Title: Hands Ship/Character: Miya Osamu/Akaashi Keiji Fandom: Haikyuu Major Tags: None Other Tags: theyre in their 30s and in love Word Count: 588 Remix Permission:See Permissions Sheet
i love this ship so much
***
Akaashi has always fallen back and had to catch himself, pick himself back up and all the missing pieces. At least, that’s what he did when he was younger. He’s over thirty now, still stuck in the same job he’d been in when he was twenty-two, still trying to push his way into the other departments. “We need you here!” They say but Akaashi doesn’t want to be there, but he’s good at what he does so he can’t just leave. It’s the same in the other departments, the workload and the work itself, but Akaashi can’t leave his department hanging.
But at least when he falls now, misses a deadline, he doesn’t have to be the only one to help pick up the pieces.
Osamu is there, waiting, arms open and catching him in the most perfect trust fall. He’s there with a warm bag of onigiri, made with finessed and practiced hands. Akaashi has watched him make onigiri hundreds of times now, yet he’s always surprised at the art and skill work Osamu puts into them.
“It’s all in the way you move your wrist,” Osamu explains, but Akaashi doesn’t think that’s it at all. It’s the way Osamu curls his fingers, gently so he doesn’t smush too much, packing it nice and tight and whole so all the warmth stays inside.
He must be putting magic in them too because they’re always amazing, but that might just be Osamu’s touch. Everything he does is with care. When he picks Akaashi up from work on the evenings the shop closes early, he’s always got a plastic bag holding their food around one wrist, and the other extends towards Akaashi, waiting.
Akaashi slips his hand into the one offered to him and it feels just like home, their fingers laced together and tight. Despite always working with his hands, Osamu’s are soft and firm, not at all rough like they probably were in high school.
“How do you get your hands so soft?” Akaashi babbles under the stars as they walk towards their apartment.
The laugh Osamu lets out is rich like chocolate, “It’s a secret.”
Akaashi just holds on tighter, shuffling a little closer as they pass by crowds in the street. As long as he holds onto Osamu’s he’s secure, he reminds himself. Osamu keeps him safe and secure.
When they get home on those evenings, the onigiri is devoured first, with Akaashi speaking between bites, and with his mouth full. Osamu has seen everything, so he’s not disgusted; if anything, it’s endearing the level of comfort Akaashi has with him. Akaashi, who is wound so tight it’s a miracle he doesn’t snap at any given moment. Akaashi whose nerves get the best of him and he can’t get into a packed train without Osamu’s hand in his, or something to hold onto. If Osamu isn’t there, it’s a small keychain of Onigiri Miya’s mascot that Osamu had made just for Akaashi and his anxiety. “To remind you of me when I’m not there.”
When the onigiri is gone, warm hands find Akaashi shoulders, moving under his shirt, pressing into the muscle and all that is bunched together, slowly kneading it apart.
“You’re tense.”
“It’s work.”
A soft hum, nothing but quiet as Osamu works all of his muscles so they unravel and Akaashi is nothing but a puddle on their couch. He’s got hands that make him stretch like putty and they’re Akaashi’s hands to hold and lean on when he’s about to fall.
FILL: Team Grandstand, G
Ship/Character: Miya Osamu/Akaashi Keiji
Fandom: Haikyuu
Major Tags: None
Other Tags: theyre in their 30s and in love
Word Count: 588
Remix Permission: See Permissions Sheet
i love this ship so much
***
Akaashi has always fallen back and had to catch himself, pick himself back up and all the missing pieces. At least, that’s what he did when he was younger. He’s over thirty now, still stuck in the same job he’d been in when he was twenty-two, still trying to push his way into the other departments. “We need you here!” They say but Akaashi doesn’t want to be there, but he’s good at what he does so he can’t just leave. It’s the same in the other departments, the workload and the work itself, but Akaashi can’t leave his department hanging.
But at least when he falls now, misses a deadline, he doesn’t have to be the only one to help pick up the pieces.
Osamu is there, waiting, arms open and catching him in the most perfect trust fall. He’s there with a warm bag of onigiri, made with finessed and practiced hands. Akaashi has watched him make onigiri hundreds of times now, yet he’s always surprised at the art and skill work Osamu puts into them.
“It’s all in the way you move your wrist,” Osamu explains, but Akaashi doesn’t think that’s it at all. It’s the way Osamu curls his fingers, gently so he doesn’t smush too much, packing it nice and tight and whole so all the warmth stays inside.
He must be putting magic in them too because they’re always amazing, but that might just be Osamu’s touch. Everything he does is with care. When he picks Akaashi up from work on the evenings the shop closes early, he’s always got a plastic bag holding their food around one wrist, and the other extends towards Akaashi, waiting.
Akaashi slips his hand into the one offered to him and it feels just like home, their fingers laced together and tight. Despite always working with his hands, Osamu’s are soft and firm, not at all rough like they probably were in high school.
“How do you get your hands so soft?” Akaashi babbles under the stars as they walk towards their apartment.
The laugh Osamu lets out is rich like chocolate, “It’s a secret.”
Akaashi just holds on tighter, shuffling a little closer as they pass by crowds in the street. As long as he holds onto Osamu’s he’s secure, he reminds himself. Osamu keeps him safe and secure.
When they get home on those evenings, the onigiri is devoured first, with Akaashi speaking between bites, and with his mouth full. Osamu has seen everything, so he’s not disgusted; if anything, it’s endearing the level of comfort Akaashi has with him. Akaashi, who is wound so tight it’s a miracle he doesn’t snap at any given moment. Akaashi whose nerves get the best of him and he can’t get into a packed train without Osamu’s hand in his, or something to hold onto. If Osamu isn’t there, it’s a small keychain of Onigiri Miya’s mascot that Osamu had made just for Akaashi and his anxiety. “To remind you of me when I’m not there.”
When the onigiri is gone, warm hands find Akaashi shoulders, moving under his shirt, pressing into the muscle and all that is bunched together, slowly kneading it apart.
“You’re tense.”
“It’s work.”
A soft hum, nothing but quiet as Osamu works all of his muscles so they unravel and Akaashi is nothing but a puddle on their couch. He’s got hands that make him stretch like putty and they’re Akaashi’s hands to hold and lean on when he’s about to fall.