#hq hurt no comfort

[dreamesamu]

THE THINGS HE TAKES FOR GRANTED

in which he takes a moment to justify himself after never noticing your little crush for him

starring. akaashi keiji x fem!reader

genre(s): angst to fluff, (super, like-) long scenario 

warning(s): none, i think so? except for clueless keiji and not proof-reading

author’s note: akaashi is just a major green flag in this (every haikyu!! boy is 😭) i feel too bad to write them red-flag-y.

choose your character: m. atsumu | k. akaashi

you’ve known akaashi for quite some time, starting from your last year of fukurodani academy and then serendipity brought you both ended up being each other’s classmate at a same college/university. bokuto kotaro was your best friend, the little owl introduced his favorite setter to you and the friendship of three gradually become established, and as if it can not be any more inevitably, you eventually developed a secret admiration for the pretty setter when you three have been closed enough. however, graduating separated ways, kotaro pursued his journey to become professional in volleyball while keiji, once said to you he wanted a place in the literature department.

truth be told, even if you promised each other you would still keep in touch and plan every weekend friend group meeting online or offline, you’ve never expect you would share every class in higher education life with your crush, the akaashi keiji. the great thing is you both are paired up for an presentation assignment in the major you and him pursue, you do have plenty of time to stay close and grab his attention from making gestures that he usually failed to realizes.

here you are again, happily humming your favourite song while carrying a box wrapped with a small detailed towel, some big rolls of assignment paper stuck underneath your arm as you make your way back to where you both planned to finish the project - the library. 

“keiji, i’m back!” you set your things respectively on the table, and akaashi nods with a smile on his face in acknowledgement.

“oookay, so here’s your today’s snack, I hope you’ll like it” you grin, tapping on the box before pushing it to his side as he receives it and casually opens it while speaking.

“hmm? are those sketches of our poster? you can always edit them on the computer, why the effort?” he chuckled softly before completely unwrapping the bento box.

“I’m not good at designing and stuff. I may draw as I like and you’ll be the one to edit it on the computer.” you puff your cheek out, hands resting on hips as you watch his reaction to your delicately decorated sweets in the box made for him.

“this looks amazing.” he smiles upon seeing the pastries you made, decorated beautifully with different kinds of fruit as each pastry has different flavours, you probably did not stay up so late last night just to make all kinds of flavours for him to show how much you like him. yeah, probably not.

"oh, it's nothing, I just hope it doesn't taste bad" you chuckle nervously while scratching the back of your neck, letting his praise send you up to cloud nine.

your actions falter when you see akaashi put back the box's cap on, set it aside as he leans over to reach the posters you drew.

"now then, can we start working on the project?" he spreads out the piece of paper, glancing at you as you stand there awkwardly, prefer him taking a bite to look through all of your efforts than just shrugging it off and go straight to the main part of your study session.

"what...? oh- um..." you trail off, a bit embarrassed. "wouldn't you like to try one out? it won't hurt to just have a taste of it..."

"maybe later, y/n. we have other things need to be done right now." he merely states, eyes study the poster in front of him, unknowingly sinking your heart.

"yes, right." you shift slightly, taking the sit by the opposite of him, trying to catch up with him on the progress.

you let your mind wanders off how many times you've lost count already while akaashi quietly focused on scribbling something in his notebook, every thoughts you have are always about keiji, your feelings and the stare you give him thinking it's discreet. what's stopping him from trying my tarts out? and how does he feel being around me? or is that his way of rejecting something without making that person feel bad? flooded your mind.

"y/n?" you realize his faint voice ringing somewhere "y/n..." the voice becomes clearer. "earth to y/n, you're staring." awh, snap. right.

you blink, startled before clearing your throat, mumbling a small apology as you try to get yourself busy with the work underneath you once again.

but akaashi just chuckles, his voice calm and reassuring.

"hey, you seem off today. it's lunch break, please make yourself comfortable." you fumble at his words, it's noon already? as he collects his books and tidy it up at one corner of the table before speaking again.

"yuri satsuki is inviting me to have lunch with her. would you like to also join? i think she wouldn't mind." he kindly offers, probably not knowing the words struck you shocked.

you know satsuki-senpai, she's a year older than you and has been a social butterfly ever since you set foot in student life. she is a nice person, you conceived, but not until you found out that she has a huge crush on your akaashi keiji, her behaviour in your eyes became somewhat annoying. in return, she did realize she had a rival to win over him, you acknowledge that through the smug look she gave every time akaashi was around her instead of you, that is how the tension gradually builds up between you and your pain-in-the-ass rival.

and now she's even invited keiji for lunch? you feel an uncomfortable twist in your belly, screaming that if you do not take further actions, you lose akaashi to her. but his way of discarding your hard work, also known as an attempt to get his attention earlier discourages you hastily. this comes to a realization: ever since he start hanging out with satsuki-senpai, he has never touched one of your cooks once.

"no, i'm fine staying here. you go" you force a smile waving him goodbye. he hesitates upon seeing the downward trend of your mood as well as the strange attitude every time he brings up yuri.

"what are you waiting for?" you scoff, trying your best to make it sound not so bitterly. he nods quietly before ruffles your hair, thoughtfully remind you to get something to eat before start working again, and he'll be back with you soon.

you groan for the nth time in thirty minutes since his last leave, deciding not to eat anything at all after you laugh bitterly to yourself seeing the bento box laid cold by his stuffs which corrects your thoughts that he is not going to appreciate what you did for him.

the chair scraped the floor when you stand up, attempting to compose yourself when you feel your brain need a break from overthinking such situations.

on the way out of the library, your eyes meet yuri satsuki's, assuming that keiji is just somewhere around here as his lunch break partner is the person you least excited to bump into.

"well, well. isn't that the girl whose best friend choose to hang out with me instead of her?"

excuse me?

"don't get too ahead of yourself, satsuki-senpai. just a friendly reminder" your tone evidently irritated as you flash her an unamused smile, trying to avoid her as soon as possible.

but the radio scene of her voice replayed all over your head, your mind goes muddy despite the fresh air you're trying to take in, you let out a shaky breath, tears brimming out.

maybe, he doesn't quite noticed the things I did for him after all...

---

"you're back. where were you?" akaashi worried tone surprises you after a quite fine time of trying to find you because your study desk in the library was empty.

"i was... out for fresh air. why?" your voice is off and he noticed that. he always knew when something is bothering you, and right now he definitely know that something is wrong.

"after i finished my lunch i got yours, 'cause i know when i'm back you would still hadn't eaten anything." his brows slightly furrow seeing your avoiding attitude.

"thanks, keiji." you said briefly, take the package from his hand and sit down on your seat, never forget to notice the pastry box still intact.

your strange attitude didn't just stop there, it confuses akaashi for a more couple of days of your avoidance, he dislike the way you put a small distance between you both in study sessions, you flinch and tense around him more often, your answers and conversations are brief and sometimes awkward as you seem to be more preoccupied and attentive rather than to communicate with him.

"good morning, y/n." he smiles, your state has been bothering him for days as he is paying attention to your fade grin and a small "hey" as a greet back.

then he fumbles. something is missing...

oh. but then, realization sets in him quite quickly: you didn't bring any homemade sweets today.

"y/n..." he hesitates, meeting your eyes as you lift your head up from the notebook you're scribbling on. "does your home perhaps... out of ingredients or something?"

you are stunned for a moment, knowing exactly what he was trying to imply, scared to look at him directly in the eye as you shift your gaze elsewhere, pretending to have forgotten.

"oh... you mean the pastries... I forgot to do it. I was busy yesterday"

lies. he see through it, you know that, but you can't just blurt it all out that you're heartbreaking because of his indirect rejection that never says he doesn't like you, but makes you feel like it did.

"hey... i know something is wrong, can you tell me what it is?"

there it is - the worried look on such handsome face that never fails to make your heart flutter. but you know, that is just his nature of being an attentive and thoughtful person, not just for only you, but for everyone in his orbit.

so his question remained unanswered.

akaashi has been extremely distracted due to the sudden lack of your affection on him. it's just doesn't feel the same. even if he refuses it but deep down, he misses your midday snacks, your bubbly laugh around him and that flushed cheeks you wear every time he caught you staring. it has been a whole week since, and the fact that you didn't join the friend group video call with bokuto last sunday was his last straw.

he misses you, dearly. and if he doesn't do anything now before your project is finished, he might find it difficult to approach you even when you are his best friend.

and then, on an another lovely morning in the college's campus, an emotion he thinks he's aware of stirring in his stomach at the scene of you handing out a bento box wrapped with the same detailed towel, a small smile tugs at the corner of your lips as the other boy laughs lightly, scratches his neck, sending regards with a polite bow before making his way back in the classroom, akaashi doesn't like what his eyes have witnessed, so when he met yours, the bitterful look sends shivers down your spine.

you turn away, begin to walk, you do not want to deal with your bothered heart right now, not if it has anything to do with him, with that thought, you choose to neglect it because it is just your one-sided feelings for him.

but you hear footsteps behind, next is a small "wait" escaped from his lips when he managed to catch up and hold gently on your arm. that stopped you midtrack.

"please. can we talk?" he pleads.

---

you find yourself trapped by his presence in a corner of the school's library. there's no point in avoiding now.

"i'm sorry." he states. "i like you, i should've known."

your eyes widen. why- all of a sudden?

akaashi glances at you, softly sighs before bring your hand up to his face and kiss your knuckles gently.

"i understand now, i was clueless, you have the very right to be mad at me." each sentences he speaks crack your heart, but at the same time, they give you hope.

you neither know how to react, nor what to say, you just stand there, completely speechless, it encourages him to continue his speech of pursuing you.

"the last time i went to have lunch with satsuki, she confessed to me." he stopped, watching your expression. "but i turned her down, then, she got angry and started to brag about you. i did not like what she said, so i got quite defensive and... that was when i realised."

"i didn't know when it started. i just knew that i didn't feel very comfortable seeing you bringing your pastries that was meant for me to someone else, and more it's because i didn't appreciate it."

he squeezes your hand, afraid if not, you'll slip from his grip and become somebody else's apple. he certainly dislikes the thought.

"i want your pastries back, i love them as much as i love you. please let me correct such a terrible mistake."

---

"yes, hello. i've received the box, thank you, my love."

akaashi spins his office chair slightly, softly speaking to the phone stuck between his cheek and shoulder with a smile while unwrapping a huge warm box of freshly baked tarts.

"keiji, bad news, i'm out of powdered sugar after that batch." your voice echoed on output, he chuckles.

"are you free after work? we can visit the supermarket to purchase some. i'll drive, consider this a date with me, 'mkay?"

© 2024 dreamesamu. all rights reserved.

[bokutoko]

ᴋᴜʀᴏᴏ'ꜱ pretty sure he’s about to lose his job.

but he can’t bring himself to care.

just like clockwork at 5:30 PM, he walked up to your best friend’s apartment with a single flower—your favorite, not just the typical ‘apology roses’ he picked out in the past—along with his work phone. while you never told him where you went, he knew you ended up here, far across town from him.

he stood face-to-face with the cheap mahogany of the door, debating if he should knock. how would you react? would you even answer?

nevertheless, he left his things in a little bag, turning off his work phone that already had four missed calls from coworkers. it wasn’t much, but it was proof. it was evidence that he was trying, trying to show you he could do it.

he could separate work and his life—for you.

the heels of his shoes clicked on the hardwood floor of the hallway as he walked back to the elevator, back to his high-rise that had never felt so dark and empty as it had since you left.

the late-night autumn air was cold, and kuroo saw his breath as he walked, the brisk chill cutting through his coat. but he’ll freeze if it means he could prove to you he could change—that he could be the man you deserved.

and that was what he did, every morning and evening.

as days passed, kuroo brought more upon his visits: your favorite sweets when he dropped his phone off, a book that he remembered was on your TBR, a little note saying he hoped you were well and drinking enough water. you always were bad about that.

one morning, he left your favorite coffee since he knew you had an important presentation that had been marked in your shared calendar in the kitchen. he gave the door a soft knock—not because he wanted you to see him (even though he definitely did) but because he knew you didn’t like your coffee to get cold—and he quickly walked off.

one morning, he came rounding the corner at 8:30 AM on the dot to pick up his work phone, another flower in-hand, when he saw you standing at the front door, and he swore he could’ve fallen to his knees at the sight of you.

you were wearing comfier clothes—must be your day off—and he opened his mouth to say something, anything.

“hi,” is all his voice uttered. is that all you’re gonna say to the love of your life, who you haven’t seen in weeks?? good job, you fu—

“what’re you doing, tetsu?” you softly asked, skepticism lining your gaze as you gave his work suit a once over. his tie is slightly lopsided.

his brain short circuited at the sound of your voice, a balm to his soul. “what do you mean?” he prompted, his brows furrowing in confusion.

“all of this,“ you motioned around you and to him standing before you, “what are you doing?”

kuroo’s eyes followed her, glancing at his hands, which held another one of your favorite flowers, the little bag that was now conveniently missing the chocolates he left for you yesterday, his turned-off work phone that probably had dozens of missed calls—not that he cared about that anyway.

you were here; he wasn’t about to ruin his chance to talk to you.

“you know what i’m trying to prove here, angel,” he reasoned, taking a hesitant step forward, “and i’ll do this for as long as it takes—”

“for what?”

“for you to come home,” he said, his eyes zeroing in on your finger, the beautiful engagement ring he gave you months ago still sparkling, even in the shitty apartment hallway lighting.

she still wore it, after all this time.

he had to remind himself to breathe, and he added a soft, “angel, please come home soon.”

he knew she can see right through him, she can see how this man has stripped himself bare before her, all the way to the marrow of his bones. all his cards were on the table. no games, no bullshit.

he knew it wouldn’t be that day, the next, or maybe even in another long week before you’d come home, but he hoped that one day, you’d trust him to give him your heart once more.

he won’t lose you.

PART ONE

a/n: TADAAA part two! i lowk was not expecting so many people to like angsty kuroo but here we are

*HUGE thank you to the anon for the help with an idea; you’re wonderful, and i hope your pillow is cold on both sides tonight

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please do not copy, alter, or repost my work. ©bokutoko 2025.

[tetsumie]

𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔

pairing: kuroo tetsuro x fem!reader

genre: comfort

content: kuroo hasn't seen you in days and makes his way to your apartment to see what's going on with you

cw: reader has a depressive episode and displays depressive symptoms

a/n: hello! i tried writing something for my pookie wookie kuroo tetsuro also lwk very self indulgent.. love u all and tysm for the endless support and as always likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! i could not be here without you all <333

"hi! this is y/n l/n! sorry i couldn’t answer your phone call. i’m a bit busy right now but leave a message and i’ll call you back the first chance i get than-" kuroo hangs up the phone for nth time today and sighs. 

kuroo hasn't heard from you for the past few days and to be completely honest, it’s like you've completely vanished off the planet. your designated seat next to him in both chemistry and english lectures have remained empty for the past week and he can’t seem to get ahold of you at all. 

at first, he didn’t really worry much about it. he didn’t want to pry on why you weren’t coming to school. he understood everyone needed their space. but when he intercepted your friends one day and asked them how you were doing and they too were unsure as well, he knew there was something severely wrong. 

on the other hand, you’ve been home all week. 

you haven’t been in the best place for the past week. you feel like your body is slowly succumbing to the stress and your body is practically giving out on you, working overtime. motivating yourself to study and to work is already difficult enough as is but doing basic things such as getting out of bed and even taking a shower feels impossible. 

you feel stuck in this never ending loop of time where the same things just keep happening over and over. you wake up at the prime hour of 12 pm and realize you’ve missed all your morning classes but then immediately head back to bed. you fall asleep and then wake up at 2 pm and stare at the ceiling above you with no particular thought in mind. eventually, you find yourself scrolling through social media on your phone but then ditch it after a few minutes because a wave of social anxiety crashes into you. 

it doesn’t help that you’ve also been skipping meals and you’re starting to catch a cold. man, you haven’t even gotten out of bed, let alone left your bedroom. you can’t even get yourself to do the bare minimum right now and making yourself an actual meal is a bit too out of your comfort zone. 

and what makes this entire situation worse is the fact that you’ve been pushing everyone away, from your friends to family to the one and only kuroo tetsuro.

there was no justification behind why you were avoiding them. you just couldn’t allow yourself to let them see you in such a lethargic condition. it hurt your pride and in general, you hated having people worry for you. it made you feel, in a sense, hopeless. 

you just wanted to shut yourself off from the world. 

the week goes by in a flash and friday evening rolls around. your phone lights up again for the nth time. you see it flash white but you roll over away, not having the energy to grab it. doing anything especially talking to other people feels exhausting.

a few minutes later, someone's banging on the door. it sounded like the fbi was at your door with a search warrant as if you were harboring drugs. you don't answer the door, not feeling like leaving the comfort and safe haven of your bed.

but the banging doesn’t seem to stop and you're getting irritated so you’re forced to get out of bed and tell the person at the door to come at another time.

to your surprise, when you open the door, you find your boyfriend, kuroo, staring at you with wide eyes and furrowed eyebrows.

“y/n, where have you been?” he begins the interrogation.

you mumble. “nowhere. been at home.”

he looks you up and down, taking in your disheveled state. your face is pale, the bags under your eyes seep deeply, giving away the countless sleepless nights you've had. your shoulders are slumped and the corners of your mouth turn down slightly, a subtle but constant frown. your hair is unkempt, reflecting the lack of energy to even try to care for yourself. an aura of exhaustion and hopelessness hangs around you, making it clear that you're struggling to find the strength to even function.

“then why haven’t you answered my calls?” he continues.

“i’ve just been preoccupied,” you lie and he catches on immediately.

no words are exchanged between the both of you for a few moments. you take his silence as your cue to end this awkward conversation and to send him on his way.

"i'm sure you have better things to do, just go-"

you're about to close the door on him until he says, "let me in."

you sigh again.

“can you come back later tetsu?” you don’t want to have him deal with you like this. he's seen more than enough of you in this condition.

his piercing gaze locks with your tired eyes and he feels his heart clench. the usual shimmer in your eyes gone and all he can see the numbness in your expression.

"no let me in," he states in a strict tone. "we have to talk."

with no choice, you open up the door entirely and kuroo takes a look at the state of your apartment. he would be lying if he wasn't caught by surprise. clothes are strewn across the couch and bowls of empty ramen are lying on the kitchen counter. your apartment is a mess.

putting his stuff down near the door, he begins to slowly pick up your clothes off the floor and tosses them into the laundry bin. seeing him make an attempt at cleaning your mess made you uncomfortable to the point your skin started to crawl.

"tetsuro, stop."

"no."

"please stop," you plead in desperation.

"y/n, i’m trying to help you!" he replies, his voice growing a little louder with irritation at your refusal.

“what if i don’t want your help?” you shoot back and his mouth closes shut. “i don’t want your help or your pity or condolences or whatever it is! just go home!”

although your mouth said one thing, your mind was trying to telepathically convey another.

please don’t leave me now. please stay.

you don’t say a word as you walk into your bedroom, closing the door behind you, hoping he'll leave on his own. the moment he hears the click of your bedroom door, kuroo begins to try to organize as much as he can in your living room. he takes out your old leftover foods and tidies up the kitchen. he starts working his way through the living room, silently sweeping the dust off the floor and reorganizing your items that were strewn on the floor.

as he’s silently working, he begins to hear sniffles and sobs coming from your room. dropping everything, he finds himself standing in front of your closed door, fist about to knock the door.

“love, can we talk?” he says out loud.

it's silence from the other end.

"y/n... please..." kuroo's voice cracks. "i just want to see you."

"door's open," your voice is muffled slightly through the door.

he opens the door and is greeted by you wrapped around in your comforter, looking away from the door. kuroo takes in the state of your room. the curtains are drawn out and there are tissues littering your night stand along with your computer lying in the corner with a pile of clothes in the corner waiting to be cleaned.

you were always so organized, what started this?

kuroo goes over to the other side of the bed and your face is huddled into your comforter. he crouches down and starts to stroke your hair with his hand.

"baby? talk to me, love. what's going on in that pretty head of yours huh?" he coos in hopes of getting you to open up.

refusing to look him in the eye, you mumble into your comforter loud enough for him to understand. "it's been getting bad again... it’s been bad all week and i'm just tired all the time."

he kisses the top of your head. "and that's okay. not everyday is supposed to be a great day. you're supposed to have good days and bad days."

you finally emerge from your cocoon and the sight he's greeted with break his heart into pieces. your face has a slight red flush tint with the remnants of your tear stains on your face. he sees how you're trying to maintain a steady face, trying your best not to fall apart in front of him.

no questions asked, he brings you into his chest and the tears you worked so hard to keep at bay come apart. you start sobbing into his chest. he strokes your back in a rhythmic up and down motion, adding the occasional kiss on the top of your head. he finds himself crawling into your bed with you on his lap as you continue to sob into his chest.

once your crying subsides a bit and your throat feels a bit sore from the crying, you look up at him and he gives that genuine small smile of his that you've grown to love so much.

"i love you, you know that right?" he reassures as your eyes meet.

your eyes shift from one eye to another and you look at him as if he hung the stars just for you.

"i know and i don't know why you love me. i don't deserve you. you deserve someone who's put together and on top of it and just perfect. hell, you could do so much better than me... i don't even know why you're still with me."

his heart cracks at the heartbreaking words, escaping your mouth. he feels so stupid. have you been feeling like this for all this time and haven't said a word to him? he should've done something.

"when we started dating, from that very moment, i knew i wanted all of you. i want everything. i want your bad days and your good days and your lazy days and your rotting in bed days. i want your good and bad. i want your highs and lows. y/n, i just want you." he kisses your cheek.

he continues to reassure you, "i want all of it. and i want to be there for you the entire time. i don't want you to have to hide yourself from me. i never wanted you to be perfect. i wanted you to be just you. that's who i fell in love with."

"i love you with all your 'imperfections' you know that right?" he does the air quotes around the word "imperfections."

"yeah but it's so hard for me to accept-," you start but he brings his pointer finger to your lips, telling you to stop your train of overthinking.

you both are enveloped in a comfortable silence with kuroo's reassuring words hanging in the air.

"i love you so much, you have no idea," you finally say, cuddled into his chest.

"oh yeah? i couldn't tell," he begins to tease. "tell me more actually."

you let out a chuckle, playfully slapping his arm, and that warm, sweet smile of his forms again on hisi lips.

"there's my gorgeous girl. oh how i've missed you."

"missed you too, tetsu."

© tetsumie 2024 all rights reserved

[sunshinebokuto]

Bokuto hides in small places when he's sad :( no one talk to me :(

[malikaihii]

tw: Comments on weight, negative comments from a parent, overall hurt/comfort, also i am not japanese so apologies if there’s any errors in terms used. Also apologies for spelling or grammar issues.

It was the first time Ushijima Wakatoshi would be meeting your parents. You’d been together for a few months now, and your parents wanted to meet the man in your life. Begrudgingly, you accepted their dinner invitation. Though, you made sure to warn the man that they (your mother) may be a bit much, and if at any point he was uncomfortable, you guys could leave. No questions asked.

Ushijima was prepared. He had always gotten along well with adults. He himself had always acted politely, quietly, and with the nature of someone much older than he actually was. So, despite your warnings. He was fully prepared. You yourself had told him they’d love him, so why wouldn’t he be prepared? He was completely ready for the events of the evening.

Or so he thought.

Because right now, you’re sitting together at the dinner table, and Ushijima swears he never could have been fully, or even slightly, prepared for what he’s witnessing.

“Oh my god! Are you already at your second plate? No need to eat so fast, we made plenty!” your mother laughs, the noise scratching Ushijima’s brain in all the worst ways, “You know, we made food so that your boyfriend could eat more. He actually has a reason to eat so much!”

Your mother had spent the entire evening critiquing your every move. He swears he hadn’t heard a single nice thing fall from her mouth.

“A man like him should be with someone more composed and calm! You don’t want to annoy him, dear.” Your mother states, after you had spoken a bit too long for her liking.

Though, Ushijima would never agree with her. He loved hearing you speak. He loved how energetic and excited you got. It balanced well with his quiet demeanor.

He’d noticed, almost instantly, how uncomfortable her comments had made you. Your face would fall; going from its happy smile into a deep frown. Each time she spoke he’d grab your hand and squeeze it tightly. Partially, to comfort you, the other part was to clam himself down.

As the dinner ended, he had stood up to help with the dishes and clean up. You had as well.

“Oh, dear! No need to worry about clean up! y/n can handle it, after all that’s what good partners should do!” She said, giggling yet again.

Ushijima praised himself on his ability to remain calm. He rarely let things bother him. Now, however, he was struggling to hold his irritation in.

How dare someone belittle you in such a way? He didn’t care that it was your mother, you’re his love. He wasn’t comfortable just sitting around letting someone talk over you. Letting her talk as though you were a burden.

He loves you. He loves the way you talk excitedly. He loves taking care of you. He doesn’t want you to ever feel that it’s you place, your “duty”, to pick up after his mess. Frankly, it was disrespectful. Did they think so little of him, that he’d treat his lover with such blatant disrespect?

“It’s quite alright, l/n-san.” He stated shortly, helping you clean up despite her comments.

After cleaning, you guys had all sat down to watch a movie. The movie showed a beautiful young main character. They had their life together, were well in shape, respectful, and respected.

“You know, y/n, you really should be more like them. They’ve got their life together and everything! You better hurry before your boyfriend here realizes what he’s missing out on.” Your mother states; this was the third time she’s mentioned Ushijima deserving “better”.

The man in mention, had quite frankly, had enough. He couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t sit here and listen to such belittling anymore, not towards you.

Still appearing as calm as ever, though you saw right through him, he rose from his seat.

“Thank you for having us, however, I’m afraid we’ll have to cut this meeting short. I have practice in the morning.”

He didn’t. That’s why you guys had chosen this night in the first place. It gave you more time. However, the finality in his tone led for no further arguments. And honestly, you were greatful. You just wanted to leave.

After saying quick and short thanks and goodbyes, he grabbed your hand and left the building.

Neither of you spoke on the way home, though with the grip in which he held on your hand, you didn’t need to. You knew he was frustrated.

When you arrived home, he immediately hugged you. He barely gave you time to even close the door.

“I’m so sorry.”

That was all he had said.

“You have no reason to be. I’m sorry that they were a bit rude, they really have no filter at times.”

He pulled back and just stared at you, still holding your shoulders.

“They’re stupid.”

Your eyes widened. It was rare for Ushijima to speak so rudely, especially in relation to an elder.

“I apologize if that’s rude to say, however, It’s true. They spent the whole evening critiquing you for being human. They dared to insinuate that you weren’t the best thing to ever happen to me. As well as to belittle my favorite things about you? To belittle you? Stupid.”

It was rare to see the man so worked up. He was usually so nonchalant. Honestly, it was flattering seeing him so worked up over you. So upset over the way your mother spoke to you. Your heart warmed as you just held him. Knowing that even when you couldn’t rely on your own mother to love you, you could always rely on him.

[rosierin]

a place to fall apart │ osamu miya

synopsis; osamu comes home without a word. atsumu, suna and (y/n) know something’s wrong. in the dead of night, (y/n) hears him cry—and she refuses to let him face it alone.

aka osamu gets his heart broken and (y/n) comforts him through the night

disclaimer; despite the tags, this is not a ship!! 'tis purely platonic!osamu x reader

this fic is part of the off-season quartet™ series! for more, click here :)

The front door clicked shut.

No heavy footsteps. No sigh of relief. No muttered complaint about his long day.

Just quiet.

(Y/n) glanced up from her spot on the couch. Atsumu and Suna barely acknowledged it, too caught up in their conversation—until Osamu walked past the living room and straight into the kitchen without so much as a glance their way.

That was the first sign.

Her brows furrowed. That wasn’t right. Osamu always acknowledged them. Even if it was just a nod, a wave, a passing comment—there was usually something.

Suna’s gaze flicked toward the kitchen, catching on. Atsumu followed, twisting where he sat, frowning.

“Oi.” Atsumu called after him. “What’s with the long face? Barely heard ya come in."

No response.

(Y/n) and Suna exchanged a glance. Neither had the heart to address it. Not yet, at least.

Atsumu, on the other hand, pushed further without missing a beat.

“Seriously, what’s up with ya? Ya look like a slapped ass."

Still, nothing.

Osamu opened a cupboard, grabbed a glass, filled it with water. His movements were slow, measured—almost like he was just going through the motions.

Atsumu scoffed, shaking his head. “Geez, what, did ya get dumped or somethin’?”

It was a joke. A bad one, sure, but that was just how Atsumu was. He could be awfully tactless at times.

Still, it was bait—and Osamu always bit back.

But this time—

Osamu barely reacted. Not a flinch. No eye roll. Didn't tell his brother to shut up.

Just grabbed the glass. Lifted it to his lips.

Took a sip.

Set it down.

Shrugged.

“M’fine. Just tired.”

A beat of silence. Heavy. Unspoken.

Suna and (y/n) exchanged glances once more. A flicker of concern passed between them—because this wasn’t right.

Osamu was always composed, always level-headed, always the one who kept things moving.

But now, he just stood there. Staring at nothing in particular.

(Y/n) stood up slowly, stepped closer, tilting her head inquisitively. “Osamu…”

Her fingers brushed his arm—light, tentative, just enough to say I’m here. You can talk to me.

Instead, he stepped back. Brushed past her.

“I’m goin’ to bed.”

The words were flat. Hollow.

He dragged his feet up the stairs.

Then—the quiet click of his bedroom door.

And with that, it was as though the air had been sucked out of the room.

(Y/n) turned back to the boys. This time, Atsumu’s face flickered with something different. Not amusement. Not exasperation.

Concern.

Suna offered a light shrug, but even his usual impassive features flickered with something solemn.

(Y/n) swallowed hard, biting her lip.

But—she was (y/n). Ever the optimist. Ever the one to try.

She pushed herself up, padded over to the base of the stairs, tilting her head back just slightly.

She forced a little brightness into her voice.

“There’s lasagna if you want some!” she chirped. “It’s homemade!”

Light. Sweet. Hopeful.

Maybe he’d come down. Maybe he was just tired. Maybe—

A meek voice came from his bedroom.

“Not hungry.”

A tiny, broken exhale slipped past (y/n)'s lips.

Her heart sank.

Her bottom lip wobbled.

Slowly, she turned back to the others.

Grief flashed across her face, crept in, before finally taking over.

Atsumu was still staring at the stairs, brows pulled tight. Suna exhaled through his nose, tipping his head back against the couch.

No one had to say it.

They all knew it.

Something was seriously wrong.

Nobody saw or heard from Osamu that entire evening.

The house felt off without him—like a puzzle missing its final piece.

There was nobody for (y/n) to have her usual, easy-going chats with. Nobody to keep Atsumu in check. Nobody to add onto Suna’s dry quips with an equally witty remark.

And speaking of Atsumu—

He had been restless all night. Fidgeting with his phone, tapping his foot, staring blankly at the TV without really paying attention to those around him. He had barely spoken since dinner, aside from the occasional grunt or muttered response.

The air was heavy, to say the least.

Thick with something almost oppressive, like a dark cloud looming over their heads.

It settled over the apartment, making even (y/n) feel on edge.

And yet—Osamu’s door stayed shut.

The next time she heard from him was in the dead of night.

Muffled. Broken.

(Y/n) stirred awake, blinking sleepily before realizing—no. She wasn’t imagining it.

The soft, shuddering sounds bled through the thin walls.

There was doubt about it.

Osamu was crying.

Her stomach twisted.

Her Osamu. The calm one. The reasonable one. The one who never wavered.

Crying.

She laid there, frozen, her chest aching at the sound. He was so close—just on the other side of the wall—and yet, she had never felt so far away from him.

Her fingers tightened around the bedsheets. She felt useless.

Her mind reeled, trying to grasp at possibilities. What could’ve happened?

And then—Atsumu’s voice from earlier.

"What, did ya get dumped or somethin’?"

(Y/n) winced.

The words felt so much heavier now.

Because—what if...?

That idiot.

She exhaled sharply, staring at her ceiling.

Should she go to him?

Would he even want her there?

Osamu wasn’t the type to seek comfort. He was the type to push through on his own. The type to wipe his face, inhale deep, and pretend like nothing happened.

Maybe he wanted privacy.

Maybe she should let him be.

But then—

A quiet, shaking breath. A stifled sob.

(Y/n) made her decision.

She slipped out of bed, padding softly across the floor, careful not to make a sound.

The hallway was dark, the only light coming from the faint glow under Osamu’s door.

She stood outside it, suddenly hesitant.

Then, gently, she raised her hand—

Knock, knock.

Soft. Barely there. Just enough to let him know.

A pause.

Then, as quietly, as gently as she could manage—

"It’s just me..."

Her voice was small. Careful. Afraid that if she spoke too loud, she might push him away.

A heartbeat of silence.

Then—shuffling.

(Y/n) waited, fiddling with the sleeve of her pyjamas.

Would he send her away?

She didn't have much time to ponder before the door clicked open.

Just an inch. Just enough for her to see a tired pair of red eyes peeking through the crack.

Her heart broke all over again.

She tilted her head slightly, offering a tiny, reassuring smile. No words. Just presence.

(Y/n) swallowed, hesitant.

“…Can I come in?”

Osamu stood at the doorway, still sniffling lightly, his knuckles rubbing against one tired eye.

She wasn’t sure if she was imposing. She wasn��t sure if he wanted to be alone.

But she couldn’t bear it. Couldn’t bear the thought of him curled up in the dark, crying alone in silence.

If it were her, she’d want someone there.

So maybe—just maybe—he wanted the same.

Osamu didn’t respond at first. He just inhaled sharply, then nodded. A small, tired nod.

And then, without a word, he stepped aside.

(Y/n) slipped past him, padding softly across the room. She settled onto his bed, hands loosely clasped in her lap, waiting for him.

The air inside his room was thick.

Not just from the heat lingering under the covers, not just from the faint scent of laundry detergent and cologne—but from the weight of everything left unsaid.

The mattress dipped slightly beside her as he sat down.

She shifted just a little—just enough for her thigh to brush against his. A subtle, silent kind of comfort.

Osamu sat stiffly at first, shoulders hunched, body language closed off. She thought of ways to break the silence—but he beat her to it.

“…You come in here to ask me to cook for ya again?”

It was meant as a joke. A light-hearted jab.

But it wasn’t him.

It felt off. Forced. Like he was trying to be okay—trying to play the part of Osamu Miya, the easy-going, steady one—but the cracks were showing.

Somehow, that hurt (y/n) more.

She forced a small laugh anyway, shaking her head. “No.”

Then, gently—

“…What’s wrong?”

Her voice was soft. As soft as she could muster. Like she was afraid that if she pushed too hard, he’d shatter all over again.

“I’m worried about you, ‘Samu.”

She saw it immediately.

The way his shoulders stiffened. The way his breath hitched. Like he was holding something in—like it was going to burst out whether he wanted it to or not.

Osamu let out a slow exhale.

“I know,” he muttered. “I know you are.”

He ran a hand through his messy, sleep-tousled hair, fingers raking harshly through the strands before his shoulders sagged. His gaze drifted away, his voice almost empty.

And then—

"My girlfriend broke up with me."

(Y/n) froze.

The words knocked the wind out of her.

Atsumu’s voice from earlier replayed in her mind.

She clenched her jaw, eyebrows marring into a deep frown.

She'd make sure to smack him the next time she saw him.

Her chest ached as realization set in.

It all made sense now.

Why Osamu had come home so quiet. Why he had barely looked at them. Why he had shut himself in his room.

Sensing her mounting rage, Osamu smoothly cut in before she could explode.

"I know what yer thinkin' and it's fine. He didn't know. He didn't mean it."

Her eyes flickered up to his face, trying to get a read of his expression, if he was being sincere.

The tension slowly left her shoulders, heading his words.

That's when another sharp flash of anger curled inside her chest—not at Osamu, not even at Atsumu—but at the girl, this time.

Because who the hell would be stupid enough to leave Osamu?

He was funny. Smart. Thoughtful. Sweet. A great cook, for god’s sake!

She almost said it.

But then she caught the look on his face.

And she swallowed it down.

“Why?”

It slipped out before she could stop herself—before she could decide if it was the right thing to ask.

Osamu gave a weak shrug.

“Dunno,” he muttered, voice strained. “Said she lost the spark, or somethin’.”

(Y/n)’s brows furrowed.

Her chest tightened with confusion. Frustration. Sadness.

What did that even mean? How could she just leave? How could she just walk away from someone like him?

Osamu’s fingers curled into the fabric of his sweatpants.

It was clear—he didn’t understand it either.

Another beat of silence passed.

Then, softly, (y/n) exhaled.

“…I’m so sorry, ‘Samu.”

Osamu swallowed, shaking his head. “S’alright.”

But they both knew it wasn’t.

The room went quiet again. The only sound was the faint ticking of the clock on his wall, the slow, uneven breaths from the boy beside her.

Then—

(Y/n) moved.

She didn’t think. Didn’t hesitate. Didn’t need to.

She just reached out—and pulled him into her arms.

Osamu stiffened at first, caught off guard—but then, suddenly, all at once—

A sharp, hitched breath—

And then, before he could stop it—

A sob.

One. Then two. Then more, spilling out like he couldn’t keep them in any longer.

(Y/n) held him tighter.

She felt his fingers clutch at the back of her shirt, gripping like she was the only thing keeping him from falling apart completely.

Her own eyes burned with unshed tears.

Because—in a very Miya fashion—Osamu loved deeply. Blindly. Without reservation. And that’s what hurt the most.

The fact that he must have really, truly loved this girl.

And now—he had to learn how to unlove her.

She squeezed her eyes shut, resting her chin against the top of his head, rocking him just slightly.

“It's okay,” she whispered. "It'll be okay."

And for the first time that night—he let himself believe her.

Moments later, the sobs slowed.

Little by little, his shaking breaths steadied, his grip on her shirt loosening.

But Osamu didn’t move.

Didn’t pull away.

And (y/n) didn’t let go.

She just kept holding him, kept running her fingers soothingly through his hair, as if keeping him together with the simplest of touches.

The weight of him against her was heavy, but not unbearable.

He needed this.

And, in a way, she did too.

Osamu exhaled, long and tired, his forehead still resting against her shoulder. He wasn’t crying anymore, but there was something hollow in the way he sat there.

Like an empty shell.

Like his body had given up before his mind had caught up.

(Y/n) swallowed. Her voice was quiet when she finally spoke.

“…What do you need?”

She didn’t ask if he was okay. That wasn’t the right question.

Osamu let out a slow, shaky breath. His shoulders lifted in a weak shrug.

“Dunno.”

He didn’t sound sad anymore. Just exhausted.

A deep kind of tired that wasn’t just from crying.

(Y/n) hesitated, glancing around his room.

Then, carefully—tentatively—she moved.

Still slow, still gentle, she reached for his blanket, tugging it over both of them.

Then, she laid back against his pillows.

Osamu finally lifted his head, brows furrowing slightly in question.

(Y/n) patted the empty space beside her.

“Lie down, dummy.”

He blinked at her.

(Y/n) offered a small, tender smile. “You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

A weak huff of amusement left him. It wasn’t a laugh, not really, but it was the closest thing to one tonight.

And that was enough.

Osamu let out another breath, heavier this time, but he listened.

He shifted, moving to lie down beside her. The bed dipped slightly beneath his weight, the warmth of him settling next to hers.

A beat of silence passed.

Then—a soft, tired murmur.

“…Thanks, (y/n).”

(Y/n) turned her head to look at him, threading her fingers through his hair.

His eyes were half-lidded, heavy with exhaustion. But for the first time tonight—he looked a little lighter.

She smiled softly.

“Anytime, ‘Samu.”

The room fell quiet again. The only sound was the occasional hum of cars passing outside, the faint thrum of the A.C.

Then, without thinking—

(Y/n) reached out.

Just a small gesture—her pinky hooking lightly around his.

Osamu didn’t react at first.

Then—his pinky curled back.

A silent way of saying thank you.

Neither of them spoke again.

And for the first time that night—Osamu finally, finally let himself sleep.

[mercuriians]

connect (with you)

synopsis ☆ kuroo’s walls come down after the game with karasuno.

content info — some hurt/comfort with our beloved nekoma captain because he deserves all the love in the world 🙏 SPOILERS for the dumpster battle movie so beware. reader is mentioned to be kenma’s sister a few times.

author’s note — just wanna say hi to the haikyuu fandom :) hope u enjoy this short drabble i wrote, i’ll probably make it look pretty later. lmk if you wanna see more kuroo x kozume!reader in the future.

your lips are on kuroo’s before the locker room door even has a chance to close. his skin is soft and familiar, his kiss eager yet vulnerable. something compels you to reach up, circling your arms around his neck as you pull him closer, tighter, until you’re sure that his warmth has become your own. the sound of his breathing is the only thing keeping you tethered to the ground as your mouths meet again and again. no words need to be spoken.

after years of being together, and even more years of being friends, you know tetsurou like the back of your hand. as if he’s perpetually been woven into your spirit, etched into your heart since the day he moved into the house next to you and your brother’s.

you know that the cheery grin he shot his teammates, the reverent bow he gave to the crowd, and the meaningful hug he shared with daichi at the end of the match were all borne out of three things—his sworn responsibilities as the captain, his earnest respect for karasuno, and the addictive rush of adrenaline.

the moment he left behind the arena’s blinding lights, though, the high seemed to wear off.

yet an aching feeling stayed with him.

when you pour your heart out on the court and play until your muscles feel like they’re on fire, when you devote hours of your precious time towards practicing—towards smoothening out every crack within your blocks, every blemish within your serves, every falter within your receives—and when you imagine the game countless numbers of times in your head until it feels like a memory, there’s a certain type of pain you feel when it’s all over. it’s a sadness that’s inevitable, and yet one that stings so profoundly and uniquely that it becomes a bittersweet moment you’re bound to remember for the rest of your life.

just one more second, one more chance— you think to yourself in a flurry of desperation. because as foolishly selfish as it sounds, nobody ever truly wants the game to end.

that feeling of wanting to remain frozen in the experience is something you yourself are all too familiar with. volleyball, after all, was what gave birth to the connection you now so deeply share with tetsurou.

you suppose that’s why you’re able to pinpoint the exact moment his shoulders start to shake.

pulling away from the kiss, you feel your heart plummet into your stomach before you can even see the tears trickling down his face. something you’ve come to learn about tetsurou is that he rarely ever cries, so when he does, it only makes the sight that much more impactful. wordlessly, you pull him into you once more.

the way your arms firmly, comfortingly wrap around his tall figure conveys a simple but invaluable message that resonates throughout the empty room— “i’m not letting you go.”

quietly, he sobs. you let him.

you barely notice your nekoma jacket becoming damp with his tears. when his crying slowly starts to recede, you break the silence, voice soft and tender. “you were amazing out there, tetsurou,” you whisper. “and there’s three things i want to thank you for.”

withdrawing by the tiniest sliver, just enough so he can meet your patient gaze, your boyfriend tilts his head slightly in the way he always does. his fingers subconsciously trace patterns across the small of your back. “what are they, baby?” his voice is quiet and a little hoarse. really, it’s a miracle that you manage to block out your own shadows of sadness.

“one,” you whisper, fingers reaching out to gently wipe away his tears, “thank you for being the best captain this team could ever ask for.”

“two,” you continue, leaning in to kiss away the tears that remain, before a small smile pulls at the corners of your lips, “thank you for helping my brother fall in love with volleyball.”

“and three,” you breathe out, your vulnerable gaze meeting his own, lips inching towards his once more, “thank you for being as strong as you’ve been, and for carrying the world’s burden on your shoulders when none of us could.”

when you finish your heartfelt confession, tetsurou’s hazel eyes glaze over with a fresh wave of tears—this time, however, it’s for an entirely different reason.

and this time, he’s the one that kisses you first.

[stellar-haikyuu]

get well soon ☆ shirabu kenjirou x reader

synopsis: second-year reader has been shirabu’s classmate and academic rival since their first year. when reader overworks themselves and they break down during a test, shirabu is unexpectedly “kind.” details: academic rivals to friends/lovers, some angst, hurt/comfort, ~3.2k words, gn! reader. warnings: some descriptions of reader having low self-esteem and test anxiety :( also, this is long; i hope the time skips are clear.

Sometimes, you wonder how you ended up here. 

You were excited to finally reach the last leg of your high school journey after years of studying at Shiratorizawa Academy. 

Of course, you knew the climb would only get harder, but you had no idea the mountain would be this rocky.

Your goal was clear: consistently be at the top of your class, for at least two out of three terms every year. 

When you started your first year, the classes seemed pretty manageable. You didn’t think you’d have any trouble.

That was until your classmate, Shirabu Kenjirou, came out on top in the first term.

He didn’t say that much, but his scores spoke for themselves. Threatened, you pushed back.

You recited at least once every class. You volunteered to help your teachers. You made damn sure that you’d be congratulated for getting the highest test scores.

By then, you knew you had his attention.

An academic rivalry was not part of your plan; but for the sake of maintaining a competitive medical school application, you told yourself to accept it. 

And apparently, he has plans to apply to med school, too! Great!

Through sheer determination, you successfully beat him by the end of the second term. When you came home to your family for winter break, you proudly shared the news.

Come third term, everyone in your class knew you two were battling it out. Even the teachers caught on and reminded you two to keep the competition friendly.

Nobody would ever forget your pair work in social studies that ended in an impromptu debate about the Japanese economy. Your teacher just sighed and reiterated that your grade was shared, not separate.

Despite it all, you survived…only to end up tied with him in the class ranking. It was so unlikely, but somehow, the cumulative totals of your percentages were equal.

You had no idea how it made you feel, but you prayed to everyone and everything, hoping it would come to an end.

However, the day you walked into your new second-year classroom, you wondered if your wishes fell on deaf ears.

Sat in the front row was the sandy-haired boy with the infuriating bowl cut bangs.

You know it’s not like you, but you crave seeing the sour look on Shirabu’s face whenever you win against him.

It’s become second nature to send him a sickly sweet smile each time you get praised by a teacher.

You couldn’t help it, not when you found out he became the starting setter for Shiratorizawa’s volleyball team this year. 

Sports was never something you cared about, as you’d rather spend the rest of the afternoon studying. But, it irked you to see how well he seemed to balance his extracurriculars with his academics.

No, you even envied it—the training was no joke. Your friends tell you that it’s constant early morning and late afternoon training, plus a harsh coach. 

Yet, the guy comes into class acing his assignments, almost as if he hasn’t spent hours of his day throwing and hitting balls.

Just for once, you want to see him break.

You feel ashamed to think that way about someone, but sometimes, it seems easier to be resentful.

It didn’t help that he was constantly being congratulated by classmates and teachers because Shiratorizawa won the Miyagi Interhigh Tournament.

Internally, you were happy because it meant not seeing him in class for a while. But the more you thought about it���

He’s going to Tokyo for Nationals. He plays with a team. He has a life outside of academics. 

You? You’ve got nothing going on.

Your days all blend together: late-night studying, rushed breakfast, intense classes, library time, dinner, studying some more. Repeat.

Your roommate offers company, though they're equally busy, chasing their own dream of becoming a lawyer. 

And while you see friends at lunch, you’ve started declining invites to go out, even on weekends. You can barely recall what the arcade or nearby cafés look like.

You always say you need more time to study. That you’re tired and want to rest. There’s truth to your reasons, yet you feel frustrated.

Unfulfilled. 

Pissed.

Why can’t I be like him?

Adding insult to injury, they release the first-term grade cards and class rankings. 

Just like last year, Shirabu took the top spot. You came in second, but only by a small, decimal point difference.

Something twists in your gut.

Normally, you do pretty decently in your mathematics classes, but it doesn’t mean you never struggle with the lessons.

The second-term curriculum seems to be out to get you though. Limits? Elementary Calculus? Where in the world would you need this kind of math in your life?

Lately, you’ve been observing Shirabu at the library on his free days. You wait until he brings out the math textbooks and worksheets, then time how long it takes him to finish studying.

It takes him about half the time it takes you. 

You’re not even surprised when he’s applauded for getting the highest mark on the lastest math test.

Of course. He has a way with numbers that I don’t.

When you receive your test paper, you stare at the red ink. You passed, but only by a few points. Relief and disappointment swirl inside you.

The teacher starts to go over the items that most students had difficulty with, but you don’t pay attention. You can’t, not when you know everything’s starting to fall apart.

For the first time in your life, you felt the danger of failure. It was terrifying.

You can feel Shirabu gazing at you, but you don’t look back.

He’s not important now. You need to survive.

If he starts wondering why you stopped going to the library, it’s none of his business.

A distraction is the last thing you need.

You stop talking to everyone, choosing to stick your head between your books during break.

You no longer recite in every single class. Once a day is enough to conserve your mental energy.

The weekends are reserved for a strict study regimen that gives you more time to study for math.

Your classmates whisper about you. They send concerned looks your way.

Some teachers ask if you’re okay, but you say that you’re fine.

You should be. 

You have to be.

Two weeks have passed, and there’s another stupid math test coming. Tomorrow, to be exact.

Your dorm room is silent. Your roommate has long fallen asleep on their desk, knocked out from working on their chemistry assignments.

It’s past midnight now, but you’re only halfway through the test coverage—partially, it’s also thanks to an English project draft that was also due tomorrow.

Your head is buzzing with anxious thoughts, worries that you’ll forget everything you’ve spent days studying.

I need to pass, I need to pass, I need to pass…

The numbers and symbols start to fly around the page. The steps starts to lose all sense of logic.

You don’t even register your eyelids drooping and the pencil falling out of your hands.

Fatigue is a tough thing to fight off. 

The next time you blink, it’s to wake up.

Both you and your roommate jolt at your morning alarms.

When did I fall asleep?

You groan and sit up, massaging a small cramp out of your neck. Your head has a lingering ache, you realize, as you wipe away a small amount of drool from the corner of your lips.

But you have no time to think about it. You need to get ready for the day.

The rest of the morning goes by in a haze. You pick up one of the energy bars on your bedside table. You feel like you can’t really eat anything more, anyway.

There’s a pit in your stomach. You suppose it’s hunger, test anxiety, or something else.

Whatever, whatever, I’m going to be late.

Your roommate gives you one last “good luck” before you both dash to your classrooms in the high school building.

Thankfully, all your morning classes were either entirely new lessons or reviews of familiar material. You cannot listen to anything your teachers are saying.

On your desk, your physics notebook is secretly opened. You try to review what you can, but it’s tough.

You feel like nodding off at any moment. The room feels hotter than usual, too.

When recess comes around, you’ve lost your appetite entirely. It’s an odd, contradicting feeling. You’re hungry and you know you need to eat, but you don’t want to.

Maybe you shouldn’t. You feel like you might throw up if you do. Lunch comes right after anyway, so you’ll wait until the nerves are gone.

It’s time. 

Your teacher walks into the room and you cannot believe that you’re about to take the dreaded test. Your legs can’t stop shaking. 

Somehow, the worst sensations are hitting your body all at once. Heat, chills, nausea, sluggishness, and some sort of brain fog.

You can’t even focus on the final reminders that your teacher is giving you. There’s some chatter from your classmates, but it’s all garbled noise in your ears. 

Every second feels like a century. The testing sheets make their way down each column, and you whisper one last prayer before your papers are passed to you.

Oh god.

Even though you’re staring directly at the page, none of the words or numbers register. The questions send a shiver down your spine.

How the hell do I do this again?

Breathe.

Breathe.

You’ve studied this.

You try to focus on the simpler questions first, to get them out of the way. You avoid reading the last few pages to give yourself some peace of mind.

You’re thankful that there are some parts with multiple choice questions, but your mind spins, trying to comprehend the conceptual aspects of your math lesson.

Your heart starts to pound wildly in your chest. You grip your pencil tightly as you attempt to solve or answer something.

You manage to come up with responses, but you get the feeling that there may have been something wrong in your computations. If there’s one thing you hated about mathematics, it’s how the careless mistakes result in a domino effect.

Whatever. It’s done. Next part.

You glance around the classroom, seeing nothing but your classmates working around you. Nobody seems to be struggling like you were.

Maybe they’re better at hiding it. It’s fine. It’s fine.

As you progress to the other questions, you find it increasingly challenging to concentrate and recall the steps. Nothing is surfacing to your memory. You feel like your skull is just stuffed with cotton.

What’s wrong with me?

The feeling is overwhelming. You look at the clock, realizing that you’ve already spent half the period on less than half of the questions.

I might not finish.

I don’t know what to do.

Nothing makes sense anymore. You feel like your insides are going to explode. Everything hurts. You feel like throwing up. It’s cold and hot and you don’t understand it.

I’m going to fail. 

The very thought brings your anxiousness to a peak. Tears fall from your eyes without warning. Your pencil drops to the floor as you hold your head in your hands.

It’s like a dam breaks.

It’s not long before you catch your classmates’ and teacher’s attention.

You can hear your teacher call out to you, but you don’t know what to to say. You register her coming closer, asking you questions with surprise and concern.

“Darling, what’s the matter?”

You can’t stop crying. Your mind runs a mile a minute.

You feel a cold hand on your forehead, and there’s a hiss that follows.

"You're burning up," she mutters, a crease of worry in her brow. "I think you've got a fever. You should go to the nurse. We can schedule a make-up test this week."

You sniffle and nod in response. The teacher takes your test booklet, giving your shoulder a gentle, reassuring squeeze before returning to her desk.

"Is there anyone finished? Kindly help them to the nurse if so," she asks, her voice echoing in the quiet classroom.

You don’t even realize who volunteers. You just want this to end.

There's a small tap on your shoulder. "Hey, let’s go." It's a voice you know all too well.

You look up to find none other than Shirabu standing over you.

Of course he's already finished, you think bitterly to yourself.

You muster a weak nod, feeling even smaller as he helps you pack up your things.

The hallway is nearly deserted, with a faint murmur of voices and the shuffling of distant footsteps. You’re aware of the sideway glances that a few students and teachers give you as they pass by.

You cover your face with your hands; you’ve always hated what you looked like when you cry. 

And I just had to break down in front of him like this.

To your surprise though, you notice that Shirabu’s matching his pace to yours. Shirabu always walks quickly, often a few steps ahead of anyone else. But right now, he's walking just slow enough that, if you picked up the pace, you'd be side-by-side.

Is he only doing this because the teacher asked him? But she isn’t here to see him right now, so-

"What happened to you?" His voice cuts through your thoughts.

You startle at his question, expecting this entire walk to be silent.

“I…I don’t know.” Your voice is still a little thick. “I couldn’t answer the questions at all.”

"No. I meant, why'd you go even if you were sick?"

“Oh.” You sniffle, embarrassed. “I thought I could handle it…didn’t know it would be this bad. Just wanted to show up.”

Shirabu goes quiet for a moment, before asking more questions.

“How long have you been feeling this way? Did you even eat or drink anything? You didn’t do either during recess.”

His questions catch you off guard. You can’t believe that he’s asking you something this personal. There’s no bite to his words. Just genuine curiosity.

“Uh,” you falter. You try to think back to yesterday and this morning. “Well, I…”

"You...?" He prompts, urging you to continue. 

“Um, I mean, I’ve been tired lately. Who wouldn’t be?” You mutter.

Shirabu raises his eyebrows.

Ugh, he won’t stop until I tell him.

“I didn’t really eat a lot yesterday.” You sigh. “Energy bar this morning. Water, I don’t know how much.”

You can see the gears turning as he processes your response. “So, you haven’t been eating, drinking, and resting enough. Surely, you would have realized this wouldn’t end well for you?”

Hearing him say it out loud suddenly makes you feel defensive. It feels like he’s about to counter your argument in a debate—a deliberate search for weak spots.

“Well, sorry about that, Mister Perfect."

“What?”

“I get it! I don’t have my damn life together right now!” You grit your teeth together in frustration.

"How will you practice medicine without taking care of yourself?" Shirabu responds.

Oh, you’ve done it.

“Why the hell do you care?” You snap. Fresh tears spring to your eyes. 

The both of you stop walking and a heavy atmosphere settles after your emotional outburst. 

Shirabu doesn’t respond immediately, which somehow makes you feel worse. You feel stupid for overreacting.

“Look,” he says quietly. “I’m not trying to be mean. It’s just that…you have to make it.”

Your head lifts up in surprise. “W-What?”

“You have to make it into medicine.”

“Why?”

“That’s your dream, isn’t it?”

“I, yes…” Your voice is soft. You’re not sure what he’s trying to get at. “But what’s it to you if I achieve it or not?”

“We need more brilliant doctors.”

That stuns you and you chuckle in disbelief at his words.

“Don’t mess with me. You can’t be so sure,” you mutter.

“I’m usually right about things,” he deadpans.

You glare at him, though a small part of you is thankful for that tinge of “normalcy” at a moment like this.

“Just...” He sighs, pausing to think. “I’ve never met someone that pushed to work this hard academically.”

You let out a weak laugh. “Hm. The feeling is mutual, Shirabu.”

There’s a few beats of silence before he continues. 

“You still feel that way now? Is that why you pushed yourself to take this test instead of resting?”

“Maybe…I don’t know,” you answer. Your brain can only take so much now. “But whatever. I get it—I’ve been making a lot of stupid decisions.”

“Then don’t make any more,” Shirabu says in a firm voice. He turns his entire body to face you, and his hands settle on your shoulders. “Listen to me.”

“Woah, what-”

“You better follow what the nurse says so you can recover.” He pauses, considering his next words carefully. “Once you’re better, I’m going to help you with math.” 

He grip tightens for just a moment before he lets go. When his words sink in, you blink at him, bewildered. 

“I’m sorry, did you get hit in the head by a volleyball?”

“I’m serious,” he glares.

“Why are you doing this? You’re helping me?”

“Did you not hear what I said earlier? I want you to make it.”

“...into medicine.” You whisper, completing his statement. 

Wait. “I want?” Didn’t he say-

“Yes.” He continues walking, but halts for a moment to look over his shoulder. “Come on.”

You follow. 

“And you plan on making it to medicine, too, Shirabu.” 

“Mhm,” he responds with absolute certainty.

As you both round the corner, the nurse’s office comes into view. You decide to ask the question forming in your mind before you lose the chance to.

“Are you saying that you want me to stick around?”

You brave a quick glance at his face, but the intensity in his eyes takes your breath away.

“I do.”

At some point, you drifted off after the nurse questioned you and guided you to one of the beds.

You vaguely remember Shirabu holding on to your belongings and lingering for a while before the nurse dismissed him.

“Hi, darling,” the nurse says, noticing you sit up. “Are you feeling a little better?”

“Yes,” you respond. Your fever’s gone down, according to the thermometer, though you still feel groggy.

“That’s good. I think you can go return to your dorm once you’re ready.”

You nod in response and you thank the nurse for her assistance. She moves to return to her desk, but then she stops.

“By the way…” She faces you again. “That kind boy from your class brought you some food from the cafeteria.”

Huh?

She points to the wrapped bowl on your bedside table. 

“Oh, I see. Thank you.”

Shirabu bringing you food was already surprising, but what truly catches your eye are the pages of class notes held together by a metal paperclip.

You gasp once you read the sticky note on top.

These are notes from today’s classes.  Review them when you’ve recovered. Take your meds, eat, hydrate, and rest properly. Get well soon. - Shirabu

masterlist

[clare-875]

Everything to Me (Kuroo x Reader)

_____ Pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x Female Reader Summary: You feel like a nobody next to him, he proves you wrong Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Bullying [Haikyuu Masterlist] _____

Kuroo knows something is wrong the instant your bubbly demeanour diminishes, leaving an unnatural silence in the air. He sees it in the way you avert your gaze, how you keep your head low, how you quietly vanish from your usual spot by his side. Most of all, he sees it in the depths of your eyes; the conflict, the wavering of your usual certainty. You can't help it. You, so usually confident and proud to stand by his side despite the jealousy of girls who look enviously, have dug yourself into a hole you see no way out of. The more you try to convince yourself you're okay, that you deserve the love he so willingly gives you, the more you find the echoes of your mind convincing you otherwise. Maybe it was in the flickers of low voices that surround you when you pass dimly lit hallways. "Look at her, she doesn't deserve him." Maybe it's in the way they nitpick, eyes clouded by their disdain. "She isn't even that pretty" Maybe it's their voices coated with sweetness as they try to snatch away his gaze. "Kuroo-san, please can you help me with this."

Maybe it's in the depths of your own mind, playing games with you and prompting your own demise. But how could you not? He, so smart and witty, quick to offer help and retorts during class. He, the Captain of Nekoma's volleyball team, fit and form captivating all who look long enough; and they always do. He and his caressable hair, unkempt but soft and tempting. He who gathers compliments, admirers and popularity all the same. He who stands next to you; but what about you? What could you offer? You could give yourself credit; you were smart and not unpretty, but you also felt so extraordinarily ordinary. Next to him, you would not stand out, sometimes you would feel so far away as girls you thought of as prettier, smarter, and more popular seek his attention, their sharp gaze on you. The worst was when they would not look at you at all; when they would speak as if you weren't even present, like you weren't even worth their sympathy. Kuroo was kind and loyal, he would push them away gently, would speak of his indifference to them politely, so much so they would act as though he had complimented them instead. You wondered if it was because he pitied you; forgotten in their shadows.

Now it was all you could think about, and you wonder if you would ever break free of the chain of thoughts you had tied yourself to. It kept going on and on, and it wouldn't cease. You felt the fear creep up on you next. What if he realised... What if he left? So, you separated yourself from his presence, hoped that time would end the suffering, and if it didn't you hoped it would at least dull the blow of his inevitable leave. But you should know better. This is Kuroo Testuro, your boyfriend, someone who knew you more than anyone would, and he would notice your actions; the struggle etched in your eyes. It had been a few days and you had hoped he did not realise your abrupt absences but of course he did. You found yourself cornered, as he refused you leave the empty classroom the both of you were in.

"You've been avoiding me." You expected his anger, his swift dismissal but all you hear is worry as you refuse to meet his eyes. "Did- did I do something wrong?" You freeze at that, the slight tremble in his voice, the anxiety muddled within his words. You look up shaking your head quickly, not wanting him to doubt himself when he is so perfect to you. However, you realise it's a mistake as you see his face clearly; you see his pain. He seems more tired than usual, the soft skin under his eyes slightly bruised with lack of sleep. He seems tense as though he is bracing for something; like he's bracing for the worst. He observes the shake of your head and you see his brows furrow in confusion, eyes sharp but gaze gentle as he takes a tentative step towards you. "Then what's wrong, why have you been acting so distant?" Your head rings and pounds with his words but they muffle under the weight of all the other voices stuck chanting in your head.

"Why does he stay with her?"

"He'd be better off with me."

"I bet he just pities her"

"She's nothing"

You can't help it as hot tears pour down your face, and you feel the warmth reach your cheeks. You feel it all, the pain of holding in all the thoughts that rake your mind, all the embarrassment and torture. It comes out as you try and fail to stop a sob creeping up your throat. Kuroo's eyes widen instantly at your rare and blatant show of utter pain; of sadness. He moves as swiftly as your cries come and you feel his strong arms embrace you gently but securely. You feel yourself lose the strength within yourself as you grasp desperately at his shirt, body shaking at the weight of your gasps and cries. Through it all he is silent and patient, he doesn't mind the way your tears now seep onto his skin or the way you allow yourself to be vulnerable. If anything he is thankful you allow him to hold you. If anything he is angry. Who did this to you? Who made you feel this way? Many moments pass by when you are finally able to collect yourself and you gently release yourself from his embrace taking in a shaky breath.

"[y/n]," Kuroo mutters after he allows you to compose yourself. His hand is sure on yours as his other gently lifts your face to his. "Please," his voice is almost desperate as he looks at you, "tell me what's wrong. Did someone do something?" You look to him, the way he wants nothing more than to ease you of the burdens you have allowed yourself to drown in. You feel guilt build as you force your reply through your throat. "I'm sorry," you mutter much to his confusion. Why would you apologise? "I just... haven't been feeling great about myself lately. I think... I think they were right, I'm not enough, I'm not smart enough or pretty enough. You deserve so much better, I- I'm nothing compared to you-" Before you can continue Kuroo tightens his grip on your hand, forcing your eyes on him once more as you look up surprised at the rage that now fills his face, but it takes you a while to understand that the anger isn't directed to you. But himself. How could he not have shown you just how worthy you are of his love; just how much you mean to him?

"[y/n]," he shakes his head at your words, eyes remorseful and stern. "You- you don't know just how much you mean to me. You're so beautiful, you're so kind, you're so smart, you always listen to my science puns and always laugh. You remember my favourite foods, can list out every dislike I have, can name every movie I've watched, every place I've visited. You always come to my games and are always my loudest supporter. [y/n]... you're everything to me." Your eyes widen at his proclamations of adoration for you, heart pounding as he looks so earnestly at you. "When you started avoiding me, I thought you wanted to break up or something, do you know how horrible this week has been without you?" His tone is more gentle now, more teasing and light as it has always been.

"I'm sorry to say, but you're stuck with me, besides you’re the only one who actually laughs at my science jokes." He grins as you smile slightly at his words, feeling silly all of a sudden, feeling the weight lift off you and your lungs able to breathe again. His gaze then becomes more sure and serious as he pulls you closer to his side, kissing the top of your head. "I'm sorry I didn't realise sooner," he muttered against your skin, and you looked up to him heart warm at his words as you allow yourself to take in a breath and shake your head. "Thank you, Tetsu." He grins at your nickname pulling you closer and glad to have you back by his side. "Don't ever avoid me again, understand? And you're gonna tell me who "they" are." He says looking at you, as your eyes widen at his words. Nevertheless, the next time you even heard an utterance of an insult when you passed, Kuroo was right behind you proclaiming loudly how much he, "hates girls that gossip," and how much he adores his beautiful girlfriend. Needless to say, they never bothered you again, and Kuroo never gave them a minute of his time, forever and always devoted to you.

[rishiguro]

you don’t think that you have ever felt as much relief as you did when you finally stepped inside your home.

with a loud thud your bag fell to the floor, right before you somehow managed to stumble into your bedroom, falling face-first into the mattress. the weight of the day finally truly sank into your bones, making your entire body ache. all you wanted to do was close your eyes and fall asleep, forgetting the day even happened.

all had been too much today.

you barely managed to get yourself out of bed in the morning after a terrible night of (or lack of) sleep and you still don’t really know how you made it to your place of work, much less made it through the day in the first place. everything was loud and bright, you were running on caffeine only and everything seemed to go wrong today. your performance was questionable at best and you couldn’t help but overthink each one of your steps.

and if that wasn’t bad enough already, the whole day you were jittery until after a few hours you noticed just how much you were shaking and how fast your heart was actually racing.

and then all you wanted to do was cry.

SUNA meanwhile had absolutely no idea what was going on when he entered your home with the key you gave him a few months ago, mindlessly taking his shoes off and messily throwing them away.

he called out for you when he noticed your bag laying right by the door. when he didn’t hear you call back to him, he furrowed his eyebrows, making his way into various rooms of your place, trying to find you. he grew slightly worried when he didn’t see you in your kitchen, living room or in the hall, but a part of him figured you might be purposely hiding from him, trying to scare him.

with a smirk on his face he decided to play along, carrying himself with light footsteps over to your bedroom door and carefully watching for a sign that you might be waiting somewhere to jump out.

when he reached your door, his hand slowly moved to the handle, pressing it down gently. taking a peek inside, he leaned forward.

you hadn’t noticed the door opening a few centimeters, much less the head peeking through it, with your head still lying flat on your bed, pillows practically pressed against your eyes to avoid sound coming through as much as possible.

suna would find it endearing if he didn’t grow so worried seeing you like this.

pressing his lips into a thin line, he decided to carefully step inside, practically sneaking towards you.

“baby?” you jerked up startled, looking around with wide, slightly puffy eyes, before you actually noticed him sitting next to you.

“fuck,” you groaned, “don’t scare me like that” you let your head fall back into the mattress.

he chuckled as you scooted over and ultimately laid down next to you. “sorry” he opened his arms and you immediately cuddled into him, resting your head on his chest. “what happened?” he asked after a few seconds of silence.

you however only shook your head, hiding your face in the fabric of his sweatshirt. “don’t want to talk about it?” you shook your head again.

so in response, he only tightened his hold on you, bending his neck in an uncomfortable way to press a kiss on your temple. “that’s okay. we can talk later”

the two of you continued to lie there in silence, simply finding comfort in each other’s presence and warmth. you listened to his calm heartbeat with closed eyes and enjoyed how suna’s hand slid up and down your back.

“it’s alright. i got you,” he muttered softly, “i’m not letting you go”

you still felt bad. but laying in his arms, you felt a little better.

[dreamesamu]

THE THINGS HE TAKES FOR GRANTED

in which he takes a moment to justify himself after never noticing your little crush for him

starring. msby!miya atsumu x fem!reader

genre(s): angst to fluff, long scenario sets in post-timeskip!

warning(s): reader is nice and overworks herself. not proofhead i apologize

author’s note: It's kind of not what i had imagined but hope you enjoy it.

choose your character: m. atsumu | k. akaashi

another cliché beginning for the person you are right now - the MSBY team manager - is that you’ve loved the miya atsumu since high school. it’s not like being the team’s manager isn’t your dream, you loved this job and had been dying to do it because you’ve loved volleyball, too. plus, you will have the opportunity to stay close and take care of the team, especially your crush who just merely thinks you are his best friend.

you first laid eyes on him when you were sitting alone on the subway, his dyed-blonde locks caught your attention as he first talked to you about the chase atlantic’s song you were listening to, he was cute, warm and friendly. at that moment, you were verified that he wasn’t the guy who was fond of his fan girls that everybody had been rumoring about. He eventually found out that you guys went to the same high school, so as to start a new beginning of your bonding friendship.

It wasn’t long until you finally realized that you might have adored the pretty setter a little too much than usual. his touches, his smile, the way he calls your name and his genuine characteristics when he was used to you being around seemed a little bit more easy to flutter your heart than every other day. Ever since then, you just hid your feelings and was grateful for what you got right then because you knew that if you confess, you couldn’t get this best friend treatment that you silently fell for for any longer.

You impressed yourself for even keep it until now. you and him are mature and beautiful, but you still can’t help but feel so ‘high school’ when you look at him. the least thing you could do for a friend (crush) is care for him through bottles of flavored electrolyte water, preparing his favorite after-practice snacks and even cool and soft towels to calm the heat down after a match. However, it seems like mr. miya doesn’t notice all of the hard work you did for him, he was so used to be taken care of by you that he accidentally failed to realize the special treatment only for him but nobody else.

“Hey, tired yet? you can call it a day for now if you want?” you smiled, hand over his bottle of water you prepared for him to the softly panting atsumu taking a break on the bench. He is quite preoccupied with his earlier techniques that he need to improve, he only spares you a glance then takes the bottle to drink without saying any words, you assume that he is in a bad mood.

“oh, and” you search for the thing in your bag. “here, your towel”

he nods and takes it, it makes you feel awkward. that’s… all…? You try to not overthink yourself, after all, it was quite a tense match, and the fact that your team will have an important volleyball game the next month proves his concerns are valid.

you watch atsumu leave when hinata shoyo came up to you.

“oh? isn’t that our manager?” you startle at his voice. “hehe, please don’t mind tsumu at all, please, he just got pissed because he made a mistake during practice” the sunshine grins, having him around surely just brighten everything up, because he is just so sweet and comfortable to be with.

“no, no,… I really don’t mind at all, actually” you know atsumu better than anyone so you don’t take his actions to heart sometimes, it’s just…

“oi, oi! I know what you’re thinking, I saw you overthere doing things for tsumu. This guy, honestly…” Hinata sure saw you earlier with enthusiasm written on all over your face while preparing those towels and bottles, he felt bad for you and decided to cheer you up regardless atsumu has just cracked your poor heart a little.

“It’s okay, hinata. thank you for checking on me!” you smile wide, so my efforts wasn’t invalidated at all, gratefully bow down to see the awkward hinata trying to stutter words out.

“no- no, don’t do that, you are our manager, that’s just nothing! besides, seeing you give tsumu so special treatment makes me real jealous!!” he huffs cutely. “I really want that flavored electrolyte water, too! what a shame he wouldn’t notice.”

you laugh sheepishly as you guys return to your dorms to rest. things have been going hard for you like crazy, the work amount weighing on your shoulders make it almost unbearable, but you still stay strong and put a warm smile on your face so nobody would notices. you have been thinking of retiring just in case the situation just got worse to the level of destroying your mental health. but, by thinking of your small joy of seeing atsumu everyday, you hesitated.

your sleepless nights start when the important games take a step closer, you overworked yourself and often feel burnt out, your time with atsumu narrows as you find it hard to start a conversation even in lunch break. atsumu does feel weird. why isn’t y/n sit with us? she is nowhere to be found these days.

“hey, tsum-tsum” said bokuto. “what do you think of y/n?” he said, putting a tray of food on the table while making his way to sit.

“y/n? what’s with her?” the fake blond raises a brow, munching on his food

“I think she’s so cute and thoughtful, base on her affection for you, i betcha she’s completely smitten” the owl laughs as the other teammates giggle along. “you should consider on dating her, what a waste if you don’t, she’s literally girlfriend material, same thoughts huh, hinata?” he winks and the tangerine head give him back a thumbs up.

“dating y/n, huh?” atsumu laughs as if he doesn’t take bokuto’s statements seriously. “I don’t date my friends, you know. besides, y/n is just a close friend of mine, she ain’t my type”

“heartless tsumu… she worked so hard for you these days…” hinata fake crying when talking about you

“I know that she makes snacks and does things for me, but sometimes, that’s just unnecessary, i don’t need it to be all the damn time, it feels a little annoying, i just need to be alone to refresh my thoughts” he sighs. “now you told me to consider on dating her, i wouldn’t know how long i can take it.”

now there is dead silence following his statement, everybody just awkwardly continues finishing their lunch, and you do know eavesdropping is a thing that you shouldn’t do. but you did. before you even notice, hot streams cover your face and you feel your breath hitches. the coach sends you to check on the team at such wrong timing, you can’t face them, the voices earlier destroy your confidence, replace it with angst and hurt. so… what i did is just a bother to him, huh. you realize now, that you were such a dumbass trying to make him catch feeling by all of this. and with the tiniest amount of pride left, you back up a smile and step into the cafeteria, the atmosphere suddenly feels tense as everybody hasn’t been moving on since their last conversation, atsumu feels an uneasy feeling when he sees you behind him, guilt? he thinks.

“hey… coach sent me to check up on you guys, please be well rested at your dorms after lunch, we have practice match at 2pm, alright?” your voice evidently trembles, you try cover it up with some fake coughs. oh, who are you kidding? it’s atsumu miya we’re talking about. he first notices how your eyes are a bit swollen, have you been crying? your tired figure due to sleepless nights, the way you haven’t eaten properly shows right in front of his eyes. he suddenly felt a twinge in his heart, in which moment he never wanted to see you like this, ever again. but, what’s all this for? he doesn’t like you… right? because- you’re his best friend, and caring is what’s best friends do, am I correct?

you left the cafeteria. atsumu feels like his whole head is going to explode, he regrets what he said earlier, knowing seventy per cent that you might have listened to it. he is weak because of guilt and distaste. the group feels uneasy and moody all of a sudden.

“i haven’t told you this before but you’ve seen her now, tsumu… she overworked herself with this huge amount of work with nobody beside her, yet she still maintaining to take care of you with these small gestures.” hinata sighs heavily. “y/n told me not to tell you about her state so you can concentrate on practising, but I’m really worried because now she can’t even hide it anymore. I tried to help, but she pushed me away and told me that i should do my own practices as our game is going to start soon.”

hinata pats atsumu’s back before leaving as if he’s signalling him to make it up to you. atsumu started to cry at this point. how could he be so clueless? he didn’t even know that his best friend was undergoing such pressure, yet why does the term “best friend” sound so irritating? he felt like he had failed to protect you and worse, hurting your feelings and he regretted it, so badly.

The following day comes, atsumu's first task is to search for you. To his astonishment, you are once more nowhere to be found. he was so preoccupied, his spikes aren’t as good, and he could not concentrate on practising, the coach sent him out, and gave him a moment to rethink by himself. and so, he reaches a staff, asking for information about you.

“Y/n? oh… she’s at the infirmary, we noticed her devastated state so we sent her to the doctor a while ago. now think about it I might write a report to the coach asking him to reduce the amount of work she’s handling.”

“thank you, kind sir. may I be the one who’ll write the report? I’m sure I could convince the coach.”

as the man nods, atsumu bowed goodbye to him and sprints to the infirmary where you’re at. he knows, that if anybody should write a report for you, it must be him. he must protect you because he has just realised it now, he likes you a lot more than he could imagine.

“Y/N!” atsumu slams the door open, he faces you with your eyes widened, startled by the bright window.

“tsumu…?” you softly speak.

atsumu in front of your eyes is the atsumu who tries to hold back his tears, biting his bottom lip as the poor heart lurching somewhere in his stomach but somehow still happy because he has found you.

“hey…” he kneels down on one knee beside you. “i’m sorry, angel” his hand softly squishes the smaller one, it holds back gently on his’

in all of the things you dislike, what you utterly don’t want to deal with is your emotions when you see atsumu looking so vulnerable like this. you instinctually grab a tissue and wipe off the sweat drop on his forehead the moment you see it, atsumu’s worried expression won’t vanish unless you speak up something.

“hey…” you smile. “don’t worry, I’m okay now, tsumu” you fondly touch his face with a hand, and he sinks in your touch, eyes glittering. atsumu intentionally plants a soft kiss on your warm palm and watches you go weak for him.

“i like you, y/n” he sighs. “i don’t want us to be just friends. i want to protect you, want to be the kind of guy who mentally support his girl to help her cope with any pressure.”

he looks up to see your widened eyes, without a response, he continues.

“i’m sorry i said the things i didn’t mean when you were there, I was just…" he gulps nervously and you sigh.

"tsumu... if it's too much for you to bear, maybe i should stop doing those things, okay?" you scoff bitterly, he becomes panic

“no, no, no,... i really like the way you care for me, please, i want your attention. please keep doing it. don’t get tired of me…”

you can feel the pulse bumping in your nerves, your heart flutters, and blood rushes into your cheeks just by hearing his confession. you kneel down beside him, fighting back the tears but then you can’t, so you squish him in a hug. atsumu holds you back as you start sobbing on his white shirt, inhales fondly your intoxicating smell and pats rhythmically on your back

“there, there, my angel. i’m here now. i’m sorry i’m late. let me make this up for you, yeah?” he chuckles.

atsumu loves his girlfriend. after hearing you ramble about your tight schedule, he immediately writes a report based on your experience to inform the coach about your condition so that everyone can share in your responsibilities instead of you having to handle everything alone. it wasn’t that long for the msby mates to realize you guys are together, he wrote in that report that he is your boyfriend, anyway.

“you nailed it, tsumu-kun” hinata bumps him with a thumbs up, atsumu responds with a sheepish grin while bokuto laughs beside him and sakusa just doesn’t really give a shit. 

he spots you standing on the opposite road near the brand new cafe, waving back to him smiling, “nah, gotta run. gonna treat my girlfriend with extra pastry today.”

i guess he is the simp now.

© 2024 dreamesamu. all rights reserved.

a recommendation to cope with your broken heart <3

[afyrian]

congrats for almost 600 lovely! 🥰🫶

woah wait a sec… OH MY GOD!! there’s just been a ROBBERY! we need help! wait, do you hear that NOISE? could that be BLACK WIDOW? (… 🤭)

punch them and they bleed iwaizumi hajime x gn!reader (hurt/comfort) m.list | wc: 1.2k | prompts: forced proximity + band au slightest sexual warning, like barely

    "you're so goddamn stupid," you follow iwaizumi into the dressing room, drumsticks sticking out of your back pocket, hands resting on the back of your neck.

  "i'm the stupid one? you chose this venue, you called the guy out for being an ass, and you somehow always convince me to fight your battles for you. you and your stupid ass drumsticks," he retorts, hand pushing up against his nose, blood covering his fingers. 

  grabbing the first aid kit from his locker, you set it down on a bench, forcing it open with an intensity that isn't quite needed. pursing your lips, you grab out an antiseptic wipe, noticing the cut on his cheek. it’s thin, almost like the edge of a ring caught it. his hand lingers under his nose, his knuckles split, blood rolling down his forearm.

  grabbing a nearby tissue with your other hand, you run it up his arm, splits of blood still stuck by his wrist, "right, yeah, blame the whole thing on me asshole. he was saying you play like shit and i was defending you, or does that not matter?" 

  "it doesn't matter when he climbs on stage and tries to bash your head in," iwaizumi takes his free hand and swats yours away, quickly grabbing a box of tissues from behind him, using one to block his nose and the other to clean up his fingers.

  he sits down on the bench, looking up at you. raising an eyebrow, you stare back at him. sitting down beside him, you take the wipe and bring it up to his cheek. your hands tingle as they press against his face, the short hairs on his face rubbing against your hand. it feels natural there, like a settling home. holding an antiseptic wipe, you brush it against his skin, the cut running from his cheekbone to his temple. 

  you watch as his noses scrunches up from the feeling. "what? you can take a few punches but a wipe gets you?" your expression becomes deadpan besides a small smile twitching at your lips.

  "i can do this myself if you’re going to be a prick,” iwaizumi attempts to grab the wipe from your hand, only failing to do so when you hold it away from him, dangling it by your side. 

  pursing your lips, you wait for him to bring the tissue back to his nose, his other hand falling to his hip. silently, you bring it back up to his face. you finally clean off the wound and grab at a needle and thread from the kit. bringing it up to his cheek, you glance at his eyes, “just focus on me.. you know this’ll hurt.”

  giving you a ‘mmh’, he closes his eyes as the needle goes in the first time. his hands clench into fists around his jeans. you get through the first few switches before his eyes open to look at you. through deep breaths, iwaizumi waits as you push the needle in again, clenching his jaw. his gaze stays on you as your pinkie grazes his eyebrow.

  “do you need pain meds?” you put the needle through one last time, tying it like you have many moons ago.

  “god, yeah of course i need pain medication,” he brings his hand up to his nose, pulling the tissue out of his nostril and holding another one up to it, pain migrating across his face. 

  rolling your eyes, you toss the rest of the thread into the box, heading for the door. you help him, clean him up, and the thanks you get is sitting empty in a first aid kit. instead of dwelling on the residual feeling, you grab ahold of the door handle and twist. as you pull at the door, it doesn’t budge. 

  furrowing your eyebrows, you take in a deep breath, trying again. “the door’s stuck, like actually fucking stuck,” you quickly shake the handle of the door, knocking on it as your heart rate quickens. 

  “you’re joking,” iwaizumi sighs, standing up from the bench, stopping when the blood quickly rushes to his head, his vision going dark. 

  looking back at him, you watch as his hand reaches out to the bench. pursing your lips, you walk towards him, hand reaching for his elbow. “don’t be stupid, sit back down,” you help him back onto the bench, “honestly, you get your shit rocked and suddenly you think you’re superman.”

  “i was just standing up! didn’t know standing up and superman were synonymous now,” he shakes his head, opening his mouth until his jaw pops, pain finally subsiding in his jawbone. 

  “it is when you’re still bleeding and your knuckles look raw,” you grab another wipe before running it along his the back of his hand, feeling his fingertips on your palm as you do so, “don’t do that shit again”

  his hand is rough from the bass strings, his touch sending shivers up your arm. looking back up at him, you meet his eyes, the air thick with tension. iwaizumi’s breathing heavily, a stinging sensation shooting up his hand. his nostrils flare, tongue running along the bottom of his teeth as he tries to hold back saying something he’ll great. that you’ll both regret.

  “you’re so goddamn annoying, you never just shut up for once,” he finally says, scooting a few inches closer to you, unable to move his eyes away from you. 

  “yeah? well who’s gonna stop me?” 

  before you can taunt him any further, your hand still gripping his, he closes the gap between you. his lips press against yours, the taste of blood still lingering. its metallic as it makes contact with your tongue, filling your mouth with a taste that is anything but desired. however, you can’t break away from him, hand moving to the back of his neck. 

  you can feel the tissue slightly sticking out of his nose, the stubble on his chin that scratches against yours. pulling your hand from his, you run your fingers through his hair. his hands grab at your waist and pull you onto him, letting out a groan as his shoulder bears the weight. legs wrapping around his waist, you lean into him, letting your fingers grip onto the short hairs by the nape of his neck.

  “hajime…” you whisper into his lips, feeling the slight bump forming from the altercation.

  just as his hands start pulling at your shirt, a knock on the door winds you out of the moment, your head whipping back from his, “uh… hello?”

  “we heard you pounding, the manager says the door gets stuck like that sometimes, we’re getting it open now!” oikawa shouts from the other side of the door, “know how much you dislike each other, wouldn’t want you killing each other behind the door!”

  you look back at iwaizumi, looking at the beet red color coming to his cheeks. he closes his eyes, rearing his head back in frustration. biting your lip, you hold back your laughter, hands still holding onto the back of his neck. “so i’m so goddamn annoying that you fell in love, huh?”

  “and i’m so goddamn stupid that you kissed me right back? the devil’s in the details, isn’t it, y/n?”

a/n: thank you so much!! i hope you like it <33 gen. taglist (open): @eggyrocks @causenessus @applepi25 @softpia

[tacticaldiary]

Friday Nights

PAIRING: Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader

SYNOPSIS: "I think I'm the lucky one no matter which narrative you spin." That easy smile of his reminds her of how she fell in love. He was sweet, considerate, and the perfect amount of playful that spoke to her without being cruel or nasty.

NOTE: All fanfic is timsekip. I'm taking requests!

Masterlist

Friday's are date nights.

Kuroo's observant, good at being intuitive and he never picks anything he knows she won't like. Whether that be a new restaurant or a trip to the pier they've walked a dozen times, Kuroo has this uncanny ability to read her like a book, and a compulsive need to show her that he's got it, that he's got her, and that she doesn't need to worry about something as frivolous as planning if she doesn't want to.

Today might be a first, though.

There's a frown marring his lips as he watches her read over the same page of the menu thrice, a tired furrow to her brow. Her fingers tap a rhythm to the table he doesn't recognise, and there's this general air of enthusiasm that he clocked the moment he came home.

"Are you looking for something specific, because the wine selection can't be that detailed." She seems to startle at the comment, finally putting the menu down.

"It's nothing." She mumbles, shifting her gaze to him briefly, before it flickers back down to the tiny printed text.

Kuroo hums, not convinced. "You know," he starts, because if anything, Kuroo Tetsurou is a man of tact. "I said in my vows that I'd make you smile everyday, and so far I haven't been successful once today, so give it up. I know something's wrong."

"You're a sap." The comments earns her a chuckle and a squeeze of her hand across the table.

"Guilty." Kuroo shrugs. "Now give it up. Someone bothering you?"

There's an internal fight of sorts before his persistence finally sways her.

"Not someone, just...." She loosens out an exhale, seems to sink back into her seat, resigned. "The entire day, I guess. Meetings didn't go well, I barely made a deadline, and I had to chase a client down for hours." She wrinkles her nose in disgust. "I bounced from secretary to secretary until I snapped. I'm just exhausted I guess?"

"Wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of that." Kuroo nods wisely, grin widening at the glare she shoots him with. "We could've cancelled, you just had to say the word."

"I didn't want to." She admits, watching his fingers curl around hers, warm and steady. "I usually love our Fridays, I didn't want to miss one just because I wasn't feeling it."

Kuroo clicks his tongue and stands in one smooth motion.

She's known him forever, and the transition he made from lanky, awkward high school boy to this (mostly, he still has his moments) graceful, lean businessman still surprises her often.

A couple of bills are deposited on the table, before he pulls her up by the arm, weaving between tables and leading her straight towards the exit with a hand on the small of her back, her coat draped over his other arm.

"No point staying if you don't want to be here. I don't give a shit about where we are. We could be stuck in a ditch and I'd still love our Fridays." He leans down to smile at her. "We'll stay in, yeah? I'll even let you hog the TV with those trashy reruns of Love Island."

"Please, you like them more than I do!" The cold hits them as they step into the street, Kuroo immediately helps her into her coat, pulls it snug around her while they walk to the carpark.

"Do not! I'm way above that."

"Says the man who hides the remote so I can't change the channel."

"Hey now, the couch cushions run deep." Kuroo smiles victoriously at the giggle he earns, slows to a stop under a streetlight to take him looking down at her.

"There she is." He whispers, leans down to kiss the smile off her face, sweet and self-assured. "Had me worried for a second."

"I'm okay." She assures him, watches the slope of his shoulder's relax. "Thank you for this. For everything. For just...for being you." The words are soft, intimate, they prompt Kuroo to huff out a laugh and press his lips to the wedding ring on her finger, the one he remembers beings horribly anxious to buy a year ago.

"I think I'm the lucky one no matter which narrative you spin." That easy smile of his reminds her of how she fell in love. He was sweet, considerate, and the perfect amount of playful that spoke to her without being cruel or nasty.

"Debatable," She hums, watching the spark of a challenge gleam in his eyes as he holds open the car door for her.

"Oh, I'm making you take that back."

The rest of the car ride is playful bickering, pinches to thighs and hands intertwined over consoles, and by the time they're home, changed into pajamas and a boneless heap on the couch, there is not a remnant of tension in either's shoulders.

Just content. Pure, gilded, easy content.

Reblog, Like and Comment!

(2/08/2024)

[takes1]

Hi!!! I saw the Osamu x Reader post and as a Suna girlie it breaks my heart just a lil for Suna (very good stuff for Osamu and Reader tho, that was divine) but I was wondering maybe a slight part 2 for this where Suna gets his own happy ending? I say slight part 2 cuz Suna still has his heartbreak from the Osamu story but ends up with a different reader, perhaps? In my head it was Reader's relative who's much more of his type (relative part for slight drama, iykyk) but I'll leave that up to you!! For NSFW I'll also leave that up to you!! If that's not your cup of tea, you can ignore this ask, thanks a lot!!

hi!! thank you!! i def tried to take this in a slightly diff direction, just bc i was a little confused, but i kept the themes the same and the general prompt true to form! i hope this is alright! thanks for the request!!

warnings. sfw, alcohol consumption

info. angsty / hurt/comfort / timeskip!suna / very sad!suna / heartbreak!suna / previous relationship / suna not getting over breakup / misunderstandings / miscommunication / suna checking you out / happy ending / implied needy!suna / __ words

haikyuu collection. more here.

more links. my ao3. masterlist. requests open!

"Old-fashioned. Please," The man beside you was quiet. Raspy, in a young way, but carried an age's worth of reservation in what were so few words.

He was wearing a nice, linen shirt. Orange and yellow danced off of his Harry Winston watch, but it didn't compare to the glint in his eye as he turned to look at your equally classy style.

The name that breezed off of your lips a little too easy.

"Rintarou?"

Other voices from around the rest of the bar fell away. White noise to you- a loud, gray static to him.

His fingers felt ice cold despite not nursing a drink, a decision he regretted not partaking in sooner with the rest of his team, now.

The knot in his throat kept him from responding.

"Wanna start a tap?" The bartender slid his drink towards him. He eyed you when Suna didn't take it right away.

A brief glance between this tense scene was all it took to understand.

He offered his card between two fingers and took the seat next to you without a word.

"This isn't going to work out."

Three years. So many victories, so many trials-- gone. You swore up and down you never felt anything, even after you watched him break down into tears for an hour.

Your passive stare, completely impartial to whether he lived or died, was all the solace he got.

He must've cried for days. He almost didn't show up for graduation.

The twins thought he died.

Suna held an empty stare forward at the glossy counter- fingers circling the mouth of his glass, sometimes twirling it.

Drowning in vat of ice-cold water would be a warmer feeling than this eternal torture.

The memory of you walking out of the gym, holding yourself because you knew what you were doing, and now you had nobody to comfort you for your cruelty.

A shaky sigh fogged the cool glass on his bottom lip before he took a necessary sip.

Something kind, finally.

The heat that crawled down his throat eased your next words enough for him to bare through it.

"What are you doing here?"

Your sad attempt at trying to make conversation set him off.

His nose scrunched with the effort it took to try to pull himself together. Just your voice dragged him so far back into that deep, never ending spiral of insecurity and uncertainty.

His similarly-dressed team taking up space and sound on the other side of the bar was the first thing anyone was bound to notice. After winning a game, they usually went out for drinks- but just like every other time he was dragged along, he found himself not having as much fun as he ought to.

He grew weary of their energy and insistence that he get a girlfriend to cheer him up.

This quiet separation from the pack, his sulky demeanor, and the pain he wore on his brow was evident to even the bartender. He knew you could see it and hated himself for it.

"Celebrating," His voice was so quiet it took you seconds after to completely register it.

Watchful eyes waited for your expression to shift. It made you as uncomfortable as he wanted, but he couldn't keep the fortitude to enjoy it. He opted for his glass in time to watch his ice cube drop, shift in his drink. It looked fuller, now.

He brought the bitter thing up to his lips and handled it astoundingly well.

Your pretty eyelashes looked prettier when you looked away from him. Longer and fuller when you weren't facing him. That flawless makeup, caressed by the soft, warm light of the bar must've taken you hours.

You were different. He tried not to notice.

"How have you been?"

It wasn't an apology. His fingers slipped on the gathered condensation and he hesitated to take another sip so soon.

"Busy," He looked at your glittery shoulder when you faced him again, "You?"

There were a few moments of silence that he didn't notice. His low-lidded study of your little dress was soothing the burn in the back of his throat, a painful mix from needing to cry and the strength of his drink.

Part of him was relieved you hadn't let yourself go. You were a divine gift that any man would be glad to have, and his opinion, should be willing to break himself over.

The dress honored his useless devotion well.

Part of him would never forgive you for not throwing yourself into a pit of despair for your heartless words. His eyes hardened at once, now at the curve of your thighs that stayed crossed under the bar.

"Can you look at me?"

When his eyes shot up to meet yours, it felt like you were staring down a wounded animal.

The full weight of your decision dawned on you and you realized, all at once, that you had been wrong for years.

You hadn't spared him the way you convinced yourself that you had.

Something reminiscent of fear flashed across your face. He left you to think and chugged the rest of his whiskey. His ice clinked in the glass when he set it down and flagged the bartender.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," Slipped out, a little too early, as you both watched the glass refill with golden-brown color.

He squinted down and you were grateful it wasn't a look directed straight at you.

"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard," He snapped as soon as your company left.

With more time spent sitting next you, basking in your presence for the first time in so long, and his inhibition slowly fading, he felt himself start to get belligerent.

"I was-," You sighed, trying to control the frustration in your voice because you knew it wouldn't help, "I was trying to give you more options."

It was quiet for a long minute.

The hateful stare he kept on his own hand told you he was not convinced.

"I knew it would be tough on us, with you travelling for the team."

A tough brow softened, just a little. His thumb slid against the rim of the glass, thoughtful, about a better time. When he had something else to look forward to other than practice, or games.

"I didn't wanna put you through that. I didn't want- to make you choose."

His life was empty beyond the court. He couldn't imagine any scenario that would've played out to be worse than this. His face stung when he spared a sideways glance at your pretty face.

"So you chose for me," He rolled his cloudy eyes.

His words were like acid.

You couldn't swallow the lump in your throat. You turned from him, angry that he wasn't doing well, guilty that it had to do with something you thought was a good decision.

A big breath through your nose.

"And I'm sorry," You bit the inside of your cheek when he froze, "I really can't express how sorry I am."

The apology wasn't something he could rationalize as anything other than genuine, and heartfelt.

Confusion ran through him, made much worse by his buzz-- his eyes burned and he furiously wiped one eye. He had convinced himself you were secretly an emotionless, terrible person for doing that to him. The fact that you could possibly atone for it made him wildly uncomfortable.

His chair scraped when he pushed himself up to stand and face you. He kept one arm on the bar.

"I wanted to make it work!"

His version of loud was by no means actually loud, but it still startled you.

"And- you didn't," He was already back to a soft mutter, but it was wobbly when he kept talking, "I don't know what else I could've done, to be enough for you."

"You were enough," You instantly argued, "I just-,"

Another frustrated, teary sigh, "I didn't think I was."

It must've been muscle memory. Suna didn't realize he was wiping a tear from your face until his hand was already back down by his side.

He hated seeing you cry so much that it trumped his own lingering, maladaptive thoughts. Especially when you looked so good.

Your small, sad smile at his chivalry eased the weight in his chest.

He felt like he could breathe for the first time in years.

"You were everything to me," You admitted.

He had to take his seat at that. Closer, this time.

masterlist.

requests open.

[mercuriians]

I feel like a fic about Atsumu, Oikawa, and Bokuto finding their s/o reading fanfic about them would be hilarious

(You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to <3)

Have a lovely day and thank you if you end up doing this request <33333

a fantasy world

content info — gender neutral! reader, fluffy hq!! drabbles with some crack & hurt/comfort (sounds weird but bear w it, all separate). a teeny tiny bit suggestive in atsumu's part cuz he's a little shit.

word count — 1.9k words.

author’s note — holy HELL this is so late 😭 anon i hope ur still here, i made this pretty long so that's my way of apologizing. im also praying that atsumu is in character because this is only the second time ive written him. anyway, tysm for requesting!! hope u all like this <3

MIYA ATSUMU

your eyes are obstinately glued to your phone, wholly transfixed by the words that were typed across the screen. not a single soul knew about your little hobby and quite frankly, it was likely better that they remained oblivious. you wouldn’t know how to react if anyone found out, but really, there was one particular person who absolutely had to stay unaware.

as it turns out, they were also the very subject of the story you’re currently reading—of course, none other than your sweet, beloved boyfriend, atsumu. not that the term ‘sweet’ was an especially fitting term for him. ooh, that was a sick burn.

now, obviously you loved the boy. atsumu was bold, intelligent, thoughtful, hardworking, and affectionate to the point where osamu and the rest of his team often complained about how shameless he was in front of them. his spirit burned bright with fiery ambition, glimmering red and orange and yellow, and he introduced a kind of light into your life that you had never quite experienced before. at first you were a little wary at first, a little blinded by how much he shone, but because you were just as stubborn as he was, you soon grew used to it.

if anything, you came to learn that atsumu was undoubtedly one of the most inspirational people out there. motivating his peers was like second-nature to him, and even if he didn’t consciously put in the effort to inspire them, he still ended up doing so anyway. his love for volleyball was blatant in its authenticity, in its obsession. so when coupled with his charisma, and, yes, his boyishly good looks, atsumu developed a serious kind of gravitational pull. it was no wonder so many people were drawn in—yourself included.

but, inevitably, something had to be sacrificed. your boyfriend’s devotion to the game often meant that you two didn’t get to spend much time together. if atsumu wasn’t practicing at the gym, then he was either thinking about doing it, on his way to doing it, or—this happens only under the direst of circumstances—recovering from doing it. he was, in every sense of the word, a workaholic.

you were fine with it for the most part, mostly because you had a busy schedule to deal with yourself. if you weren’t doing homework or studying for an upcoming exam for the sake of staying on top of your classes, then you were either fulfilling your duties as a student council member, playing your respective sport, or taking care of things at home.

regardless, there were still times when you wished atsumu was with you. it didn’t matter if he was spewing volleyball jargon, or forcing you to pepper with him, or anything like that. you just wanted to spend time with him, to actually see him and his stupid face and his stupid smile that you want to kiss so badly.

maybe that’s why you’re so zeroed in on the fanfiction you’re reading—to try and make up for what you’ve been deprived of for days on end. a very palpable twinge of sadness tugs at your heart. you push the unwanted sentiment to the depths of your mind, trying to focus on reading the story again.

god, what sentence were you even on? and why was the door suddenly opening—

“hey baby, did ya miss me?”

your soul leaves your body.

before you even have time to think, a shrill scream rips from your throat as you scramble to hide your phone underneath the covers. atsumu's jaw drops, completely and utterly befuddled by your behavior. after a moment he raises his hands in mock surrender. "jeez, darlin', it's just me. your boyfriend, remember?" atsumu says, brow raised. there's a mixture of emotions written across his face—slight concern, palpable amusement, even some suspicion. "what are ya hidin' there on your phone, anyway?"

finally, you seem to find your voice. "n-nothing important," you mumble, clearly and very intentionally avoiding the intensity of atsumu's hawk-like gaze. "i didn't even know you'd be visiting today.. thought you would be busy with practice again."

maybe it's because your boyfriend knows you so well by now, but he catches the hint of bitterness in your tone. his face softens, and he takes one, two, three steps toward you until he's taking up the space on your left. "coach called in sick, so mister perfect decided to just cancel practice for today," atsumu shrugs. you're still somewhat upset, but you can't help but smile at the setter's nickname for his captain—kita shinsuke, the closest embodiment of perfection that anyone's ever seen.

"i'm pretty sure i texted ya that i would be dropping by," your boyfriend adds, glancing over at you. cautiously, you pull out your phone again and open up the messages app. lo and behold, he did in fact text you, but you were too busy with your fanfiction to notice.

your face burns with the weight of your embarrassment.

a small chuckle escapes from atsumu's mouth. "wow, i haven't even done anything and you're already blushin' for me," he teases. you hit his chest halfheartedly, muttering about how mean he's being. you fail to notice the calculating glint in his eyes. you also fail to notice his hand wandering.

a second later, atsumu grins smugly, your phone held securely in his grip.

"what the hell, 'sumu?!" you screech, trying to retrieve the object in vain. "how did you even—"

"i'm good with my hands," he winks, and you don't even have time to scold him for the clear innuendo because he's typing in the password to your phone. all you can do is accept your fate as atsumu discovers the story you were reading.

as expected, he laughs. loudly. it's almost like the laugh he lets out whenever he wins a bet against osamu. you turn away, shame and humiliation gnawing at your chest. there's nothing more you want than to be swallowed by the floor beneath you.

however, when atsumu's laughter dies down a few moments later, you feel him wrapping an arm around your shoulder. "baby," he begins, voice still a little breathless from all his cackling, "why are ya reading this when ya got the real thing right here?"

you look up at him, a confusing mess of emotions swirling within your stomach. "because we don't seem to spend much time together anymore," you admit, lowering your eyes to the ground. "laugh all you want, but these stories are there for me whenever i need them. you probably think it's stupid, or pathetic, or whatever, but.. i miss you, 'sumu."

you close your eyes, preparing to hear another round of thunderous laughter. it never comes.

"open yer eyes for me, babe," atsumu's voice is unexpectedly soft, tender. hesitantly, you do, and your gaze meets his. your boyfriend reaches out, resting a calloused hand against your cheek. his touch is so familiar, so comforting, that you can't do anything else but lean in and welcome it. "i didn't know that ya were feelin' this way, and i'll admit that it's my fault for not noticing. but hey, you wanna know somethin'?"

"what is it?" you whisper.

"i miss ya too," your boyfriend confesses. he leans in, placing a soft kiss against your lips. "and tomorrow, i'm taking ya out on a date."

OIKAWA TOORU

"oh my god, this is so cute," you sigh dreamily, swinging your feet in satisfaction as you indulge yourself. it was fanfiction, for crying out loud—can you really be blamed? this particular story practically reeked of fluff. you had just received flowers from the male lead, with you two having confessed just a few days ago. now you were on the first date, entering the doorway to a beautiful relationship that made every reader jealous.

the fact that the male lead—the infamous setter of aoba johsai, fanboy of iwaizumi hajime, hater of ushijima wakatoshi—also happened to be your boyfriend was just a minor detail.

you continued reading, the outside world completely irrelevant as you immersed yourself in the story. soon another squeal leaves your lips as oikawa, the male lead, bends down to kiss your hand. he says something swoonworthy, causing you to giggle like a madman. "that's it, i'm marrying you," you say, as if he can hear you through the story.

"marrying who?"

you let out a defeated sigh as your boyfriend pops his head into your room. there's a pout on oikawa's face, his mocha eyes filled with mock betrayal. still there's a part of you that knows he actually is a little bit jealous; he just doesn't know that technically, he's jealous of himself. "who are you marrying, babe?" he asks you somewhat accusingly. "i think it's a bit too early for—"

"shut up please," you groan, a bit sad that your reading session got interrupted. "i'm reading this fanfiction of you, and in the story, you're actually nice to me."

you immediately hear an indignant gasp from your boyfriend. he puts a hand to his chest, his pout now even more prominent. "excuse me, i am nice to you," oikawa scoffs as he walks over, squinting at the story you're reading. "i'm way better than him!"

"you are him," you deadpan.

"exactly! why are you reading that when i'm right here? i'm hurt," oikawa says in disapproval, shaking his head at you. "now move over."

you blink—once, twice. "wait, what?"

"i wanna read too," oikawa says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, "so i can list all the things they got wrong about me."

BOKUTO KOUTAROU

maybe reading fanfiction about your boyfriend wasn't the best idea. it's not that the story wasn't great because it really was—the characterization was on-point, the writing style was smooth and elegant, and the plot was creative. it's more about your boyfriend himself. particularly the way that he reacted when he found out.

"am i not good enough?" bokuto asked you quietly as he stared up at you. his golden eyes were absolutely despondent, his shoulders were slouched, and even his owlish hair looked like it was deflated. you didn't need akaashi to understand that those were all signs of an emo bokuto.

and it was all because of you.

man, the guilt was unbearable.

"koutarou," you say softly, reaching out to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders. "baby, you are more than enough for me. you're amazing, okay? you're my anchor, and you make me smile when no one else can. compared to you, this fanfiction means nothing." you pause, placing a tender kiss against his warm cheek. "seeing you sad makes me sad, you know?"

"i'm sorry," bokuto mumbles, burying his face in the crook of your shoulder. "i thought i'd let you down or something, like i wasn't being a good boyfriend. it scared me."

his words make your heart hurt even more. you pull away from the hug, letting your earnest gaze meet his. "from now on, you don't have to be scared," you tell him seriously. "i'll stop reading fanfiction, and every day, i'll remind you of how much you mean to me. is that fair, kou?"

bokuto nods, and it's at that moment that you start to see the gloomy aura around him disappear. "i love you," he says, and you can tell that he means it. he always does.

you pull him closer, your fingers combing through his hair soothingly. he hums quietly, enjoying the feeling. "i love you too, koutarou," you smile. "and no story will ever change that."

you let a few moments pass by, simply listening to the comforting sound of his heartbeat. slowly, you let your eyes close, your boyfriend's strong embrace lulling you to a light rest. after a few moments, though, bokuto's voice breaks through the silence. "can i ask you a question, babe?"

you open your eyes. "anything."

he pulls away, his expression completely serious as he looks at you. "can we get something to eat?"

[stellar-haikyuu]

in your hands ☆ shirabu kenjirou x reader

synopsis: when life gets to you, shirabu reminds you that your future is in your hands. details: hurt/comfort | romantic relationship | ~1k words | gn! reader | breaking my usual format for a bit because looking for headers takes time ;-; warnings: mentions of anxiety about the future and expectations. self-insert/heavily self-indulgent. very dialogue-heavy, rushed ending, not proofread. not my best work but i needed it for mental processing.

“I’m not sure you’re cut out for it.”

For a dreamer like you, these are the sentiments that hurt you the most.

“You’re not assertive enough.”

While you excel in some aspects, it’s easy to look past that.

“Maybe you should do something else.”

A part of you will always direct your attention to any sign of dissatisfaction, doubt, or disappointment.

“I expected more from you.”

While you know it’s better to process your feelings before letting them go, your mind holds on to them with an iron grip.

“You’re too quiet.”

And their words run circles in your head until you can’t keep up.

“There are times that others overpower you.”

You know you shouldn’t exist to please others, but you can’t help it.

It’s too-

“You’re staring.”

You register the sound of a door closing, followed by the sound of footsteps.

The chair next to you is pulled out, and Shirabu takes a seat.

“What are you talking about?” You asked, bewildered at his sudden statement.

He points at your laptop screen, which has blacked out. Huh.

“You’ve been staring at it for five minutes. There’s nothing on the screen.”

You splutter. “What? You were watching me?”

“Yeah. The whole time I was in line to borrow these books.” He places a stack of science textbooks on the table. “So, what’s going on?”

“Me?”

“You’re spiraling, aren’t you?”

“I, what-”

“Don’t be stubborn.” Shirabu raises an eyebrow. “What did we agree on last time?”

“To talk to someone if I’m having a problem…” you mutter.

“And what did I say about talking to me?”

His gaze is steady, expectant. You almost forget to respond.

“That I’m not,” you avert your gaze before continuing, “...a burden.”

He hums to himself. “Is it your mid-semester grading?”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “What gave it away?”

Shirabu briefly shows you an email notification on his phone. “I also got mine earlier. That’s why I told you I’d be late for this study session. My professor suddenly called to meet.” 

He puts his device on the table and pauses, almost like he’s thinking hard about what to say next. “And, you remember what happened during your last grading consultation, right?”

You nod silently, staring back at your reflection on your laptop screen.

There’s a stretch of silence as the two of you wonder how to start the conversation.

You’ve spent the last six months feeling like your understanding of reality has shattered.

Feeling like you’re not enough. Stupid. Incapable. A waste. A fraud.

“Hey.” Shirabu cuts through your train of thought, gently easing the wrinkles on your forehead. “What happened?”

You take a deep breath, readying yourself to confront what you want to avoid.

“I’m going to the hospital for my next internship site.” You start.

He nods. “And I’m going to help you prepare for it, remember?”

“Yeah. But I talked to my adviser earlier. She suggested that I switch to another location.”

His eyebrows furrow. “What, why?”

“I don’t know, maybe she thinks I can’t do it…after everything that happened.”

At that, Shirabu’s expression shifts into something like frustration. “And do you plan on switching?”

“No.” You shake your head. “I still want to try, but a part of me thinks she might have a point.”

“Then, go try,” he says, resolute. “Did she actually tell you that you can’t do it?”

“Not really.” You put your face in your hands. “I think it was implied. I’m still an anxious mess. That much is clear.”

“So, she thinks that pushing through will result in the worst-case scenario?” 

“I suppose,” you sigh. “Like I’ll have another anxious breakdown or some shit.”

Another silence. You hate these moments—reminders of tense meetings with supervisors, their disapproving gazes, their clipped words.

Suddenly, Shirabu drags his chair closer, then takes one of your hands in his. You almost jump at the gesture.

“What do you gain from running away?” He asks, voice softening. 

You think it over as he kneads over your knuckles.

While the upcoming months fill you with dread, you find yourself wanting to push forward.

The idea of losing this opportunity genuinely frustrated you. It was what you’ve always wanted since you heard about it.

You’d be stupid to let it go. 

“Regret,” you reply.

Shirabu nods, satisfied with your answer. “And is the worst-case scenario the only possible outcome?”

Scenes immediately flood your mind. Supervisors berating you, freezing up in front of patients, being told you’re not good enough, failing to overcome your anxiety, realizing that you’re not as resilient as you thought you are-

“Is the worst-case scenario the only outcome?” he repeats, nudging your knee.

Your head goes blank.

“Do you remember how happy you were when you finally understood your adult client’s cases before?”

Yes. You do. Sometimes, you never wanted the sessions to end.

“Your past supervisor said that you’re capable of adjusting and learning quickly, didn’t she?”

You recall the satisfaction of getting techniques right, seeing progress, and celebrating small victories with clients.

“Do you need to be perfect to learn something valuable?”

You shake your head, and in response, Shirabu squeezes your hand.

“So, is a challenge equivalent to your downfall?”

“No.”

Shirabu hums to himself, satisfied with your answer. “And we’ve been working on your coping strategies, remember?”

“Yeah.” You smile, thinking about everything Shirabu’s helped you through.

From telling you to seek help, talk to your parents, reach out to your friends, advocate for yourself, and make time for self-care? There’s progress—while it isn’t linear, it’s there.

“So, to hell with people if they think you can’t.” There’s a hand under your chin, tilting your head upwards. “Look at me.”

You listen, meeting his sandy irises. 

“They can’t tell you what to do. The only thing that can stop you is the decision you make.”

You inhale deeply, letting the words sink in. 

He’s right. They have no control over your life.

With a burst of courage, you make your final decision.

“I’ll do it.”

Somehow, the weight on your shoulders disappears at your statement.

"That's it, sweetheart." Shirabu presses a kiss to your forehead. "Your future lies in your hands."

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