Tag: moamiswriting

“Are you sure that it won’t hurt?” Hinata asks, voice quiet and nervous when Kageyama presses their foreheads together, fingertips running over Hinata’s cheeks. It’s just a kiss, but his heart beats like a hurricane. He has never kissed anyone, but this is Kageyama. This is Hinata’s moon, his shadow, his setter.

“You spike my tosses with closed eyes,” Kageyama whispers against his mouth, breath warm and gentle. “Can you trust me like that now?”

Hinata can, and he does. Kageyama’s kiss is slow and his lips are shaking, fingertips singing like fire on Hinata’s skin where he touches him. 

Hinata’s eyes are closed. Kageyama always lets him soar. 

“Do you think I’m pretty, Iwa-chan?”

“I – what the fuck?” 

It’s unbelievable, how easily Oikawa still leaves him speechless even after years of friendship and four tentative months of kissing and holding hands. Hajime sighs, shutting his book and pulling his reading glasses off. Oikawa hasn’t said anything for an hour while staying quiet and curled up against Hajime’s waist, and that should’ve rang all alarms already. Hajime touches his hair, nuzzles his lips into the crown of it. “Why the hell do you think you even need to ask that?” 

Oikawa doesn’t look at him. He presses his face into the curve of Hajime’s neck, fingers searching for Hajime’s hands to hide inside his grip. His shoulders shiver, and there’s a dark, sharp sting in Hajime’s chest. “Oikawa?” He asks. And then, softer, sliding his warm hands between his boyfriend’s shoulders blades, his small fragile wings – “Tooru. What’s wrong?”

“I’m not a girl.” Oikawa says, quiet. “I’m not pretty, am I? And before me – you’ve only kissed girls. You like girls. I’m the only guy you’ve ever… and I’m not soft and petite, I’m taller than you.” 

“Okay, you need to shut the fuck up.” Hajime pulls him up, right into his lap, and guides Tooru by his neck, down, down, making their foreheads touch and his lips press softly against his boyfriend’s. Tooru makes a sweet noise, giving Hajime the gorgeous sight of his dark lashes fluttering shut, red dawning on his high cheekbones. Hajime slides his thumb over Tooru’s mouth and whispers, almost inaudible, into the gap of Tooru’s lips and his own heart: 

“Pretty isn’t the right word. You’re not a girl, won’t ever be, and I like that. You’re just – just you. And I’ve fallen so fuckin’ much for you that you take my breath and my mind and my – my goddamn soul, okay, you take all of me and tear me apart with how beautiful you are.” 

Hajime doesn’t let Tooru cry afterwards. Instead, he kisses him until his own mouth tastes sweet and raw like Tooru, and rests his hands on the slender ivory of his ribcage, below his heart. 

“Kageyama, I’m trying to do my homework here. Stop staring at me, it’s scary.”

“Shut up, I’m not scary. That’s just my face. And I wasn’t staring at you, I was staring at your lips.” 

“Why would you do that?” 

“…have you ever kissed anyone, Hinata?”

“What?! No! Why – hey, if you wanna make fun of me just because I haven’t kissed anyone, cut it out! Wanna fight? Just – just because I don’t have girls come to me and confess all the time, just because – “ 

“You’re an idiot. I haven’t… either. Kissed someone. But I think I wanna.” 

“…well why don’t you, then. Won’t be hard with all those swooning girls.” 

“Jesus Christ, did you receive so many volleyballs with your head that you got no brain left? You’re so fucking dense! Alright, I’m done. Get over here – stop moving, Hinata, I swear to – “ 

“I’m not – mhmphh. …Kageyama? Did you just – that was – oh. A k-kiss…?“ 

“…looking at someone’s lips means you wanna kiss them. Daichi told me. Was – was it bad? I’m sorry, but you’re just such a dumbass sometimes – !” 

“Shut up! And I didn’t say it was bad. But you should do it again. Just so I can make sure.” 

“Y-yeah. To make sure, ‘f course. Now c’mere, I wanna – mhm. Yeah. That.”

“Akaashi! Hey. Hey, Akaashi.” Bokuto bounces on the steps to the gym next to him, up-down and up-down, feet jogging in place just besides Akaashi’s hip.

“What is it?” Akaashi says and drinks the rest of his water bottle in one gulp. “It’s just a five minute break. I’ll toss to you again soon – ”

“You’re gay, right?” Bokuto keeps bouncing. There’s sweat trailing down his strong legs; he always takes off his knee pads during short breaks.

Akaashi looks away. If his face goes red, it’s from the sun that warms his skin. “Yeah.” Of course he’s gay, and the team knows. Why would Bokuto –

“And you’re single?”

Christ. Recently, Bokuto seems to love question games. “Yeah?”

More feet bouncing, and Bokuto dances around him to appear on Akaashi’s other side. “You’re gay and single?”

“Yeah…?”

“And you love volleyball.”

“What the hell. Yes, obviously – ”

“You’re gay and single and you love volleyball.”

“I swear to God, I’m gonna – yes, I am and yes I do, how much more – ”

“Go out with me.”

“Jesus Christ, yes! Stop asking – wait.”

Bokuto grins. “It’s a date, then. Does Friday sound good? I’ll pick you up at eight.” His fingers touch Akaashi’s chin, and when he leans down to kiss Akaashi’s cheek, his mouth is warm and soft.

Akaashi sits there, frozen, even when Bokuto’s already off to race back into the gym. His face burns. That idiot planned all of this. Akaashi feels a smile tickle his lips. Yes. Yes, of course. Always yes to Bokuto.

The words have been scratching in his throat for some time now. Levi decides to say them out loud when he’s in Erwin’s office, on the couch, legs warm and comfortable in Erwin’s lap.

“You know, if you ever feel shitty about that,” he traces the knot of Erwin’s sleeve, tangles his fingers in the empty fabric. “Just… don’t. There’s no need to, got it? You’re not less or worse just because – ”

“I know, Levi.” There’s no chance for Levi to react when Erwin leans in and kisses his forehead. It shouldn’t feel so nice, and the peace settling over his thundering heart shouldn’t come from a wounded man’s stupid touch.

“Good.” Levi closes his eyes and nuzzles Erwin’s shoulder, breathes, listens to Erwin turn the pages of his book. The silence that stretches is a soft, lily-warm white.

Then, Erwin’s lips touch his hair. “You wouldn’t let me become less than I can be. I know that, Levi. Just like the sun rises tomorrow, I know.”

Levi’s heart beats like a storm once more when his fingers tangle in hair and fabric, and the air of his lungs is drowned out by a breathed kiss, whispered into his veins.

He is their guardian. He is their cliff against the storm, his wings spreading behind all of their backs, feathers catching the residue of those war attacks that his team can’t battle alone. 

But even a guardian isn’t invincible; and when Nishinoya sits down after a game, legs shaking and arms burning in violet-crimson from the blood twitching underneath his skin, that’s when his own wings sink down, fall low. That’s when Asahi tucks him underneath his chin, wipes his sweat, and whispers “thank you” into the crown of Nishinoya’s head. He has his own guardian; his own shield. 

The other team’s setter is, apparently, both a sore loser and an asshole. When Kenma has to shake his hand after the game, the guy leans over with a slick grin, tongue darting over his teeth, licking his lips like he’s preparing to eat. 

“If you play in the bedroom like you do on the court, I’d love to get a rematch. Are you in, kitten?”

Kuroo has to hold back Lev and Yamamoto all at once, Yaku growling next to him, Inuoka cracking his knuckles. But even though his own blood goes boiling with fucking rage, Kuroo snaps “let him handle this on his own” back at them. If it had just been the sexual implication, maybe Kenma would’ve ignored that guy. Maybe he would’ve walked off.

But there is only one person in the world who gets to call him kitten. 

Kenma tilts his head at the other setter. He pulls his hand back, runs it through his hair, taking a slow, deep breath – and gifts the guy with a smile that has this asshole swallow hard and stumble back. 

“Cats don’t play with dirty mutts.”

Kenma doesn’t know if the guy replies or not. The hollering of Nekoma’s whole team is drowning out all other noises, and Kenma’s little smile stays until the late evening, when he’s nuzzled into Kuroo’s embrace and slaying a demon king in his favourite PS3 game.

When Kageyama yells “jump”, nobody listens. He’s alone, falls, crashes down.

But when he says it to Hinata, throat tight and dark from fear bubbling up, Hinata only asks one thing. 

“How high?”

“Oh my God,” Jean says. “Oh my fucking – God.”

“Would you stop that, please, I’m trying to make a sandwich here.” Marco’s face is redder than the ketchup bottle he’s clutching tightly to his chest, as if he’s trying to defend himself with the poor condiment. 

“You are incredible,” Jean repeats and shakes his head, a wide grin spreading on his lips. Something gleams in his eyes, gentle mockery and amber adoration. “Unbelievable. My boyfriend just got a thousand times cuter. Didn’t think that was possible.” 

“I didn’t even do anything. Now, could I just – “ 

“Marco.” Jean takes the ketchup bottle, sets it on the counter and points at the sandwiches as if they’re convicted criminals. “Marco Bodt. You paint little ketchup smileys on your sandwiches. It doesn’t get any cuter than this.” 

“Uhh,” Marco says and tries to shove the second plate behind his back. “Yeah, you’re right, doesn’t get any, ah. Cuter. I guess.” 

Jean’s reflexes aren’t the fastest, but when it’s about food and slash or his boyfriend, he’s quicker than a cat with cream. He snatches the plate with a triumphant howl, gently peeling the upper toast off the sandwich and – blinks. “Did you – okay, I take everything back. You did just get cuter.” 
Marco buries his face in his hands. “I used to make sandwiches for my sisters, okay, this isn’t my fault. And I’m not cute.” 

But Jean just leans in to kiss his forehead, the fingertips that hide his face, grinning like the lovestruck idiot he is. “Baby, you draw ketchup smileys on my sandwich and circle them with mustard hearts. Fucking mustard hearts. I think I couldn’t love you any more than I do now. And you’re fucking cute, okay?” 

Marco rolls his eyes and accepts the kiss before finishing their sandwiches.