#meian x you

[ladybyakuya]

 ❝ ATLEAST WE SEE THE SAME MOON ❞ + ( sakusa kiyoomi, hinata shoyo, atsumu miya, bokuto koutaro,meian shūgo ) 

cw. | headcanon/scenarios about how they act while being away from you vs how they act when they actually get to see you; gn-reader, boyfriend headcanons, first-time long-distance relationships, fluff, brief mentions of smut, established relationship. || redirect to blog navigation.

notes. | recently rewatched hq so here's something to get rid of my nostalgic brain rot.

☆ SAKUSA KIYOOMI

Sakusa Kiyoomi is a man of less talk and more work most of the time. He is the kind to miss you day and night without diluting his efficiency in the game. Even texting seems hard for him a phone call seems a little too demanding. He will call you when he is at the far end of a high cliff yet not tell you how much he misses you, your voice, your touch around the house. . . everything in general. But after calling for onetime it starts to become frequent and his talk is full of: "Did you miss me?", " Do you even miss me?", " you rarely call me"; even though he is the one who has told you not to call when you feel like it yet he is the one to call you to say that he misses you a lot and most of the time it is out of context. Maybe you are talking about your day, or some local news but when you finish he just spurts "I miss you". There are two seconds of silence then he says again, "I miss you a lot." But when he is finally home, with you on the same bed and inside you, he would still say, "Did you miss me?" and then places open mouth kisses all over your body saying, " because I sure missed you a lot."

★HINATA SHOYO 

 Hinata is used to being away from his favorite people but he is not used to being away from you. His texts are frequent and regularly calls you to check on you but when he misses you he never tells instead he visits famous tourist spots and video calls you, shows you those famous tourist spots through video call and says, "i wish we could see this together," and then goes on autopilot mode of talking. You ask him to repeat what he just said and he does repeat except what you want to hear. It is a pulling-pushing game and the end results are embarrassment, laughter, and confession. He never gives a room to complain but time and place keep you apart from him. He often sends you parcels containing matching pieces of jewellery and outfits. And after such deliveries, he visits you and brings souvenier for everyone, even for you but says, "Don't worry this is not the only thing i came for to give you." So, when everyone is sleeping in the house and you two are awake and barely clad. He says, "I've more souvenirs for you," as he admires the bite marks over your body while hooking his arms around your thighs, getting ready for the next step.

 ✮ ATSUMU MIYA

Atsumu's way of telling you that he misses you is not very stealthy but if you tease too much, his verbal expression comes to a halt since he will build a cocoon around him. Sure, he wears his heart of his sleeve, sometimes on his face but he is never the one to be good with teasing especially coming from his beloved. So, he regularly sends you gifts with an endearing note and when he finally comes home unannounced, he is found in the bedroom with a box full of all those notes he send you, crying. He is crying for two reasons. one: his surprise did not go as he planned. two: he is missing you right now more than ever. When you finally come home, both of you get surprised at first and then he goes back to his whining self about how he wanted to surprise you, talking about his matches and food. Talking about food is a must because he will never admit how good Ongiri MIya is and as he keeps talking he follows you everywhere you go, every corner of the house, and gives you the puppiest face he can manage if you do not let him inside the shower with you. But you actually do, because the owner did miss this puppy.

★ BOKUTO KOUTARO 

 Bokuto makes time for you every day. He is the kind who tells you each and every detail of his each day before going to bed when he misses you. He tells you that he is coming over next weekend to see you and gets pouty when you are not surprised. It is not a wonder to you that it totally slipped his mind that he actually did mention that he is coming to see you but when you mention that you have specifically taken a day off since he was coming he is instantly is in his high spirits. Because he gets to spend time with you, He gets to spend each and every moment with you,he gets to go out with you, he gets to binge-watch shows with you. There are so many things he get to do wuth you just because he told you that he is coming to see you beforehand. isn't that great? Well, of course it is. As much as he is excited to do all these things, he ends up doing nothing instead spending the whole day in bed with you: talking and listening, talking and touching, touching and kissing, kissing and fucking and then fucking and talking again. If you say that you have to cook he says, "can't we order a take out today?" just so he could cuddle you just fiften minutes more.

 ☆MEIAN SHŪGO

 Meian has a reserved time for you, during weekends unless a match comes up. Everyone knows that even team-mates, parents and coach. He asks you to keep the video call on and do whatever you are doing. It is a nice feeling, almost having him like he is with you, around you even if it is through those rectangular screens. But late at night, he gets a little too sneaky and demanding asking what you are wearing? or says that there's something on your shoulder even if there is not. He takes the longest detour to tell you that he misses you. But all of that just sublimes when you say that you are going to shower. He keeps quiet for a moment and ends uo saying the most common reaction,"without me?" There are times when the answer is yes with a huge nod from your end but there are also times, when you say, "No. You can watch." But Meian does not survive your whole shower time. He even ends the video call just before you are fully naked yet deep down in his heart he believes he can improve with time.

[cannibalsrider]

Ill betray you like a man

wc. 2,705

pairings: post timeskip! atsumu x mangaka!fem reader

warnings: mentions of alcohol,mentions of sex and hookups, unhealthy relationships, hurt/no comfort, actual pure pain, wtv else for tags I'm not sure

an: i rlly liked writing this i might make a part 2 for this if you guys like this but send requests if u have any characters and prompts you want written for!

Tokyo had seemed colder that night. The two of them sat on the curb in front of the bar where they and their friends had always seemed to be regulars. But tonight was different. It was just the two of them—no Bokuto, Meian, Hinata, or anyone else to steer the conversation. It was unusually quiet for them. The only light flickering between them was the click of her lighter as she let the cigarette hang from her lips. Atsumu moved his hands as if it were second nature to help her light it after she struggled and grumbled strings of incoherent curses at the wind.

“Thank you,” Y/N mumbled as she took a long drag from the cigarette. The smell seemed to relax them both after the long day they had. Atsumu gave a small nod as he watched her for a moment. Something in him felt the memories of high school returning—the late nights they would sit outside after a long day, or after losing to Karasuno in their second year when they sat in the cold night watching the stars just to comfort each other. It seemed like a recurring thing, them sitting outside together like this throughout their relationship and their friendship afterward. It might seem cliché to think about it, even after so many partners they’ve both had since high school, but something always seemed to keep them tied together as if it was fate for them to hurt this much.

“Thanks for the drinks,” he told her with a soft smile, earning him a nod.

“You always buy mine, so I just thought to return the favor,” she responded, flicking the ash from her cigarette. “Plus, you deserved it after today’s game. You did good,” she told him, the praise making him grin. Oh god, that grin always had her in a chokehold. How could he sit there and look so pretty after spending so long on the court? Why did she always want him the moment she was finally fine? It was like she had always known she was meant to be hurt but still be with him, to grow old together with her working on her manga and him in volleyball. It was supposed to be fate, right?

“It only went so well because you were in the stands watching us,” he blurted out, his voice devoid of the usual cocky tone he always wore but instead sincere, like the night he had first asked her out. She almost wanted to laugh at the thought that he believed she made him play better. She always felt like he was miles ahead of everyone in sports and some aspects of their former school life. He had always been the sun, and she was the moon. She always circled him, never able to catch up to his pace.

“You don’t need me to make you play better, Atsu. We both know you’re the star on that court every time you get on it,” she murmured, her voice soft and soothing to his ears like a lullaby in a drunken haze.

“You always made me play better ever since we were little,” he returned. At that moment, Atsumu just seemed to want to stare into her eyes for as long as he could, just to see the beauty he could always find in her no matter how drunk or sad she was. She had been the brightness in the night sky leading him back home. No matter who broke his heart, she would always be there to mend whatever the person broke.

“Because you’re my favorite player I’ve ever seen,” she hummed with a small smile. The cigarette lifted with the curve of her shiny lips, a small ring of red pigment visible if you looked as hard as Atsumu always had at her lips. To him, she was a goddess living among mortal humans, but to her, he was the mortal she always returned to, so that she could feel something away from the gods’ wrath reigning down on the mortals who had dared to anger them.

It was stupid, in a way, how Atsumu and Y/N had always sought out the other in the partners they had since their breakup on graduation day. It was like they yearned for a memory to stick with them of the other, even if it was forbidden for them to keep each other as they once had. The secret nights on the roof of the abandoned building near her house, or how his mother and grandma treated her as if she was more family than just a friend or their son and grandson's girlfriend—it was like she had wiggled her way into the hearts of everyone, even the lives of their upperclassmen and juniors. She was always there for them all but always seemed to stay Atsumu's number one fan.

It probably seemed so dumb to still hold onto the hope that he would ask her to stay with him, and they would become those grumpy old people who liked to yell at teenagers running all over their garden when they were with friends. Or how she always described her grandma and grandpa to be like—an arranged marriage still blossoming into love until their last breaths, out of pure devotion for one another. Maybe in another universe, he would have asked her to stay, and she would have stayed with him, and they lived out their dreams together instead of a loop of, "This is a one-time thing, Atsu. We can't get attached. We aren't seventeen anymore." He knew she wasn't lying; he was her favorite player, even with the wins and losses he had in high school. She was always his biggest supporter, but now it was a rare sight to see her at his games. She always found a way to make it up to him.

It was like he was the guard dog, and she was the sacrificial lamb who was always meant to be hurt from birth. He wanted to protect her from the fate she believed she was doomed to stay with till death. "That's a lot coming from someone who only remembers volleyball players if we went to school with them or if you met them while we went out drinking after games," he responded after a lick of silence. God, he must have looked like an idiot staring at her for so long.

"I was always more into art instead of sports, like you and 'Samu, but look at us now. We're all doing something that makes us happy," she said in response as she stared back at him. The air felt so stale, even with them sitting outside. For her, it felt like the lump in her throat she couldn't make go away just at the sight of him and that dopey smile he had since they were young. It all hurt too much to even bear, but she still did. She always would if it meant making him happy, no matter the cost. She had to, didn't she?

"Remember that poster you made for the volleyball club in our second year?" he asked her with a small chuckle. He remembered it so well for some reason—the look of her so excited to have helped her best friend get more popular in the sport he had grown in so much.

"Oh god, I remember it. I think it was one of my first pieces of digital art. I had mixed in with the yearbook club president's help. I still have some of the photos at my apartment, I think," she responded, exhaling the smoke she held in her cheeks. He had always thought they were so soft, even when she had little blemishes. It was always his favorite thing to touch, never in a wrong way, just in the idea that he always wanted to be close to her when she was near. Whether it was simple contact between them or just the knowledge she was there watching him at a game, even though she didn't understand anything happening, all that mattered was that it was them together. That's all it was. It had to have been; it couldn't have been more than it was.

"I'll have to come over and see them sometime. I'd think the social media manager would love to use some of my old pics for a throwback post or something," he huffed with a small grin. She perked up.

"There's a beautiful park not far from here if you wanna go for a walk. Since I'm pretty sure we both are probably too drunk to drive currently, Atsu," she said with a laugh that made his stomach churn with regret of the past. A smile turned up at the corner of his lip.

He stood up, brushing his dusty hands off on his jeans. “C’mon then, we’re not getting any older here sitting on the curb like we’re waiting for something to happen,” he told her with a smile, holding out his hand. She smashed the lipstick-stained cigarette on the concrete before taking his hand.

“I’ll show you the way. I found it when I was researching for a good location in this last chapter,” she told him, dropping the bud into a little cigarette can so they didn’t stay on the pavement.

“How did the readers like it, anyway? You never told me?” Atsumu asked, his tone curious. He was always eager to learn about how her manga was doing since she had always drawn stuff you’d think would be shoujo, not a story about a schoolgirl managing the troubles of normal life, like falling in love and meeting her soulmate, Kasai, from childhood. Even with all the pain and suffering they had caused each other since childhood, mixed with the looming threat of a man who could control much of Japan’s population as he searched for the power the girl held deep inside her—a secret not even revealed to Kasai.

“A lot of them got upset since I’d been on a break for like a week after spraining my hand when I got really drunk with Saeko and Yachi,” she answered with a soft smile. She always knew her fans could be a bit crazy. She was just glad she had always remained under a pen name, so her friends wouldn’t get harassed by people who didn’t like it or who did and would pester her siblings or parents about it. “But they’ll be fine. They always will be since I released a lot of new sketches for them to see. My editor says the fans really like them so far in this current arc,” she added, her smile never wavering as she led him down the blinding Tokyo streets lit up with different signs and billboards.

They walked towards what Atsumu knew was a constantly bustling area of Tokyo's back streets, full of natives and tourists alike. But who cared about everyone else? All that mattered to them was each other. Her footsteps made a soft crunch with each step as they got closer to the park. He could make out a swing set and a set of slides in the distance. The park seemed full to the brim with little toys left by children who must have visited before them.

“It’s really pretty, Y/N,” he told her with a kind smile. She ran over to one of the swings and sat down, as if she were a little girl once again with the same chubby cheeks, wanting to get to the swings first so she could make one of the Miya brothers push her. But now, she had grown into her body, those chubby cheeks transforming into the soft pillows of flesh that had scratched an itch in his brain he never knew he had the first time he cradled her face.

It was weird. The first time he remembered the two kissing was at a park eerily similar to this, when they had gone for a practice match with Nekoma. He remembered the cherry blossom tree right behind the set of swings, hanging over it like a shield to protect the life of a soldier who had fought through God knows what horrors. Instead, it was a tree soaked in the memories of its viewers.

Atsumu seemed to have wanted to be around her forever—the smell of cigarettes, alcohol, and her perfume strangling his nose. It felt comforting, knowing she was with him, even though it wasn't like how it was when they were younger. It was still something he would never take for granted again, as long as he breathed. He moved behind her, watching each movement he could spot as she waited for him to push her. “Do you think you would have stayed when I asked, Y/N?” he said, loud enough for her to hear. Her movements stilled, as if she was holding her breath as tight as she could, trying to wake herself up. Maybe God was just trying to torture her for the sins of her current and past lives, wanting to take vengeance for whatever she must have done. Maybe she had killed one of his angels in some form they had taken, or he just wished for her to atone for her sins in this form, having to face this question she always dreaded.

“You never asked, so I don’t think we’ll ever find out, Atsu,” she responded. Her voice seemed so lost, as if she was unsure if it was the right thing to say, but she had to respond. She couldn’t leave him like that.

Y/N shot up from her spot on the bed. Her body felt ice-cold, like it was all just a cruel joke her mind wanted to play on her. That night, she couldn’t remember anything except the vague memory of going out drinking with the twins and some of their friends from high school and the team after a match between EJP and MSBY—a seemingly nice reunion for them all, except for the drunk hookups that always happened between Atsumu and her. Every time, she would say how she hated him for what he did to her and that she didn’t want him getting attached again because it wouldn’t work in any universe. Y/N and Miya Atsumu would never be a couple. It would always fail, and they would never be happy with each other, no matter the blissful times they might share. It was all over. They couldn’t cling to the hope that the connection would be there just like it was in high school. She looked over and saw Atsumu passed out, half-naked, and noticed some of her clothes scattered on the floor beside his bed. God, this felt like she was back in college again, doing the walk of shame back to her apartment after a drunken hookup. But instead, it was like a human torture machine was her heart, always dragging the deep feelings of resentment from her heart she hoped would never surface again.

She grabbed her loose pieces of clothing from the night prior. Should she feel guilty leaving him like this? She had to have felt something deep down inside as she left his bedroom without saying a single word to wake him, but something in her knew he was probably wide awake. He always was. It was like clockwork—he would get up before her and watch her every morning after, like a love-stricken dog, just like how she used to be for him for God knows how many years, like a loyal dog following its master to its grave. Instead, she was just a girl who fell too hard and allowed herself to get hurt over something so stupid.

In the end, Y/N and Miya Atsumu would always be meant to fail—the sun and the moon never being able to meet as close as they needed to but always hoping and yearning to be with one another at a point in time. But it would never happen. It couldn’t. She had to hate him for tearing her soul in two and putting it on display for everyone.

[sassycheesecake]

Vacation time with Meian, Osamu, Fukurō Hirugami and Oikawa

The Captain of the MSBY Black Jackals takes you away to the beautiful hot spring mountains of Switzerland <3

It was a vacation long overdue, Meian being extremely exhausted from practice, working out and official matches have worn the Middle Blocker out

He felt especially bad because he felt like he was neglecting his amazing partner, you

Thankfully, it's off season now, Meian is off for a nice two months

So, when you got home from work, Meian was already waiting at your shared home for you, a big grin adorning his handsome face

"Baby, what do you say about a little get away? You and me and some nice hot springs, hot cocoa and a view of snowy mountains in the morning when we wake up?" The ravenette holds up two plane tickets to Bern and you can't help but squeal in excitement as you rush to hug him tight

When you arrive there, a mesmerising layer of glistening snow is decorating the heavenly landscape of Switzerland

You're currently leaning on your arms against the cooling sensation of the rocks of the hot springs, enjoying the heat of the steaming water and the breathtaking view of the snow covered landscape

You hear the sound of splashing water, feeling the little waves against your back

All of sudden, you feel strong arms wrap around your naked waist

Thank the heavens Meian booked the hot springs completely to yourselves, so you're able to feel everything, not a single layer of clothing as a barrier between your body and his

Meian pulls you towards his strong chest and you feel his pecs and his abs against the softness of your back

"You enjoying yourself my love?" He whispers in your ear, pressing chaste kisses against the wetness of your hair, enjoying the view of your naked body and the snow everywhere

"I have enjoyed every single second ever since we got here. This is just perfection, thank you Shūgo."

Meian grins at your words, tightening his hug from behind, happy that this is just day one from your 10 day get-away

Onigiri Miya owner Osamu takes you to the exotic Bahamas <3

Osamu has been drained from work, his annoying brother and his restaurant that takes a lot of time to manage

You see your boyfriend every night with big bags under his eyes, looking like he is going to fall asleep just standing up

Feeling bad, you organised a trip to the Bahamas for your exhausted chef

You talked to his manager, making sure he takes over the shop while you and Osamu deserve a well-rested vacation on a sandy white beach with crystal clear water and slurping the fruitiest cocktails at the beach bar

The ravenette is currently tanning on a beach chair right by the ocean when you appear by his side, two piña coladas in your hands

The sound of the waves hitting the shore has relaxed Osamu so much, he barely acknowledges when you reappear by his side

Giggling, you move his sunglasses up a bit, staring into his tired metallic eyes

"Didn't mean to interrupt your nap, my handsome man but I got the cocktail you wanted."

"No worries, babe. I dunno how I can thank ya enough for this. Where did ya find this place?"

"I saw it on a sponsored Facebook ad from a booking page and I know how hard you have been working lately, so I figured a little get away is just what you needed."

Osamu sits up, placing the sunglasses on top of his slightly sweaty black hair, accepting the drink by placing a small kiss against your cheek, making you blush

"Cheers to us, baby."

Clinking your glasses together, you taste the first sip of the coconut foam with a hint of pineapple, the rum burning your throat a bit

"I wish we never have ta leave this place, seems too unreal."

You watch your lover with a glint in your eyes, ready to be a little bit mischievous

So you reach over to his drink and take his cherry from the whipped cream on top of the juice

"Hey! Ya have yer own cherry! That's da best part!" Osamu complains as he watches you eat it

"What are ya gonna do bout it?" You mimic his accent in a teasing manner and you get ready to run

Osamu and you chase each other through the water, splashing each other with the salty sea water, laughing with great joy like little kids going to the beach for the first time

Fukurō, the Captain of the Schweiden Adlers takes you on an exciting adventure! A safari trip in the wildest corners of Africa <3

Fukurō got the idea from his little brother, who just recently went to Africa for his university studies of veterinary medicine

Good thing you're a big animal lover, because a romantic safari trip to see the wildlife sounds so exciting!

You put on your safari hat and you're up every morning super early to sing the opening of the lion king movie (I did this once on a vacation with my husband he was not amused I tell you that)

Seeing all the animals, taking so many pictures is making your heart jump with joy

Your favourite part out of it all was spending time with your beloved Fukurō

Usually, the chestnut-colored-haired giant is pretty chill and easy-going but ever since the two of you went on that trip, he's been kind of edgy and jumpy which is very unusual for him

One day, you and Fukurō have plans to feed the giraffes and you're not sure if your boyfriend is sweating so much because of the heat or if he is afraid of giraffes, since they are so much bigger than him

You shrug if off after asking if he's alright or if it's the heat and he assures you he's okay, you can go ahead and feed the giraffe, he wants to take a picture of you

Feeding a giraffe some lettuce leaves, you don't see or hear Fukurō taking a deep breath before he gets down on one knee

Calling your name out in a shaky voice, you immediately turn around, deeply worried that your boyfriend may faint any second

When you see him down on one knee with a small black box and a shiny gold band with a light blue diamond sitting on top its center, shining brightly with help of the intense African sunlight

Gasping in surprise, you begin to tear up, finally understanding why he has been such a nervous wreck most of the time

"I-I know we only have been dating for about a year but I have never been more sure sure about anything in my life. The moment I saw your bewitching beauty under the stadium lights at one of my games, I knew I fell under your spell. You'd make me the happiest man on earth if you agree to be my partner in crime for the rest of our lives."

Now with actual tears in your eyes, you run towards the Middle Blocker with alarming speed, knocking the air out of his lungs and him down to the ground with the impact of your body crashing into his massive one

Thankfully Hirugami caught you with one arm while still having the ring box in his other hand, securing it from falling out of his hand

"YES! I will marry you, my handsome giant!" You cry into his chest out of pure happiness

You feel the massive man laugh at your excitement and he feels like a massive weight has been lifted off of his heart

He can't wait to tell his team about his new milestone in his relationship and to begin the wedding preparations as soon as you two return from the trip

Ever the romantic, Oikawa takes you to the city of love, Paris <3

It was a Valentine's Day surprise for you from Tōru, the Setter wanting to give you the most romantic week of a life time

The day already starts with breakfast in bed, made by the brunette himself, even if it consisted of burned toast, runny scrambled eggs and almost burned to crisp bacon

Even if Tōru burned the majority of the food he cooked for you, he wanted to give you a break from doing it for him almost every day, you appreciate his efforts

Next thing you know, your boyfriend ushers you to pack up your suitcase because you're going on a trip together

"But Tōru, what about my classes-"

"Cutie, we'll only be gone for a week. It'll be fine. Now get your sweet butt into the cab that's waiting downstairs for us, we're off to Europe!" Tōru cheers with giving you a large smile and taking your hand in his to get to the cab, ready to go to the airport

When you arrived there, it was so much colder than Argentine but thankfully the two of you packed some warm clothes for the weather in Paris

The two of you did a city tour, visited the Louvre, saw the Eiffel Tower, went inside the Notre Dame, went shopping at the Centre Pompidou and explored the Palace of Versailles

You knew that your partner is extremely attractive, but when the two of you walked around the palace of former King Louis XIV, it looked like Tōru was long lost royalty, attracting young women and even some men looked at your boyfriend with hearts in their eyes

Still, the only attention that the Setter gave to, was either you or the historical monuments that Paris has to offer

You had tasted the best wine along with the sweetest chocolate and took so many pictures together (even though Tōru took so much pictures of you that you can count for) you felt like the most special person in the world

He was always by your side, making you feel safe by his protective, caring personality and his muscular arm always resting over your shoulder, around your waist or holding your hand tightly in his, rubbing his thumb gently over the back of your hand

The week was filled with so many hugs, kisses and passionate romance, that your heart is still beating super fast whenever you think about the perfect time you spent the February week in one of the most romantic cities in the world

[gojoest]

appearance matchup for @daikiiss

[caelivir]

shrimply in love | miya atsumu

synopsis. atsumu wholeheartedly prayed that you forgot how you first met, and for a while he believed that you did. that is until he finds the literal token from that day.

pairing. atsumu miya x gn!reader | wc. 2.1k | genres. timeskip!atsumu, established relationship, tooth rotting fluff, atsumu is soooo down bad | warnings. (minor?) manga spoilers

notes. outing myself as a hq fan and atsumu lover LOOK AWAY. this was inspired by a tiktok i saw LMFAO 😭. i was up until dawn, on my phone, in the drafts writing this that’s how bad it was. there's something additional to this so stay tuned, and i hope you enjoy.

“tsumu!” you call out from the couch while he’s in the bathroom connected to your shared room. “can you get my wallet? it’s on the bed.”

“sure thing, baby!” he answers back.

“thanks love!” you reply, the petname making him grin in the mirror. it gets him every single time.

after drying off his hands with a towel, atsumu doubles back to the bedroom, your wallet immediately catching his eye. he picks it up, and as he does, something slips out from the crevices.

atsumu picks it up and inspects it. it’s a folded slip of paper. curious, he unfolds it to examine its contents. reading it puts him in shock, and now he’s mildly annoyed with you.

he rushes out of the room, stomping over to you like a little kid. you raise an eyebrow in amusement when he stops in front of the couch.

“baby, what the hell?!” he whines, holding the paper out in front of you for you to read. confused, you lean closer, letting your eyes scan it before laughing out loud. it’s a guest check from the day you first met.

“what?! it’s cute!” you defend with a smile.

“it’s horrifying. do you even know how embarrassing this was for me?” atsumu pouts.

“oh believe me i know.” you giggle.

three years ago.

after a hard won victory, the msby jackals were craving a celebratory meal. meian had suggested a new italian restaurant that had opened by the arena. there was a unanimous agreement among the team, except for sakusa. however, bokuto had managed to convince him to come along with enough pestering.

so there they were, a group of guys well over six foot (with the exception of hinata and inunaki), sharing what’s probably the largest table at the restaurant. it drew tons of attention, and there were even some fans who came up to them for pictures and autographs.

then you came by, ready to take orders, and atsumu knew in that moment he was an absolute goner for you. your beauty was unlike anything he’s ever seen before. you were prettier than those models on the ads he walked by, prettier than the flowers in his mother’s gardens, prettier than sunsets on a beach. and god, your smile. his head went all fuzzy at the sight of it. it melted his insides.

you chuckled at whatever bokuto animatedly said before moving onto atsumu. you looked at him expectantly, eyes shining with so much light that it jumbled the blonde’s brain. shit. what did he want to order?

atsumu’s eyes quickly racked through the menu, and his mouth fired off an order before his brain could process what he was reading. “uh, could i get the shrimps camping?”

a silence befell amongst the table before a collective cackle filled the restaurant. realizing what slipped out of his mouth, atsumu’s face turned red. his cheeks were embarrassingly hot.

mortified. he was absolutely fucking mortified. even that asshole omi-kun found it funny. it didn’t help that you were suppressing a smile at him too. he didn’t even bother with the damage control. there was no point. he’d only embarrass himself further.

with a giggle, you made a note of it on the guest check you were writing up because at least you knew what he was referring to. atsumu buried his face in his hands. see in his head, the setter had come up with a plan to ask for your number, but now he was never even going to walk down this street ever again. his chances? consider them blown.

“alright, alright,” you said after the laughter had died down. you fire off orders to confirm everything, and then you get to atsumu. “and… one shrimps camping.”

“you’re killing me.” atsumu groaned, feeling a new wave of embarrassment now that you were teasing him.

“it’s my job.” you shrugged before walking off with a wink. the blonde felt his heart skip a beat.

“don’t sweat it, atsumu-san!” shoyo clapped his back reassuringly. at least he could leave it to the ginger to always have his back.

it took a minute, but the team had finally moved on from atsumu’s slip up. unfortunately, it was all the setter could think about. god, what if you teased him once you came back with the plates?

luckily for him, it didn’t happen. you just tossed him a knowing grin when you presented him his food. he stared down at those shrimp dancing in the sauce, knowing he’s never ordering fuckass shrimp scampi ever again, and dug in. (it’s the most delicious thing to have graced his tastebuds.)

atsumu, contrary to previous thoughts, did end up coming back to the italian restaurant in the hopes that he could see you. he realized that he wasn’t going to allow one fuck up ruin the chances of having you. atsumu miya is many things. annoying, rude, loud, but a quitter? that’s not one of them.

it was a weekly occurrence, and atsumu would try something different from the menu each time.

“no shrimp scampi?” you would smirk.

“no…” atsumu would sigh, feeling the jab in his bones before handing you his menu. “no shrimp scampi.”

conversations became more casual. he learned more about you like how you were in your final year of university and that your favorite men’s volleyball team was ejp raijin. (he was definitely going to change that.) each week the blonde setter visited you during week made him fall for you even more. all of these little things accumulated until atsumu finally got the balls to ask you out.

“what would you like today, atsumu?” you greeted, that soft angelic grin on your face, and he just knew he had to do it. he couldn’t ever let you go.

“you. me. a date.” he said casually, his eyes dripping with confidence. (interally, he was freaking out).

you tried maintaining your composure but failed so miserably. you couldn’t stop the smile that reached your eyes as soon as you heard those eyes. “i thought you would never ask.” you beamed at him.

chewing on your lower lip, you motioned for him to give you hand, to which he most happily obliged. your touch was a new heaven. so warm and so soft. he wished to be wrapped in it forever.

you held his hand steady as the tip of your pen scribbled on his skin. when atsumu looked down, he realized it to be your number, and his eyes stared at it in awe.

“text me.” you told him before walking off. then you stopped in your tracks, turning yourself back around until you’re back at atsumu’s table. “wait, shit. what do you want to eat?”

oh. he had completely forgotten about that. atsumu picked up the menu and quickly scanned for a fun dish name. “um, just the pizza napoletana and garlic bread.”

“you got it.” you noted it down. followed by, “no shrimp scampi?”

“(y/n), please. i feel like i’m flying right now, and you’re killing my mood.” atsumu’s face fell, feigning fake irritation, but you knew better.

you laughed. “alright, alright. i’ll be back soon.”

“you better be.” the setter scoffed before his face betrayed his true feelings.

and before you knew it, one date became two, then three, then four, and the rest was history, shrimp scampi along with it.

at least, that’s what atsumu thought.

“i thought you completely forgot about it.” atsumu whines.

you laugh, standing up from your place on the couch. “how could i ever forget that? i stopped the jokes because you got all sulky. besides, that’s how my little infatuation with you began.”

once you’re directly in front of him, atsumu places his hands on your waist, burying his head in the crook of your neck. without even thinking, your hand finds its way to the back of his head, stroking it with affection. “of all things? not my good looks? or my nice arms? ” the blonde murmurs into your skin.

you hum in agreement. “well that came after.” your boyfriend groans, making you roll your eyes.

“i don’t think i ever told you this, but i was having a really rough shift the night the team came in. when you guys were put into my section, i nearly lost it.” you admit. “but then you asked for shrimps camping, and i lightened up, like all of my negative energy just drained out of my body. seeing you all flustered and blushing was so adorable in my eyes.”

your boyfriend pulls back, his face scrunched. “i didn’t realize you were in a foul mood that night.”

“had to fake it. you know how customer service is.” you shrug, a smirk taking over your face soon after. “but you were too busy admiring me to even notice it.”

atsumu grins smugly. he’s not even ashamed. “that i was.”

you roll your eyes. “you’re hopeless.”

the blonde setter hums, leaning in, and you meet him halfway, kissing him gently. atsumu’s arms wrap themselves around your waist, pulling you closer to him until you’re pressed against his body. you feel his lips twitch into a smile.

you’re the first to pull away, but your boyfriend is unsatisfied with that. he presses his lips to yours once again before you could even get another breath in. it’s a kiss full of affirmations that atsumu can’t voice. you feel it all through him. he’s so greedy when it comes to you, but he’d definitely agree with that statement without any complaint.

to atsumu, kissing you is a new kind of euphoria, one better than any service ace, better than any cool quick that he pulls off with his hitters. kissing you is like falling in love with you again, and it’s single-handedly the best feeling in the entire world.

he pulls away first with a proud smile. he steals a quick peck against your lips, then your nose, and then the rest of your face until you’re drowning in his affection.

you giggle, throwing your arms around his shoulders. “tsumu!”

atsumu sighs contentedly. his large hand cups your cheek. the rough skin of his thumb traces up and down your face. it’s so reassuring and so warm that you can’t help but lean into it.

“i love you, angel. y’know that right?” atsumu stares at you, adoration swimming in his eyes. everyday, he can’t believe that he gets to have you. he can’t believe he gets to come home and you’ll be there waiting for him, ready to hold him in your arms and kiss his knuckles when he tells you about his day.

you adjust your head ever so slightly to kiss his palm. “i know it. you never fail to make it known.”

you’ve come to realize that that’s who he is. your sweet boy, atsumu miya, is so full of love. behind the brashness and the insults, he has so much love in his heart that some days he doesn’t know what to do with it.

“i love you so much, atsumu miya. you are my life.” you whisper, bringing him in for another soul-igniting, cavity-inducing kiss. it’s intense, hotter, but that is just life with atsumu, a blaze of passion and fierceness.

you can feel him melt against you as if this is his first time doing this with you. you can feel him reciprocating your words. you know him so well that you can guess the words that follow. “all for me. my sweet angel. what did i do to deserve you?”

a memory springs to mind, causing you to cut the moment short as much as you’d like to continue. atsumu pouts at the loss of your lips against his. such a kid. still, he looks at you expectantly.

“i have to admit,” you’re kind of excited to see how he’ll react to it. “the entire restaurant knows you as the shrimps camping guy.”

atsumu stiffens against your body, and the horrified look on his face makes you burst out laughing. “you’re lying. (y/n), tell me you’re lying.”

“i’m sorry, my love. it’s true.” you reach out for his hand, but the blonde playfully shrugs it off.

“don’t touch me. how could you do this to me, huh? i thought we were for life!” atsumu turns away from you, shutting his eyes.

you roll your eyes. you should’ve expected this. in situations like these, there is one sentence that will make him forget everything immediately. “if i kiss you, will you forgive me?”

atsumu snaps his head back to you, and his eyes fly open, allowing you to catch the light that sparkles in them as he smiles widely. he’s so beautiful. “really?!” he exclaims but leaves no room for you to respond before he’s crashing your mouths together for the fourth time. you roll your eyes in disbelief but give into him immediately.

atsumu miya is so annoying, but he’s yours, and you wouldn’t give him up for anyone else in the world.

[fxstpace]

little white lies

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

���Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—”

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

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

“Glad to know you’re aware.”

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

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

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

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

“What?”

“You need to find yourself a girlfriend.”

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

“Eugh. What’s that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Carrot and squash, if I remember correctly.”

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

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

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

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

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

But first, Miya Atsumu needs to ask you out.

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

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

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

“Hm?”

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

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

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

“I don’t know…”

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

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

“I’ll think about it—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Atsumu’s exhale is both relieved and anticipatory.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The point being…?”

“You do look like Pikachu.”

“Huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It is.”

“It’s not.”

“It is.”

“It’s—”

“You both argue like Mama an’ Papa.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Slowly, the train begins to chug forward.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blink. “What for, Komi?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Before he can turn towards you, he freezes. 

You kiss him on his cheek. 

You kissed him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hasn’t he already?” you pipe up. 

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

“Technically, it’s Samu’s home.”

Osamu grins triumphantly. Atsumu sneers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We have a problem.”

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. He looks down at himself. 

Atsumu didn’t wear a shirt to bed.

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

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

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

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

Ha. Wouldn’t that be a hoot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“O’course I will,” he says, quietly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blink. “That’s kind of weird.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Atsumu, I—”

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

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

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

“Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait—outside?”

“So you do know her,” Grandma Miya states.

“Um. Yeah—I— She’s—” The grin he’s worn like armour falters under the Miya matriarch’s scrutinising gaze.

“Out with it, Tsumu,” she prompts, tapping her cane once on the floor. “Who is she?”

“She’s my… date,” Atsumu admits. The words tumble out awkwardly, and he can’t deny the way it sounds both weirdly foreign but strangely right at the same time. “For the wedding.”

His grandmother’s eyes narrow. “And why is she out there cursing you to Hell and back all alone in the cold?”

“I didn’t—” He stops, shoulders slumping. He knows there’s no point in lying—not to her. Grandma Miya has always been able to see right through him, as though his thoughts are scrawled across his face.

“She’s not really my date,” Atsumu mutters, gaze downcast. “I mean, she is, but she doesn’t… know that she is.”

Grandma Miya blinks, and then lets out a short huff of laughter. “Atsumu, are you tellin’ me you brought this poor girl here, told everyone she’s your date, but didn’t think to inform her of that little detail?”

“I didn’t forget,” Atsumu protests, though his words sound weak to his own ears. “I just didn’t have the chance to tell her.”

“Why would you go and do something so spectacularly foolish?”

He hesitates, avoiding her eyes. “‘Cause I didn’t want to disappoint you,” he says quietly, the admission dragging itself out of his throat.

His grandmother’s smile fades, and without it, her wrinkles look more and more pronounced. “Disappoint me?”

“Yeah,” Atsumu whispers. “You’re always askin’ me when I’m gonna bring someone home. You want to see me and Osamu get married, too, before you—” His voice catches. “Before. Um. I just wanted to make you happy, ‘s all.”

There’s a long pause, and when Grandma Miya speaks again, her voice is sadder than he expects. Classic Atsumu, he thinks bitterly. Always findin’ a way to mess things up for everyone.

“Atsumu, you daft boy,” his grandma says, “I don’t care if you bring someone or not. All I’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy.”

Atsumu swallows, her words entering his chest and settling down with a warmth that wraps around his body. When he looks up, he finds her observing him not with judgement, but with quiet understanding.

“Are you happy?” she asks. 

Something about the way she says it is tinged with hope, and it makes his heart lift. The truth lodges in his throat, too big to swallow, too heavy to speak.

“I like her,” he blurts out finally. “A lot. But she doesn’t—she doesn’t know that either.”

Grandma Miya’s lips lift up in a grin—the same smile that passed on to his mother, and then to him and his brother. “Then go find her. Tell her the truth.”

“But what if—”

“No,” she says firmly. “Life’s too short for all that nonsense. If you care about her, you owe her the truth and an apology. Go on, now. Dinner’s starting soon.”

Atsumu nods, the corners of his lips twitching up in a small, grateful smile. She waves him off with her cane, before turning around and bellowing to Osamu to get her another cup of sake. He heads out to the garden.

The cool night air fills his lungs when he steps out of the ornate doors. He catches sight of you pacing near the koi pond; your movements are tight with frustration. The moonlight shimmers on the water, and dances across your face. The ends of your dress billow out because of the wind and Atsumu swears he forgets how to breathe.

It’s not until he climbs down the steps and comes to a standstill in front of you that you finally acknowledge Atsumu. Even then, it’s with flaring nostrils and flashing eyes, and he knows he’s fucked up really badly this time.

“Atsumu,” you say, voice taut. “What the Hell is going on?”

He winces. He doesn’t know what to say, how to explain everything. He tries to speak, but no words come out, and all he can do is watch helplessly as you curl your fingers into your palm with anger.

“Why the fuck did you tell your entire family that I’m your girlfriend?” you snap, when it becomes apparent he isn’t going to say anything. “What did you think was going to happen?”

A dozen half-baked excuses fly over his head, but none of them feel right. Grandma Miya was right—he owes you the truth—but first, he needs to find a way to calm you down.

“Do you realise how messed up that is?” you continue. Your voice increases in pitch, garnering the attention of a few wedding-goers milling about. “You didn’t ask me. You didn’t tell me anything. Do you know how embarrassing it was to get bombarded by all your relatives asking me how long we’ve been dating? They think we’re something that we’re not—fuck it all, they think I’m something I’m not.”

“I didn’t— I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Atsumu pleads, finally having found his voice. “I just—”

“Just what?! Just thought it would be easier? Just wanted to impress your family?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “No. I just—shit, I dunno—I didn’t want my grandma to think I was screwing around. I didn’t want my relatives to look at me with pity ‘cause I can’t even stay in a decent relationship for longer than three weeks!”

Atsumu searches your face for something—some sort of reaction to his words. But you’re silent, and he can’t read your face. He can’t tell if you’re angry, hurt, both, or something else entirely, and it’s making him feel even more out of his depth.

“What were you thinking, Atsumu?” you ask softly. Your teeth worry your bottom lip, and he resists the urge to give in and kiss you silly.

“I wasn’t thinkin’,” he says, hoarsely. “I didn’t think about how it would make you feel. I should have.”

You don’t say anything for a long while; Atsumu thinks he’s said too much. But then, you speak and the bite in your voice has reduced.

“You didn’t think about me. You didn’t think ‘bout how I’d feel being that person for you.” 

Your words ring hollow in his ears. The hurt in your voice makes his stomach twist with guilt. He wants to defend himself, but what could he possibly say? Instead, he looks at you quietly, hoping against all hope that somehow you will understand.

“Fuck,” Atsumu mutters under his breath, more to himself than you. He takes a tentative step forward, but you hold up a hand.

“You don’t—” Your voice trembles. “You don’t get to just walk over to me and give me some half-assed apology, Atsumu.”

Atsumu stops, letting silence blanket you both once more. He stares at you for a moment, at your beautiful face and your beautiful dress, and without thinking, he steps closer, his hand reaching out.

You don’t pull away—not immediately.

He’s close enough now that he can see his reflection in your eyes, the small tremor in your lips. Something inside him shifts, something urgent, something that makes his head spin. He doesn’t know what he’s doing until it’s too late. 

He curls his hand around your waist and pulls you in, crashing your lips with his. He feels you stiffen at first—but then you kiss him back, hard and sharp, and everything in him unwinds.

It isn’t gentle or sweet. It isn’t tender, the way Atsumu had always imagined his first kiss with you would be like. It’s angry—you are angry at him, and he is angry at himself. 

It’s over far too quickly. Atsumu’s chest heaves with each breath he takes. You gawk at him, wide-eyed and breathless; a mirror to the expression on his own face, most likely. 

“I—” Atsumu starts, but the sentence gets lost somewhere in his brain when you take a step back.

“I’m not some… prop to your little charade, Atsumu,” you say. “So unless this means something to you—like it does for me—don’t do things you’ll regret.”

“I won’t,” Atsumu promises. His voice is gruff, his heartbeat a rapid staccato against his rib cage. “I could never. I like you too much for that.”

You look at him like he looked at you earlier—like you’ve forgotten how to breathe, like you’re drinking in the sight of him and trying to commit him to memory. It comes out as a whisper when you say, “What?”

“God, ____, I like you. I like you so much I don’t know what to do with myself when you’re around.” He owes you the truth, and so the truth is what you will get. He’s not very good with words—you know this, and he’s sure you will recognise this for what it is: he’s laying his heart bare for you to take and keep safely for him.

“Me too,” you say. “Me too, Atsumu. Me too.”

He kisses you again, gentle and tender and sweet, his hand placed on the curve of your neck and your hands clutching the front of his shirt. 

Osamu finds him and you later, curled into each other’s sides. Atsumu’s cheeks colour when his brother shoots him an impressed look.

“Finally,” he says. “Been waitin’ forever for this buffoon to get his head out of his ass and make a move.”

Atsumu doesn’t deny it, and you laugh softly. “Been waitin’ for him myself,” you say, squeezing his arm affectionately.

“Anyways,” says Osamu. “Grandma Miya’s lookin’ for Tsumu. She says she can’t wait to meet his new girlfriend.”

Atsumu’s mouth splits into a grin. “Tell her we’ll be right there,” he says.

[teamatsumu]

compression. (sakusa kiyoomi x reader)

summary: atsumu is the perfect person to feed your obsession with kiyoomi’s arms.

word count: 1172

warnings: swearing, very mildly suggestive (if you squint), detailed descriptions of kiyoomi’s arms in compression sleeves so it’s not for the faint hearted

tags: @keiva1000 @kindnessspreads @msbyomimi

When you studied Marketing and Communications in university, you didn’t exactly anticipate that your future would include you managing a V League Division 1 sports team. But every day when you went into work, you thanked the gods above that this is where your career path had led you, because that meant you could ogle Sakusa Kiyoomi and his infamous compression sleeves all day.

Oftentimes you were certain Kiyoomi didn’t mean anything by them. For him, they were practical. They kept his arms taut and ready for the ball. They made his movements sharper. He received the ball better. He didn’t have to feel his bare skin on the dirty court. These were all reasons you had heard straight out of his mouth. When you heard him mention them so nonchalantly, it almost made you feel bad for the absolutely sinful- borderline deranged- thoughts you had in your head about the way those sleeves made his arms look.

You were well aware of the kind of thoughts Kiyoomi’s choice of athletic wear caused among his fans. To put it simply and bluntly, they went feral over it. There were whole Twitter accounts dedicated to just his arms, or his chest. And as someone who often managed social media profiles for some of the members, you got to see the most unhinged of these comments with your own two eyes. And you would be the first to (secretly) admit that you agreed with 90% of what was being said, because holy shit did those sleeves do something to you.

Most of the time during practice, you could feel your eyes drift back over to the man in question, wearing a black sports tee and those godforsaken sleeves, working up quite the set as they played set after set to prepare for their next game. As the hours passed, Kiyoomi would get more and more disheveled, curls becoming unruly enough that he would grab a towel, biceps flexing as he ran it over the nape of his neck and dipped into the collar of his shirt. Christ almighty.

You should’ve known that you would eventually get caught. But if it was anyone who would notice, you had expected it to be Meian or maybe Coach Foster. But the person who did bring it up to you happened to be the biggest nightmare in this scenario; Miya Atsumu.

“Ya should be a little less obvious ‘bout it.” He commented when he trudged over to the bench where you sat, grabbing a water bottle and beginning to chug. You tore your eyes from Kiyoomi who now had his back to you, the muscles under his shirt flexing with every movement. You raised an eyebrow at the blond, not yet correlating his words with your hidden obsession. He placed the bottle down and placed a hand on his hip, giving you a knowing smirk.

“A blind grandma could notice the way yer lookin’ at him.”

Your eyes widened and cheeks flamed when he nudged his head in Kiyoomi’s direction, and you knew you had been caught. You clenched your jaw hard.

“You say a single word-”

He threw his hands up as if in surrender, effectively silencing your threat in its tracks.

“I won’t, promise! But there is one thing…..”

You groaned loudly, throwing your head back. Of course, of fucking course he would blackmail you with this.

“What do you want?” You deadpanned, glaring at him and preparing for the worst.

Atsumu looked a bit affronted, as if the mere insinuation that he might want something was preposterous to him. You gave him another tired look, until he sighed and gave up, plopping down heavily on the bench next to you.

“A phone number. Ya know that cute girl who comes by once a month? From the Volleyball Association?”

“No.”

Atsumu’s mouth dropped like a child who just got slapped. “Hey c’mon! Ya didn’t even hear me out!”

You groaned and pinched the bridge of your nose, feeling a characteristic frontal headache begin to build, courtesy of Miya Atsumu. “I’m tired of setting you up with people, Tsumu! It won’t end well, as always-”

“I’ll get you a picture of Omi with his compression sleeves.”

You give him an unimpressed look. “I can get hundreds of those off the internet.”

“I’ll get you a picture of Omi with just his compression sleeves.”

That made you halt in your tracks. You searched Atsumu’s face for any form of mockery or lie, and you found none. Your eyebrows shot up when you realized he was being serious.

“In the locker room. I can get it for ya today.”

Oh my god. Instinctively, your eyes darted over to the man in question, who was talking to Hinata about something. It looked like volleyball tips since he had his arms before him in a receiving position, and Hinata was rapidly nodding to what he was saying.

“No.” You shook your head. “No, that’s wrong.”

“I’ll take a selfie with him, yeah? He will know there’s a photo. And I can send it in the groupchat.”

You look back at Atsumu, seriously contemplating his offer. He kept yapping, as per usual, thinking that the more he talked, the likelier it would be to convince you. And the bastard was right, it was working.

“No one else will bat an eye. We see each other in the lockers all the time. No big deal.”

You bit your lip in thought. The possibility of seeing Kiyoomi shirtless and only in compression sleeves had your pulse rising.

“And you just want her number in return?”

Atsumu nodded eagerly. You gave him a narrow-eyed glare.

“Send the picture. Then I will give you the number.”

His triumphant grin made it feel like he had already won. “Deal.”

That evening, when your phone pinged with a text notification, you nearly flew across the bed to grab it, opening the picture Atsumu sent in the groupchat with eager fingers and freezing as soon as you laid eyes on it.

Atsumu had held up his end of the bargain spectacularly.

He had taken the picture with Kiyoomi a little further in the background, so he could get the man’s full torso in it. He was facing slightly away from the camera, but his face was turned towards it, capturing the scowl between his eyebrows and the little pout of his mouth. He was gloriously shirtless, still a bit sweaty from practice, and he held his shirt in his hand, one arm flexed as he held it while the other was held carelessly by his side, compression sleeves hugging the cords of toned muscles just right.

There was another ping, pulling you out of your trance and making you realize just how dry your mouth had gotten. Atsumu had messaged you privately.

“My payment? ;)”

You rolled your eyes and sent him the number, immediately going back to the picture and starring it for future reference, a tiny smile quirking up the corner of your lip as you did so.

[emmyrosee]

playful reader x nonchalant/angry character is a good way to start the day emmy and you know that. the fact that he cant do anything because that's the love of his life right there.

THATS THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE RIGHT THERE

And he just looks at you with the most dead expression, lazily blinking at you bc he's so tired of your shenanigans, and he sends you a grimace and a sigh when you say something especially feral.

like this morning, when you were holding hands while sitting on the couch, he watches with a confused expression when you lift up his arm, sniff the damn limb, and just when he opens his mouth to ask you what the hell you're doing, you reeled your head back and immediately sunk your teeth into his forearm.

"WHY ME!" He barks, trying his best to yank his arm out of your grip, only for you to tighten your fingers sharply. He snarls in anger and slight pain, "how the hell would you feel if I just went up to you and started biting you, hmm? Made you look like the victim of a feral dog attack-"

"Needs salt."

"What?"

While he ponders what you said, you gently rub your fingers together as if to sprinkle something on his arm. He shakes his head, "no, no no-"

You toss your head back to bite him again, this time putting your whole jaw into the bite. "SON OF A BI-"

"Language," you manage around the wad of... him, in your mouth. The vein in his forehead throbs in annoyance as you finally let him go, smacking your lips together thoughtfully before nodding, "yes. Better with salt." And as if nothing happened, you take your chance in curling into his warm side, snuggling close like you haven't just given him a massive, bruised, bitemark that he now has to think of an excuse for.

He may be the fool, because for how annoyed you make him, he wraps his arm around you and presses a kiss to your head. You purr happily, "I can't wait to gobble you up one day. Just... unhinge my jaw and completely swallow you whole, my cutie pie."

"I'm breaking up with you."

"You're not allowed to," you hum. "It's against the law, actually."

"Oh yeah?" He sighs. "What's the punishment? Because it might be worth it."

You grin up at him, "it's life with me, except no one believes you when you tell them I tickle you awake, bite your arms off, pop blackheads on your nose and pick eye-crusties from your eye."

"... so basically life now?"

"Yes."

"Great," he grumbles, leaning down to bite softly into your neck, secretly relishing in your whiny laughter and weak shoves at his shoulders.

----

hq: kageyama, tsukishima, kenma, akaashi, IWAIZUMI, hanamakki, matsukawa, ushijima, SEMI, kita, osamu, SUNA, KIYOOMI, meian

bnha: BAKUGOU, sero, todoroki, SHINSOU

jjk: gojo but in diff font, geto, SUKUNA, TOJI, shiu

tr: mikey, DRAKEN, BAJI, ran, RINDOU

+ ur favesssss

[6okuto]

SPECIALLY MADE

timeskip sakusa x gn!reader

“you know i could have gotten you something for free, right?”

sakusa’s legs are spread, cheek resting against his knuckles as he sits on the couch and watches you.

he wasn’t one to complain about you wearing team merch, especially not when it had his number on it, but he’s still not sure why you didn’t ask him to get you something instead.

“i wanted to surprise you,” you defend yourself. “plus there was a sale.”

“paying nothing is even cheaper.”

“did you hear the first part about it being a surprise?”

kiyoomi replies with a deep breath before standing up. “you could have asked someone else on the team? not hinata or bokuto, but meian could’ve kept a secret.”

as soon as he reaches you, one hand comes up to play with a drawstring while the other finds its way into your front pocket. his fingers quickly intertwine with yours so he can pull you closer, and he smirks at successfully flustering you, even for a second.

“first of all, don’t look at me all smug like that—”

“i don’t know what you're talking about.”

“—second, i know, i thought about it. but official merch of anything is like, always ugly.”

“ours isn’t that bad.”

“yours isn’t that much better than any other team.”

“the colours are good?”

“yeah but the number and logos are always too big. i had this custom-made so it’s cooler.”

and to be fair, kiyoomi couldn’t really disagree. it had the jackal over your heart, claw marks stretching over your side and ‘MSBY’ on your left arm. luckily for him, though it was notably smaller than on the official jerseys, the number 15 and ‘SAKUSA’ were still on the back for everyone to see. even after all of these years, he couldn’t stop his heart from skipping a beat or two at the sight of your support.

“now, instead of a boring, normal jersey, i have a one-of-a-kind msby sakusa hoodie just for me.” you smile.

he hums, smiling softly in return. “alright, just for you.”

a beat passes while his eyes take you in again, before kiyoomi suddenly asks, “can i do something, though?”

the next game you come to watch, you get your regular spot close to the court. the team waves when they see you as usual, kiyoomi lingering for a few seconds so you can jokingly shoot a heart his way and he can shake his head.

the difference this time, though, is that you're wearing your new custom hoodie specially signed by your boyfriend in gold lettering, right under his number and last name.

Kiyoomi... i sure hope there arent any typos in this guys

🏷️ | @devilgirlcrybabiey @lordbugs @smiithys @xfangirl-trashx @passionateuchiha @scaramouchesfootstool @fifteenshadesofpinkk @lotus-sukimono @chloee0x0 @kenmaslov3r @bakugosgrenade @semifilms @sakusasdirtyragdoll @dai-tsukki-desu @Thathoneybee3 @momoewn @aintgeluh @dazaisfavgf @simpforerenn @crystal-lilac @vhenis @omiigad @kur0-kawa @semispilledcoffee @idontlikeyourjob @awkwardaardvarkforever @rory-cakes @prblmtic @kuroaka @vampyrkookie @sunaslay @h0n3ysgh0st @lackey-laufeyson @bontensbabygirl @dira333 @Kamukayakmonyet @danyisapingu @isentsworld @lilithlunas @anime-ships-gay @todorokiskitten @kellesvt @curiouslilbeast @fiona782 @cvhenia @mitskiologist @libbyistired @milkbreadforlife @itsukkie

[cottonlemonade]

Being MSBY’s Single Dad

word count: 1055 || avg. reading time: 4 mins.

pairing: Meian x chubby!Reader (feat. Sakusa)

genre: fluff

warnings: spoilers

Sakusa had been in a foul mood for some time now but today it reached its pinnacle.

Two weeks ago he twisted his ankle during training and since he had quite the history of downplaying any injuries and then suffering their consequences, Meian decided to accompany him on his latest checkup, very much ignoring Sakusa’s protests. The captain leaned against a filing cabinet, arms crossed and a small smile on his face as he watched you bend and knead Sakusa‘s foot with gentle proficiency. The younger man grimaced barely noticeably when you pressed your palm flat against his sole, but upon his wince let up the pressure immediately.

“You‘ll sit this next one out.“, you said firmly, writing something in his chart.

“It‘s not that bad. I can play no problem. I just have to warm up.“

“Ah, you heard what she said. Doctor‘s orders.“

“She isn‘t even a doctor.“, Sakusa mumbled under his breath.

“Rude!“, Meian scolded.

“True though.“, both you and Sakusa replied in unison and the captain grinned when you added pointedly, “However, as your lowly physiotherapist I will give you some more stretches to do. It‘s better than last time but give yourself another week and you‘ll be as good as new.“

You took a seat at your desk, writing down a short list of daily exercises, adding quick sketches for demonstration. As you did, Meian detached himself from the cabinet and walked over to Sakusa to help him back into his shoe, which he reluctantly allowed.

“And while you‘re at it, be nicer to the others.“

“You still haven‘t made up?“, you turned around and looked at Sakusa incredulously.

“If it wasn‘t for these idiots this never would have happened.“, he noted sharply.

“True, but they did apologize.“, Meian reminded him, “Multiple times.“ You hid your chuckle at his tone, very reminiscent of a dad trying to explain to his son the concept of forgiveness.

“They deserve to stew.“

“Wait, you had such a colorful way to describe them when you came in last time.“, you tapped your chin with your pen in thought, trying to remember, “I believe you called them “a bunch of orange cats whose brains are powered by a singular, already dim lightbulb“, am I right?“

Meian covered his snort with the palm of his hand, then rolled his shoulders and tied the shoelace as he cleared his throat.

“Please don‘t say that in front of Bokuto. His hair hasn‘t been the same since the accident.“

Sakusa clicked his tongue in annoyance and let Meian help him off the exam table.

“Here.“, you stood up and handed him two notes, “This is for some new painkillers, take them when needed but no more than three a day and these are the new exercises. Do them every morning and every night before bed and if it‘s not better in 3 to 5 days come see me again. Aaaand-“ You opened a desk drawer and took out a bright yellow lollipop.

“What‘s that?“

“All the good kids get one.“, you shrugged and smiled.

Sakusa rolled his eyes, snatched the lollipop nonetheless, and limped over to the door.

“You coming?“, he asked, hand on the handle.

“Wait in the car. I wanna get my shoulder checked out.“

“I‘m not some kid. I‘ll get a taxi.“

“If you wait for me, we can get ice cream on the way back!“, Meian called after him.

“Whatever.“, Sakusa pulled the door closed behind him, leaving you and the captain alone to burst into laughter.

“How do you manage them?“, you sighed and shook your head, then looked at him expectantly, “So, what‘s up with your shoulder?“

“Dunno, can‘t quite get my movement radius like usual.“, he swung his arm back and forth until it wrapped around your waist and pulled you close, “Huh. Seems like I‘m healed.“

He held your chin between index finger and thumb and leaned down to meet your lips. You giggled into the kiss, placing one hand on his cheek while running your fingertips along the back of his neck with the other. He hummed happily and deepened the kiss, playfully tugging at your bottom lip with his teeth.

“When can I tell them?“, he asked softly once you broke from each other, linking your fingers with his.

You nuzzled into his broad chest instead of an answer and he wrapped both arms around your soft round figure, slowly swaying on the spot. Back when you started working with the Jackals it had only taken a few months of stolen glances, not-so-accidental touches, and careful courting until Meian asked you to be his girlfriend right before an important match. You agreed immediately under one condition. And while he was never a fan of keeping your relationship secret, he understood that you were worried about what it could mean for either of you if it didn‘t last or if you were being accused of abusing your power. But at this point, it was well over a year and he would appreciate it immensely if Atsumu stopped trying to set him up on blind dates all the time.

“Nothing bad will happen, I promise. I read my contract over and over. I know that thing by heart. Nowhere does it say that we can‘t be together. Just…“, he pulled away a little to rest his forehead against yours, “let me show you off, hm? You know how Bokuto always sprints to his wife after a match to hug and kiss her?“

You nodded

“Well… I wanna do that, too.“

“Wife, huh?“, you teased.

“Princess, let us be public and I‘ll get you a ring so fast you won‘t know what hit ya. Cause I draw the line at secret wife.“

“Alright alright… next match. You can come and kiss me.“

“Yeah?“ His eyes practically glowed at your reply.

“Yes. But you better be faster than Bokuto.“

“Deal.“

Please imagine Meian overtaking Bokuto on the way to kiss his wife in the next match.

Imagine if these races became a thing after matches.

Imagine, when he does it for the first time, Sakusa is caught in the background of a picture of Meian kissing you with the most wtf face.

There would be fancams of their races after every match. People would keep score.

a/n: thank you to @haikyu-mp4 for the headcanon that Sakusa is photobombing the first fancam xD

[captain-hawks]

part 1

meian shugo x f!reader, omegaverse

meian shugo is, as always, alarmingly efficient at assessing and reacting to a situation.

case in point: as it turns out, a busy, out-of-town championship tournament weekend is not a good time to expect your body to adjust kindly to a new brand of suppressants. 

you’ve been feeling off for days, gritting your teeth and fighting through waves of dizziness and feverish chills. but it’s only once you step into the gymnasium while msby and their opponents are warming up for their first game that the weight of your mistake hits you in full.

more than a few heads turn your way, and the sharp, bitter tang of alpha pheromones—too many to place at once—crawls up your nostrils and down your throat. you instantly begin to feel nauseous. 

atsumu and bokuto start to make their way toward you, concern and confusion written on their faces in equal measure.

“hey, you dropped this.”

you halt, glancing back to find a player from the other team standing a little too close for comfort as he holds up your track jacket—it must have slipped off of your shoulder. your nose wrinkles at his scent.

hinata’s voice approaches from somewhere behind you.

“thanks,” you say quickly, going to take the jacket from him.

but he doesn’t let go of it right away, offering you an eager smile as he tugs it back almost playfully instead, eyes drifting down to the lanyard around your neck. “physiotherapist? think you could make time for an appointment with me later?”

“i—”

“excuse me,” meian’s voice cuts in roughly.

suddenly, there’s a solid wall of heat at your back. the captain reaches around you, grabbing your jacket with one hand while the other curls around your bicep. meian guides you toward the doors to exit the gym without another word.

a loud whistle blows behind you.

“captain—”

“—the game’s about to start!”

“start without me,” meian barks back, not bothering to turn around. 

meian moves at a brisk pace, never taking his hands off of you as he quickly steers you toward the closest unoccupied space—the locker room.

“meian-san—”

your words die in your throat as he swiftly backs you up against a wall, mouth set in a firm line while he cages you in, hands pressed flat on either side of your head. 

“stand still,” says tersely.

“but—”

“please,” his tone finally softens.

you nod once, hands obediently falling to your sides, heart galloping in your chest in confusion all the while.

and before you can even begin to wonder what the fuck he’s doing, meian’s face is suddenly buried in the crook of your shoulder. his stubble scratches against your soft skin as he slowly drags his face up the side of your neck, his breath hot against the shell of your ear. you try to fight back the shiver that arches up your spine, though it’s a losing battle. 

cupping your jaw, he moves to the other side, nose pressed just behind your earlobe before his chin strokes its way down to your collarbone. meian stills for a moment, the only sounds in the room his steady breathing and your erratic heartbeat thundering in your ears.

every nerve ending in your body feels like it's on the verge of combusting.

without warning, the scent of rosewood hits you all at once, and your fingers claw at the wall behind you for purchase as your knees go weak with each shallow inhale that your chest heaves with, unbidden. 

embarrassingly enough, you’ve become quite familiar with the scent of meian shugo’s cologne during your time working with msby. and his body wash.

this, however, is neither of those things.

you clench your thighs together.

shifting his attention to the base of your throat, his lips make brief contact with your skin with the movement, and this time, your knees do give out as you gasp. 

“shit—”

meian catches you, pulling you into his arms, and the sweet, woody aroma envelopes you whole. your tongue feels damp and heavy in your mouth, and you have to bite back a whimper.

“shit, sorry, here,” the captain steers you toward a bench, carefully helping you sit down.

the seat is cool beneath your sweaty palms, and you grip its edges, breathing in deeply for a few moments before you finally look at the alpha sitting beside you.

“what the fuck,” you whisper, not sure if you’re saying it to him or yourself.

“i’m sorry, that was probably the most unprofessional thing i’ve ever done,” meian drags a hand through his hair, looking uncharacteristically ruffled himself.

you put up a hand. “no, it’s…it’s okay. i’m having some issues with my suppressants, but i didn’t realize how bad it was until i got here. that was just…intense.”

meian nods, swallowing, and you find yourself unconsciously watching the way his throat bobs. “you haven’t been scented before, have you?”

you’re not quite sure how to tell him that you have.

for platonic reasons like this very situation, nonetheless.

you have, yes, but it’s never been like this.

it’s never left you panting and trembling, perspiration dripping down the back of your arched spine while heat flares white-hot in your gut. 

it’s never left you dizzy. unraveled.

needy.

desperate.

it’s never left you craving the scent left behind.

it’s never—

the door to the locker room swings open with a bang, and atsumu peeks in, eyes going a little wide as his nostrils flare.

“uh, cap. sorry, but we need ya out there.”

[suhkusa]

EGOIST 18.

PAIRING. Atsumu Miya x f!Reader

CW. plot, angst, did i say angst, betrayal

A/N. atsumu biting the curb in 4k

-> MASTERLIST.

Atsumu’s been nervous, yes. He’s also been scared. But nothing can describe the pure terror he felt in his heart when he opened up the link to gossip about you with a picture he took being the star of it.

He barely slept last night. He’s scared because things had just gotten good with you. He’s scared because how else did the media get a hold of this? He was never planning on releasing, nor does he ever remember sending it to anyone. So, why?

Atsumu is stuck where he is. He can’t move. One because you’re sleeping on him, and two because he doesn’t want to wake you up in fear of how you’ll react. He can hear your phone buzzing on the floor from when it fell.

He’s absolutely lost.

Atsumu decides it’s for the best to keep his mouth shut. To just be there for you. 

No one would ever have to know.

———

You wake up to Atsumu shaking you, “Y/N,”

You’re groggy as you open your eyes. You’re almost blinded when Atsumu shoves a phone in your face, a twitter post being left on the screen.

When you finally come to your senses and read it, you jump up.

“W-What?” you feel around your person, “Where’s my phone?” 

Atsumu is slow but he finally hands it to you. You’re frantic as you open your messages to almost 100 new notifications.

Coach Foster [7:45AM]: Stay indoors, there are paparazzi everywhere. Take care of yours…

Sissy [8:01AM]: are you okay? please call me back when you get a chance. me and mom are…

MSBY JACKALS (25 New) - Meian [8:04AM]: This is so weird, people have nothing else better….

Kiyoomi [8:07AM]: Are you okay? 

You don’t know who to answer, what to answer. This is bad, really bad. Your eyes begin to water when you look at Atsumu, dumbfounded.

“I-I don’t know what to do,” your hands are shaking, “Do I make a post or- or-”

His eyes look worried as he pulls you into a comforting hug, “It’ll be okay, alright?”

You nod into his shoulder, “Just listen to Coach for now and we’ll figure out how to settle this,”

You sigh in defeat as you shut your phone off. “This is so bad, a scandal right after you guys won, I-I’m so sorry,” you begin to cry.

“I shouldn’t have gotten so drunk, I should’ve been c-careful,” the palm of your hands dig into your eyes as you cry as if they were trying to plug the waterworks.

“It’s not your fault, there’s always journalists around trying to find their next hit story,” he comforts, hand on your back rubbing soothing circles in it.

“Just rest, I’m gonna make some breakfast,” he kisses you on the forehead before leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You snatch your phone up to look at your Instagram. There’s DMs, new followers, likes and comments. Out of nervousness, you temporarily deactivate your account. Closing out of the app. 

You’re about to click onto Twitter when a call begins to make your phone buzz. “Kiyoomi” labeled as the suspect.

“Kiyoomi?” you answered, “L-Look, I’m so sorry, I didn’t think-”

“Why are you apologizing?” he interrupts, “It’s not your fault, alright? But are you okay?”

His voice is filled with genuinity, it somewhat calms your nerves.

“No, I’m nervous, I’m scared. What if I lose my job? What if something happens to you, I don’t know how I’d deal with that,”

There’s a pause on his end before he continues, “You shouldn’t have to worry about any of that. Coach Foster knows what happened that night and wouldn’t lay it out on either of us. Gossip on social media is out of our control,”

You sniffle in response, allowing him to continue, “Just lay low for a little bit, we already have people working on stuff behind the scenes. I only called to make sure you’re alright,”

“Thank you, Kiyoomi,” you cry, “I hope you’re alright as well, and I’m sorry again,”

“No worries, I’m glad to know you’re safe. And again don’t apologize,” Kiyoomi comforts, “I’ll see you soon alright,” 

“See you,” is what you mutter to your phone before you’re met with the sound of an ended call.

With a sigh, you fall back into the pillow and comforter of Atsumu’s bed, wallowing in your own thoughts. 

“Food is ready,” Atsumu pokes his head into the room, a white apron adorning his body.

“You look goofy,” you laugh a bit, “I’ll be right there,”

With a nod he’s whistling through the halls on his way back to the kitchen. 

Working up the energy, you force yourself up and walk with sore legs into the kitchen, finding a seat on the stool by the counter.

“How are you feeling?” Atsumu questions with a mouth of waffle, pushing a plate towards you.

“Are these Eggos?” you laugh, grabbing one with your hand and taking a bite.

“Duh, never said I was a chef,” he smirks back before finishing the one in his hand. “You didn’t answer my question, though,”

“Oh, yeah. I’m feeling somewhat better,” you start, finishing what’s in your mouth, “There’s not much I can do about it you know?”

There’s a look of relief on Atsumu’s face that confuses you but you look past it.

“Coach already knows what happened that night, and so does Kiyoomi, so there’s nothing I really have to worry about,” you sigh, finishing the waffle in a swift bite, “just gotta wait for it to die down,” 

“Mm, I see,” he grabs your plate before placing it into the sink. “That’s good then, but unfortunately for you, that just means you’re stuck with me for another day,” 

“Oh no how terrible,” you roll your eyes, pushing your chair back and hopping off of it, “I’m gonna watch TV,”

Atsumu nods at you before turning the faucet on to wash dishes.

You click some random Netflix show to play in the background as you filter out your thoughts. It feels for a while you’ve been on autopilot, but the gravity of everything is finally hitting you. It’s terrifying.

You went from hating Atsumu Miya to essentially dating him. The team you helped manage won the Division 1 Volleyball championships. And now, you’re in a dating scandal with someone you considered a close friend. 

If there was a way to put your life on pause, you would. In a heartbeat. 

A buzz on the table catches your attention. Atsumu’s phone buzzes a couple more times before halting.

The name “Angie” appears on the notifications, drawing your curiosity.

“Atsumu, who is Angie?”

You look back at where he stands in the kitchen, and he looks like he’s seen a ghost.

There’s a brief moment of silence before he snaps out of whatever trance he’s in.

“Oh, that’s my cousin,” he says, drying his hands off, “Sorry, I just haven’t, um, spoken to her in a while,”

“Ah, I see,” you put his phone down before drowning yourself back in your thoughts.

Atsumu joins you on the couch, grabbing his phone before his butt meets the cushion. He puts it on the side of the couch before wrapping a strong arm around you. 

“What show is this?”

“It’s this one show, Ginny and Georgia, terrible, but I like to experience it,” you say which he nods in response to.

“I see,” his phone buzzes again, causing him to pick it up and type a somewhat long message.

“What does she want?” you prod.

He looks down at you then back at his phone, “She’s just reaching out after some family drama,”

You mouth a silent oh before turning your head back to the TV. 

———

The 50 minute episode ends and Atsumu hasn’t gotten off his phone since then.

“Atsumu, pay attention to me,” you pout, shaking his arm.

“Fine, fine, let me send one more text,” he quickly taps his phone a couple more times before setting it down.

You smile before you hug him, earning a kiss in response.

“Ah shit, I need to piss, just give me a second, ‘kay?” you nod before he’s frantically rushing through the hallway, pants pulled down before he even reaches the bathroom door.

You laugh a bit to yourself. You reach for the remote when you see his phone light up with a new text. 

He didn’t shut it off.

You’re stuck between a rock and a hard place. You’d be lying if you said you trusted Atsumu with all your heart, but it’d kill you if you didn’t trust him and he caught you in the act of something stupid like searching through his phone.

Bzzt.

Curiosity might really be killing the cat, because you can’t help the way you look at the bathroom door then back at his phone, quickly grabbing at it and reading the most recent texts.

If you were a cat, then curiosity really did kill you. Your heart sinks at the texts between his “cousin” Angie.

Angie [10:02AM]: URE the one who took those pics. i just happened to find them

Angie [10:02AM]: who do you think uploaded that picture of sakusa n that girl? lol u can finally get ur mind off of her now

Angie [10:03AM]: what do u say? u tryna come over or what ;)

© all writings belongs to suhkusa 2024. do not repost or change.

[slut4msby]

one of 'those'. sakusa kiyoomi x reader (part two.)

+ tags & warnings; part one is not needed to read part two :3

+ a/n; day 4/7!! i thought yall deserved a part two but i also just really wanted to write a part two :3

+ part one.

Ever since you gave birth to your daughter almost two years ago, Kiyoomi had not put her down. He would always tell you it’s because you were constantly working too hard and needed a break, which was the partial truth. In reality Kiyoomi couldn’t get enough of his daughter. She was the happiest baby, constantly giggling and smiling the complete opposite of Sakusa, however her looks were uncanny with her father. The pair was inseparable. When Sakusa would go away for away-games Mei would be in tears until you facetimed Kiyoomi, suddenly her smile which you adored so much was back. If Kiyoomi wasn’t available you would have to put on old matches or interviews containing her father. It made you a little bit jealous that Kiyoomi managed to steal all of your daughter's attention despite the fact you were the one who gave birth to her. 

Today Sakusa was at another away game. He missed his two pretty girls like hell, the same cycle for each game. All he wanted to do was go home and cuddle up to his wife and daughter. This time was different though, with the help of Meian you had planned to surprise Kiyoomi at the match today. Today’s match was important for Sakusa, MSBY Vs. EJP Raijin. A match against his cousin, and former teammate. The perfect match to bring Mei too. You had planned to sit in the stands to not distract Kiyoomi, and surprise him after the match by going down with your pass towards the end of the match.

As you arrived at the stadium with your daughter in hand. She wore a MSBY #15 jersey for her dad that was too big - essentially wearing it as a dress. Her hair was in two pigtails tied with yellow bows that matched her curly black hair. 

“You ready Mei-Mei?” You asked your daughter. To which she eagerly nodded in response, she was Sakusa’s biggest fan.

You and your daughter walked up to your seats, not too far back that Mei couldn’t see but also not too close that your surprise would be given away.

The match started off with Tomas serving for MSBY. The rallies were intense as expected from a division 1 match. As the rotation moved it was now Atsumu’s turn to serve. This piqued Mei’s interest as she looked closer and then back to you, “MAMA LOOK! IT’S UNCLE TSUMU!” Your daughter yelled. You couldn’t help but giggle at your daughter’s excitement. Sakusa hated how Atsumu got your daughter to call him ‘uncle Atsumu’. Your daughter was now watching intensely as Komori failed to receive the ball. “Momo, couldn’t pick it up mama. I don’t think I could either.” Your daughter frowned as Atsumu went in for his second serve, this time Komori was able to receive the ball almost flawlessly making your daughter stare at her actual uncle with admiration. However when EJP went to attack, MSBY perfectly received the ball letting Atsumu set up an attack which he tossed to Sakusa, scoring.

“And that’s MSBY’s #15, Kiyoomi Sakusa!” The commentators added over the speakers.

“Dada! Mama look! It’s dad.” 

“It is dad, Mei-Mei!” You say giving your daughter a tight squeeze, making her giggle. 

As the game was in it’s last set you got up from your seat, grabbing Mei and your belongings heading into the foyer. You walked up to the security showing them your lanyard before walking down to the court. Making sure to stand to the side walking towards their coach, Samson Foster. 

“Ah! I see you guys made it just in time.” Foster said, waving at Mei.

It was now at match point. You stood there intensely watching with Mei as the teams put all their effort into attacking and defending.

“Bokkun!” You heard Atsumu shout.

Bokuto ran up to the net, jumping. Only to get blocked by Suna and Bokuto’s ex-teammate Tatsuki Washio. MSBY’s Libero Shion Inunaki was quick to receive the ball.

“Omi!” Atsumu called, tossing the ball to Kiyoomi.

And Sakusa being Sakusa scored perfectly. “DADA!” Mei shouted towards Kiyoomi, gaining his attention. As his daughter enthusiastically waved at him.

The final whistle blew, gaining screams from the crowd as MSBY celebrated their win. Mei ran over to her dad who turned around at the sound of his daughter's footsteps, picking her up and throwing her in the air before catching her. “I didn’t know you two were going to be here.” He said to his daughter.

“It was mummy’s idea!” 

Kiyoomi couldn’t help but turn to you standing on the side, “Mhm? Well Mummy’s always got brilliant ideas, hey?” Mei eagerly nodded, “how ‘bout you go back to mummy and I’ll come see you two in a second.” He said before kissing his daughter's head, causing her to giggle and run back to you.

The two teams finished their post match traditions before Kiyoomi came over to your side. “Didn’t know you were gonna be here.” He said softly.

“Surprise!” You smiled at him. 

You walked with your daughter and husband towards the exit, “I’m going to get changed, I’ll see you two in a bit.”

“Okay dada!” Mei chimed.

As you and Mei stood waiting for your husband, someone crept behind you grabbing your daughter's shoulders causing her to let out a shriek. 

“Boo!” The voice called out.

You and Mei turned around, to see Komori standing behind you. “Momo!” Mei beamed. 

“Hey Mei-Mei, hey Y/N!” Komori said before picking up Mei giving her a hug, “Did ya like watching me Mei-Mei?”

“Yeah! But I liked watching dada more.” Mei said sternly.

“Of course you did. Your dad has a lot of fans you know. But I think you’re his favourite fan.” 

“Mei-chan!” Bokuto yelled out before him and Hinata ran up to your daughter. “Bo! Shoyo!” Mei said excitedly. 

The group of boys started chatting and playing with Mei as you waited for your husband. 

“Mei~ Your uncle ‘Tsumu is here!” Atsumu called proudly.

“Uncle ‘Tsumu!” 

“Stop making my daughter call you that, Miya.” Kiyoomi stated firmly. Before walking over to you. Kiyoomi was never one for affection but as you two stood there watching your daughter, he had snaked a hand around your waist. “I love you, and I love Mei.” He said, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“Mhm? I love you too, Kiyo. But I think Bokuto is trying to steal our daughter.” You giggle. 

This caused Kiyoomi to go into what you called “Serious dad Kiyoomi mode” - very original name. “Hey, bring me my daughter back!” 

“How did I get so lucky?”  You smile to yourself. 

©slut4msby.

[educatedsimps]

Hi! Saw your requests were open and I just had to stop by! Could I request a (not exactly angst bc the idea is funny but definitely in character for him) Bokuto x reader where he's ranting to a friend about how he loves to hug the reader and his friend just makes an offhand comment about how he'll probably crush her since he's a pretty big guy and he goes all emo mode about it. He doesn't want to hurt anyone :( Obviously we gotta add some comfort at the end for the silly guy

≪ back to fics masterlist

bokuto kōtarō  x f!reader

a/n: omg of course!! i haven't had the chance to write for bokuto and yes i agree this is literally perfect for him 🥰

cw: timeskip spoilers, atsumu being stupid, some hurt/comfort, msby crack

"I can’t wait to go home after this. I’m exhausted," Sakusa sighed.

"It’s not useful practice if it’s not exhausting, Omi-Omi. Be glad you’ve got teammates like us," Atsumu drawled, winking at his teammate and earning a disgusted glare from across the table.

"I thought today’s practice was fun! We got to try the new unorthodox version of our quick attack, and we've almost got it!" Hinata chirped next to Atsumu, with bits of his food flying from his mouth.

"I'm fine with it as long as you guys don't overexert yourselves during training," Lisa, Atsumu's girlfriend and the team's physiotherapist, chimed in from Atsumu's other side.

"What are you guys planning to do when you get home?" Meian asked, stuffing a rice ball in his mouth.

"Shower," was Sakusa's immediate answer.

"Probably do a little bit of meditation," Hinata mused.

"Call my brother to ask for more meal prep bentos," Atsumu said. An amused scoff came from his girlfriend.

"What about you, Bokuto?"

Having been focused on his food the whole time, Bokuto nearly choked on his rice when called upon by his captain. With tempura crumbs coating his lips, he smiled widely and announced, "I'm going home to give y/n a big hug!"

"You sure love hugging y/n, Bokuto-san!" Hinata chuckled, popping a salmon nigiri in his mouth.

"Of course I do! I love hugging her! She's so huggable and I just wanna squeeze her so tight all the time and transfer all of my love for her," Bokuto said, with with his fists in the air. "You guys should all hug your girlfriends tight! The tighter you hug her the more she'll know you love her!"

Shooting Lisa a lovesick smile, Atsumu stated, "We all love hugging our girlfriends, but I won't accidentally crush 'er to bits like someone." He nodded towards Bokuto.

Bokuto stilled, staring at Atsumu with confusion.

"Miya..." Meian warned under his breath.

"What? I mean, have ya seen the guy? He's huge! Could prob'ly flatten 'er if he wanted to," Atsumu continued, chortling at the thought. He stopped short as he noticed the glares from Meian and Sakusa. "What? What'd I say?"

By then, Bokuto was already in a completely different headspace. He had a blank expression on his face and a faraway look in his eyes. His shoulders were slightly hunched and his usually spiky hair seemed to droop at the edges.

Sakusa sighed what was probably the heaviest sigh in the history of mankind as Hinata stage-whispered to his teammate, "Atsumu-san, I think you hurt Bokuto's feelings."

Wide eyed, the blonde setter started to defend himself. "WHA-?! no, i- I DIDN'T EVEN-"

Sensing Bokuto's incoming emotinal shut down (or emotional episode, in this case), Lisa quickly tried to divert their attention. "Please, 'Tsumu. You wish you were as strong as Bokuto-san. Your spikes are weak as shit-"

" 'Cause I'm literally a setter!"

"-and not an all-rounder, which is why Kageyama-kun is ranked first in the country and you're second."

"BABE-"

"Maybe I shouldn't hug her anymore. I don't wanna hurt her. What if I really crush her one day? Then she'll really be flattened like a piece of bread. I don't wanna hurt her. So this means I can't hug her anymore. But I like hugging her. But does she even like my hugs?" Came Bokuto's voice. His brows were now furrowed and his face was etched with worry.

"Of course she does, Bokuto-san! I'm sure she loves your hugs, and you love her too much to ever hurt her, right?" Hinata and Lisa attempted to cheer up the saddened spiker.

Finishing the last of his food, Sakusa stood up, muttering, "I'm exhausted, I can't deal with this right now. My partner's here to pick me up anyway," As he walked past the other side of the table, he spoke to Atsumu in a low voice. "Only a jerk like you would say something like that to Bokuto, of all people."

"SHUT UP, OMI.”

"I’m home…"

Your ears perked up at the sound of Bokuto’s voice and you immediately noticed his dejected tone. Closing your laptop, you got up from your desk and bounced over to the front door to greet him.

Sticking your head round the corner, you saw him place his stuff down by the counter before staring into space. His face was blank and devoid of emotion but his eyes were filled with inexplicable sadness. Seeing him like this tugged on your heartstrings and you knew he was going through one of his emotional episodes. You just didn’t know why.

"Hey, Kō! How was your day?" Slowly walking towards him, you reached out your arms to give him a hug but stopped short when he cried out.

"NO, DON’T HUG ME. I’LL CRUSH YOU."

You froze with your arms mid-air before you dropped them back to your side. He had one hand held out to stop you from coming closer and his face was tucked into his other arm. You could hear quiet sniffles coming from him and your heart broke seeing how upset he was.

"But you already have a crush on me, baby. And I have a crush on you too! I thought we’ve already established that?" You joked, trying to lighten the mood.

It didn’t work. It was like he didn’t even hear you, so you decided to give him some space (like Akaashi had advised). You guided him to sit on the couch while you went about the house finishing up your chores. After several minutes, he seemed to feel a little better and you decided to talk to him (also like Akaashi had advised).

Sitting by his side on the couch, you reached out and held his hands in your own. His eyes were downcast and he was avoiding your gaze as if his life depended on it.

"Kō? What's wrong?"

"Nothin'."

"Look at me, baby. Please? I wanna see your cute face," you cooed. He pouted for a while more (which was adorable, by the way) before he finally caved.

"Tsum-Tsum said I'll crush you if I hug you too tight 'cause I'm so much bigger and stronger than you. And I don't wanna crush you, I promise! It just made me sacred to think I might not know my own strength and end up hurting you in the process. That's why I'm scared of accidentally hurting you when I’m excited and I know that if I did, you wouldn't say anything which is why I don't wanna accidentally hurt you with my hugs in the first place-" He swallowed the rest of his words as you pressed your lips to his.

"Kō, I love your hugs. They're the warmest hugs anyone has ever given me. Don't tell my mom, but sometimes your hugs are even better than hers," You giggled softly. A small smile appeared on his face as he looked at you. "And it's not a bad thing that you're so strong. It makes your arms really nice to hug! I promise you'll never be able to crush me. I'm stronger than you think, you know?"

"Really? You really like my hugs?" He asked, hope in his eyes.

"Really. A hundred per cent. A thousand per cent. I wouldn't like it any other way, Kō," You reassured him, kissing him sweetly once more. Within seconds, his entire mood had shifted and he was now beaming.

"Okay! I can hug you now!" He cheered. Before you could process anything, you were held in your favourite set of arms and wrapped up in the warmest hug on earth. You hugged him back tightly and felt his soft lips press against the crown of your head. Snuggling into his warmth, you felt so lucky to have him.

"Oh my god, anyone who says your hugs aren't perfect are clearly stupid," You sighed happily.

"Tsum-Tsum is pretty stupid sometimes," Kotaro hummed.

You pulled away, gasping in faux shock. "Really?"

"Pfft, yeah. Even Lisa says so!" He guffawed.

Before you could reply, your phone buzzed with an incoming message.

Lisa: “hey girl! hope everything’s ok with bokuto. my boyfriend’s kinda stupid sometimes so he doesn’t think before he says stuff. hope bokuto’s not feeling too down!”

Y/n: “it’s all good! managed to cheer him up pretty quickly today, haha”

Lisa: “that’s good to hear. you’re the only one who can cheer him up like that, y/n! anyway, rest well, you two. see ya next week!”

Reacting to her message with a heart, you put your phone down and turned back to your boyfriend.

"So, you gonna hug me or not?"

a/n: UM I HOPE THIS WAS OKAY??? pls lmk what u think 😭

© educatedsimps 2024. do not repost, copy, translate or plagiarize any work from this blog on tumblr or any other platforms. if you do, the simps will hunt you down. likes and reblogs are appreciated!

[kissatsumu]

hiii, i love your general Iwaizumi headcanons ❤️ could you possibly write timeskip headcanons or a short fic (which ever feels better for you) with a female reader who's the manager of msby jackals and has been dating Iwaizumi since their high school days in Seijoh. just some fluff, thank youu

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ Iwaizumi x MSBY manager! reader

cw: fem reader, fluff, timeskip spoilers, lowercase letters are intentional

notes: this concept is so cute!! i love high school sweethearts so much ugh

“okay! let’s go over this quickly so i can leave on time,” you announced to the huddle of volleyball players in front of you.

“why such a hurry?” the jackals setter, atsumu, asked. “you got plans y/n?” hinata chimes in. as much as you’d love to take this opportunity to talk about your boyfriend, you bite your tongue deciding against it. you shake your head, ignoring their questions.

you stood next to head coach samson and team captain meian as you all debriefed the team on schedules, announcements, and other notes. the post-practice debrief concluded and everyone was free to go. as the team left for the locker room, you left the gym and navigated the halls to the building’s main doors.

you exit and are greeted by the sight of your boyfriend waiting for you outside. “hajime!” you call out to him. he turns around to see you coming over to him and he immediately opens his arms up for a hug. “ready to go?” he asks and you nod.

iwaizumi made this into a routine. working closely related jobs that often intersected allowed for you two to be on a similar schedule. he’d wait for you so he can walk with you to the train station to get home. no matter how many times he’s held your hand, iwaizumi still smiles when he feels you intertwining your fingers with his. he listens to you talk about how your team is doing.

you reach the train station and get on board. iwaizumi holds onto the overhead handle and pulls you in close. you cling to his arm for support. you smile while gazing up at your boyfriend. “what’re you thinking about?” iwaizumi asks you, pinching you check.

you giggle. “just thinking.”

“about?” he prompts.

“i like commuting with you. it reminds me of when you’d walk me home after practice when we were in high school,” you mumble out and you nearly miss how iwaizumi’s eyes widen before his lips curl into a small smile. he leaves a chaste kiss to your forehead.

iwaizumi didn’t think about it until now, but he realizes how he always kept up some sort of routine with you during the years; during high school after volleyball practice, he’d walk you home. at lunch, he’d always find you after class and invite you to join him and his friends. during college, he’d always make time for daily phone calls with you. he never thought too much of it, as if spending time with you was instinctual and something he sought out daily.

“well i’m glad i still get to do this with you,” iwaizumi says back <3

[devilstruly]

POKER FACE

pairing - timeskip. sakusa kiyoomi x volleyball ref gn. reader

includes - college au, sakusa slowly losing his mind, lying (nothing bad i swear) if you squint, getting to know sakusa, new friendship things

a/n - i know this sounds weird and specific but i was reading a fic and an idea came to mind. hopefully it doesn't flop

Sakusa Kiyoomi is never late.

It's the first thing you've noticed about him since the start of the semester. The second thing is that he always looks put together.

So now as you sit on your assigned-unassigned spot in the lecture hall, the seat next to you empty and two minutes into the lecture, you wonder if something is wrong.

However, to everyone's surprise, a figure bursts through the door, immediately apologizing to the professor before beelining for his seat.

Heavy pants leave Sakusa's lips, almost as if he ran here, his curly hair slighty damp with sweat.

He plops on the chair unceremoniously and you have to hold in a laugh.

'Wow, what happened? You ran a marathon or something?'

'Practice.'

'Practice?'

You repeat the word with interest, one eyebrow rising and urging him to elaborate.

'Volleyball practice.'

'Oh?'

The professor's loud voice redirects both of your attention towards her, but you tuck away this sliver of information for later.

-

Sakusa was always rather intriguing to you. His blutness, his confidence, his disinterest for others. Even though he sounds repulsive, with you it was always the opposite.

Despite the forming friendship, if you can call it that, outside of class the two of you didn't really talk much. But you can't help yourself when you see him leaving the campus' gym one saturday morning.

Gradually speeding up you reach him in a matter of seconds, noticing the surprise on his stupidly handsome face.

'Hi!'

'What are you doing here? I've never seen you up before eleven.'

'I have work.'

Sakusa doesn't ask what you do so you don't clarify. Instead, you start a conversation while he walks back towards his dorm, presumably for a nap, and you towards the parking lot.

Just before you part ways, it's like a switch goes off in your head and you spin towards Sakusa so fast he nearly stumbles back.

'Oh, yeah! I almost forgot. Do you have any upcoming games this month?'

One of his perfect eyebrows arches up suspiciously but your smile is unwavering.

'We're playing against another university next week. Why?'

'No reason ~'

Before he even has a chance to question you further, you speedwalk towards your car, effectively hiding your triumphant giggle.

-

By the time the game finally rolls around, Sakusa has forgotten all about that weird interaction.

He's in the familiar locker room, pulling on the MSBY jersey over his head. Atsumu and Hinata are talking about something not too far away, and Bokuto walks into the room, bright and cheery despite being very late.

They step onto the court, following Meian's instructions immediately and starting their warm-up. When he's on the court, that's the only thing Sakusa cares about. Unlike Atsumu for example, he doesn't care for the crowd, doesn't care for anyone at the moment who isn't on his team.

The sound of a whistle blowing indicates that the captain's should make their approach, and for whatever reason, Sakusa looks in that direction.

His jaw almost cracked from how far it dropped when his eyes landed on you. You were standing in front of the two men, in official FIVB uniform, whistle hanging around your neck, looking professional and serious.

Sakusa blinks. Once. Twice. Three times.

You're still there. You haven't noticed him yet, or maybe you did but you don't care, and he's at a complete loss. Only once the captains start making their way back to their respective sides do you finally look at him, eyes twinkling with mischief and a hint of a smile on your lips.

-

The Black Jackals win, unsurprisingly. However, Sakusa isn't sure how he managed to score as many points as he did, since he was being watched like a hawk the entire time.

Of course it's your job, but still.

He has to wait outside the gym before you and your colleagues finally exit the building before he has a chance to talk to you.

When you step outside you immediately notice his figure lingering and you laugh on the inside, biding your colleagues goodbye before making your way over to him.

'Congratulations on the win.'

Your tone is too smug and it turns Sakusa's glare into a scowl.

'What the fuck?'

This is the first time you hear him curse and it takes all of your willpower not to snort.

'What? You did win, no?'

'That's not what I meant and you know it.'

'It's not?'

If you keep up this innocent and clueless charade, Kiyoomi might just lose his mind.

'When were you gonna tell me you were a fucking volleyball ref?'

Fueling his fire, you shrug nonchalantly.

'You never asked.'

Sakusa opens his mouth to retort, but after a second gives up, knowing that he would've made the same exact remark in your position.

He hates you.

'Is this why you asked me about the game last weekend? Isn't that a conflict of interest?'

'None of my superiors know we're classmates. And if they did they wouldn't know we're friends. So technically, no.'

That satisfied smile on yourself makes him want to kiss it off- no. Slap it off. Anything other than kiss. What the fuck?

He shakes his head to try and get rid off...whatever this is, before he huffs.

'Fine. Have it your way. I'll see you in class then.'

Something about confused Sakusa will always be amusing to you. Just as you're about to leave the premises, you catch a glimpse of orange and yellow in your peripheral vision, silently praying for Sakusa's well-being.

part 2?