finds you odd, just a little. it’s obvious you know who he is, seeing as how there’s only one other person on earth who shares the same face as him. and that means you know he’s a professional volleyball player which he, though he’d deny it if cornered, likes knowing how it has an effect on people who meet him.

but not you. you didn’t care he’s a pro athlete or your boss’ brother. and that…

shit, he finds that really attractive.

“don’t even think about it.”

atsumu jumps to the voice at his left, placing an exaggerated hand on his chest as he snaps his head back to glare at his twin, chocolate eyes turning to slits at cloudy ones.

“scared tha hell outta me, geez,” he huffs, crossing his arms on top of the counter. “‘nd what the hell’re you talkin’ about?”

“stop playin’ dumb,” osamu dismisses with a roll of his eyes, leaning his hands on the hardwood and nodding his head towards where you’re currently handing someone their check. “leave ‘em alone. they’re too good for you.”

“hey,” atsumu pouts, scrunching his nose. “what’s that s’posed to mean? i’m good too.”

“yeah, good at being a douche,” osamu smirks, pushing off the counter to dodge the half assed punch his twin tries to swing his way.

“i’m a nice guy.”

“keep tellin’ yerself that tsumu.”

“yer an ass, samu.”

“only to you.”

“um, excuse me?” the twins’ heads snap in your direction, causing you to recoil just a tad before regaining yourself. “sorry to interrupt whatever.. this is, but sir,” you turn your eyes to osamu, polite smile on your lips, “there’s someone here to see you, she says she’s from the newspaper?”

“alright, thank ya,” he nods, flashing you a grin before giving his brother one last stern look and disappearing off somewhere further into the restaurant.

the silence that follows as your boss leaves is a little awkward, a tad strained as you and the blond share eye contact. you clear your throat and look away.

“right, well then.”

“what’s wrong with ya?”

you stop mid turn, whipping your head back around to stare at the blond, eyes wide and brows furrowed. your fingers curl at your sides, fists balled up.

“excuse you?”

your incredulous tone does nothing to deter him, he simply perches his chin in his palm.

“yer actin’ like i ain’t a big deal. kinda weird.”

you blink at him, pressing your lips into a thin line. osamu had already warned you about his brother, how his pride gets the better of him sometimes but how he honestly just can’t help it because he has absolutely no filter. you just didn’t expect it to be this blatant.

“well, if you’d like me to be honest, then i don’t think you’re a big deal,” you reply, turning away again and grabbing another table’s ticket out of your apron. “you’re just another athlete with a big ego and an even bigger mouth. nothing more.”

this time it’s atsumu’s turn to blink at you as he watches you walk away, painting on another one of those wide smiles as you go back to doing your job. you’re feisty, mouthy, a tad bit brash. no one’s ever really talked to him like this before apart from his brother or old friends.

he smiles to himself as he lets his gaze follow you, buzzing around his brother’s onigiri shop. he’s made his decision.

he’s going to make you fall in love with him, his ego, and his even bigger mouth—and he’ll be damn good at it too.

reblogs appreciated!

(do I need a reason anymore)

thinking about oikawa calling me his nena 😩 su princesa !! so down bad for spanish speaker oikawa and me teaching him slang we mexicans use !! NO BC ID HOLD HIS FACE IN MY HANDS AS I TEACH HIM THE PRONUNCIATIONS

bokuto is sure that, if he had to know you by anything besides the obvious things, besides your voice or the rise of your cheeks or the pull of your lips into a smile, he would know you by your breath. He could know you by nothing more than a sigh crossing your tongue or by the inhale you take before you speak.

and now, as he hears your stuttered breath as it hits against his skin, he’s sure he would still know you, no matter the situation. your fingers are wobbling as you wring them together, and though you don’t cry, bokuto knows that there must be an awful tightness in your throat, one that feels a bit too much like suffocating.

“you don’t have to sit here and listen to this, kou,” you say, and your voice is terribly shaky.

“i want to,” he replies, and he smiles, something pulling and carving into his cheeks that feels a little sweet on his tongue.

and then you laugh—weak, hardly more than a rushed sigh, but there’s something saccharine and lovely about it, something that, even when you’re shaken and there’s little lines between your brows and he’s sure you have a headache, that still seems a little joyous.

“okay,” you whisper, “okay. thank you.”

and bokuto doesn’t dare say another word, a little too happy to twine his hands with yours to stop the way you’ve been wringing them, too content with pressing his thumbs into your skin in little patterns, and entirely too enraptured by the way you speak to dare interrupt you or move away.

and the truth is, bokuto doesn’t know how to fix what’s worrying you. he doesn’t know the words to say or have the solution to everything. he’s glad you don’t ask him for that either, he’s glad you allow him to listen, above all else.

(and when your breath is no longer stuttered, when it begins to fan against him as it normally does, he’ll press kisses along your cheeks until laughter bubbles past your lips like it does late at night. when you allow him, he’ll kiss you until his cheeks are red and until yours are sore).

a little gift for @kim-jonginism <3 i hope everything works out soon :(

TELLING YOU HE LOVES YOU FOR THE 1ST TIME

with: kōtarō bokuto + keiji akaashi + rintarō suna

note: extremely half assed n bleh but i needed to get smth out grr

the words creep up on bokuto when he least expects them — standing with you in the empty parking lot of the gymnasium. his hood is pulled up over his messy hair, slightly obscuring his features under the already dim streetlight. “i really wanted to get a win for you tonight, i’m sorry.” his voice is quiet as he reaches for you, resting his hands on your hips. “i’m still proud of you kou, you’ll always be the best in my eyes.” a little smile works it’s way onto his face, and that little smile turns into a big grin — one that almost spells it out for you. his arms wrap around you — the sudden realization of being in love causing him to laugh as he lunges at you for a big hug. the impact almost sends you tumbling down, but he keeps you up as he beams, “i love you, so much.”

it’s been a long time coming for akaashi, and he was going to tell you after he took you out to dinner tonight — at least, that was his plan. but life doesn’t always go to plan, and now the two of you are stuck in a never ending line of traffic while the clouds above send buckets of rain down onto you. “keiji, i think we missed our reservation, maybe we should just go home.” he breathes out a sigh, leaning forward to squint through the lenses of his glasses. “but don’t worry, okay? we have all the time in the world for dates.” he diverts his attention to you upon hearing your words — and something about the way you have that bright grin on your face despite the situation causes all the feelings he has for you to surface. his hand swiftly finds your jaw as he gently pulls you in for a kiss, pulling away only to mumble against your lips, “i think i’m in love with you.”

for suna, it happens on a random monday night in his bedroom — a slip up that he wouldn’t regret. your head rests on his chest while his fingers dance on the skin of your arm. he’s already assumed that you’re asleep, but you’re not, and though it takes you a little while, you feel it — the feeling of “i <3 u” being engraved into your flesh, over and over again. you can’t help but giggle into his sweatshirt when you realize, causing his head to snap down to look at you. “what’s so funny?” you lift your head up to meet his gaze, offering him a smile as you drag your fingers across his skin in the same design. it immediately clicks for him, a cheeky smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he pushes your head back against his chest. “yeah yeah. i really do love you though.”