mochibin
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Summary
“Be careful,” Shane frets, one hand hovering over Ilya’s shoulder. “It’s icy, and I don’t want to be a widower.”
“Oh, we’d have to be much higher than this for the fall to kill me,” Ilya says, gaze still fixed on the cool black skyline. “At least seven stories.”
It’s not until much later, as the waitress is clearing the dishes from dinner, that Yuna finds herself wondering why Ilya knows exactly how high a fall needs to be in order to kill him.
Or: Yuna learns about Ilya's past bit by bit over the years.
Series
- Part 8 of my anonymous heated rivalry fic
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Summary
“That cookie you ate,” Kuroo explains carefully. “Contains a love potion. The first person you see after eating that, you fall in love with. Now, tell me, who were you with last night when you ate the cookie?”
Bokuto’s brain explodes, and it’s like—it’s like every cell in his body is frozen. Except his mouth, apparently, because he still manages to answer, “Akaashi.”
Bookmarked by mochibin
24 Nov 2025
Bookmarker's Notes
The thing is, even though Bokuto knows that being hit by a love potion means feeling things like love (obviously), and things like love meant feeling invincible, like being on top of the world and being able to conquer everything, Bokuto already feels that around Akaashi. With Akaashi around, he always feels like he’s having the best time of his life. “I guess I feel happier. Hey, what if this isn’t a love potion, but a happy one?”
“Maybe.” Akaashi’s lips reluctantly curl up into an amused smile as he considers this. Bokuto puffs up his chest proudly for being able to pull that kind of look from Akaashi. When the latter stands up, laces already tied, Bokuto slings an arm over him. Akaashi continues talking. “If it really is, then it would be convenient to have more of it. Maybe that way you’ll never get dejected enough to mess up in matches.”
“I always get my groove back though!” Bokuto argues. Akaashi hums noncommittally. “And besides, I don’t need a happy potion for that when I have you!”
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Summary
Some people might tell Akaashi that he couldn't bake his worries away.
But some people haven't dated Bokuto Koutarou.
- Language:
- English
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- 1/1
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Bookmarked by mochibin
18 Nov 2025
Bookmarker's Notes
It really bothered him that he couldn’t say it.
“Akaashi, you made pudding?” Bokuto poked his head back into the bathroom.
“No,” Akaashi said defensively.
“But there’s pudding on the counter.”
“Yes,” Akaashi said, lowering his shoulders. “I made pudding.”
“That’s great,” Bokuto said, excited, and then his face grew suspicious. “Are you worried about something?”
“I was curious about a new recipe. That’s all.” Akaashi shrugged. “Try it out.”
“Okay!”
Akaashi was a liar. That pudding was actually worry pudding. He stirred in the milk while mouthing “I l…” over and over again, whipping it frenetically until his arm was sore. After it had boiled, he had stirred in the butter and vanilla and stress while saying things like “I like…” in his empty kitchen. While he pulled the plastic wrap taut over the mixture, he had dissolved into “I loft, I lore, I loom…” because maybe his mouth would get used to the shape and it would accidentally slip out and everything would be fine.
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Summary
Kiyoomi has a third epiphany: Miya is, most likely, his friend. Which means that Motoya isn’t his only friend anymore, which also means Motoya is now his best friend. Kiyoomi hates it here.
Kiyoomi and Osamu are flatmates, the student life is not rose-colored, and Atsumu shows up at the most unexpected times in the most expected places. Kiyoomi is... dealing with it.
Series
- Part 2 of the wikiHOW series
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 46,795
- Chapters:
- 3/3
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Bookmarked by mochibin
27 Oct 2025
Bookmarker's Notes
From the other room, Miya the Menace yells, “I’m getting ramen from the good place, be back in ten.”
“Or never,” Miya the Manageable yells right back. There’s the sound of a shoe being thrown, and probably a new imprint on the walls Kiyoomi has been keeping pristine for three years.
In no particular order, Kiyoomi contemplates the past three years: Dating Atsumu. The jar and kintsugi. Melted bones and the Amagasaki porch, Queen curled up in his lap. University worksheets, volleyball practice and the national team. Playing Monopoly in his childhood home, being called Omi-kun , and learning how to cook. Onigiri Miya and watermelons. Kansai-ben everywhere, in the floorboards and in Kiyoomi’s chest and probably sticky in his curls, too. The birds in front of his window, who finally built a nest together.
“Not that bad, actually,” Kiyoomi hums, propping up the mop against the wall and sitting down next to Motoya on the floor. And then, because his cousin is doing the dramatic Kiyo has feelings face again, he adds, “Can’t wait to beat your ass in the first division.”
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this is THE sakuatsu fic. absolute masterpiece
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now it seems as though we speak a completely different language (but you'll always be as beautiful as the moment that we met) by jublis
Fandoms: Haikyuu!!
17 Oct 2020
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Summary
It’s hard to find something that belongs only to yourself when you’re a kid. You scrape all your edges to fit into something else’s corners, and then turns out it wasn’t even what you were looking for in the first place. Being a person is such hard, hard work. No one knows that better than children who are too much.
(When a boy is left alone for too long, he hungers.
That’s Shouyou’s first answer.)
Or, Hinata Shouyou learns how to stand on his own two legs. Featuring one too many complicated emotions, Kageyama Tobio, and hunger.
Series
- Part 1 of blackbox
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 7,710
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- 1/1
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- 1
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Bookmarked by mochibin
24 Aug 2025
Bookmarker's Notes
Flying, Shouyou thinks, dazedly, is a very different word than soaring.
And it’s an odd thing, really. He knows next to nothing about volleyball, other than the obvious, and a specific sport has never really been his thing, like soccer is Kouji’s, or basketball is Izumi’s; it never even crossed his mind, that this is something he could do, that this is something he could be. You never really know until it’s glaring at you, and grabbing at the front of your shirt, and your ears are ringing, and you are only the blood in your veins and the marrow in your bones, and at ten years old, you learn what the word want means for the first time.
Shouyou isn’t lonely. He has his friends and school, and his mother, and a sister he’s learning to love more than anything else in the world. His position in this world is like a coin with too many sides: he’s cheerful, but he’s loud; he’s encouraging, but he’s overbearing; he’s a happy kid, but he is too much.
It’s hard to find something that belongs only to yourself when you’re a kid. You scrape all your edges to fit into something else’s corners, and then turns out it wasn’t even what you were looking for in the first place. Being a person is such hard, hard work. No one knows that better than children who are too much.
(When a boy is left alone for too long, he hungers.
That’s Shouyou’s first answer.)