#atsumu x fem!reader fluff | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

heavenlyakin · 5 months ago

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Ode to a Conversation Stuck in Your Throat

- Atsumu Miya x Fem!Reader

cw: loosely based on the movie 10 Things I Hate About You, college au (set in America as well), reader is in a sorority (this author was never in one so sorry if I made up shit), reader goes dress shopping, mentions of eating, drinking, dancing, kissing, groping, and sexual themes. Not edited!

a/n: for @bloompompom romcom collab! I hope y'all enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. The songs in the story are Ode to a Conversation Stuck in Your Throat by Del Water Gap, Mr Brightside by The Killers, and Dance Dance by Fall Out Boy.

wc: 5.4k

You drop your backpack on the ground beside the picnic table Vera has claimed outside the student union. She looks up from her laptop to smile at you but you shake your head.

“Bad day?”

“Bad day,” you confirm. “Fuck math, honestly. I don’t even need it for my degree, the university just requires it so they can drain our bank accounts even more.”

“Have you eaten today?” She laughs, sliding you her lunch box, three Onigiri sitting perfectly in it.

“Osamu drop by again?” You ask, picking the one closest to you.

“Mhmm,” she hums. “He just went to take his brother some. He’ll be back.”

You roll your eyes at the mention of his brother. Atsumu Miya, the star setter of the university’s volleyball team. Arrogant, flirtatious, and insufferable to be around. Since Vera started seeing Osamu, you’ve been caught in the crossfire since wherever one twin is, the other is sure to follow. Unfortunately, your love for your friend outweighs abandoning her when he shows up.

So you’ve put up with his insistent flirting, his stupid jokes, and his innuendos when he’s drunk.

Osamu kisses the top of Vera’s head as he sits down, muttering something in her ear and making her smile and smack him. He’s been teaching her filthy phrases in Japanese, and apparently, she liked this particular one.

“How was Atsumu?” Vera asks Osamu, nudging him with her elbow.

You look at her and frown. She has that look on her face that indicates she’s up to something.

“Oh great!” He smiles at her and then looks at you. “-----, I was actually going to ask-”

“Stop. Stop right there.” You hold up your finger to him.

“You don’t even know what he’s going to say!” Vera smacks your finger away. “Listen to him.”

“Fine,” you roll your eyes and force a smile. “What is it?”

“Atsumu,” he starts and you sigh, “he’s not adjusting well. He acts like he is but when he’s at our apartment, he never comes out of his room unless it's for class or practice.” He takes a sip from his water bottle before continuing. “He needs someone to go out with and I know he likes your company.”

You scoff but Osamu doesn’t budge. “How? I’ve not been nice to him since I met him.”

Osamu smiles, “I think he’s into that. Caught him listening to “She’s So Mean” the other night, actually.”

You look to Vera and her eyes are pleading. You know from a conversation with her that she hasn’t slept with Osamu yet, but she wants to. It’s probably because Atsumu never leaves the apartment and is killing their mood.

“You both owe me. Big time.”

“I just so happen to have two tickets to your favorite band next month,” Vera says casually, taking a bite of her own Onigiri.

“Since when? Those were way overpriced when we checked!” You frown, looking at her shrug.

“Got ‘em the day after.” She says through a mouth full of food and you laugh.

“Fine, I’ll do it for the tickets. Just tell me how to get Atsumu to go out with me.”

“We have the formal next week,” Vera smiles. “He knows about it since Osamu is going with me. Just ask him to do that.”

–

The hallway smells like sweat and dirty socks outside the boy's locker room. You wonder how they can stand it themselves, but realize they’re probably nose-blind to it after years of smelling it. You lean against the wall, hoping it’s not going to ruin your white sweatshirt.

Men trickle out, one by one, soaked with sweat or wet from their shower. You hope it’s from the shower. You’re ready to give up when you spot his blonde hair. Atsumu Miya is wearing a university-branded black sweatshirt and matching sweats. He has a gym bag thrown over his shoulder and he’s laughing with a teammate.

His eyes catch yours and he looks away. His facial expression changes, his eyes lighting up as he realizes it’s you. He says a few more words you can’t make out to his teammate before strolling towards you.

“Hey, —--, what are you doing here?” He asks, that sleazy grin on his cheeks.

Fighting back an insult, you grin. “So, this is embarrassing really.” You twirl a strand of hair between your fingers. “My sorority is hosting a formal in a week, so I wondered if you’d be my date.”

His eyes widen for a moment, but he nods. “I would love to be your date.” Then something on his face changes. “In exchange for something, however.”

“What is it?” You frown, irritated he’d even think this was a negotiation.

“We have a banquet for the team in two days. Come with me to that, and I’ll go with you to the formal.” Atsumu’s smile is confident, but something in his eyes tells you he’s worried you’ll walk away.

“Fine. You have to buy me a new dress for it though. I already bought one for the formal, but I am not about to buy one for the banquet I don’t want to be at.”

He laughs. “I don’t really want to go either, but since we won this year’s tournament, we kinda have to attend, y’know.”

You nod, understanding. You don’t want to attend the sorority’s formal or be in the sorority either. However, Vera begged you to join and you know it’ll look good on your resume. So you’ve been in it for the last year and a half despite hating most of the events.

“Meet me at the mall later? Seven o’clock?”

“Sure,” he smiles at you and you give a quick one back before walking away.

The walk back to your apartment is chilly, so you pull on your hoodie. The weather is quickly turning, and the leaves changing on the mountains around your campus. Vera isn’t in the apartment when you get home, as usual since she pretty much lives with Osamu now. You don’t mind, especially since she doesn’t leave messes around the apartment when she’s gone.

Somehow, you manage to kill two hours between playing Stardew Valley on your Switch and scrolling through socials on your phone. You notice it’s nearing seven. Groaning, you get off the couch and force yourself to take the elevator down to the parking garage to your car.

Atsumu is standing in the food court when you walk into the mall, finding it strange that he’d know this is where you would like to enter from. When he turns around, he’s holding two smoothies. One, half gone as if he’s been here a while. He holds it out and you thank him.

“Vera said you like strawberries and bananas,” he tells you and you nod and thank him. It’s a very kind gesture, something he didn’t need to do. It softens you up a bit, whether you like to admit it or not.

“Were you here with her and Osamu?” You ask after taking a long sip.

He shakes his head no. “She was at the apartment. I think they were rushing me out.” He laughs, rubbing the back of his head with his free hand like he’s uncomfortable.

“Ah,” you feel for him, you do, but he can be annoying so you understand Vera. “Well, let's get a dress then.”

He follows you down the mall hallway, not saying anything but a few comments on the stores you pass. Most of them are either hosting sales for the coming holidays. You insist you don’t want to go look for anything but something to wear to his banquet. Once in the boutique where you bought your formal dress, you pull him over towards the side with your favorite colors on the rack.

“I can’t get anything green,” you tell him. The dress you bought for your formal is a strappy emerald green, so you’d rather have something in a different color.

“What about purple?” He asks, holding up a long-sleeved plum dress. The fabric looks soft, but like it’ll cling awkwardly.

“I like the color,” you take it from him, feeling the fabric. “But, this might get hot in a crowded room.” You hang it back on the rack. Another look through the purple dresses, you see that it’s been picked through. “I guess we have to try a different color.”

“Black is always a good look, classy.” He tells you and you roll your eyes.

“Now I don’t want black,” you tell him with a sweet smile and he rolls his eyes now.

“What other colors do you like?” He asks as if he’s genuinely trying to help.

“I don’t know. I don’t like shopping when I don’t know what others are wearing.” At least when you were shopping here with Vera, the other sorority sisters were here too so you could all know what one another was wearing and coordinate to an extent.

“I’m wearing a black tux with a blue tie.”

“What color blue?” You ask.

“Um,” he looks around, sipping on his smoothie. He walks down a few racks. “This shade.” He holds out a baby blue dress. It’s very cute and would look nice on your curves.

“Let me see the sizes they have,” you sigh, not sure about the color despite the shape. They do have your size, so you go to the dressing room, to try it on.

You were right, it hugs your body in the places you want. You open the door, letting Atsumu see it. His eyes go bright and wide when you meet them and you cover your body with your arms and shut the door.

“What?” He whines, knocking on the door.

“Don’t look so surprised.” You tell him.

“I’m not! I knew it’d look good on you, and I was right! I was just excited to see it.”

You open the door, letting him see you again. “I do like it.”

“Then let me buy it for you.” He grins, leaning forward so his face is just above yours.

You freeze, feeling his breath on your skin. This is the closest you’ve been to him since you met him. You know it’s impossible, but you swear you can feel the heat from his body leaching yours away.

You step back. “You really don’t have to. I was just being an ass earlier. I can buy my own-“

“No, I insist.” He smiles, taking the dress from your hand.

You don’t fight him as he walks up to the register, paying for the dress and then asking you if you have shoes that’ll match. You inform him of your shoe addiction and assure him you’ll have something that looks good with the dress.

“Y’know, I also collect shoes. Mostly sneakers though, nothing fancy like I’m sure you have.” Atsumu keeps the conversation going as you walk back to the food court.

“Mine is nothing fancy either.” You smile at him, a genuine smile. Maybe he isn’t so bad. Maybe it’s just because he’s trying to butter you up so you don’t decide to go back on your agreement to go to the formal and banquet with him.

It’s definitely the latter.

“Have you had dinner?” You ask and he shakes his head.

“Your bestie rushed me out before my noodles finished microwaving.”

You laugh at the way bestie sounds on his lips. You find yourself wondering if there’s a Japanese equivalent to the slang word but stop yourself from asking. You don’t have to befriend Atsumu to get tickets to the concert, just go on these two side quests with him.

“Can I at least buy you something as a thank you for the dress?” You ask and he smiles at you, his teeth shining… but you notice a berry seed stuck between two of his teeth.

You don’t tell him about it, but find yourself thinking about how adorably childlike it was. You shake your head, clearing the thought, and then gesture to the multiple food establishments around you and him.

“Noodles? Sandwiches? Pizza?” You ask, eyeing the different booths.

“I think I’ll go with Chinese,” he tells you. “Unless you want something else.”

“I love Chinese,” you tell him and follow him to the vendor.

After ordering your food, you sit across from him at one of the less dirty mall tables and awkwardly eat together in silence. It’s not that you have nothing to say to him, it’s just all your thoughts happen to be funny insults or sarcastic remarks.

So you keep your mouth preoccupied with the mall Chinese food.

–

Two days pass incredibly quickly. That happens when things are coming up that you don’t particularly look forward to, you suppose. You have about three hours until Atsumu told you he’d pick you up on Snapchat. You weren’t about to give him access to your phone number. Plus, you have a secret habit of stalking people on the SnapMap feature.

You decide it’s time to get ready, so you do. By the time you’re showered, dressed, makeup and hair done, it’s just a few minutes before Atsumu is due at your door. Tossing your lipstick and gloss into your clutch, you sit down on your bed to slip on your strappy silver heels that look good with the dress Atsumu picked out.

For a split, unpredictable, second you begin to wonder what Atsumu will think of your shoe choice.

You shake your head, clearing the thought and making your hair bounce around your face. Pushing it out of the way, you stand up and head to the living room. As you approach the center of the room, the knock at the door startles you. Glancing at your phone, you see he’s a few minutes early.

“Hey!” He’s dressed in a black suit, with a light blue tie that matches your dress almost perfectly.

“Hi,” you don’t smile, but you don’t grimace at least. Shutting the door, you lock it behind you, no longer worrying if Vera has her key or not. She can always go to Osamu’s.

The drive to the sports campus isn’t long, honestly if you weren’t wearing heels it would be a nice walk with the slightly warmer evening you’re having. Atsumu plays a band you don’t recognize, but you enjoy it silently.

I don't want anybody else touching you like I do

Like I do, like me

Is it okay

That I don't want anybody else touching you like I do

Like I do, like me?

The last time it plays, you hum along and glance over to Atsumu who is mouthing the lyrics. You can’t hate him for having a decent song playing. You smile looking back out the window. Maybe he isn’t who he likes to portray himself as at those parties you’ve been to where he’s been a total douche.

Atsumu parks outside the volleyball center, pulling into one of the closest spots he can find to the walkway, which you appreciate. These shoes are comfortable enough for a few hours but you don’t want to push it, especially when you like to walk to campus as much as possible during the week. Having blisters for the next two days and then your formal on Saturday would be a bitch.

Your hand grazes Atsumu’s hand and you pull it back closer to your body, cheeks warming. You keep looking forward, despite feeling the burn from his eyes on you. He must have that signature smirk on his lips, but you can’t bring yourself to look.

He holds the door open and you can hear the music filling the hallway from the gym. When you make it inside, you see it’s been transformed from the standard gymnasium into a beautiful banquet hall. The hardwood floor has been covered in a dark carpet and the drapes cover the high ceilings and bleachers around the room.

“Wow,” you dazzle at the room, taking in the beautifully set tables and the gorgeous people filling the room.

“Pretty cool right? Looks nothin’ like the gym usually does.” He grins, holding his arm out. “I’ll show ya to our table.”

You take his arm and let him lead you. It’s towards the front and you notice it;s organized by rank. He’s a third year, and a starter, so he gets to sit at the front row of tables. He pulls your chair out and you sit next to the dark haired man already at the table. Atsumu introduces him as Sakusa, he knows him from back home in Japan.

Sakusa doesn’t seem interested in continuing the conversation so you don’t press. You’ve been there after all.

Turning your attention to Atsumu, you listen in as he talks to another player, who’s name you’ve forgotten. They discuss their last game, the setter dump Atsumu played to win the match. They both talk so enthusiastically you almost wish you’d been there for it. It was hosted here, and Vera went with Osamu.

You’d chosen to stay in and read one of the books you’d been assigned for your Victorian Lit class, claiming it was more important than school spirit. Really, you were just avoiding seeing Atsumu anymore than you have to.

Atsumu stops talking when someone takes the mic, you look up to see it’s their coach. He gives out some awards, two of which go to Atsumu. You clap for him and cheer the second time. He blushes as he sits back down. You don’t push away his hand when he places it on your knee underneath the table.

“With that, I conclude the season. I’m proud of each of you boys. Enjoy the rest of your night!” The coach steps off the stage and “Mr. Brightside” starts blasting across the speakers in the gym.

Boys and their dates get up, rushing to the center of the room where a dance floor has been staged. They all look so excited and happy to be here. Without turning your head too much, you look over to Atsumu. You don’t want him to notice you watching him, but you see a longing in his eyes you can’t ignore.

“Wanna dance?”

“We don’t have to…” he stares off to the crowd again.

“Oh, come on.” You stand up and take his hands.

Jealousy

Turning saints into the sea

Swimming through sick lullabies

Choking on your alibi

He walks with you as you try to not trip walking backwards to the dance floor quickly. Atsumu’s eyes are bright and wide as you spin him around at arm's length. He laughs and so do you. He pulls you in closer, starting to jump at the same beat as everyone else on the floor.

“I’m comin’ out of my cage!” he shouts.

“And I’ve been doin’ just fine!” you finish and he laughs, spinning you around a few times as the music plays and your head spins.

“How did it end up like this?”

“It was only a kiss!” You’re now in each other’s personal space shouting the lyrics and jumping and laughing to the music.

Just as the song is about to end, someone bumps into you and you fall against Atsumu’s body. He holds you against him, catching his breath and smiling. His eyes don’t move from yours as you straighten in his arms, body flush with his. He’s just millimeters away. So close you can feel his breath on your lips.

He closes your eyes and your stomach erupts into butterflies.

You push him away.

–

The morning of your formal, you think about texting Atsumu to cancel.

The last few nights have been fitful attempts at sleeping. Your dreams are full of Atsumu and self loathing for not taking the opportunity you had to kiss him. You wanted to, you did. In fact, you’ve never wanted to kiss anyone more when you think about it.

However, it would make this messy. You can’t fall for someone you’re being paid to haul around. So you decide to not cancel.

You have to go to support the new pledges and you agreed to take him for the concert tickets. So you go through the day, still ignoring the multiple unread snapchats you have from Atsumu until you get a text from Vera.

Text him back, bitch. He won’t stop freaking out at me and Samu. This is our deal!

You reply with an emoji and open the snaps from Atsumu.

Hey… sorry about last night.

I hope I didn’t freak you out.

—--, please answer me. I’m sorry.

Hey, what time should I pick you up tonight?

You see his bitmoji pop up as you start typing and you sigh. You lie about coming down with a cold the last few days and then let him know you’re all good for tonight and he should get you at eight. You can’t help but smile knowing he was freaked out that you weren’t answering him.

By the time eight rolls around, you’re ready and waiting by the door. He arrives on time and smiles as he looks you up and down. You can’t say it doesn’t flatter you, but you’re already on edge after him almost kissing you…

Or was it you who went in first?

No… no it was him. It had to be him.

In the car he plays that song again.

I used to call you my best friend

Way back before you were my everything

Now I’m sucking your neck

And you wrote my favorite song

Now I’m fucked up and carrying on

I do not know the words to it yet, oh

And it hits me

I don’t want anybody else touching you like I do

Like I do, like me

You hum along with him, before asking him the name of it. He shows you his phone while keeping one hand on the steering wheel. You favorite it on Spotify then put your phone back in your purse.

“We’ll probably have to park in that garage a few blocks from the house. We’re not going to be able to find any parking near it.” You tell him as the music fades out and another song starts.

“Oh good idea,” he says, turning on his blinker to turn towards the garage nearby the sorority house.

The walk towards the house is littered with other members and their dates for the night. You stay far enough away to where waves suffice as an acknowledgement of their presence. You’ll have plenty of time to socialize once you’re inside.

“Did Vera say when she’s coming with your brother?” You ask as you both start up the steps to the main entrance of the house.

The sorority house has been completely transformed from living quarters to an elegant formal event. Furniture is sparse besides high tables and some bar stools for those tables. The living room still has the comfortable couches, but they’re pushed up against the walls and full of the new pledges waiting who must be too shy to mingle just yet.

“I think they should be here now,” Atsumu finally answers.

You look around. “I’ll go get us a drink and then we can look for him.”

On the way to the kitchen you run into several girls who want to know just how you got Atsumu to come with you. You just laugh and make a few jokes about it before finally getting two cups of champagne and bringing them to Atsumu.

He’s flocked by a few of his friends, and Osamu. You hand him the drink and then walk away, no longer feeling obligated to keep him company. Vera is standing with a girl named Heather who’s the president of your chapter of the sorority.

You join them in conversation before Heather is swept away to handle something with the pledges.

“Where’s Atsumu?” She asks, dragging out the last vowel.

“Where’s Osamu?” You mimic.

“Looks like they’re having a good time with each other.” She says and you nod, taking a sip of your drink. “Thank you for bringing him.”

“Eh, it’s worth the tickets.”

“Shh,” she hushes you and you roll your eyes.

“He won’t find out, it’s fine.” The music is way too loud for him to overhear you.

“I think he likes you,” Vera says after a few moments of listening to the new song that’s started. “He’s been a mess for a few days since you didn’t answer him.”

You frown, this definitely was not something you had accounted for when you agreed to bring him to this as your date.

“Did you know he would-”

“Hey, wanna dance?” Atsumu interrupts and you frown again at Vera before nodding to him.

“Sure,” you pound the drink, handing the cup to Vera before taking his hand and going to the dance floor.

The music is loud and all consuming. So many people are dancing, you don’t even notice Atsumu much, besides when his hands slip around your waist and you wiggle away from him as nonchalantly as possible.

He doesn’t stop though, and you like it despite knowing this isn’t making it easier on him… or you.

A few songs pass before someone calls out for some shots, and everyone runs to get one but you and Atsumu. He looks at you and takes your hands in his.

“Want a drink?” He asks.

“Eh,” you shrug. “The champagne doesn’t do well with all this dancing.

“We don’t have to keep dancing,” he grins and you avert your eyes.

“I’ll be right back.” You tell him, walking off and towards the stairs you’d seen Vera go up a song or two ago.

If Atsumu had feelings for you before this started, it was fucked up of Osamu and her to make this deal with you. You want to call it off. Let them go to the concert together and you can go back to being the awkward third wheel when you get to see her.

Trying to open a door you find it locked and you laugh. Already? It’s barely nine now. To each their own, though.

Another door opens, but it’s just one of the bathrooms. The third and final door down this hall opens to a bare room with a bed in the center. Not many of the girls actually stay in the sorority house anymore, it’s mostly just for events like this one.

Vera must be in the locked room.

You turn to leave the room, but find Atsumu standing in the doorway. He shuts the door behind him, stepping forward and beginning to speak.

“-----, I need to tell you something-”

“Atsumu, stop.” You hold up your hand, and he pushes it away.

“No! I’ve been wanting to tell you that I’m sorry. I know I made things weird the other night at the banquet-”

“I’ve been lying to you.” You blurt it out. “I never wanted to bring you here.”

He laughs, turning away from you and rubbing the back of his head with his right hand. He turns back to face you. He steps closer, pushing you back on the bed.

You fall back, pushing yourself back up ready to yell at him for pushing you down. Before you can curse him, he is hovering over you, his eyes wild and you feel every nerve in your body awaken. His lips graze yours.

You can’t help it, you kiss him back. You dig your fingers into the back of his shoulders. Oh, and you spread your legs just enough so his thigh can press up against your core as he kisses your neck. Everything about it feels more real than anything else you’ve experienced in your life.

“Atsumu,” you groan as he palms at your breast.

“Please,” his voice is pleading with you just as his words do.

“I can’t. Atsumu I can’t,” you try to push him off you, but he stays put looking down at you.

There’s tears in his eyes.

“Do you think I’m stupid, —--?” He asks and you frown.

“No I-”

“You think I don’t know Osamu and Vera are bribing you to spend time with me and bring me here? Do you thin k I’m that fucking stupid?” His voice is cracking.

“Atsumu, I really don’t know what to say.”

“Just use me then! Use me for what I’m good at.”

Something in you breaks now. This was wrong. This was all so so so wrong. You’ve made a huge mistake and now he wants you to keep doing it just so he doesn’t have to feel rejected.

“I’m sorry,” you cry now too, but you know you don’t deserve to.

Your tears are worthless to him. Instead of letting him see your remorse, you think of the quickest way to get away. You manage to crawl out from under him and run out of the room and down the stairs.

If you’ve ever been good at one thing. It’s running away.

–

Turning your phone off was easier than dealing with Atsumu’s emotions, Vera’s rage, and of course, the sorority sister’s gossip. You leave it off for the remainder of the weekend. Vera didn’t bother to come home, which didn’t really surprise you.

However, when you open your phone up for the first time in 48 hours, there’s an alert from ticketmaster that tickets have been transferred to your account. Two tickets for a show no one is going to want to go with you to.

It’s not for two weeks, so you could sell them, but what good would that be? You already made Atsumu feel like shit, something that wouldn’t have bothered you a week ago, but now you do. Something about going makes you feel like you’d be rubbing salt in his wounds.

Even if you try justifying that you didn’t know he had feelings for you, you still feel… icky.

The only saving grace is that fall break is this week, so you don’t have to see him on campus. Once the week passes though, there is the chance you’ll run into him since Vera is in kahoots with his twin, afterall.

When the time comes, you find it’s actually easier to avoid him than you imagined. Osamu has taken an internship at a local restaurant so Vera is freed up during the day’s she usually spends with him. Without Osamu around, Atsumu was sure not to follow.

“I don’t know what to do.” You tell Vera, the night before the concert as you’re both sat in the living room watching 10 Things I Hate About You.

“Just invite him to the concert. It’s like an olive branch or something,whatever they call it” she says, staring at the screen. “It’s not like you can write him a deep thoughtful letter in one night. Just text him.”

“I don’t have his number,” you admit. Within a few seconds she’s sent you the contact for him.

“Fine,” you get off the couch and pace in your room for a while.

You type out about a dozen different apologies, all of which would do nothing for someone who thought you were just going to use him after what you’d just done. Words have never been your strong suit.

So, you just send him a screenshot of the spare ticket.

The next day, you arrive at the concert venue near campus where the band is playing. You wait for as long as you can at the gate before deciding to go in. When you make it to your seats and the two openers play, you decide he isn’t coming and you’ve just royally fucked up any chance of recovering it with him.

Fall Out Boy takes the stage and you’re out of your chair without a single thought. At least for the next hour you can not think and just feel everything in the music. When it gets to one of your favorite songs, you have completely forgotten about anything going on in your life now.

That is, until you feel two hands grip your waist and nearly give you a heart attack. You freeze when you feel breath on your neck. Just as you’re about to turn, you hear the lyrics repeated in your ear.

“I only want sympathy in the form of you crawling into bed with me.” Atsumu sings with them.

“Atsumu!” You scream, turning around and throwing your arms around him. “I’m so sorry,” you sob into him, but you doubt he can hear you.

He holds you against him until the song ends, then he holds you by the shoulders before pressing his forehead against yours.

“I forgive you,” he says and you feel the tears threatening to spill again.

“Ats-” before you can finish, his lips are on yours.

#atsumu miya x reader #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x fem reader #miya atsumu x fem reader #romcomcollab #atsumu miya fluff #atsumu miya angst

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liquidcatt · 1 year ago

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Hearing Taylor Swifts ‘Love Story’ and you imagine yourself and him meeting and in the end he sings: "Marry me, Juliet. You'll never have to be alone. I love you and that's all I really know. I talked to your dad, go pick out a white dress. It's a love story, baby, just say, "Yes”. You say ‘yes’, run into his arms, crying tears of joy with him.

Bokuto, Akaashi, Kageyama, Hinata, Gary Goodspeed, Atsumu, Oikawa, Daichi, Kita, Kuroo, Asahi, Sugawara, Ushijima (+ your fav)

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kira-fluff · 1 year ago

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haikyuu!! neurodivergent headcanons 💕

tw: several listed mental illnesses, some of these are solely off of vibes but most of them I have reasons lol note! I do not believe autism is a mental illness or something that is "wrong" with an individual, hence why the title is "neurodivergent" rather than "mental illness". just had to put that out there! to all my neurodivergent babies I love you! a/n: hello! as a neurodivergent like myself (depression, anxiety, ptsd, bulimia, etc etc) i thought it would be really cool to do an analysis on one of my biggest hobbies (psychological illnesses) and relate them to haikyuu characters! some of them have a deeper explanation because I feel so strongly about it.

attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADD/ADHD) BOKUTO, hinata, NISHINOYA, atsumu, lev

generalized anxiety disorder (GAD) sugawara, OIKAWA, asahi, yamaguchi, yachi, aone, akaashi, tendo

social anxiety disorder (SAD) asahi, KENMA

post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) oikawa

depression (MDD) oikawa, KENMA, kuroo, suna, matsukawa, tendo

autism sakusa, USHIJIMA, kageyama, kyotani, kenma

eating disorder(s) (AND, BND, BED) OIKAWA, KENMA

obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD) oikawa

borderline personality disorder (BPD) daishou

insomnia kuroo, kenma, osamu

hypersomnia suna

analysis under the cut

it's pretty obvious that bokuto struggles the most to self-regulate, even to others, but I personally believe that oikawa struggles the most with his mental health.

like almost everyone in haikyuu, oikawa is obsessed with volleyball, but he takes it to a point of overexertion and taking his anger and frustration at his own inadequacies out on others.

I really think oikawa's relationship between he and kageyama and he and ushijima are the ones that show how bad his anxiety is

ushijima and kageyama both don't understand the emotions oikawa is feeling which could be written off as them not understanding their talents, but I think it's something more

to me, I feel it is blatantly obvious that ushijima is autistic. he just so frequently seems to be unable to read the emotions of others or takes things literally when it's something else intended. I'm not autistic, though, so autistic community, let me know your thoughts!

bokuto and hinata both have an insane amount of energy, but struggle to be successful in school. sports works for both of them because their focus is constantly needed to be diverted or "all over the place" that it helps them be great players

kuroo is one of those other characters that I feel like I'm reaching to say he has mental health struggles but to me it just comes off in vibes. first of all, any kid with divorced parents should be in therapy so I feel there's definitely some struggles there.

I think kuroo is the type that hides his struggles and pretends they aren't happening. he puts a lot of pressure on himself to be the best at everything he does, and so he feels he doesn't have time to deal with the emotions that leave him feeling empty

kenma was someone I immediately felt was autistic. he has so many key factors like an obsession/hyperfocus on his hobbies and trouble socializing (social anxiety).

kenma has some of the strongest evidence toward my beliefs, specifically in this quote: "I'm not good with people, and I don't want to interact with them. and yet, I'm very concerned about what others think of me." like, tell me that doesn't radiate autistic/SAD vibes!!!!

idk what it is, like inadequacies or what but I genuinely believe oikawa has some kind of trauma. like he's definitely carrying something that so heavily effected him that it controls the choices he makes in life

I don't have much evidence that suna has depression, it's just a vibe because of his mannerisms and what he says. I think it's the kind where it's well-managed, but it shows up in physical symptoms like apathy more than anything.

atsumu gives ADHD vibes solely because of like how all over the place he is and how he can't always seem to properly get out what he's trying to say lol

sakusa is one that to me could be seen as "done with your bullshit" but I think he also hates crowds (like me, I mean who doesn't) and struggles socially probably because of anxiety or autism. not sure!

basing daishou off of vibes, too, because if I'm being honest all I've seen in the show is him having hostile relationships or being on-off with them, though its certain I could be reading too much into it, but that's the fun of headcanons.

do you agree with what I wrote? I would love to hear your thoughts!

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rintarousgirl · 1 year ago

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i wanna be yours -- 1. why'd you only ever call me when you're high?

✦ - Y/N is a small business owner, offering her services not only as a designer but an at-home makeup artist and cosmetic producer as well. She's perfectly content with her small life when she's approached by the manager of the INARIZAKI band, asking for her to fill the position of backstage artist on short notice. Needing the money, and wanting the experience, Y/N agrees. Little does she know of the fatal attraction she will share with the band's lead, Suna Rintarou.

»»————-　★　————-««

The smell of caramel and cocoa hung in the air of the small coffee shop as you worked silently. Your laptop sat on the table in front of you while you sewed a small rip in one of your client's commissions. You weren't the biggest seamstress, but you did it pretty well by hand and it went by a lot quicker and smoother for you then doing it with a machine.

You loved coming to the coffee shop to get your work done. The smell of roast and warm pastries soothed you, and the large, iced coffee you always ordered remained one of your favorite drinks. No other place was able to make it the way you liked it like this place did.

Putting down your commission, you took a sip of your coffee, relishing in its taste. You breathed out a sigh and wiped your lipgloss off the straw. You were about to scroll through a few unanswered emails when a man slides into the other half of the booth you occupied.

Blinking, you took in the sight of him, and your eyes met hazel ones. "Um, hello," you said, feeling a spark of uncomfort grow in you. The man gave a small smile, holding a drink of his own.

"Hello. I'm hoping you're Ms. Y/N?"

You ran the possibilities through your mind. He could be a sales marketer, or a fan. Though, it was weird to run into a fan of your rather small business in your rather small town in an even smaller coffee shop. Unnerved, you gave a nod.

"Good, that makes things a lot easier. I don't want to scare you, but I have been looking into your business as an artist and designer. I'm Kita Shinsuke, and I have a job proposition for you."

Swallowing around a lump in your throat, you said, "Go ahead."

He takes a small sip of his drink, before clearing his throat. "I'm sure you've heard of the band INARIZAKI?"

You snorted. "Who hasn't?" you asked jokingly. The band was popular, known for its amazing talent and "hot" members. You hadn't heard much of their music, but they sounded good enough on the radio when you drove. You knew Kuroo was a bit of a fan, but that's all the exposure you had.

Running a small business, you don't have a lot of time to engage in things you may like. You were constantly running yourself ragged trying to ship out the right number of orders with perfect quality to your clients. You couldn't even count how many nights you'd stayed up till the birds began to chirp trying to package and create things. You may have overestimated your abilities to sell your own makeup, clothes, and other cute things along with being an at-home makeup artist. But you wouldn't stop for the world.

Kita agreed with a small chuckle. "Well, I am their manager. Due to unfortunate circumstances our current makeup artist and outfit coordinator left our team. Obviously, we wouldn't want any big faces on our team as we'd like to keep it small for the privacy of our band members. You were recommended to me through a friend, and I was told how to approach you."

You tried to think of your recent clients, and their backgrounds. Off the top of your head, none of them seemed famous enough to know the manager of the INARIZAKI band. Unless it were Bokuto or Kenma, but you're pretty sure they wouldn't talk with them either.

You had to admit, he was piquing your interest.

"So, Ms. Y/N. It isn't anything set in stone yet, but could we arrange something? I'm aware this is very short notice, but we have a small concert three nights from now and I'm afraid I am not well-versed enough to do it myself. Try it out, see if you'd like the gig, and we'll see how it goes.

"It is very sudden," you say, thinking back to all the projects you had at home. But you didn't have any makeup gigs as of recent, just small shipping's and your own personal life. You could do it, probably. "Let me check my calendar."

Kita nodded. "Of course."

You ignored your emails once more, and clicked on your calendar tab. You were right. Any bookings weren't for another week at the least, and most of your current commissions were small things like scarves or sweaters. Well, you had those specialized kneepads to work on for Bokuto's birthday two weeks from now, but you had some free time.

"I could do that, yeah," you say, smiling at him. Kita seemed nice and pretty harmless, and you had heard the name before. You trusted him, even if it was stupid to say.

Kita's small smile grows into something a little hopeful. "Wonderful. I've already emailed you before this, but I hadn't gotten a response. So, you have my contact information. May I have your email?"

You nod, writing it down on a pad of paper for him. He pockets it. "I'm going to set up something with the band as a meeting before the concert. Most likely a dinner tomorrow night, does that sound good?"

"Just send me the details!" you beam, giving him a thumbs up.

He gets up to leave, but you grab onto his sleeve. He turns, cup in hand. "Thank you for giving me this opportunity, really. I'm very excited."

Kita looks down to his shoes for a second, as if in thought, then his hazel eyes snap back up to you. "I should be the one thanking you for accepting so suddenly. You're really saving my job, Y/N."

"I wouldn't say so. You do a lot for the band as manager. If you didn't, you wouldn't have found me."

"I suppose you're right."

Kita leaves after that, and you turn to face the coffee table. Shock begins to register within your body. Did that really just happen? Your fingers shake, and you know you won't be able to get any sewing done for a while.

This was the opportunity of a lifetime. Kita said he'd emailed you before. What if he hadn't been so determined as to hunt you down? Would you have missed this just because you slacked off on checking your emails?

God.

You take out your phone, and open twitter. Talking about your issues on social media always got a laugh out of your friends.

༻✦༺

༻✦༺ next -> | masterlist

fun fact(s)!:

y/n and akaashi were the first friends out of the group, dating all the way back to high school. akaashi's overprotective of her like a brother, and they hang out the most. akaashi introduced her to bokuto at vb when she became the manager for his team and then to kuroo and kenma.

kita regularly goes to the same coffee shop y/n was at with aran. he just happened to run into her there picking up coffees for the two of them.

taglist:

»»————-　★　————-««

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bakugokemkatsuki · 1 year ago

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Right Where You Left Me (PT.2)

Atsumu Miya x Reader to Osamu Miya x Reader

**Genre: Fluff (w/ a little angst sprinkled in) **Key: Y/N- Your Name Talking You, Osamu **Word Count: 394

**Part 1 Part 2.5 (Atsumu’s Aftermath)

Now having dated Atsumu Miya you ended up also befriending his twin Osamu. Osamu was the one there to witness the whole relationship. The ups and downs, good and bad. All of it and he was there that night. The night his brother… his twin broke your heart. He has watched you every day for the past year come in and relive that night, frozen in that moment. After a year he decided to intervene. He started with small, short conversations, and eventually offered you a job (I mean you were there all the time anyways might as well get paid to be there). He was hoping working there would help you make happy memories in the restaurant so you would finally move on. It started slow but eventually you started smiling again and holding long meaningful conversations again. Osamu really missed those conversations. Then you started coming early and staying late to help Osmau with prep because he always did that by himself. It was a year and a half after the breakup when you two shared a small moment, you two were prepping which somehow ended up in a mini food fight and you both laughing on the floor. It was the happiest you had felt in so long. You started looking forward to work more and more (and by work you meant seeing Osamu). But of course, the universe couldn’t leave it at that. Atsumu ended up coming in with his new girl and their brand-new infant. Seeing them you felt something inside you snap and you couldn’t help but cry. But Osamu was there holding you comforting you and it was then you realized you fell for the wrong twin. You realized just how great Osamu was. You spent the next few weeks getting closer and dropping hints until it all came to a head. “Osamu I can’t do this anymore you’re so oblivious.” You tell him out of the blue one day but before ehe had time to process you crashed your lips to his. “I love you Osamu Miya.” “I love you too Y/N.” You two kissed again and for the first time in a long time your universe felt whole again. “So it looks like you’re still going to become a Miya after all.” “Is this your way of proposing?” “Not yet, but with time don’t worry.”

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natashawritesstuff · 2 years ago

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Can you do when haikyuu boys are drunk?shoyo/atsumu & kuroo & maybe kenma?

I'm really sorry, I only have atsumu for now, I go back to school this week, but I will be doing the other characters to come!

Miya Atsumu, who gets drunk the night of his bachelor party and finds himself clumsily knocking on your hotel room door despite the unspoken rule not to see you. Giggling like a child upon seeing your face after opening.

You practically yank him inside and sit him down on the couch, while you grab him a glass of water. He does some incoherent mumbles that you can’t make out, from so far away- or at all because at the degree he is slurring his words, he’s barely pronouncing your name right. Shocking, because according to him-

“Iths ma favorite ward!”

“I believe you, baby,” you say with a smile, handing the glass of water to his unsteady hands which you help steady as he downs the drink as if it’s been years since he’s even seen water.

“Tat’s real good.”

You laugh and he moves your arms out of his way to that he can rest his head in your lap.

“Can eye tell ya something?”

“I feel like you’re gonna tell me anyways-:”

“We’re getting mawied.”

“Yeah, we are,” you confirm and he looks up at you, eyes gleaming like a five-year-old being handed a giant lollipop. “Why aren’t you out celebrating?” you ask, as you softly rake your fingers through his bleach-blonde, nearly dead hair.

“Eye’d rathwer be here.”

You try your best not to cry as you ask, “rest of your life, huh?”

“Rest of ma life.” He nods then, makes a point to admittedly, awkwardly, wrap his arms around your waist, scared you are just a drunken dream and that when he’s sober, you’ll disappear. But you won’t, as you whipser, “rest of my life too.”

Inarizaki Masterlist

Return to Main Masterlist

#atsumu x fem!reader #atsumu x female reader fluff #atsumu x reader #atsumu x female reader #atsumu x gn!reader #miya atsumu x reader #miya astumu #haikyuu setters x reader #haikyuu domestic #domestic fluff #hq fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu #hq setters

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maycat-19-142 · 4 months ago

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Atsumu miya x manger reader

A/n:have a good day 😊

⚠️: gender neutral reader, fluff, spelling and grammar issues maybe

You have no idea how you got to be the team manager. Yet here you are. You meet kita and 2 maybe 3 week later you were the manger. The other thing you couldn't understand is how you started to date the blonde miya twin atsumu. He was hot headed and loud but you loved him the same

Have a good day and night 🌙

Pixie out 🧚‍♀️

#pixie #pixie rants #fluff #x reader #fem reader #gn🌌#male reader #haikyuu atsumu #haikyuu x reader

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toomanygoldfish · 2 years ago

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Unplanned Ceremonies

Sakusa was laying on the couch scrolling through instagram when The Annoyance called him. Sighing, he picked up the phone and answered Atsumu's call.

I’ve done something.

Whatever you did I’m not helping you

Omi just listen to me

If I wasn’t you and me wouldn’t be talking right now

Ok…. Shit

Atsumu Miya, what did you do?

I got drunk and married a girl last night.

…

Sakusa hung up. What did he just hear? Was he hearing things? He must be dreaming. Turning his phone off all the way he laid down and when to sleep.

/•\*/•\*/•\*/•\*/•\*/•\*/•\*/•\*/•\*/•\

Atsumu looked down at his phone, flabbergasted that Omi hung up on him. Your movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention. You had sat up and grabbed your phone and started to text someone. He looked back at his phone and shot a quick text to his brother: Call me quick, it’s an emergency.

He then got some clothes from his suitcase and went to the bathroom to go take a shower and change.

/•\*/•\*/•\*/•\*/•\*/•\*/•\*/•\*/•\*/•\

Osamu woke up to a very concerning text from his brother: Call me quick, it’s an emergency.

What terrified him the most out of this text was that his brother had actually used punctuation. He only ever used punctuation when something serious was happening.

Quickly he clicked the call button on Atsumu’s contact.

Bring

…

You woke up with a pounding headache and the weight of someone next to you. Slowly blinking your eyes open you took in your surroundings. You were in a hotel room, You were wearing all your clothes and you weren’t sore, but something was off sitting up you grabbed your phone.

Looking to the side of you you saw a piss blonde next to you. You opened your texting app to text your friend only to pause and the man went to the shower. There was a ring on your finger. Suddenly the events of last night caught up to you.

You had gotten drunk and wandered off from your group and met the piss man. One thing had led to another and you and him had stumbled into a Walmart, drunk off your asses, and bought an engagement ring.

He had proposed to you right in front of the ring seller with the ring he had yet to pay for. You had said yes. The rest of the “engagement” was wandering to the marriage officiate and signing the papers.

You sent a quick text to your friends saying that you were alright. You had stood up to get a drink of water when the piss man’s phone went off. Debating yourself and just deciding to do it, because he is now your husband, you answered the phone. The contact was called spare parts with a photo of a cockroach.

Atsumu you better give me a good reason why you texted me with such vague wording!

Umm hello?

You- you aren’t Atsumu.

Oh so that’s piss man’s name!

Piss Man? Who are you?

I’m the person your brother ma-

It was at this moment that piss man, Atsumu you thought, emerged from the depths of the bathroom. Quickly tossing the phone to him, grabbing your entire suitcase you made your way to the bathroom. Promptly locking the door and putting your head between your knees and heaving a sigh.

Atsumu walked out of the bathroom and before he could blink the phone was being thrown at him and the girl picked up her suitcase and disappeared into the bathroom.

Hey.. hello?

Osamu!

Atsumu, who was that girl?

Well she is part of the emergency.

Lowering his voice so he made sure the girl couldn’t hear him, he started to explain.

… so you married a girl you don’t even know the name of?

That about sums it up…

/•\*/•\*/•\*/•\*/•\*/•\*/•\*/•\*/•\*/•\

Still sitting on the bathroom floor you started debating your options. Running you decided was off the table. So the only option left was to face the music.

You open the bathroom door to the room. Looking up you decide that you are going to take control of this unfortunate situation.

You sat next to him on the bed and started to break the silence. “So, hello husband! I am [Name], your wife.”

Atsumu had hung up the phone a few minutes before the bathroom door opened. The girl came and sat next to him, opened her mouth and spoke.

/•\*/•\*/•\*/•\*/•\*/•\*/•\*/•\*/•\*/•\

The girl, [Name], was actually pretty nice. They had talked about what to do and together the two of them decided to stay married but start dating like a new couple, and if it didn’t work out then they would divorce and go on with normal life.

After they had this conversation Atsumu had one request, to call his friend.

Ring

Hello?

Hello this is Atsumu’s wife calling to inform you that because of your negligence we will require $200 in cash by tomorrow.

/•\*/•\*/•\*/•\*/•\*/•\*/•\*/•\*/•\*/•\

Sakusa sat there in silence. In his brain he knew that the next time he saw Atsumu there would be choice words that would be shared.

/•\*/•\*/•\*/•\

Author’s notes:

I had written something before this, got to the editing stage and hated it.

Have a good day!!! Stay safe!

#haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu drabbles #atsumu fic #atsumu x reader #fluff #fem reader #atsumu x female reader

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plutotheplum · 2 months ago

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akaashi keiji x fem!reader

summary: being the manager of the msby black jackals is stressful, but when a handsome stranger shows up, you think you might’ve stumbled upon a hidden perk.

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, post-time skip, kissing, oral sex, blowjobs, p in v, smut, fluff

wc: 5.3k

a/n: watched the movie last night and i cried (if you saw this post before, no you didn't) <3

also on ao3!

Six months in, and you think you might be ready to quit your job.

Sure, securing a job as the MSBY Black Jackal’s manager was one of your proudest achievements, but no one had told you that you’d be dealing with men like this. You understood that you were in the presence of some of the finest sporting talent in Japan, but these men were wildly immature.

It’s why you’re here now, glaring at the man who had made fun of his teammate.

“What were you thinking?” you hiss, pointing your pen at the offending man.

Atsumu groans, his head tipping back against the wall of the locker room. “I was only having a little fun.”

“A little fun,” you reply, nodding along, “right, and that’s why Bokuto is off sulking in who knows where!”

“C’mon!” Atsumu protests, leaning forward, staring at you desperately, “I made a comment on the color of his shoes! How was I supposed to know that was gonna set him off?”

You can feel a headache begin to set in and you sigh, pointing towards the door of the locker room.

“Just go warm up, okay? I’ll try and find Bokuto.”

Atsumu nods, and has the grace to look at least a little apologetic as he pats your shoulder and leaves.

You follow him soon after, out of the locker room. Bokuto’s sulking most likely meant he wasn’t going to perform as well. You knew about his bouts of being discouraged, had seen it during the occasional game when something would set him off. People are milling about, and you quicken your pace, turning a corner to finally find Bokuto sitting on a bench.

“Bokuto!” you call out, the relief in your voice clear.

The outside hitter looks up at you, a pout on his face.

“You ready for the game?” you ask, putting on a wide smile to try and make him feel better.

“Do you think they’re ugly?”

“W- what?”

“My shoes,” he says, pointing at them, “do you think they’re ugly?”

You have half the mind to tell him that they’re just shoes and that he should grow up, but the look of utter despair on his face has you holding back. A quick glance down at his shoes and from what you can gather, they look relatively… normal. You were definitely going to kill Atsumu later.

“They look fine,” you say, pausing when you see his frown deepen. Your fingers tighten around the clipboard clutched against your chest and you put on a cheery smile, voice pitching up. “I meant they look totally great! And they really suit you!”

Bokuto makes no attempt to move, simply stares down at his shoes and traces one of the stripes absentmindedly. You’re at your wits end, growing antsy as you check your watch and realize there’s only 10 minutes before the game starts.

“I could get you some new-“

“You doing okay?”

A voice breaks in through from behind you and your head turns, brows furrowing when you see an unfamiliar man. The lanyard around his neck has a card attached to it, bold letters spelling out VIP .

“Akaashi!” Bokuto sits up, his eyes lighting up for a moment, “do you like my shoes?”

You stare at the pair of men, bewildered. The man, Akaashi, pats Bokuto’s shoulder and lowers his voice to whisper some words to the pro-volleyball player. In what you think might be the quickest change of mood from Bokuto yet, the volleyball player stands up and gives a hearty laugh, his chest puffing out.

You’re even more stunned when he pats your back happily and jogs off in the direction of the court.

“How did you do that?” you blurt out, eyes flitting towards the man who was now standing beside you.

“I used to play with Bokuto in highschool,” Akaashi replies, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “Fukurodani. I was the team’s setter so I had to get used to Bokuto's little slumps.”

Huh. That did make more sense. You narrow your eyes, examining the man a little more. He’s handsome, sure, his glasses sitting on the slope of his nose as he shifts on the spot. Akaashi stares back down at you expectantly.

“Uh- well, thank you,” you say, holding your hand out and giving him a sheepish smile. “I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to get him onto the court at all today.”

“Don’t mention it,” he says, his hand shaking yours.

You introduce yourselves and he follows you onto the stands, both of you overlooking the two teams as they line up on the court. Nervousness makes you restless, your teeth biting into your lower lip as you watch the players get into position. You really wanted the Jackals to win.

“Relax,” Akaashi murmurs, his head lowering to speak directly into your ear to help you hear better over the roar of the crowd.

Your eyes meet his and he stares back at you intently, his hand squeezing at your shoulder gently. You think some sort of magic might be laced into his words with the way your body loosens slightly, your tense shoulders dropping.

“Thank you,” you mumble, giving him a faint smile.

Akaashi smiles back and squeezes your shoulder one more time before his hand drops away. You nearly protest against it, wanting to feel the heat of his body near yours again, but you can’t because you’ve only just met the man and you aren’t that desperate.

The game goes perfectly well, thankfully, and you’re up on the tips of your toes cheering for the Jackals as they shake hands with the other team. Your previous nervousness has all melted away, leaving only a feeling of pure giddiness. Akaashi claps with you, his reaction much more toned down compared to yours.

“You can come down with me,” you say breathlessly, flicking through a few pages on your clipboard to find the schedule for the post game press conference.

Akaashi nods, his eyes drifting over you for a moment. “Yeah, I’ll come. I need to congratulate Bokuto anyways.”

You beam up at him and against better judgment, hand him a copy of the schedule before giving him a wave and disappearing off to meet the team. Akaashi watches as you flutter away, skirt swaying, the piece of paper clutched tightly in his hand.

“No talk of shoes, okay?” you warn Atsumu as you had him a bottle of cold water. “We can’t have Bokuto breaking down on national television.”

“You worry too much,” Atsumu complains, pressing the bottle of water against his flushed cheek.

“My job is on the line!” you argue, giving the man a glare.

Atsumu only gives you a pout and you thank Meian when he comes to get his teammate, grateful for the captain’s unwavering leadership.

You slip into the conference room before long, making sure to give the Jackals an encouraging smile and a thumbs up before you sidle up to the wall, watching as the various reporters ready their questions.

A few bottles of water sit on a table beside you and you reach for one, twisting at the cap. The stupid plastic burns across your skin harshly, making a glare settle on your face as you narrow your eyes at the bottle of water. You try again but to no avail, the cap latching on stubbornly tight. A soft curse gets muttered under your breath before someone’s hand reaches out, grabbing the bottle of water from you.

You blink in surprise when you realize it’s Akaashi, his hand twisting at the cap effortlessly and breaking the seal.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“That’s the third time today,” he whispers back, his eyes glimmering with mirth, “should I keep sticking around for more of your thanks?”

A smile pulls at your lips and you glance up at him to find him smiling back.

“Don’t be an asshole,” you mutter, elbowing him in the side lightly.

Akaashi hums in response, his warm hand grasping at your elbow to hold you in place. You freeze for a moment, surprise flitting across your face but then you lean into him slightly, avoiding his eyes as you press into his side. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything, just stands there with you, his eyes trained on the little notes you scribble on paper as the players speak.

To your relief, Atsumu manages to steer clear from the topic of shoes, answering the reporters’ questions thoroughly with a bit of humor thrown in, to lighten the atmosphere of the press conference. You find that you can’t really be all that mad at the man, he knew how to get the job done when it came to it.

The press conference comes to a close half an hour later and Akaashi trails after you as you usher the men back into the main foyer.

“Good job everyone,” you announce before flicking through a few pages of your clipboard. “The Chairman has been impressed with your performance this season, so he’s personally sent a congratulatory cake.” You stare pointedly at Atsumu and Bokuto. “Please make sure to not make a mess.”

The men are gone in a rush before you can say anything else and you smile fondly, shaking your head.

“You gonna let me get in on this cake thing?” Akaashi asks, raising his brows.

“You’re welcome to join,” you reply, shooting him a smile as you try to not sound too eager. “You do have VIP status, after all.”

Akaashi smiles back and you think it might be a miracle that your legs haven’t given out under the soft gaze he sends you.

Thankfully, Atsumu and Bokuto don’t make a mess although you do spot them bribing Hinata to bring them a few more slices, the orange-haired man utterly oblivious to the fact.

“Hey,” Akaashi murmurs, stepping in beside you as you finish off your piece of cake. “You’ve got a little something.” He motions to the corner of your mouth.

“Oh!” you flush with embarrassment, wiping at the corner of your mouth with a napkin. “Gone?”

“Just a little more,” he says, watching as you try and fail to get rid of the chocolate icing that’s smudged over your lips and the corner of your mouth. “Just- here, let me.”

You freeze when he reaches out for you, his thumb swiping over your lip and skin gently, cleaning you up.

“Napkin?” you ask weakly, offering it to him so he can clean his thumb.

“No need.”

Akaashi keeps his eyes on you as he licks the pad of his thumb, your hazy eyes following the motion of his tongue, a rush of heat pooling in your lower stomach.

“Do you-” you begin, clearing your throat when you hear how airy your voice has become, “do you do this often?”

A smile pulls at his lips and he leans in a little closer, his breath fanning across your skin as his mouth opens to murmur something into your ear.

“Hey, hey, hey!”

You jolt, half-lidded eyes snapping open when you find Bokuto slinging his arm around Akaashi’s shoulders. Irritation flashes through Akaashi’s eyes but it seems to fade when Bokuto begins to speak animatedly, detailing the past events Akaashi had missed.

Part of you would’ve liked to speak to Akaashi more, but you can’t find it in yourself to fault Bokuto, deciding to busy yourself with getting another slice of cake. A heavy arm slings itself around your shoulders and you roll your eyes when you realize it’s Atsumu, the wide grin on his face making you feel uneasy.

“Saw you getting real chummy with Bokuto’s friend,” he whispers conspiratorially, trying to swipe at your cake slice.

“I was being friendly,” you retort, glaring up at Atsumu.

“You look like you wanna fuck him.”

“Your observations are not appreciated,” you grit out, trying to squirm away from under him when he steers you into a corner.

“Good news is, I think he wants to fuck you too,” Atsumu says smugly, crossing his arms over his chest.

“ Why are you doing this?” you groan, cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

“Because you, my lovely manager, deserve happiness!” he says cheerily.

Your eyes narrow, taking in the smile on Atsumu’s face, suspicion flaring. “What did you do?”

“What?” Atsumu’s smile falters. “Nothing. Why do you always assume I did something?”

“Because you usually do something, Atsumu,” you reply exasperatedly, trying to peek out from behind him to catch another glimpse of Akaashi.

Atsumu rolls his eyes, moving to the side so as to block your view of Akaashi.

“Let’s hear it then,” you say, peering up at him.

He beams at you, his head lowering so he can whisper into your ear. “Just make sure you take charge. Guys like that sort of thing. Yank him by the shirt or something and kiss him. My advice is foolproof .”

Was the advice really foolproof if the fool himself was giving it to you?

You shoot Atsumu a skeptical look, waving him off before he puts any more ridiculous ideas into your mind.

As the night passes, the amount of players reduces, deciding to make their way back home. Atsumu shoots you a wink in passing and you glare back at him, fighting the urge to swat him.

“Heading home?”

You blink up to find Akaashi standing beside you, his brows raised.

“Yeah,” you say, a wistful smile coming across your face, “it’s been a long day.”

“I could drive you home?” Akaashi offers, falling into step beside you as you both exit the volleyball stadium.

You had been planning to just catch an uber or something, but when Akaashi stares down at you like that , his gaze soft and lips looking sickeningly inviting, you nod immediately.

A few stolen glances later coupled with you biting back an inappropriate remark at the way his lithe fingers wrap around the steering wheel, you find yourself standing opposite Akaashi in the open doorway of your apartment.

“I guess I’ll see you around?” you say, peering up at Akaashi.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Akaashi murmurs, his hands shoving into his pockets.

Akaashi shows no signs of leaving however. Silence passes over you as you both just stand there, staring at each other. Your gaze dips down to his shirt, trying to stop Atsumu’s obnoxious voice from blaring through your normally rational decision making.

Yank him by the shirt or something and kiss him.

Eyes flitting up again, you decide to take your chances. Your hand curls into Akaashi’s shirt, yanking him towards you, lips crashing onto his. Several seconds pass and Akaashi stands there limply, his lips unmoving and non-reciprocating.

“I’m so sorry,” you blurt out, feeling utterly mortified as you let go of him. “Atsumu said you wanted to fu- I mean- he said guys liked that sort of thing!”

At the same time, Akaashi begins to speak. “Bokuto said you weren’t interested.”

“ What? ” you sputter, eyes widening. Frustration sets your nerves alight and you fish out your phone, dialing Bokuto’s number, ready to give him an earful.

“Hey,” Akaashi says, plucking your phone from your hand and setting it down onto a nearby dresser, “think you could do that after I kiss you?”

Your flurry of movements pauses, breath hitching when he steps inside your apartment, the door shutting behind him softly. He smiles down at you, arm wrapping around your waist to pull you closer.

“Oh,” you breathe out, eyes fluttering as he spins you around, pushing you up against the door gently, “y-yeah, I can do that.”

“Yeah?” he whispers, the tip of his nose brushing yours. One of his hands slips up higher, smoothing over the length of your neck to cup your cheek.

You let out an incoherent noise, managing out a jerky nod. Akaashi laughs, tilting your head to the side as he places a soft kiss on your cheek. Your eyes flutter shut, heart racing uncontrollably in your chest as he drags his lips across your skin, planting another kiss to the corner of your mouth.

His glasses dig into your skin but you can hardly find it in yourself to care, pulling him closer desperately when he slots his lips over yours. Akaashi kisses you heatedly and you whine, arms wrapping around his neck to return his kisses eagerly. His tongue gently parts your lips, hands slipping back down to squeeze at your waist and move you flush against him.

A few stumbles later and you’re pushing his chest, watching as he falls back onto the couch. Akaashi grins, his thighs spreading invitingly as he gets comfortable.

“Come sit on my lap, baby.”

You don’t have to be told twice. You scramble up onto his lap, straddling his hips, lips finding his again. Akaashi groans when you run your fingers through his hair, hips rolling across his lap as he spreads his fingers over your skirt, groping at your ass.

“So- so you do wanna fuck me?” you ask breathily, unable to resist yourself from leaning forward and stealing another kiss.

“I thought I made myself obvious,” Akaashi replies, his hands slipping under your skirt to feel the warm, bare skin of your thighs.

A soft hum leaves you, fingers tracing across his cheek before reaching out to take his glasses off, setting them down. You smile down at him hazily and Akaashi smiles back, maneuvering your body so that you’re laying down, head nestled in the cushions.

You bite your lip when he kisses down your neck, sighing softly when he undoes the buttons of your shirt, pulling it apart. Akaashi’s eyes darken when he sees the swell of your breasts in your bra, his hands reaching out to grope at them greedily. You fumble around, unclasping your bra, tossing it behind you.

“So pretty, baby,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your lips before kissing down your body.

You gasp when his tongue swirls around your nipple, squirming underneath him as his hot mouth envelops it, sucking and licking, even nipping gently making your body twitch. Back arching, you moan, fingers tugging at his soft hair. Akaashi lets out a hum, mouth opening wide to suck your breast into his mouth, groaning when he feels your hips buck underneath him.

“ Fuck ,” Akaashi hisses, his fingers rubbing at your clothed cunt, panties utterly drenched, “you’re dripping. How long have you been like this?”

You flush, looking away. Akaashi clicks his tongue, grabbing your chin to turn your gaze back onto him.

“Tell me,” he coaxes, rucking your skirt up before he tugs your panties up, watching the hard press of the fabric outline your puffy folds.

“Maybe- maybe since you opened that water bottle for me,” you mumble, blinking up at him innocently.

Akaashi’s grip falters, his brows shooting up in surprise. Your cheeks are hot, eyes dropping to find his cock straining against his trousers, the bulge making you lick your lips.

“That long?” he whispers, leaning in.

“Mhm,” you nod, arms looping around his neck to pull him into a sloppy kiss, tongue and all.

“If I knew it was that easy, I would’ve done it the moment I saw you,” Akaashi smiles, his nose nudging against yours as he continues to rub your pussy through your panties.

“Shut up!” you laugh, pushing at his chest.

He laughs with you, smacking a quick kiss to your cheek before slinking down, pulling your thighs apart. A contented sigh leaves you when he licks up over your ruined panties, mewling softly when he pulls them to the side to get a glimpse of your slick pussy.

“Such a pretty pussy. All of you is so pretty,” he murmurs, pulling your panties off.

You don’t miss the way he tucks them into his pocket.

Akaashi’s mouth encloses around your clit, sucking with fervor. You let out a strangled moan, fingers fisting his hair roughly, thighs twitching.

“A- Akaashi,” you whine, hips rolling up to meet his mouth needily, “ hah- oh fuck!- ”

His nose nudges into your clit when he stops suckling on your clit, licking up a wide strip along the length of cunt, a low moan slipping out of him as he watches your cunt clench and flutter around nothing.

“Taste so fucking good,” he rasps, arms curling around your thighs, thumbing apart your folds to press his tongue in deeper, licking over the velvety flesh of your cunt.

You moan again, breath catching in your throat when his thumb finds your clit, rubbing tight circles into the sensitive bud before his tongue presses into your aching pussy, thrusting in and out of you. He makes an obscene sound and you tug at his hair roughly, pushing his face deeper into your cunt, squealing when he shakes his head, tongue swiping all over you.

“Don’t stop,” you whisper, beginning to chant drunkenly, “don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

Akaashi grunts into your pussy, spreading apart your folds against to spit on your cunt, his tongue swirling around your swollen clit before sucking it into his mouth. He suckles on it hard ; the sensation making your toes curl and eyes squeeze shut tightly.

“Gonna cum?” he asks, a hoarse laugh leaving him when you push his head back down.

You nod rapidly, hands squeezing at your breasts, pinching and tugging at your own nipples. Akaashi slips his fingers up past your chin and your mouth opens obediently, hips rolling up as you suck on his fingers.

A whimper escapes you when his teeth graze your clit, his tongue laving over it again as he sucks desperately, driving you further and further to the edge.

“Cum on my tongue, baby,” Akaashi whispers, “wanna watch you cum all pretty and needy.”

You don’t need any more encouragement, back arching as your body draws taut. You cum with a cry of his name, squeaking when he licks over your oversensitive pussy, thighs clamping around his head while your fingers tangle in his soft, black hair.

Akaashi pulls away with one final suckle to your clit, peppering kisses up your body before slotting his lips over yours again. You whine softly, cupping his cheek to return his kisses feverishly, feeling the press of his clothed cock against your inner thigh.

“Take your clothes off,” you say softly, pecking his lips sweetly.

You squirm out of your skirt and top when he gets off of you, watching with hazy eyes as he pulls his shirt up over your head. The flex of his biceps has you letting out a low whine, fingers slipping between your thighs, unable to help yourself, rubbing your clit unabashedly.

Akaashi doesn’t miss the movement, shooting you a lazy grin, his hand smoothing over his trousers, squeezing at his bulge.

“Enjoying the view?” he murmurs, unbuttoning his trousers, “hm, baby?”

“‘m enjoying it a lot,” you reply airily, entranced by the motion of his hand as he grasps himself through his boxers.

Your breath catches in your throat when he pushes his boxers down, tongue feeling heavy as you watch the bob of his cock, heavy and thick. The hardened length twitches when he wraps his hand around himself, pumping his cock, pre-cum beading at the tip.

“T-taste?” you mewl, slipping off the couch and crawling towards him, “wanna taste, ‘kaashi.”

“Needy baby,” he whispers, running his fingers through your hair, brushing it out of your face.

Your eyes flutter shut when he bends, meeting his lips in a short kiss. Akaashi presses the head of his cock against your lips soon after, a moan slipping out of him when he sees the way his pre-cum spreads across your lips.

You lick your lips, mewling at the taste of his pre-cum, mouth opening wider, tongue lolling out.

“Want it,” you whisper, fingers digging into thighs, “please?”

“‘m gonna give it to you,” Akaashi rasps, grasping the base of his cock to smack the head of it against your tongue a few times. “Go ahead, pretty.”

You hum happily, mouth wrapping around his cock, hand curling around the base of it. Akaashi groans, his head tipping back as you squirm on your knees, fingers finding your slippery clit again.

“Just like that,” he whispers when you begin to bob your head, tongue swirling around the head of his cock, suckling gently.

Akaashi’s thighs twitch, the hand tangled in your hair tightening when you shuffle closer, mouth stretching open to take more of him into your mouth.

You suck and lick, practically dripping onto the carpet beneath you as you hear the grunts and groans that leave Akaashi. He sounds pretty, the little airy gasps and stutters of his breath giving you the encouragement to try and take him deeper, your nose pressing into the black tufts of coarse hair at the base of his cock, before you pull off with watery eyes.

“I might have a hard time letting go of you after this,” Akaashi says, watching as you blink up at him with starry eyes, stroking his hand over your hair as you mouth lazily across the length of his cock.

“So don’t,” you whisper, laving your tongue across the head of his cock, tasting his pre-cum.

You land a soft kiss to the tip, tilting your head to kiss at his heavy balls. Akaashi stops you before you can suck them into your mouth, dipping his head down to kiss you instead.

“‘m gonna cum if you do that,” he whispers against your lips.

“That’s sort of the point,” you smile, hand stroking along his length.

He snorts, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you up onto your feet. His throbbing cock presses against your stomach as you wind your arms around his neck, pulling him down for another kiss. Akaashi gropes at the fat of your ass appreciatively, both of you standing together as you makeout languidly.

You pull away for air soon after, hands roaming across his firm chest, eyes growing hazier with the way the muscles of his abdomen flex under your touch. A glob of pre-cum beads at the tip of Akaashi’s cock and you grasp his hand, rocking up to kiss his cheek before pulling him after you.

“Wanna ride my cock?” he whispers, teeth nipping at your earlobe gently when you lead him into your bedroom.

“Y- yeah,” you reply airily, crawling up onto his lap when he sits down, his back against the headboard of your bed.

You rock your hips, grinding your cunt against his hot length, mewling softly when the tip of it nudges against your clit a few times. Akaashi catches your chin, pulling you forward for another filthy kiss, his hands smoothing up and down the length of your back.

“Sink down on it, baby.”

A soft whimper escapes you at his low voice, hands gripping his shoulders as you rise up onto your knees. Akaashi wraps his hand around the base of his cock, holding it for you. His head tips back, a guttural groan leaving him when you sink down on his cock, your nails digging into his skin.

“ Oh- ” you whine, “‘kaashi- hah- ”

“Keiji,” he replies, fingers dimpling the fat of your hips, trying to gain some semblance of control with the way your cunt’s clenching around his cock, “call me Keiji, baby.”

You let out a dazed sigh, rolling your hips and whining again, your own head tipping back.

“K- Keiji, you feel so good.”

Akaashi moans appreciatively in response to your words, landing a spank to your ass to urge you to move. You hiccup, cupping his cheeks, mouth dropping open in a silent moan as you roll your hips one more time and begin to rise and fall on his cock.

He keeps his eyes on you, letting out soft pants as you mewl and whimper out his name, hips swaying back to meet his thrusts when he begins to move his hips too.

“Good girl,” Akaashi whispers, head dipping to suck your breast into his mouth, “gripping me so tight, baby.”

“Keiji,” you mewl, dragging out his name in a needy call.

“‘m right here, pretty,” Akaashi murmurs, arms wrapping around your waist more firmly.

You squeal when he lifts you up and begins to drop you down onto his cock himself, his face pressing into your chest, leaving desperate, heated open-mouthed kisses against your sweaty skin as he makes you take his cock.

“Oh fuck-,” you begin to gasp out, eyes squeezing shut, “ oh fuck! ”

“Take it,” Akaashi hisses, hands drifting down to grip the fat of your ass tighter, “fucking take my cock, baby.”

A surprised squeak leaves you when he lays you down, his cock pushing into you almost immediately after. Your legs wrap around his hips, hand reaching for his as he fucks his cock into you, the sound of his skin slapping against yours echoing lewdly throughout the room.

You scrabble at the bedsheets, trying to find some purchase as Akaashi drives his cock into you harder and faster.

“Gonna make me cum,” he grunts, face pressing into the crook of your neck, his body dropping to be flush against yours, hips rolling to a slow grind.

“‘m gonna cum too,” you say weakly, eyes fluttering as he mouths at your breast lazily.

Akaashi peers down at you when he pushes himself up, bullying his cock into your cunt, balls pressed snugly against your ass.

“Can I cum inside?” he asks softly, brushing your hair out of your face.

“You’re a terrible influence,” you sigh, giving him a dazed smile as you pull him down for a kiss, “but yes, you can.”

Akaashi grins, mouth slotting over yours again, thumb rubbing at your clit. He groans when he feels you clench around him, his hips stuttering jerkily when you dig your heels into the backs of thighs, forcing him to push his cock in deeper.

“Brat,” he hisses, head dropping forward as he lets out a low whine, cock jerking inside of you as he cums.

You squirm, back arching as his thumb rubs harder, thighs twitching as you fall apart on his cock. Akaashi pants against your chest, his eyes squeezed shut as he lets out a few more whines, thick cum filling you up.

He rolls off of you so as to not crush you with his weight, running his hand through his hair. You curl up into his side, leaning forward to kiss his jaw.

“‘m gonna go clean up,” you whisper.

Akaashi nods, patting your hip affectionately, his eyes trained on the sway of your hips as you disappear into the bathroom.

You tug on a fresh shirt and a pair of panties, crawling back into bed to find Akaashi’s pulled his boxers back up over his hips, the manga volume you had been reading last night in his hand.

“It’s good,” you inform him, pressing into his side, head resting on his shoulder as you look over the little panels of drawings.

“I’d hope so,” Akaashi says, his hand rubbing at your side absentmindedly.

“Why?” you ask, brows furrowing.

“I happen to be the editor.”

You stare at him blankly, eyes flitting from his towards the manga. “No way.” You snatch the manga from him, flipping through towards the large page. His name is there in the little lettering, plain as day.

Editing: Akaashi Keiji

He smiles at you, nuzzling into your cheek, pressing several kisses here and there.

“Well,” you say, setting the manga down and wrapping your arms around his neck, “now you have to tell me what’s to come.”

“My lips are sealed,” Akaashi replies, kissing the corner of your mouth.

“Keiji!” you whine, pouting up at him.

“Not happening, baby,” he says, shaking his head before leaning forward to kiss the pout off of your mouth.

You let out an irritated huff, pushing his head away when he tries to kiss you again.

“Look at that,” he muses, “you get all sulky like Bokuto.”

“Please don’t insult me.”

#akaashi smut #akaashi keiji smut #akaashi x reader #akaashi x you #haikyuu smut #keiji smut #keiji x reader #haikyuu x reader

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moonswolfie · 1 year ago

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When you have an ASMR channel

Sooo I know this scenario is kinda weird and specific but i really like to imagine it in my head and i thought it would be fun to write about

also this is post timeskip so watch out for spoilers for that

Characters featured: Bokuto, Tendou, Atsumu

*＊✿❀Bokuto Koutaro

Had no idea what ASMR even is before you told him about your channel and you had to explain to him

He would think it's kinda useless when you tell him people use it to fall asleep "Why would you do that when you can just cuddle with your partner?"

He would definitely check out your channel out of curiousity later and let's just say he FELL IN LOVE

He asked if you could introduce him on the channel because he wanted to be involved in your channel too (after all, he did promise you would do everything together)

You were reluctant because of how loud Bokuto is but he begged until you gave up "Please? Pretty please? Pretty please with a cherry on top? Just one video. Just one!"

You have an entire collection of Bokuto knocking something over downstairs or making strange noises bloopers

The fans of your channel adore him and your dynamic together and always ask how he's doing in the comments

Your fans finally have an explanation for the reason you sometimes have a random hard cut in your videos and then you appear different or the time of day is different, that being Bokuto ambushes you while filming and lays on top of you, then refuses to get off

He sucks at staying still and doing nothing but he always tries his best to stay still when you're doing a makeup video on his face (and all the comments telling him he looks fabulous are worth it)

He always tells you how good you look in your newest video and how your roleplays are always so entertaining

He watches your ASMR videos while he's away for games because he can't fall asleep without hearing your voice or alteast seeing you

Sometimes his fans will tell him they found him through your ASMR channel after his games

*＊✿❀Tendou Satori

One day at breakfast he just casually mentions your last video despite you never telling him you had an ASMR channel "By the way, your new video was really relaxing. My favourite has still got to be the crazy ex roleplay, though."

After you calm down, you ask him for how long he's known and turns out he's been quietly watching your channel for about a year now

He definetly gives you the leftover chocolates and pastries he makes for an ASMR mukbang video because "it's better than throwing it away"

(honestly i'm a little worried for your weight gain when around tendou)

He's super supportive of you, even buying you the new 3Dio for your birthday (even if you told him many times you're fine with the old one)

He will give you ideas for jokes or roleplays, even if they are sometimes a bit unhinged and you won't be able to use them

Appears occasionally on your channel, and your fans joke that he will be the sleep paralysis demon they will see after falling asleep to your videos

They love his chaotic energy nonetheless and they tell you that you two are funny when in videos together

One time a random person who came to Tendou's shop recognised him as your husband and the three of you talked about ASMR over some chocolate

Has a surprisingly relaxing whispering voice and your fans tell you he should start his own ASMR channel but he said he's fine with just watching you be happy and create videos

Never let him edit your videos please, it WILL end up being a disaster

He definitely got Ushijima to go watch your channel too, somehow.

*＊✿❀Miya Atsumu

One time he came home earlier than usual while you were still recording and "caught you" (it wasn't exactly a secret that you owned a channel but you just never told him)

But he was all smug and victorious about catching you in the act so you let him have that one "Ohoho~ Well ain't this curious? What are ya doing there?"

He was aware of what ASMR is but he never listened to it before because he wasn't really interested in that sort of thing and actually thought it was kinda weird and cringe

After you told him about your channel, he acted uninterested and dismissive about it, but as soon as he was alone, he immediately checked out your channel

Every time he would find himself returning to your videos, he convinces himself it's just checking up on your channel, he doesn't like ASMR, not at all, nope.

One day he asks seemingly out of nowhere to be introduced in your next video which takes you by surprise but you agree

The actual reason he asked you to do this is because people were lowkey flirting with you in the comments and he got jealous

After Atsumu became commonplace in your channel, you gained a lot of MSBY fans (you had MSBY fans before that already because you sometimes wore Atsumu's MSBY jacket in your videos.)

He can sometimes be seen sleeping on the bed behind you when you film in the bedroom and it's become a joke in your fanbase

Tells his fans to support your channel in interviews "Go watch my partner's videos. I know it means a lot to 'em."

Osamu makes fun of him whenever he appears in your videos but when Atsumu's not there he tells you he likes your videos and even the way Atsumu does ASMR but you promised to him that you'd never tell Atsumu that

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caelivir · 6 months ago

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between me and you, our little secret | suna rintarou

synopsis. rintarou can't keep hiding the fact that he is madly in love with you.

pairing. suna rintarou x fem!reader | wc. 1.3k | genres. secret & established relationship, fluff, down bad and jealous rinnie | warnings. suggestive in the beginning (i got carried away...)

notes. something came over me last night. the entire idea of this made me foam at the mouth. tbh this isn't supposed to be like a fic fic so that's why it's a mess 😭. title definitely did not come from a one direction lyric 👍.

either way hope you enjoy. and happy 300 (+19) followers. love yall.

you and rintarou both agree to be in a secret relationship. your reasoning being that you want to be able to have moments to yourselves without having to deal with the hassle of gossiping peers for now. (or in other words: not having to deal with an interrogation from the miyas).

it's full of sneaking around and hiding away from the prying eyes of your classmates. it's getting texts from him during lunch to meet him at the unused classroom on the third floor after school ends. you'd be waiting patiently, sitting atop one of desks there until he's finally able to slip his way in.

it's you being barely able to get a 'hi' in before rin's crashing his lips onto yours. his forcefulness causes your mouth to fall agape, and he doesn't hesitate to slide his tongue on yours. his hands stroke your thighs before they settle onto one of his favorite parts of your body—your waist. (the reality being he can't choose a singular one. he adores everything about you). your arms drape themselves over his shoulders as the kiss deepens. your mouths move together in perfect harmony, sending waves of heat down to your stomach and ramping up the speed of your heartbeat.

it's seductively messy and hot that you can't help the mewl that escapes your throat. rintarou bites your bottom lip in response before trailing sloppy, open-mouth kisses down your jaw and neck. it doesn't last long because he craves the feeling of your lips against his so rin guides his head back up to get another taste of you. he devours you entirely until your lungs are begging for a breath of air.

it's you having to remind rin that he's going to be late to practice if he doesn't leave now, and he'll whine and groan complaints to you until your insistence forces him to comply, but he doesn't leave immediately, not without stealing another kiss from you.

a secret romance with suna rintarou means being able to have restrain in public or group settings. that's a lie. neither of you are very good at it because your fingers constantly graze each other when you walk side by side when you're with the twins. and if you're feeling brave, you'll wrap your hand around his index and middle fingers for a brief, fleeting moment, but it's enough to make the both of you long for more.

at group dinners, in the chance that rintarou is able to find a way to sit next to you, he'll sneak his hand onto your thigh or hand, tracing anything and everything onto your skin, all while making fun of atsumu from across the table. polygons. misshaped lines. animals. the characters of his name. the characters of yours. hearts. i love you's.

or in class, suna always has his eye on you no matter what you're doing. there's a constant feeling that someone's staring at you, and every single time, it's him. you turn back and give him a beaming grin that makes his heart melt.

one night, when you and rin are cuddling in your bed, you sleepily tell him that you're ready to launch your relationship. you say that he doesn't need to feel pressured by you. you'll wait for him to be ready too, no matter how long it may take.

it's in that moment he's reminded how special, precious, and considerate you are. he decides right there that if you're ready, then he is too. the only problem is how exactly do you launch a relationship? where does he even begin?

he's stuck on it for weeks, and he swears that the longer it takes him, the more he gets tested. because where did that loser from class 3 come from? he's dropped by every single day to talk to you and for a very obvious reason. suna can see the damn hearts swimming in the guy's eyes.

the longer he watches these interactions, the more it pisses him off. what gave him the right to breathe near you? it takes everything in your boyfriend to not approach the guy and tell him to fuck off. you'd probably get upset if he did that so rintarou forces himself to let his jealousy simmer.

it only gets worse after a particularly grueling match. he was worn down. all rin wanted to have see you, have lunch with the team, and go home.

you always come to games to support him and the twins. it's a routine at this point. you'd meet up with them once they got changed and congratulate everyone on their win. atsumu would then beg you to eat with them, and you'd insist that it's fine. rintarou sees right through you. you're always going to agree because it gives you an excuse to be around each other without anyone questioning it.

however, what isn't part of the routine is seeing his opponent flirt with you. it's so obvious that you're not comfortable, and the bastard can't seem to take a hint. the final thread of rin's patience snaps. his jealousy boils over.

he drops his bag and is fuming when he approaches the scene before him. your eyes widen at the sight of your boyfriend because you have never seen him this angry before. he doesn't bother saying anything to the bastard before him. instead, suna wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you in to capture your lips in a searing kiss that you reciprocate instantly.

atsumu's gasp is so painfully loud and dramatic that it probably could have been heard around the world, and rintarou continues kissing you regardless. the only reason he stops is because he still feels the presence of his opponent that had the audacity to even try hitting on you.

"you're still here?" suna scorns, raising an eyebrow as he looks the guy up and down.

"what the hell are you-"

"kissing my girlfriend. am i not allowed to kiss my girlfriend anymore?" rin challenges with a tilt of his head.

the guy snaps his gaze to you. "what? you never said you had-"

"i did." you clarify with a dead glare. "i said it multiple times, and you didn't care to listen, asshat."

the guy bites his tongue, red in the face with embarrassment or rage or maybe both, and hustles away. when he's gone, rintarou finally calms down. he looks at you, feeling guilt rise in his stomach.

"sorry." your boyfriend apologizes. "i didn't mean for us to go public like that. i just-"

you laugh. "don't worry about it, love. i was getting fed up too. besides," your lips pull into a teasing smirk. "it was kinda hot. you should get jealous more often."

suna frowns slightly. "i'd rather not."

"tsumu, ya owe me twenty." osamu says apathetically. this effectively snaps you and rin back to the audience you completely forgot you had. every single one of them is gaping at their middle blocker.

"like hell i do!" atsumu protests.

you blink at osamu, jaw falling open slightly. "you made a bet?"

"and?" osamu shoots back as if putting money on your friend's relationship isn't a bizarre thing to do. your boyfriend opts out of saying anything else, and you have to stifle a laugh.

"hey! don't think yer gettin' out of this! ya have some explaining to do!" the blonde twin points an accusing finger at the both of you.

"sure atsumu. sure." rin dismisses the setter as he's finally, finally, able to interlock his fingers with yours for all eyes to see. you squeeze rin's hand as a warm feeling spreads throughout your body. a smile blooms on your pretty face.

never again will suna rintarou ever hide you from the world. he loves you with his entire being, and he'll spend the rest of his life making sure everyone knows it.

#anime #manga #haikyuu #hq #haikyu x reader #hq x reader #hq fluff #suna rintarou #suna rintaro x reader #suna x reader #suna fluff #suna rintaro fluff #⭑ — fics ⭑.ᐟ♡#♡ — hq #♡ — sunarin

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fxstpace · 26 days ago

Text

little white lies

summary: miya atsumu needs to find a date for his cousin’s wedding, or risk getting hounded by all his relatives prying into his business. unless said business is you—in which case, he’s all for it. maybe he can work up the courage to ask you out for real while he’s at it.

⇢ pairing: miya atsumu x fem!reader ⇢ genres: fluff, mild angst, best friends to lovers au, fake dating au, idiots to idiots in love, debatable attempts at comedy were made ⇢ word count: 9.2k ⇢ warnings: profanity, one (1) scene where atsumu is shirtless

Miya Atsumu acknowledges the fact that he has made several stupid decisions throughout the course of his life.

There was the time he decided that dipping waffles in hot sauce would make for a tasty food combination. (It did not, and he ended up lying in bed with a stomach ache for three days with a grumbling Osamu looking after him). Then there was that incident where he proudly claimed he could crush an entire watermelon with his bare hands. (He could not, and Suna had laughed his ass off when Aran easily demonstrated the same feat).

And then, there was the time he tried to comfort you after you watched Hachiko Monogatari together. You’d been sniffling quietly, your eyes red and puffy, when he awkwardly handed you a tissue and said, “‘S okay. The dog’s probably acted in better movies.”

You’d stared at him, horrified, before bursting into tears. Osamu had walked in just in time to witness you chuck a pillow at Atsumu’s head, calling him an emotionally inept moron; he’d laughed so hard, he dropped the tub of ice cream he was holding and got mint chocolate chip all over the carpet. Atsumu still cringes whenever he thinks of it.

Nothing much has changed in Atsumu’s life. He still has a massive crush on you, and he still makes stupid decisions.

What transpired in the Miya twins’ childhood home’s sitting room fifteen minutes ago is a testament to this tragic fact.

When the Miya brothers’ cousin, Shohei, called them up to invite them to his wedding taking place in two weeks, Atsumu and Osamu were nothing short of elated. Shohei video-called them, and for a good five minutes, all Atsumu did was scream incoherently when he announced that the wedding date had been fixed. Osamu promised to close Onigiri Miya on the Saturday two weeks hence, and Atsumu made a mental note to ask Meian if he could take the weekend off.

Shohei then turned the phone to their grandmother, sitting on her favourite armchair with the pink satin cushion, wrinkles by the corners of her eyes and sagging skin by her cheeks. Atsumu’s heart lifted at the sight of her—he was her favourite grandson, after all—and when she smiled at the twins, her lips were slightly puckered because she didn’t have her dentures in yet.

But that wasn’t the important bit. It shouldn’t have been what Atsumu focused on most, as he opened his mouth to tease her. He should have been focusing on the knowing, youthful gleam in the Miya household’s matriarch’s eyes—a gleam that spelled trouble when she set her gaze straight at him.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Grandma Miya herself,” Atsumu drawled.

“Grandma Miya won’t be living for much longer,” she retorted, not one to be outdone by her own grandson.

Osamu had frowned. “Don’t say things like that, Grandma. It’s superstitious.”

Shohei had sighed dramatically, making a face at Osamu. “She does it all the time now. You should hear her go on and on. It’s good that you’re getting married, Shohei. This old woman won’t live for much longer, but at least I can see one of my grandsons getting married. Shame on the twins for making me live in suspense!” He said the last bit with an imitation of Grandma Miya’s toothless drawl, and it drew out a giggle from Atsumu and a swat on the shoulder to Shohei from the woman herself.

“Maybe I do have a girl in mind, Grandma,” Atsumu said on instinct, waggling his eyebrows. “I just haven’t told anyone yet.”

Grandma Miya’s eyebrows rose. “Oh? Is she nice?”

“The best,” he had promised. “You’ll love her.”

Beside him, Osamu had gone very still. Even Shohei quietened down, letting Atsumu and their grandmother talk. In hindsight, Atsumu probably should have realised what a horrific blunder he was making, but he had a habit of letting his mouth run loose and this was one of those times.

Grandma Miya’s eyes had lit up. She had lifted the corners of her mouth into such a wide, hopeful smile, that Atsumu felt a twinge of guilt deep in his chest for lying to her. He couldn’t take back his words, however, because Grandma Miya excitedly clasped her fingers together and said, “You’ll bring her along to Shohei’s wedding, won’t you? She must meet the rest of the family. It’ll be nice for Sakura to meet her, too.”

Shohei nodded. Sakura was his future wife, a beautiful and kind lady who complemented Atsumu’s cousin perfectly. “Sakura would love to meet someone that’s going to be part of our family.”

Osamu didn’t say anything. When Atsumu looked at him, he had his lips pressed together in a thin line. “Uh—” he began.

“No hesitating,” Grandma Miya had said firmly. “Tell her to come along. It will be fun.”

Atsumu couldn’t deny that; events that took place within the Miya family were always fun. But he couldn’t exactly create a girlfriend out of nothing, could he? Belatedly, Atsumu felt the guilt and horror of his words seep into his brain. He flashed a panicked look at his brother, but Osamu only shook his head and didn’t say anything.

He looked back into his phone screen, at his grandmother’s happy expression. If there was one thing Atsumu hated, it was letting down the people important to him.

Meekly, he nodded and forced a smile to his face. “Of course, Grandma. Don’t say I don’t do things for you.”

“Silly child,” said Grandma Miya affectionately, and that had been that.

Atsumu has since paced in front of the living room couch exactly eight times after Osamu pressed end on the call. He twirls in his spot, ready for his ninth walk around the living room. His brother sits on the sofa with one leg thrown up, watching him amusedly.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—”

“Okay,” Osamu interjects. “Swearing isn’t gon’ help your situation.”

“What else can I do?” Atsumu wails pathetically, flopping onto the sofa next to his brother. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Glad to know you’re aware.”

“Samu, what do I do?” Atsumu leans his elbows on his knees and holds his hand in his hands. “‘m so screwed.”

“Should’ve thought of that before you decided to get Grandma’s hopes up for nothin’.”

Atsumu huffs, annoyed at both himself and his brother for being so unhelpful. “I know that, asshole. I jus’ meant— What the fuck do I do about it now?”

Osamu pats his brother on the shoulder, a sympathetic look on his face. “Tsumu, I can think of only one solution.”

“What?”

“You need to find yourself a girlfriend.”

Atsumu wrinkles his nose when you wave a bottle of some sort of bubbly, green-coloured concoction at his face. It looks disgusting even through the translucent plastic, and he has no doubt that it’ll taste twice as bad.

“Eugh. What’s that?”

“Wow. It’s so nice to see you too, Atsumu. I’ve only just flown back from halfway across the world after two weeks. No big deal at all,” you deadpan, staring at him.

“Yeah, I’m so happy you’re back, but what is that, and is it for me?”

Atsumu is glad you’re back—you’d gone overseas on your first ever business trip at the company you work at, and he’d missed your presence at the Tokyo apartment right next to his. He tries to verbalise it, but truthfully, his attention is solely fixed on the green muck you’re holding out to him.

“It is, actually,” you reply, shoving it into his waiting hands so he can scrutinise it better. You turn back and rummage through your open suitcase, pulling out an identical bottle—only this one is filled with something that looks like a cross between a squashed pumpkin and a gruesome shade of brown he doesn’t want to define. “And this one’s for Osamu. Can you give it to him the next time you go back to Hyogo?”

He lets out a sound of disgust, puffing out his cheeks and blowing a raspberry at you. “You couldn’t have gotten us somethin’ more… eatable?”

“Edible, Atsumu,” you correct, walking around the luggage strewn about your living room and plopping down on your sofa with a grunt. “This is what’s popular everywhere now. Apparently.”

“That doesn’t sound very optimistic,” he points out, sitting down next to you. Atsumu holds the drink bottle close to his face and squints at the ingredients printed on the back in a tiny font. “Is that… spinach?”

“Yeah.”

“And…” he continues, “kale? What’s a kale?”

“It’s some kind of leaf? Kinda like spinach,” you say, shrugging.

“Oh, wonderful. This is a cocktail for cows.”

You huff out a soft laugh, shoulders shaking with the movement. Atsumu grins, pleased that he’s made you smile.

“It’s supposed to be healthy, Tsumu. And you’re a professional volleyball player so I figured you’d drink stuff like this.”

“Sounds like a nightmare.” Atsumu shudders, but pockets the bottle anyway. It bulges out of the side of his cargo pants and he might look a little silly, but it’s really the thought that counts; the fact that you’d bought this drink with him in mind makes his heart rate spike. He nods at the muddy orange drink you left on the floor, meant for Osamu. “What’s in that one?”

“Carrot and squash, if I remember correctly.”

Atsumu gags. “Did’ya pick the worst flavours or somethin’? You say this is popular?”

You nod, a little embarrassed. “They were selling it everywhere I went!” you defend. “I just figured it was, like, the thing, or whatever.”

“If me and the team promoted this, it’d be sold out in no time,” he says thoughtfully. “Even if it tastes like a gourmet meal for goats.”

“So humble.” You roll your eyes, letting your head fall back on the couch cushion.

Your airport clothes—a hoodie and jeans—stick uncomfortably to your skin after hours of being airborne, and you scratch your elbow. Atsumu thinks it must be annoying; you must be itching to peel off your clothes and take a warm shower.

But first, Miya Atsumu needs to ask you out.

He tries not to let the wording mess with his head. He’s doing this for his grandmother, and most certainly not because of the self-indulgent fantasies his mind conjures up for him when he’s asleep. Dreams of holding your hand, walking through the cherry blossoms together, kissing your cheek and taking in your delighted gasp—they haunt him even in his waking moments, and Atsumu aches to make them turn into a reality.

He acknowledges that he is a coward in some ways. This is one of them.

“Hey…” he begins, and then trails off, unsure.

“Hm?”

“That bottle of muck you got for Osamu—” Atsumu gulps, ignoring the hammering of his heart inside his chest. “Think he’d like it more if you gave it to him yourself.”

You sigh. “I would love to, Atsumu, but I don’t know when I’ll be going to Hyogo next. I don’t want that milkshake to stay rotting in my fridge for, like, six months.”

“Well… I’m goin’ there next Saturday. Wanna come with?”

“I don’t know…”

“C’mon. It’s Shohei’s wedding. You can’t miss it. Grandma Miya specifically told me to tell you to get your ass down there.”

It’s a lie that slips easily through his teeth, but he’s not exactly wrong, is he? Just—bending the truth a little. Grandma Miya did tell him to bring his girlfriend with him, and if he thinks about it, you are his girl friend, aren’t you? With a space in between the two words, but that’s just semantics. Atsumu ignores the voice in the back of his mind that tells him he’s coming up with excuses that he used to think of when he was in elementary school.

“I’ll think about it—”

“You have to,” Atsumu implores, briefly letting go of his pride in favour of convincing you to come with him to his hometown. “It’ll be a nice break. You can meet Samu and Shohei. Have fun at a wedding—you know how fun Miya weddings are. Get dressed up, dance around a bit. And Grandma would be ecstatic if you came.”

“Ecstatic…” you echo, an amused smile flickering on your face. “Did Osamu teach you that word?”

“Yes,” he says immediately. “But that’s not the point! The point is, I want your company for Shohei’s wedding.”

Atsumu waits for his words to sink in. He notices your sharp inhale when he emphasises on the fact that he wants you there. This one is the truth, and nothing but; there is no one else he would rather go to his cousin’s wedding with.

For all the lies he’s spouted out this afternoon, some part of Miya Atsumu wants you to recognise that he’s not lying this time.

“So, please,” he continues quietly, “will you come with me to Shohei’s wedding?”

You look away, teeth worrying your bottom lip. A moment later, you nod.

“...Fine. But you’re paying for the train tickets.”

Atsumu’s exhale is both relieved and anticipatory.

It takes exactly two hours and forty-six minutes to get to Hyogo from Tokyo by train. Atsumu purchases the tickets, partly because you’d asked him to, but mostly because of the steady feeling of guilt gnawing at his chest. He even purchases tickets for the first-class coach, because he wants you to be as comfortable as possible, even going so far as to give up the window seat for the aisle one.

“You’re being weirdly nice,” you note suspiciously, as he hefts your suitcase onto the rack above.

Atsumu grunts with exertion, his muscles rippling under his shirt. He takes in the small bob of your throat at the sight with a gleeful sense of pride. “Dunno what you’re talkin’ about. I’m always nice.”

Luggage secured successfully, he rubs the palms of his hands on his jeans and settles down into the seat next to you. The plush cushion is soft and velvety to the touch, a dark shade of blue that’s soothing to the eye. As he looks around, he can’t help but notice that the rest of the passengers consist of old people—senior citizens, with wobbly knees and wrinkled skin. Old and married, they must be on their way back to their hometown after visiting their children and grandchildren in Tokyo. As far as he can tell, you and Atsumu are the only two people here who don’t have a relationship beyond the platonic. There’s the occasional family of four: a tired husband, an even more tired wife, and two boisterous children. One child, no more than four years old, with her hair done up in two pigtails, points a chubby finger at him.

“Mama, look! That man looks like Pikachu!” she exclaims loudly.

You giggle at the chagrined look on Atsumu’s face, and his heart lifts slightly at the sound.

“Komi! Shhh. It’s rude to point at people.” Her mother pulls her hand down, giving Atsumu an apologetic bow of her head.

“She has a point, I guess,” you whisper to your friend, nudging his shoulder.

“The point being…?”

“You do look like Pikachu.”

“Huh?”

“Your hair, Tsumu.” You grin mischievously. “It’s yellow. You’re practically halfway to having electric powers.”

Atsumu flushes. He runs a hand through his dyed-blond hair self-consciously. “That bad, eh?”

“I don’t know,” you reply, shrugging. “Your fans seem to like it.”

“And you?” he asks softly. “You’ve never told me what you think.”

You hum and look away, fiddling with your phone case. “If you like it, then I like it.”

“That’s not even an answer.” Still, Atsumu will admit that your reply makes him happy.

“It is.”

“It’s not.”

“It is.”

“It’s—”

“You both argue like Mama an’ Papa.”

Startled, you and Atsumu look in front of you. Komi pokes her head out from the seat in front of you, a wide grin on her lips. You stifle a laugh; it turns out Komi and her brother have occupied the seats in front of you and him. The tips of Atsumu’s ears turn crimson—whether with embarrassment at being caught bickering by a four-year-old, or at Komi’s previous comment about his hair, he isn’t sure.

“Hello, there,” you greet the small girl with a grin as wide as hers. “Komi, isn’t it?”

She nods, her pigtails rocking with the movement. “‘m Komi! An’ my brother is Kento!”

“It’s very nice to meet you both, Komi and Kento,” you say, solemnly holding out a hand for her to shake. Although you haven’t met her brother, you can hear his excited babbles from his location on his mother’s lap. “I’m ____, and this is my friend, Atsumu.”

“But you can call me Tsum,” Atsumu supplies, knowing it must be hard for the little one to pronounce his name properly.

Komi shakes your hand with the sort of vigour that one only has at the young age of four, and then glances expectantly at Atsumu. He holds out his hand as well, and the little girl grips it with all the strength she can muster. Her soft palm is sticky; once she releases it, he tries to discreetly rub his own palm on the seat in front of him, garnering a frown from you.

Slowly, the train begins to chug forward.

“Tsum and ____,” Komi says, “are you both like Mama an’ Papa?”

“Like… Mama and Papa?” you repeat, tilting your head.

“Yeah! Like, sleepin’ in the same room an’ givin’ each other kissies while cooking dinner!”

Atsumu gapes at the child. He feels his face heat up at the insinuation—if Komi thought his hair was like Pikachu earlier, then now she’d surely think his entire face was akin to Charmeleon, or something of that sort. Unable to answer, he glances at you.

Your face settles in an expression that he can only describe as pained amusement. Your lips twitch up, finding the whole situation funny, but you pick at your cuticles at the same time. A chuckle forces its way out of his mouth.

“That’s right, Komi,” Atsumu says. “Except we aren’t… married yet.”

The girl tilts her head, confused. “Wha’s that mean?”

“It means” —Atsumu pauses, just enough to notice the stupefied glower you give him— “that we haven’t promised each other what your Mama and Papa promised each other.”

“Oh!” Komi gasps, her eyes lighting up with excitement. She grips the seat with her tiny hands, clearly thrilled at his words. “Like a pinkie promise?”

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Atsumu scolds himself yet again for letting his mouth run loose all the damn time. How is he supposed to break this poor, innocent girl’s heart by telling her that you and Atsumu aren’t married? Heck, you aren’t even dating, and he doesn’t even know if you want to get married to someone eventually. He wishes he could blabber about his feelings for you directly to you—but it appears that he is tongue-tied only around you, as well. The irony isn’t lost on him.

Regardless, he cannot take back his words now, which means he must plough on.

Ignoring your pointed glare, he nods. “Exactly. You’re very smart, aren’t you, Komi?”

“‘m the third in my class!” The girl beams proudly.

“Really?” Atsumu gasps. “I was only fifth!”

“From the bottom,” you interject, seemingly having finally found your voice.

“Don’t listen to her,” he says. “She’s just trying to make me look stupid.”

Komi giggles. “Papa says that’s a bad word.”

“And Papa is right.” Atsumu nods. “Idiot is also a bad word.”

“You’re so brilliant, Tsumu,” you mutter. “Teaching her bad words by saying they’re bad. Genius.”

“See, Komi, now what ____ did is something called sarchasm—”

You let out an odd noise, something in between an exasperated sigh and an amused giggle.

“...And now she’s laughin’ at me,” Atsumu finishes, staring at Komi and shaking his head ruefully. “Can’t believe I’m payin’ for this one’s train tickets.”

Komi’s curious gaze darts between you and Atsumu, a little confused but wholly entertained. “Stop, stop, stop!” She holds her palms out as though she’s a judge imparting all her four-years worth of knowledge to pass her verdict. “Both of you need to make a pinkie promise.”

You blink. “What for, Komi?”

“To always love each other. Forever an’ ever, until you both die!” she declares seriously.

Atsumu’s smile turns soft around the edges. Ah, the child-like innocence that vanishes so quickly. He doesn’t remember much of his own childhood—it’s mostly just a blur of juvenile volleyball and fistfights with Osamu and Aran, and playdates where you would come over with your mother and the three of you would romp around with the twins’ toy dinosaurs—but he hopes he had the same sort of faith in the world that little Komi so proudly presents to him.

He turns to you, fingers already twitching with the urge to wrap his little finger around yours. “I think you have a point, Komi. Whaddya say?”

“I agree,” you say quietly, shifting slightly in your seat.

Atsumu gently takes your hand in his, hooking his pinkie finger with yours. Your skin is soft, a little bit clammy, but so is his. He swallows thickly, nervous for no reason at all, and says:

“____, I promise to love you forever and ever, until we both die.”

“I, um” —you inhale shakily— “I promise to do the same.”

He squeezes lightly and then lets go, letting his hand drop down to his lap. It was only a brief moment of contact—barely thirty seconds—but Atsumu’s finger twitches again; he aches to prolong the contact, to hold not just your finger but your entire palm, encase it within his hand’s confines, and never let you go.

“No, you didn’ do it properly!” Komi whines, her chubby fingers tightening around the headrest.

The volleyball player’s gaze snaps back to his small friend’s face. Gruffly, still wary, he asks, “What did we do wrong, Komi?”

“Mama an’ Papa always make me an’ Kento kiss after we fight! You should do the same!”

“But we haven’t fought, Komi,” you try to gently persuade her from exacerbating your situation.

It doesn’t work. Komi is adamant, as most children are, and Atsumu senses the beginning of a tantrum. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Komi and Kento’s parents napping in their seats, probably taking a well-deserved break from handling two kids. He doesn’t want to wake them up, all because he couldn’t satisfy their daughter’s harmless demands.

“All right, all right,” he says, flashing Komi a winning smile. “We’ll kiss to seal the deal, ‘kay?”

Next to him, he hears your sharp intake of breath. Atsumu’s heart thuds in his chest, a marching band of his own. The words just slipped out—as they always do. It is his fatal flaw.

Before he can turn towards you, he freezes.

You kiss him on his cheek.

You kissed him.

He can feel remnants of your lip balm on his skin, a slightly oily residue that he doesn’t bother wiping away. His brain feels like it’s a laptop with the Blue Screen Of Death causing it to cease all functions; blood rushes to his ears.

“There,” you tell Komi with an air of finality. “Pinkie promise made properly.”

The girl giggles and claps her hands, but he can tell she’s getting tired as well. With one last parting smile, she turns back around, presumably to nap for the one hour of travel left.

Atsumu’s cheek tingles at the spot where you kissed him. He resists the urge to brush his fingers against it, conscious of the fact that you might find it weird. Instead, he forces down the giddy smile that threatens to overcome his face and joins you in silently observing the countryside whip past him through the window.

Jealousy is an emotion Miya Atsumu grapples with rather frequently, and it’s no exception when he sees his brother tackle you into a hug as soon as he lays eyes upon you both.

Meanwhile, he’s left standing at the genkan, carrying both your bags and suitcases. Osamu doesn’t even spare him a look. Atsumu scowls; is this what their brotherly love has been reduced to?

“Don’ mind me,” he announces, toeing off his shoes and socks. “‘m just a luggage carrier.”

“Guest room’s all yours,” his brother says, arm still wrapped around your shoulder.

You snicker at Atsumu’s disgruntled expression and he rolls his eyes. Hefting a bag on his shoulder, he smirks and shoots back, “Someone’s gotta be the useful one. Cookin’ isn’t gonna save your life.”

“Dinner’s on you, Tsumu,” Osamu calls out to his retreating back. “And then we’ll see who survives after eatin’ your food.”

Atsumu blanches, but he sees the amused tilt of your head and flashes a winning grin at you instead, trying to quell the envy that bubbles in his chest when he sees Osamu whisper something into your ear and you giggle.

After depositing your bags in the guest room, Atsumu heads upstairs to put his own luggage away and wash up a little. He can hear the sounds of you and Osamu talking and laughing downstairs, taking the time to catch up on everything you’d missed in Hyogo district—about the twins’ mother and her little circle of friends, the news about when one of their neighbours threatened to cut down another person’s apple tree—and your delighted laugh sends a ripple of something warm down his spine.

He knows he’s well and truly fucked when he thinks about how much he wishes he could be the one to draw those elated sounds out of your mouth.

Downstairs, you’re doubled over with laughter as Osamu regales you with the story of their Grandma Miya accidentally crashing the wrong knitting circle and not realising until three meetings in that they were discussing trashy romance webnovels instead of actually knitting. Atsumu lingers at the top of the stairs, listening to your guffaws. You snort, once, and it sends you and Osamu into peals of laughter again. His fingers curl around the bannister.

The volleyball player steels himself, plastering on a confident smile as he saunters down the stairs.

“Oi, what’s so funny?” he drawls. “Ya laughin’ without me now?”

“Just tellin’ her about Grandma’s new knitting club,” Osamu says. “She’s startin’ to think she can direct a romantic drama now.”

“I mean, she probably could,” you agree, smiling. “From what I know of her, your grandmother is a force.”

Atsumu scoffs, dropping into the armchair closest to you. He mutters, “A force that guilt-tripped me into bringin’ a date to the wedding.”

Osamu snickers. You tilt your head, curious. “A date for Shohei’s wedding?”

“Yeah. And if I show up without one, I’m doomed. Grandma’ll start parading me around to every eligible bachelorette she’s ever met—the neighbours, the cashier at the konbini I said looks cute, random strangers on the street.”

The corner of your mouth quirks up. “That doesn’t sound so bad. Maybe you’ll find someone perfect.”

Atsumu swallows down a groan. The last thing he needs is for you to think he’s taking his grandmother’s matchmaking seriously. “Nah, it’s a nightmare waiting to happen. Imagine Grandma introducin’ me to that one lady who brought natto salad to her friend’s birthday party.”

Osamu barks out a laugh. “Everyone ended up with really bad diarrhea that day,” he explains to you. “Guess Tsumu will hafta rely on me for cookin’ unless he wants bowel problems by the time he’s thirty.”

“As if,” Atsumu says quickly, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Point is, I need someone to save me from this circus.”

“Hm, better start polishing your flirtin’ skills, Atsumu.” You give him a teasing smile.

His eyes lock with yours for a fraction of a second longer than he intends, and the words sit heavy on his tongue. You’re my date. I was thinkin’ of asking you. But his throat tightens; instead, he tosses a pillow at his twin brother to cover his nerves.

“You busy, Samu? Wanna be my date?” he jokes, deflecting easily.

Osamu catches the pillow without missing a beat, and then shudders. “Not a chance. The second they see me with you, they’ll think you’ve finally lost it.”

“Hasn’t he already?” you pipe up.

Atsumu clutches his chest dramatically. “Even you, ____? Betrayed in my own home!”

“Technically, it’s Samu’s home.”

Osamu grins triumphantly. Atsumu sneers.

“Well, don’t worry ‘bout me,” he says, leaning back and stretching his arms behind his head. “I’ll find someone. Real classy. Someone who’ll shut Grandma up for a whole year.”

His brother rolls his eyes. “Sure you will, Tsumu.”

You glance at Atsumu again, lips pressed together in a thin line. There’s something indecipherable in your eyes, the way your forehead is creased ever-so slightly. Before he can say anything, Osamu’s phone rings. He excuses himself to take the call, leaving the two of you alone.

“Who’s the lucky fake date?” you ask after a beat. You don’t meet his gaze.

He rubs the back of his neck, debating his next move. His heart pounds as he tries to muster some semblance of courage, but all he manages is a lopsided grin and a shrug.

“Dunno. Guess I’ll know when I see her.”

“We have a problem.”

“We do?” Atsumu has only just woken up. His brain is still struggling to catch up with the rest of him; he blinks once, twice, waiting for your statement to sink in.

“Get up, loser,” you say, walking into his bedroom like you own the place. You flick his duvet off of his body. “We’re going shopping.”

Atsumu sits up, pressing his palms to his face and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. The duvet slips further down.

“Fuck!” you yelp, immediately turning around. “Sorry! Sorry, I didn’t see anythin’.”

A shiver ripples through his body. Without the warmth of his blanket cocooning his body, the cold of the morning seeps into his skin. He’s trying to figure out why, exactly, he’s being presented with a marvellous view of your back, and what you’re apologising for, when the chill makes him shiver again.

Oh. He looks down at himself.

Atsumu didn’t wear a shirt to bed.

His cheeks flood with heat, the back of his neck prickling with embarrassment. “Er. I’m wearin’ pants,” he says, like that’s going to be of any help.

“I’m, um, going to leave,” you say. Your voice sounds stilted—likely due to being similarly embarrassed by Atsumu’s bare-chestedness. Atsumu grunts in agreement. You walk out slowly, gingerly tip-toeing over a discarded pair of sweatpants he left lying on the floor.

You shut the door behind you, face lowered, and exaggeratedly twist the doorknob until it lets out a click sound, as though you’re showing him that you have not seen anything indecent. As though his abs have personally offended you. Like you’re a National Geographic narrator documenting a rare, disgruntled creature in the wild.

The shirtless Miya Atsumu, with its ruffled plumage and tragic morning breath, appears to challenge the peace of its habitat.

Ha. Wouldn’t that be a hoot.

To his credit, Atsumu gives himself five minutes before he flops onto his stomach and screams into his pillow. Then, he rises and rummages through his closet for a shirt—he settles for a grey one that he probably stole from Osamu’s closet during high school—and, still mortified, slips out of his bedroom and heads downstairs to see if breakfast is ready.

He finds his mother and you sitting side-by-side on cushions by the chabudai. It’s the usual motherly nonsense she always spouts whenever you come over—gushing over your job, asking about your parents, and, of course, wondering if you have a boyfriend yet.

“Not yet, Miya-san,” you reply politely, though Atsumu can tell you’re a little embarrassed. Your eyebrows furrow just slightly, and it’s always a tic you’ve had, Atsumu’s discovered.

“Oh, well, that’s too bad,” his mother says. “Beautiful girls like you should have boys tripping over their own two feet to date you.”

Atsumu is sure he’s tripped over his own two feet in front of you enough times by now for him to be able to date you. He clears his throat and puts a little swagger to his step when he sits down opposite you. “Missed me, Ma?”

“Slightly lesser than how much I missed ____,” she says.

“Just adopt her already, why don’t you?” Atsumu quips, rolling his eyes.

His mother actually seems to consider this, as she presses her lips together. “Marry one of the twins, ____. You know I would love to have you as a daughter-in-law.”

Your eyes widen, and you flounder, beseechingly locking eyes with Atsumu and begging him to help you out. He smiles a little. He remembers why he brought you here in the first place. His smile gets wiped out in an instant.

It’s not as though Miya Atsumu doesn’t want to spend time with you. He knows Shohei would love to have you at his wedding, and Hyogo is a beautiful place to be at this time of the year. But the thought that he needs you to be a scapegoat to appease Grandma Miya niggles at the back of his mind, unforgiving. He really should tell you, he thinks.

Thankfully, you’re saved from his mother’s matchmaking attempts by Osamu, who walks in balancing bowls of rice and miso soup. He sets them down on the table expertly—Onigiri Miya has trained him well—and plops down on a cushion next to his brother.

“Sorry for bein’ late,” he says gruffly. “Forgot to add salt in the miso.”

It smells delicious. Atsumu has to admit that he’s missed his brother’s cooking. After surviving on a majority of meals that were either konbini snacks or cheap ramen in Tokyo, home-cooked food makes his stomach grumble in a good way.

The four of you chorus your gratitude for the meal with bowed heads and folded palms, and then dig in. Atsumu slurps up the miso soup, chewing on a piece of tofu. It’s heavenly—it really is, and he nudges his brother’s side with his elbow to convey it. Osamu nudges back, and the table is silent for some time.

“Oh, by the way,” his mother says, “we need to get your suits from the dry cleaners. I have to go help your aunt out with last-minute wedding preparations, so I need one of you to do it.”

“Not me,” Osamu says. “I’ve got a restaurant to run.”

“Yes, I’m well aware of that, Osamu,” she continues, giving him a small smile. “That’s why I asked ____ to wake up Atsumu early today. Both of you still have the same build, so Atsumu can go to the tailor’s to see if it fits or if he needs any adjustments.”

“Oh,” says Atsumu. You don’t meet his gaze. “I didn’t know we had actual work to do today.”

“I also offered to buy ____ a dress, but she refused.” His mother casts a quick, affectionate glance at you. “So, Atsumu, I need you to buy her one, all right? Get her a gorgeous one.”

“O’course I will,” he says, quietly.

Osamu looks curiously between you both. “Didn’t ____ tell you all this when she came to wake you up, Tsumu?”

A wad of rice gets lodged in Atsumu’s throat. You accidentally inhale miso soup through your nose. Both of you cough and splutter.

Osamu frantically pats Atsumu’s back, while you, eyes watering, accept a glass of water from the twins’ mother. Something unfurls inside Atsumu’s chest at the thought of spending the whole day with you, getting his suit tailored and buying you a dress.

It’s almost like you’re actually his date for his cousin’s wedding.

Is it weird that Miya Atsumu wants to see your reaction to him wearing a suit? Is he being presumptuous in the way he lifts his chin and puffs out his chest so that the tuxedo fits him better? What are your thoughts about men wearing tuxedos and ties, in general? Should he buy a tie that matches your dress?

This, and other such mysteries of life, are what the volleyball player ponders over in the tiny fitting room while one of the seamsters kneels in front of him and measures the length of his leg with measuring tape.

Atsumu has to constantly remind himself that you don’t know he’s your date yet. The wedding is tomorrow. He doesn’t know if he has it in him to stick it out until then.

“All done,” the seamster announces, getting back to his feet. “Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll be able to alter this to the right size.”

“Thanks,” Atsumu mumbles, pulling back the curtain and heading outside.

You’re sitting on one of the couches they’ve kept by the corner of the shop, scrolling through something on your phone. The bag with your new dress—his mother’s gift to you—is placed on the floor by your feet. He doesn’t know what the dress looks like; you’d insisted on buying it secretly because it was, apparently, embarrassing to go dress-shopping with a close friend who happens to be a well-built, devilishly handsome, popular, famous pro-volleyball player.

Not that you said those words exactly, but Atsumu can fill in the blanks.

He plops down next to you, leaning back and circling his head to get rid of the cricks in his neck. You put your phone away and glance at him.

“Take a picture,” Atsumu says, not looking back at you. “Lasts longer.”

“If only your face actually looked good in photos.”

“My face looks excellent. Haven’t ya seen me and Bokuto in the Calpis advertisement?” It was a small gig they’d gotten right after the Olympics season. Kuroo had said it would make for good PR, and Atsumu and Bokuto jumped at the chance to have their small five minutes of fame. Shouyou had sulked about not being a part of it for two weeks straight afterwards.

“I have, actually,” you respond, crossing your arms over your chest. “You know I wouldn’t ever miss out on that. I’m surprised no one here’s recognised you yet.”

“Livin’ under a rock, the whole lot of them,” Atsumu mutters.

You laugh softly. “The fame’s gone to your head, Atsumu. Don’t forget me when you and the team go gallivanting across the country.”

“You know I wouldn’t ever be able to forget you,” he says, after a beat. “You’re, like, a part of me now.”

You blink. “That’s kind of weird.”

Atsumu’s cheeks burn. How is it that he always, always fumbles so much in front of you? It’s like his brain sees you and immediately decides to unplug itself for maintenance. He gulps, thinking of ways to salvage whatever dignity he has left.

“‘S not weird,” he forces out. “We’ve known each other since we were kids. I think you spent more time at our house durin’ elementary school than you did at your own.”

“Fair enough,” you acquiesce. Shifting slightly, you eye the bit of fabric from your dress that pokes out of the paper bag. “Still can’t believe your mom insisted on getting me a dress,” you murmur, lightly brushing your fingertips against the edge of the bag. “It’s a bit over-the-top, don’t you think?”

“She just likes you a lot,” he responds. “Honestly, I’m startin’ the think she likes you more than me or Osamu.”

“That’s not a very high bar.” You roll your eyes, but there’s no malice in the action. “But it’s probably ‘cause I didn’t dunk her favourite teapot into the toilet when I was seven.”

“That was an accident! And I apologised more than a hundred times!”

“Yeah, and I’m sure the apology totally made up for the fact that you made Osamu stick his hand down there and fish it out for you.”

“Why d’you always take his side?” Atsumu grumbles. “Can’t ever catch a break with both of you around, I swear.”

You lean back, shoulder brushing against his. Atsumu can feel your gaze roving over his face; he bites the inside of his cheek, feeling strangely self-conscious.

“Maybe,” you say, “I just enjoy making fun of you. You always make fun of me back. It’s nice.”

Atsumu swallows hard, trying to focus on anything else—the tacky wallpaper, the sound of pop music blaring from the shop next door. Anything but the way your words make his heart somersault, or the way your smile lingers for a second more than usual.

“That’s cruel, yaknow,” he manages to say. “Gangin’ up on me all the time. Makes a guy feel unloved.”

You stay quiet, thoughtfully steepling your fingers under your chin. Atsumu glances at you from the corner of his eye. Your expression doesn’t betray anything, until you reach out and gently grasp his wrist.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly. “Didn’t realise you didn’t like it.”

Miya Atsumu is certain—not for the first time in his life—that he’s utterly doomed. It’s a little bit pathetic, really. It started back in middle school, and still, somehow, he’s unable to move on. You’ve consumed him. Your thumb brushes over the veins on his wrist; he wonders if you can feel his pulse racing.

“Don’t stop,” he says, because what else does a fool in love say?

“Atsumu, I—”

You’re interrupted by the seamster, who calls Atsumu over to the register to finish his billing. He grits his teeth. This is the worst sort of interruption ever. He turns to face you properly, because maybe if he pretends he didn’t hear the tailor, you’ll tell him what you were about to say.

But your face is carefully blank, your lips pressed together. “Go on,” you tell him. “Don’t forget to collect Osamu’s tux, too.”

“Yeah, okay.” Atsumu nods once, twice. He gently extricates his hand from your grasp, as much as he dislikes it. “I’ll, uh, go do that, then.”

“Okay.”

Atsumu hates this. He’s not sure if he even wants to attend the wedding anymore. All his relatives are going to heckle him about his love life—and that’s fine, he can deal with them. He just doesn’t want his grandmother’s face to crumple with disappointment on finding out her grandson’s whole “relationship” was a farce. Feeling sick to his stomach, he pays for the alterations done to his and his brother’s outfits, and gestures for you to accompany him outside.

You don’t meet his eyes the entire way back home.

It’s the eve of the wedding reception, and Miya Atsumu can’t find you anywhere.

The reception hall is lovely. Golden lanterns hang from the ceiling, enveloping everyone in a soft, warm glow. Vases of peonies and cherry blossoms, intertwined with sprigs of baby’s breath, are placed on top of the soft linen covering each table. The delicate strains of a koto and shamisen ensemble weave through the air. The centerpiece stage, framed by cascading fairy lights and flowing silk, bear the names of the bride and the groom, written in exquisite calligraphy. An array of traditional Japanese sweets and cups of sake are placed on a long table by the corner of the hall.

Shohei and Sakura sit by the shintaku, looking resplendent in their outfits, surrounded by family members and friends. He’s already congratulated them, clapping his cousin on the back and winking proudly at Sakura. You’re nowhere near them, so he tries the snack table instead.

Atsumu hides his mounting worry by shoving a piece of mochi into his mouth. He racks his brain, trying to think of other possible hideouts where he can find you. It’s not like you to disappear like this—and it’s a shame, really, because all he wants is to be by your side this evening. Osamu is posing for a group photo with his second cousins and his mother is helping his aunt with the gift bags, but you’re not anywhere near them either.

He knows you won’t be at the smoking area where his uncle has held court all evening, but he decides to check anyway. Atsumu gives the area a cursory glance, confirming that you’re not among them, before hastily walking out. He curses under his breath, his usual confidence giving way to an unfamiliar, gnawing unease.

You’re supposed to be here. You said you’d be here.

He adjusts the lapels of his tailored suit and forces himself to think rationally. You’re probably just outside, he tells himself, getting some air or hiding from the relentless matchmaking attempts of meddlesome aunts. It’s probably fine. It has to be.

Atsumu’s footsteps turn towards the garden doors. His urgency is masked by the cocky, practiced demeanour he wears like a second skin.

“Atsumu, boy, where d’you think you’re running off to now?”

The volleyball player freezes mid-step. He exhales slowly and drags a hand through his meticulously styled hair before turning around.

Grandma Miya stands by the hall’s entrance, wearing a lavender kimono that glows under the warm lights. Her lacquered cane gleams as she taps it softly against the polished floor. Despite her diminutive frame, his grandmother commands the space effortlessly. Sharp eyes—so like his own—pin him in place.

“‘M not runnin’ anywhere, Grandma,” Atsumu says, summoning a sheepish smile that he hopes will placate her. “Just, uh, checkin’ on something.”

Her eyebrows lift, arching in a way that shows she’s wholly unconvinced. “Checking on something or someone?”

Atsumu opens his mouth, an excuse perched on the tip of his tongue, but she raises a hand and continues before he can say anything. “Thought you ought to know—there’s a pretty girl standing outside in the garden cussin’ out your name like she’s auditioning for a sailor’s choir. Care to explain why?”

“Wait—outside?”

“So you do know her,” Grandma Miya states.

“Um. Yeah—I— She’s—” The grin he’s worn like armour falters under the Miya matriarch’s scrutinising gaze.

“Out with it, Tsumu,” she prompts, tapping her cane once on the floor. “Who is she?”

“She’s my… date,” Atsumu admits. The words tumble out awkwardly, and he can’t deny the way it sounds both weirdly foreign but strangely right at the same time. “For the wedding.”

His grandmother’s eyes narrow. “And why is she out there cursing you to Hell and back all alone in the cold?”

“I didn’t—” He stops, shoulders slumping. He knows there’s no point in lying—not to her. Grandma Miya has always been able to see right through him, as though his thoughts are scrawled across his face.

“She’s not really my date,” Atsumu mutters, gaze downcast. “I mean, she is, but she doesn’t… know that she is.”

Grandma Miya blinks, and then lets out a short huff of laughter. “Atsumu, are you tellin’ me you brought this poor girl here, told everyone she’s your date, but didn’t think to inform her of that little detail?”

“I didn’t forget,” Atsumu protests, though his words sound weak to his own ears. “I just didn’t have the chance to tell her.”

“Why would you go and do something so spectacularly foolish?”

He hesitates, avoiding her eyes. “‘Cause I didn’t want to disappoint you,” he says quietly, the admission dragging itself out of his throat.

His grandmother’s smile fades, and without it, her wrinkles look more and more pronounced. “Disappoint me?”

“Yeah,” Atsumu whispers. “You’re always askin’ me when I’m gonna bring someone home. You want to see me and Osamu get married, too, before you—” His voice catches. “Before. Um. I just wanted to make you happy, ‘s all.”

There’s a long pause, and when Grandma Miya speaks again, her voice is sadder than he expects. Classic Atsumu, he thinks bitterly. Always findin’ a way to mess things up for everyone.

“Atsumu, you daft boy,” his grandma says, “I don’t care if you bring someone or not. All I’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy.”

Atsumu swallows, her words entering his chest and settling down with a warmth that wraps around his body. When he looks up, he finds her observing him not with judgement, but with quiet understanding.

“Are you happy?” she asks.

Something about the way she says it is tinged with hope, and it makes his heart lift. The truth lodges in his throat, too big to swallow, too heavy to speak.

“I like her,” he blurts out finally. “A lot. But she doesn’t—she doesn’t know that either.”

Grandma Miya’s lips lift up in a grin—the same smile that passed on to his mother, and then to him and his brother. “Then go find her. Tell her the truth.”

“But what if—”

“No,” she says firmly. “Life’s too short for all that nonsense. If you care about her, you owe her the truth and an apology. Go on, now. Dinner’s starting soon.”

Atsumu nods, the corners of his lips twitching up in a small, grateful smile. She waves him off with her cane, before turning around and bellowing to Osamu to get her another cup of sake. He heads out to the garden.

The cool night air fills his lungs when he steps out of the ornate doors. He catches sight of you pacing near the koi pond; your movements are tight with frustration. The moonlight shimmers on the water, and dances across your face. The ends of your dress billow out because of the wind and Atsumu swears he forgets how to breathe.

It’s not until he climbs down the steps and comes to a standstill in front of you that you finally acknowledge Atsumu. Even then, it’s with flaring nostrils and flashing eyes, and he knows he’s fucked up really badly this time.

“Atsumu,” you say, voice taut. “What the Hell is going on?”

He winces. He doesn’t know what to say, how to explain everything. He tries to speak, but no words come out, and all he can do is watch helplessly as you curl your fingers into your palm with anger.

“Why the fuck did you tell your entire family that I’m your girlfriend?” you snap, when it becomes apparent he isn’t going to say anything. “What did you think was going to happen?”

A dozen half-baked excuses fly over his head, but none of them feel right. Grandma Miya was right—he owes you the truth—but first, he needs to find a way to calm you down.

“Do you realise how messed up that is?” you continue. Your voice increases in pitch, garnering the attention of a few wedding-goers milling about. “You didn’t ask me. You didn’t tell me anything. Do you know how embarrassing it was to get bombarded by all your relatives asking me how long we’ve been dating? They think we’re something that we’re not—fuck it all, they think I’m something I’m not.”

“I didn’t— I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Atsumu pleads, finally having found his voice. “I just—”

“Just what?! Just thought it would be easier? Just wanted to impress your family?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “No. I just—shit, I dunno—I didn’t want my grandma to think I was screwing around. I didn’t want my relatives to look at me with pity ‘cause I can’t even stay in a decent relationship for longer than three weeks!”

Atsumu searches your face for something—some sort of reaction to his words. But you’re silent, and he can’t read your face. He can’t tell if you’re angry, hurt, both, or something else entirely, and it’s making him feel even more out of his depth.

“What were you thinking, Atsumu?” you ask softly. Your teeth worry your bottom lip, and he resists the urge to give in and kiss you silly.

“I wasn’t thinkin’,” he says, hoarsely. “I didn’t think about how it would make you feel. I should have.”

You don’t say anything for a long while; Atsumu thinks he’s said too much. But then, you speak and the bite in your voice has reduced.

“You didn’t think about me. You didn’t think ‘bout how I’d feel being that person for you.”

Your words ring hollow in his ears. The hurt in your voice makes his stomach twist with guilt. He wants to defend himself, but what could he possibly say? Instead, he looks at you quietly, hoping against all hope that somehow you will understand.

“Fuck,” Atsumu mutters under his breath, more to himself than you. He takes a tentative step forward, but you hold up a hand.

“You don’t—” Your voice trembles. “You don’t get to just walk over to me and give me some half-assed apology, Atsumu.”

Atsumu stops, letting silence blanket you both once more. He stares at you for a moment, at your beautiful face and your beautiful dress, and without thinking, he steps closer, his hand reaching out.

You don’t pull away—not immediately.

He’s close enough now that he can see his reflection in your eyes, the small tremor in your lips. Something inside him shifts, something urgent, something that makes his head spin. He doesn’t know what he’s doing until it’s too late.

He curls his hand around your waist and pulls you in, crashing your lips with his. He feels you stiffen at first—but then you kiss him back, hard and sharp, and everything in him unwinds.

It isn’t gentle or sweet. It isn’t tender, the way Atsumu had always imagined his first kiss with you would be like. It’s angry—you are angry at him, and he is angry at himself.

It’s over far too quickly. Atsumu’s chest heaves with each breath he takes. You gawk at him, wide-eyed and breathless; a mirror to the expression on his own face, most likely.

“I—” Atsumu starts, but the sentence gets lost somewhere in his brain when you take a step back.

“I’m not some… prop to your little charade, Atsumu,” you say. “So unless this means something to you—like it does for me—don’t do things you’ll regret.”

“I won’t,” Atsumu promises. His voice is gruff, his heartbeat a rapid staccato against his rib cage. “I could never. I like you too much for that.”

You look at him like he looked at you earlier—like you’ve forgotten how to breathe, like you’re drinking in the sight of him and trying to commit him to memory. It comes out as a whisper when you say, “What?”

“God, ____, I like you. I like you so much I don’t know what to do with myself when you’re around.” He owes you the truth, and so the truth is what you will get. He’s not very good with words—you know this, and he’s sure you will recognise this for what it is: he’s laying his heart bare for you to take and keep safely for him.

“Me too,” you say. “Me too, Atsumu. Me too.”

He kisses you again, gentle and tender and sweet, his hand placed on the curve of your neck and your hands clutching the front of his shirt.

Osamu finds him and you later, curled into each other’s sides. Atsumu’s cheeks colour when his brother shoots him an impressed look.

“Finally,” he says. “Been waitin’ forever for this buffoon to get his head out of his ass and make a move.”

Atsumu doesn’t deny it, and you laugh softly. “Been waitin’ for him myself,” you say, squeezing his arm affectionately.

“Anyways,” says Osamu. “Grandma Miya’s lookin’ for Tsumu. She says she can’t wait to meet his new girlfriend.”

Atsumu’s mouth splits into a grin. “Tell her we’ll be right there,” he says.

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