Thread by @liliapocalypse

#SakuAtsu Everyone in MSBY is still shocked whenever Kiyoomi sits beside Atsumu, pouting and nudging his head on Atsumu’s shoulder with a hairtie between his fingers.

Atsumu smiles endearingly, taking the tie. “Donut?” Omi nods as Atsumu ties Omi’s long curly hair to a bun. +

That’s how they got together, after all. Because of Covid, Omi’s hair grew so long that he has to tie it. He often went for a ponytail because he can’t do a bun but he hated the way his hair flicked against his face as he played.

Until one day Atsumu offered to tie it for him. +

Kiyoomi let him. It’s not a big deal, he thought, until Atsumu’s fingers carded through his hair, the pads brushing softly against his scalp it made Kiyoomi sigh, his body pliant.

“How do you know how to do this, Miya?”

“Our town is a small so my nieces are always around. +

Their hair kept on hitting my face whenever I played with them, so I learned how to make a bun.”

Omi lifted a hand to touch the bun and turned to see a ridiculously proud grin on Atsumu’s face. “There ya go, Omi Omi. Ya look cute like a donut.”

“What?”

“Donut.” +

“No, that’s not w—“

“That’s what I told them. They don’t think buns are cute so I had to say they look like they have a cute donut on their head. I also bought pins to decorate their hair and everything.”

Atsumu waved a hand, drawing attention away form the heat in his cheek. +

It happened every day after that. Sometimes Atsumu would offer first, but he can’t deny that he waits until the last moment because he likes it when Omi asks for his help.

Omi, all flustered and shy as he sat beside Atsumu and held up a hairtie. Omi, neutral and impassive, saying, “Tie my hair, Miya.”

He’d tease him most of the time, too. “What else d’ya have to say?”
“...”
“Hm?”
“...please, Miya.”
“That wasn’t so hard, was it? Sit here!” +

Or sometimes: “What d’ya want, Omi-kun?”
“You already know what.”
“I don’t.”
“Don’t make me say it.”
“...”
“The donut, Miya. I want the donut.”
A flash of a smile. A groan from another. “Okay, then!” +

Their newfound routine took a turn when Omi saw an open pouch. Inside are two combs, several products for Atsumu’s dyed hair, and dozens upon dozens of hairties. (He also noticed that Atsumu has his favorite brand of alcohol, sanitizer, and wipes, but—one thing at time.) +

Kiyoomi realizing that he likes Atsumu because he carries a separate comb for him was something he could have never foreseen.

And Omi has never been one to lie or to beat around the bush, so when Atsumu walked in, fresh from the shower, he blurted out:

“I like you, Atsumu.”

Shock flashed across his face, but Atsumu trudged on. “C’mon. Sit down.”

Atsumu stood behind him as Omi sat on the bench, nimble hands combing Omi’s hair. “You know my hair’s still wet, right? And that training is over?”

“Ah, shit.” A nervous chuckle immediately followed. +

Growing concerned, Kiyoomi took the comb and placed it on the bench before holding Atsumu’s wrists. Then Kiyoomi tilted his head back to look at Atsumu. “You don’t have to say anything about what I said. I’m not asking you to like me back. I just wanted to tell you.”

He’d expected to be turned down and rejected, a cold shiver running down his spine as Atsumu pried his hands away from Kiyoomi’s.

But then he said, “Are you kiddin’ me, Omi? Why did ya think I called ya cute the first time, then?”

Atsumu held his chin with bandaged hands, their lips upside down but meeting nonetheless.

When they part, everything was topsy-turvy, but this—/Atsumu/—felt right. Is right. Has always been and will always be right.

Kiyoomi grinned. “Did you make up that donut story to save your sorry ass, Atsumu?”

A theatrical gasp comes out of his mouth, but the curve in his lips is undeniable. “Hey, that’s true! And it’s not my fault you looked so cute then! And also really, /really/ hot.” +

The team found out about the new development when they went on with their routine, except this time Atsumu leaned in to kiss Kiyoomi on the nose. Once, it was Kiyoomi who pulled Atsumu down for a peck. +

Months later, in their shared apartment, Atsumu asks why Omi hasn’t cut his hair yet. It’s been months since the lockdown, and things are relatively safe for a haircut.

Omi wraps Atsumu’s arms around him and melts against his body. “Because you won’t tie my hair for me anymore.”

Atsumu smiles fondly at his boyfriend. “I’ll still comb it for ya. I can even wash yer hair if ya want.”

Omi sighs, the truth sitting heavy in his chest. He lets it out. “I don’t like it when routines change. We started because of this, so cutting it feels... ominous, somehow.”+

Atsumu’s lips meet Omi’s, upside down like their first. “This won’t change, Omi. Not even if yer hair turns gray or ya go bald. My love for you won’t change, Omi.”

The hug tightens, warm and reassuring. The worries melt away. “My love for you won’t change too, Atsumu. Not ever.”

Bonus because wow this became way too long. They book an appointment at a salon the next day and Kiyoomi asks the hairdresser to collect his hair. They hand him a bundle of curly hair tied with a rubber band. They hold a fake funeral over it, Atsumu laughing all the way through.

Also NSFW (I know this profile is sfw now IM SORRY THIS IS A ONE TIME THING) Another reason why Omi doesn’t want a haircut is because he likes it when Atsumu pulls his hair during sex. He /loves/ it when Atsumu wraps his hair into a fist and pulls as he thrusts inside him.

// okay this is actually the end

i only have cute fluffy hcs as offerings lately because i can’t write anything else rn im just perpetually tired and i kinda don’t like my writings lately haha 🥲