SOOBIN :: GOOD BOY GONE BAD @ ACT : PROMISE ENCORE IN SEOUL DAY 1
*:・゚✧*:・゚✧
it’s saturday morning, and his eyes trace the outline your figure beneath the bedsheets. you look like a sculpture with the way the fabric hugs your curves—you surely belong in a gallery, he thinks, incomparable to any other artwork.
the early morning sun spills on the bed, a soft golden glow illuminating the both of you. it’s finally a lazy day, a day to sleep in, yet here he is, watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest as you rest peacefully beside him.
oh, how lucky he is.
as the sun rises higher, he reaches out to touch your face; his fingers lightly skim across your cheek, drinking in your beauty. you are absolutely ethereal, your presence alone providing both comfort in his heart and butterflies in his stomach.
maybe that’s why he calls you his angel. you came into his life and only made it better, made it sweeter, made it brighter. you saved him from himself.
and everyday—like this, with the sight of you next to him—he’s reminded daily just how lucky he is to be infinitely yours.
tetsuro kuroo, keiji akaashi, koushi sugawara, hajime iwaizumi, daichi sawamura, osamu miya, shinsuke kita, atsumu miya, tooru oikawa, your fav <3
a/n: i thought of this when i was rotting in bed this morning and saw this pin. i love cuddly mornings
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kuroo has always been a bit of a prankster, pulling harmless jokes on his friends to get a kick out of their reactions. it's his unique way of showing love. what he didn't realize was that you could match his energy.
"happy birthday, tetsu!" you exclaim. "time to make a wish."
inhaling deeply, he blows at the candle in one strong gust. but when he opens his eyes, the flame is still there.
"what. i thought i.." kuroo trails off and tries again unsuccessfully.
you watch in amusement as a look of confusion settles on his features. little does he know you bought a trick candle for his cake, one that would relight itself no matter how hard he tried to blow.
kuroo is no fool, and he catches on quickly after the second attempt when the flame still persists.
"i can't believe you'd betray me like this," he gasps, feigning shock. "a trick candle? really?"
"it's a symbol of my undying love for you," you profess dramatically though you can hardly keep a straight face.
"hmm then why don't you prove it? i think i deserve compensation for the mental distress you've put me through."
he leans in for a kiss only to be met with a generous dollop of frosting planted on his nose.
"i'm gonna remember what you did," kuroo warns jokingly as you're doubled over in a fit of giggles. "you won't be laughing when it's time for your birthday."
"oh come on, someone's gotta give you payback for all the pranks you've pulled."
before you can react, he smears some frosting on your cheek, and you shriek in surprise. sounds of mirth echo through the kitchen as you chase each other around, cake and candle long abandoned. when kuroo finally captures you and you're catching your breath in his arms, he can't imagine a better way to spend his birthday.
a/n: happy birthday kuroo 🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽
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© tetskuro 2024. please do not repost or modify my work.
character: kiyoomi sakusa (timeskip!sakusa)
word count: 865
warning(s): angst-ish to fluff, nothing explicitly stated about the timeskip, soft moment with omi
content: when sakusa's own mind is his worst enemy, you are his deliverance.
a/n: this idea has been in my head for WEEKS.
The mixture of winter air and pure exhaustion crept into Sakusa’s bones, chilling him to the core. He let out a weary sigh, grateful for his mask providing a little warmth for his face.
Despite being known as one of the best and most powerful players in the volleyball world, there were rare moments where his mind was his most formidable opponent; where the small monsters of insecurity and fatigue ate away at his psyche until there was nothing left. His usual stamina that he’d always been praised for was gone—his body now in autopilot mode and running low on fumes. Weighing him down like one-ton bricks, lethargy flooded his being and caused all his thoughts to flatline, devoid of energy.
As he opened the door to his apartment, nothing seemed more appealing to him than a shower and twelve hours of sleep. However, his body barely even had the strength to walk himself through the doorway and set his bag down, let alone stay awake long enough to shower, force himself to eat, and walk to his room for bed.
“‘Omi?” your sweet voice called from the kitchen. His half-lidded eyes fluttered closed with a sigh of relief, his body feeling slightly recharged just from knowing you were there.
He trudged into the kitchen and leaned his head against the doorway as he watched you cook with your back to him. He observed how your hips casually swayed in time with the soft music playing in the background, listened to how you hummed along to your favorite parts. Focusing on you breathed some life back into his body, especially after such long and arduous days apart from you.
You eventually looked back, sensing Sakusa’s presence in the kitchen. “Long week?”
All he did was nod with drooping eyes, barely registering that you removed his mask. “You’re freezing, ‘Omi,” you gently chided, slipping your hands into his to warm them up. Looking into his onyx eyes, you saw something foreign swirling within them, and you reached up to his face, running a gentle thumb over his cheek.
“What’s going on?” you asked with a voice barely above a whisper, as if you’d scare him away if you spoke any louder, “You look so troubled.”
He quietly nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck, his hands moving around your body to bring you close. The sudden physical affection was unlike Sakusa, but you welcomed it all the same. He reveled in your embrace; your arms were his sanctuary, always open to rescue him from himself.
“I’m so tired,” Sakusa’s words slurred into your skin, unfamiliar with feeling so raw, so vulnerable, “of everything.”
And that was what led him to now: him, standing undressed as you drew a bath.
The hot water slowly brought relief to his aching muscles and frigid bones as he slowly immersed himself in the bathtub. He let out a sigh, his head dropping back as he allowed himself to finally let go of the week’s stresses. You sat beside him, squeezing out a generous amount of his shampoo. He opened one eye, silently asking what you were doing.
“Please, let me take care of you,” you requested, moving to kneel behind him, and he gave a small nod.
With the scent of lavender flooding his senses and the feeling of your hands in his curls, Sakusa’s mind went silent once again, but now for a much different reason. The serenity of your touch, the comfort of your presence, was his salvation. His body was no longer cold, like a corpse, but felt warm, thawing from the rays of sunshine that beamed from your soul.
Your fingers slowly massaged his scalp, making sure to do your best to knead his troubles away. You leaned in to the shell of his ear, whispering, “Is this okay?” He gave another small nod in response, his eyes now fully closed.
With a small smile, you continued washing his hair for several minutes longer, hoping your actions were at least a little relaxing.
But you didn’t see how you practically revived Sakusa’s frozen heart, how you brought color back into his face. You made him feel at peace, leading him to believe that true love was real—that love was meant for him too.
What on earth did he do to deserve you?
“Thank you,” he whispered, slowly surrendering to sleep, “I love you.” His eyelids were so heavy, his words barely coherent. He didn’t even realize he said it: those three powerful words.
As you rinsed out his hair, you couldn’t fight off the smile that made your face hurt or the blush that made your cheeks burn scarlet. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”
While snuggling in your shared bed, Sakusa relished the heat of your body against his. With a soft gaze, you looked up and took his face in your hands. You leaned in, your lips grazing his forehead: one kiss on each freckle. Breathing in his lavender scent, you contentedly sighed, “I love you too, ‘Omi. Goodnight.”
Sakusa knew that no matter what freezing darkness tried to overwhelm him, you—his dayspring—would always be there to shine his way back home.
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the instant the temperatures begin to drop, it's a signal to atsumu to prepare himself for the months ahead. not because he doesn't fare well in cold weather—atsumu tends to run hot, but you? all the layers of clothing and blankets couldn't prevent the frigid winter air from nipping at you.
atsumu likes to complain about being your personal heater, but you can't help it if your fingers and toes are still freezing even after putting on snug mittens or fuzzy socks.
"yer feet are like ice blocks," he grumbles when your cold extremities brush against his legs. the heat radiating off of him is a warmly welcomed respite from the chilly outside world.
"i can't help it, 'tsumu. winter has a personal vendetta against me apparently."
despite his whining, he does nothing to stop you from tangling your legs with his. or snaking your hands underneath his shirt. or burying your face in the crook of his neck.
your teeth chatter involuntarily even as you're buried beneath two quilts and a comforter, and atsumu feels a wave of protectiveness, securing his arms firmly around your shivering form.
he pretends to be disgruntled, but affection seeps through his words. "are ya happy?"
snuggling closer to him, you hum contentedly, and he feels your smile against his skin. the light touch of your fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on his bare back sends tingles down his spine like stray sparks from a bonfire.
he'll never admit it but atsumu is secretly happy to be your hearth. because even though it may be cold outside, when you're holding him close, how can he deny the swelling warmth in his heart?
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JIYAN ❖ THROUGH THE DARKEST OF NIGHTS
Jiyan, leader of the Midnight Rangers, acts with swift and resolute righteousness. He possesses the formidable ability to conjure a powerful Qingloong from the winds, making him invincible on the battlefield.