lcnelyinthesky - Tumblr blog

lcnelyinthesky · 3 years

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admiration - tsukishima kei

a/n: okay hi?? im ellie?? heres this??? i worked on it for like four? days?on and off? and its longer than any oneshot ive written but yk shes cute ig. pls be nice pls enjoy... but also my last piece got 2 notes and im really hopin in not shadowbanned here lmao

genre: fluff, angst, rivals to lovers!!

pairing: bisexual!female!reader x tsukishima kei (yes bi reader its a vibe)

warnings: a break up with a beautiful woman i made up myself, swearing

word count: 3.7k (ahhhh!!)

enjoy!! :D

Elementary second year. Your newly-assigned seat was next to a much taller, blond kid. He was smart and bright, rivaling the sun in terms of unbridled joy. Now, none of that can be seen by eight year old eyes, but looking back and comparing, it's easy to spot that he changed.

Tsukishima Kei was an excitable kid, just as everyone was, but he was still snarky; his arrogance seemed to be something that just festered within his soul, no matter the trauma that brought it out.

Childlike wonder is still alive and well at eight.

The teacher you had back then was quite rude. She was pushy and angry, and she assigned way too much homework. Everything she uttered made you huff in disappointment, crossing your arms and hoping for some sort of reaction from someone. The kid next to you was named Koji--or, at least, that's what you called him. He was your best friend, spending every moment with you like you were siblings. You'd be able to crack a joke with the smallest glance and you’d talk constantly. As soon as your handwriting was legible to people of your age group, you'd pass notes back and forth and cackle at their contents. Until, of course,

“Tsukishima, will you switch seats with Kojikata today?” Your teacher sounded exhausted, huffing her sentence out on a sigh before going back to the multiplication tables on the board. Suddenly, your little world was interrupted.

“Y/N, right?” He didn’t look at you, placing his folders down on the desk and pushing his glasses back up as he sat. His words were hushed and quiet, but the class had moved into individual work--he wasn’t interrupting anyone.

“Yeah. Can I call you Tsukki?” You were angry, gripping your pencil tighter in your little hand as you wrote numbers down on white paper. One times one is one. Two times two is four. This is easy.

“No,” he was long doing the same thing, but writing quicker than you. That’s how it is, huh?

Three times two is six. Four times five is twenty. Six times three is eighteen. Five times six is thirty. This is easy-

“Miss, I’m done.” His voice was always so dry. Uninterested.

Four times three is twelve. “Me too!” Your hand shot up with the paper in it, sending a death glare at the boy next to you.

That's how it is, huh?

This pattern continued for weeks. Tsukishima didn’t move from his seat next to you, as your teacher had made the realization that you worked far harder without friends around. Tsukishima lit a competitive fire under you; everything was now a race.

It started with handing in assignments. Who would go up to the front desk first to have their work checked over? Who would finish this quiz faster? Then it transferred into everything.

Who would get to class faster? Who finished their lunch quicker? Who could read faster? Who scored higher on spelling tests? Who could run faster in gym class?

And then it was middle school.

Middle school brought in Yamaguchi Tadashi.

It'd be an understatement to say he warmed to Yamaguchi quickly, but the basis behind that was strange. Tsukishima was never one for friends, even though everyone wanted to be friends with him. He was cool in the eyes of a handful of eleven year olds; letting everything roll off your back seemed to be an admirable trait. Yamaguchi worshipped him, and Tsukishima took him under his wing to teach him the ropes of being a cool kid.

At heart, though, Yamaguchi was kind and attentive. He could tell when things were going wrong, and supposedly it was him that changed the rest of your life.

The rivalry continued just as it had in elementary, just with higher stakes. You'd fight for answering questions first, working ahead of everyone else to just beat him. He’d never bat an eye at it, and sometimes you thought it was all over, but then

“Y/N.” Tsukishima Kei stood three steps behind you, looming over you with the height he was seemingly born with. The hallway was emptying by now, kids walking into their classrooms once again. The white floors rung with the quiet sounds of soft-bottomed shoes and a light above your head flickered calmly.

“Yeah?” You spun around to meet his gaze.

“What’d you get on that lit essay?”

“A 96. Why?”

“No reason,” he smirked and tilted his head up, looking down at you, “I got a 100.”

A huff and a stomp away gave him the answer he needed as he followed you into the classroom, sitting down behind you and next to Yamaguchi just as he did every day. The little shit.

Tsukishima was never better than you, technically speaking. On average and on paper, you were always both roughly the same. You'd fight for being top of the class, the position switching between both of you every day. You excelled in creative things while he excelled at sports, but both of you dabbled in the other. When people in your year began dating, everyone came to assume you two were. It was embarrassing, really, because Tsukishima Kei was a little shit know-it-all who will never beat me at anything ever and people need to stop thinking he will because he won’t I’m better than hi-

“Hey?” Oh right. Friends.

“Koji!” He never left, at least not yet. His nimble fingers tapping on your shoulder brought you back to reality, making you jump and turn around to face him, wrapping your arms around his body for a split second.

“You looked zoned” his face was riddled with concern that was easy to write off.

“Oh, whoops” a small blush heated your cheek as your hand migrated to rub your neck. “Did you want something?”

As you walked into the classroom a bit further, Koji sat on your right; he seemed to buckle down more when you had moved away from each other way back in the day, so there were less mid-class comedy shows. He grew up just as you had, and with the closeness of the two of you people began to think you were dating. At twelve, it was incredibly necessary to date someone--anyone. Theories bounced from everywhere and anywhere and with you it was either your best friend or your biggest rival. Your lack of attraction to either of them became the center of many late night crises.

“Not particularly,” his gaze switched from you to the board again, beginning to write something down when he turned his head. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah! Of course I am,” you smiled at him, the kind of smile that made your eyes crinkle at the corners, and suddenly it was high school.

“Tsukishima is really cute! And he's smart, I heard that Kageyama wasn’t too bright somewhere.”

“But Kageyama’s so much hotter! His being a little dumb sometimes is endearing.”

“Are we not going to talk about that third year setter, Sugawara?”

“No, he’d never go for a first year. Besides, that Hinata kid is more of an enigma.”

“Have you even seen them play?” A howl of angry “yes”s fell over the crowd, trying to prove something. None of them had ever seen them play.

That asshole Tsukishima getting popular felt like a stab in the soul. None of them knew him or how much he sucked, but the amount of girls fawning over him was horrific.

There's something consistently poetic about young love, no matter where it comes from. Something extra sweet about holding pinkies in school corridors when no one is looking and seeing them every day, smiling loudly as the sun broke over the horizon all bright and early. The raging hormones and dumb, fake social hierarchies of fifteen make emotions run wild, and only the deeply immature end up helplessly infatuated. Others are more cautious, but there's only so many precautions one can take at fifteen. Sometimes some of us just want to be loved, no matter the sincerity of it.

Cared for, and whatnot. No harm in that, in the long run at least.

“Y/N, right?” Her name was Mei. She was in your class; 1-4, just like Tsukishima. She was pretty. Long, black hair was preceded by two green streaks at the front. She’d always have those down, making her features look like a photo in a perfect frame. She had a collection of hair clips with small shapes on them that she’d have somewhere on her person at all times. Her more mid-sized body was paler than most, and she was covered in freckles and moles. Her eyes were an unusual shade of blue that looked deep enough to swim in. Her cheeks were always stained with a peachy blush that moved up her collarbones and into her ears, making her look like she was always smiling no matter what her face was doing. Karasuno’s school uniform did wonders for her curves, the skirt swaying up on occasion and making her look so damn perfect.

“Yeah! You’re…” a second of dumbfounded pause felt like years in your mind, coming to the conclusion that she was the most beautiful girl you had ever met. “Ojiro Mei?”

“Yep! I just wanted to tell you you looked really pretty today!” Her voice always had an upward inflection, and was higher than most. It was cute. Incredibly cute.

“Oh.” A moment of confidence fell over you like you weren’t in control of your actions, “you’re beautiful.”

“Thank you very much,” she bounced back on her toes and then rolled back to her heels, hands intertwined behind her back, “You’re too kind, Y/N.” Her sentences were always punctuated with an eye-crinkling smile.

Later that day, you found her on every social media account you could; she messaged you first.

When you don’t know you’re interested in women, it’s hard to notice that they’re flirting with you, but after a handful of supposed gay panic, you asked her on a date.

She was two inches shorter than you, and somehow that persisted no matter what shoes she was wearing. Every small outing with her felt like cloud nine--watching the sunset, small conversation over tea at a nearby cafe, cuddling in your bedroom with only a string of Christmas lights on. She always looked so wonderful in soft lighting, the potential cold of winter disappeared with pale beiges that made her freckles look like stars. Every action Mei ever did was soft and full of care. She could send every single emotion through her fingertips on your jaw, deepening a kiss you started moments before. She was like magic, until she wasn't anymore.

You supposed, when thinking back, that things fell out around month thirteen. The rose colored lenses everything was viewed through faded a bit, and it's easy to notice her pulling away. There were less late night phone calls and less recommended music and less hands running through your hair. Everything has a natural progression to the end, right?

“Do you still feel it?” It was raining. Large drops of water fell down to the floor, smacking the pavement at speeds you couldn’t even try to measure. She was wearing a bright yellow raincoat that looked almost dull in the four pm light.

“Feel what?”

“Anything, baby.” All of her words ended with a huffed out sigh, like she was tired of something. Lying, maybe.

You pondered the question, and it seemed like your hesitation gave her all the answer she needed.

“Ya know, Y/N.” She looked down and grabbed your hands with hers, rubbing her thumbs on your palms as you grabbed around them. “This was fun. We had a good run.”

A solemn tear fell down your cheek at the ending, but there was no use in self pity or anger now. She was so sweet and kind, and it's truly unthinkable how she continued that kindness in the end.

“Yeah. A good run.” The pink in your cheeks grew as you choked out a laugh, pulling her in for one final hug under the dim fluorescent lights on the front door overhang of the school.

Fifteen came and went with love, and when sixteen rolled around you wondered if you’d ever be loved like that again.

A spirit can't be broken overnight, and if you’ve spent the last eight years of your life having a strong, consistent rivalry with someone, it won’t leave any time soon. Tsukishima and you were on similar playing fields for most of your life, but you had one thing he didn’t: relationship experience. In that way, you always counted yourself one point higher, like a boy scout badge.

For a spell, however, your intensity changed. There was nothing more driving you than spite, and there was nothing you wanted more than to beat him. You were well into your second year of high school at this point, and--volleyball notwithstanding--you had wins over Tsukishima. You had seen him play volleyball, every match in his second year, and you deemed he was simply okay. You refused to count his success onto the list of wins for both of you.

June fifteenth. Tournaments were coming up around the corner when it happened, which explained every reason why he was there. You weren’t exactly prepared for the rain, so the best bet seemed to be sitting at the front entrance of Karasuno High School and wallowing in a little bit more self pity before you went home. You were just dumped after all, the tears weren’t done falling.

The feeling between sadness and shame overflowed you, shades of yellowish green painting the world around you and churning your gut into oblivion. And the tears fell. It felt like a scene in a movie; in a few seconds, a strong, capable man would show up to your rescue.

“Y/N?” what the fuck?

He was sweaty. His face was matte from a light film of saltwater. He had a grey umbrella over his head, keeping himself dry from the still-pelting rain. His six-foot-two frame was covered with a black tracksuit, and he still had his sports goggles on.

Those fucking sports goggles.

“Tsukishima.” you deadpanned, trying to get him away as fast as possible. His words were snarky, as always, but this time laced with concern. Like he actually cared.

“What are you still doing here? It’s almost six,” he stood under the overhang with you, crouching to take a few feet off of his incredible height.

“Sulking?”

“Ah,” he huffed and sat down next to you, “it’s not great for your posture, ya know.”

“Oh shut up, Tsukishima.”

“Remember when we were eight,” he looked up, studying the moths as they flew around the lights on the ceiling, “and you asked if you could call me Tsukki?”

“Vaguely, but we were eight.”

“Yeah, true” his head dramatically fell to his lap, staring at his knees as he chuckled, “but you can. Call me Tsukki, that is.”

An uncomfortable laugh fell from your lips, and he spoke for you, “this one kid, Koganegawa, the setter on Date Tech, calls me that too. It's not a Tadashi-only nickname anymore.”

“You say Tadashi-only like I wasn’t there first.”

“He never asked.”

“Would you have said no?”

“Probably” he hasn’t actually looked at you yet.

“Should I not have asked?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Okay, Tsukki” you drew out the last letter, giggling at the situation before you had time to think about your emotions.

He noticed that you weren’t crying anymore and helped you stand, grabbing your hand and pulling you up. Tsukishima and you lived closer than you thought, walking the same direction and only splitting up seconds away from your home.

You walked in silence the whole time, but it was comfortable. While he was your rival, he was always a friend. There was nothing scary or intimidating about him, as is with most people when you’ve known them forever; it was almost like his facade just didn’t work on you. You were huddled close to him to stay out of the rain.

The second you parted ways, you ran home. The rain was more of a drizzle now, but the temperature began a free fall--getting out of the cold as fast as possible was your first priority. Upon entering the front door and taking off your shoes and jacket, leaving everything to sit in the entryway, you took a shower. The rain didn’t do enough to wash away the pain of the day, and warm steam would let the rest evaporate. The expected unrelenting sadness wasn’t really present as much as was expected, though. Everything felt fine. Content. Okay.

And it continued that way. He sent you a snapchat asking if you had gotten home safely, which prompted a memory of you never giving each other your phone numbers. After a quick yes, tsukki. no need to worry ;), you sent him your number asking to play some game.

Whatever is meant to happen does, right? Any excuse for falling for him. You didn’t want to, of course, but things happen. Time changes. Thus, the excuses. Thus, the ignorance. Thus, the five stages of grief.

It started with the denial, because no Y/N you can’t like Tsukishima Kei. He’s so competitive and mean and snarky and horrible and you hate him! Then, the anger, because Tsukishima sucks and he’s horrible and you’re going to punch him in his stupid cute face. Next, the bargaining, because please don’t let this be happening you’ll do anything to lose these feelings, even if it means letting him win at something. Going into the depression, because all you’ve ever wanted was to be free of this assclown and now you’re stuck thinking about him at three in the morning when you’re supposed to be dreaming about anything other than him. And finally, acceptance, when you scowl at him in the hallway because fuck, you like Tsukishima Kei.

The worst bit of acceptance is getting over it. Now you had to confront your feelings. Now you needed to tell him.

It was roughly five months since he found you sulking on school grounds, and you regretted most days the way you let him text you every morning. It’d always be something stupid, like a joke about the novel you were reading in lit or sometimes he’d tell you, off hand, something dumb Hinata and Kageyama did at practice. Sometimes he’d text you, within the first twenty minutes of the school day, pointing out something little you did with your hair. They were never really compliments as much as comments; he’d say “your socks have a pink ring at the top” and give you nothing to work with from there. A simple yes would suffice, you always supposed, because “yes, tsukki. they do.”

He’d linger at his desk during the break between classes and would stay there if you didn’t leave, but would leave a few steps behind you if you did. He wouldn’t follow you, but he’d watch to know where you were going. Everything he did was concealed though--you'd only notice if you really wanted to know.

Yamaguchi was the only one to notice, even after a while of it. You’ll never know what he said to his friend, but the conversation you had with the aforementioned friend a day later gives some guesses.

“Y/N?” Tsukishima was never the shy type, and you knew him in the days where everyone was shy. He wasn’t loud, but he was bold. His words were always pointed and important. Everything he did always had purpose and intensity behind it.

“Tsukki?” You were sitting under a tree, enjoying the late spring weather of the beginning of your third year. Nothing became intense yet classwork wise, so there was ample time to chill on the school grounds. Overlooking the soccer field was a large oak tree. It was big enough to comfortably have multiple groups of people under its shade, but it was empty at the moment; save for you and the book you were reading.

“I was just wondering if you’d like to maybe go out sometime?” He somehow didn’t pause while talking, but his words came out more something akin to word vomit. You we’re more shocked than you should have been, if you had picked up on the signs. But you were feeling the same as he was, as far as you could tell.

“Sure, when?” You looked back down at your book for a second, placing the bookmark in it and folding the pages shut.

Tsukishima looked dumbfounded, standing there with his eyes bugged out and his mouth slightly agape. He started making unintelligible babbling noises, hoping to get something out that had any meaning at all. You took the reins instead, gaining confidence in his lack thereof.

“I was planning on getting coffee or something today after school. It gets really cold at night now, huh?”

“Yeah, I suppose.”

“Would you like to join me?”

“There's a break before practice today so” he hesitated, letting the pink in his cheeks finally catch up to the beating in his chest. “Sure.”

You wouldn’t have ever pegged Tsukishima Kei as the flustered type.

There was never a drop in conversation, as there never really was between you two. A whole life together and you still had things to talk about, mentioning everything from your individual childhoods to recent developments. Turns out he never knew what genre of books were your favorite. Or what kind of music you listened to. Or what any of your hobbies were.

Turns out you both had more in common than you thought, competitive spirits notwithstanding. Tsukishima Kei was a strange man in every sense of the word. He was arrogant and snarky and disinterested and bright and passionate and smart. He was your rival, smug look plastered on his smug face making your chest bubble in anger just as it had a million times before--or was that admiration this time? The world may never know.

All that was real right now was the deck of cards on the table, being separated out into a card game both of you learned as kids. The small, round, cafe table shook with every slap of your hands, but the basis of your relationship would always be competition. It's just that now the anger behind that competition was gone. All that was left was admiration.

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lcnelyinthesky · 3 years

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gonna post this when i hit 300 which is so. so soon. very exciting :))

childhood friends rivals to lovers tsukishima x reader

an idea that came to me in a dream, i will be writing in a self indulgent way wishing my long time crush/rival liked me... anyways

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lcnelyinthesky · 3 years

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childhood friends rivals to lovers tsukishima x reader

an idea that came to me in a dream, i will be writing in a self indulgent way wishing my long time crush/rival liked me... anyways

#brainrot goin nuts today #tsukki x reader #coming soon!!#ellie’s going crazy

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lcnelyinthesky · 3 years

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a/n: sakusa angst. idk what this is. no beta we die like MEN. random author updates though my pronouns are they/them! i dont really have too many tumblr moots anymore but thats necessary info. inspo from i hope your husband dies by amigo the devil

warnings: yandere behavior

genre: unrequited love, letter format

word count: 683

enjoy??

Sakusa Kiyoomi,

It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? Seems like just yesterday I was sitting on your bedroom floor, wishing I could buck up the courage to tell you how long I liked you. How infatuated I was with you. I can’t help but think about how different my life would have been if I never told you.

You made my life better, Kiyo. in every way. You managed to teach me what love was, even through that prickly exterior you have. You were way warmer than anyone could believe, and being able to climb your walls is one of my biggest achievements. With that, though, comes the regret. I regret letting you rebuild those walls again.

I’ve never felt as whole as I did when I was with you. The memories of comfort and contentment while we listened to something dripping with rich, gold tones are so very vivid. Every second I spent with you feels more intense than memories of yesterday. It's funny, actually, the impact you had on me.

The time I spent with you is one I’ll never forget, even though it was years ago. We may have just been dumb teenagers, but that doesn’t make our love any less important. That doesn’t make us any less real. Our Saturday nights spent wandering that damn park. Our times sneaking around Tokyo, breathing in the streetlights like they were the only real thing on the planet. Our moments of peace; small nose kisses, facemasks at midnight, interlocking our arms like a black and white photo. Oh how I wish they never ended.

With as much pain as swims through your veins, I’m glad you let people squirm their ways into your life. I'm glad those built-up walls aren’t as high as they used to be--I like to think I had some sort of help in that.

I’m glad you're still going headlong into the things you love; it makes me happy to no end to watch you play volleyball. Once, I used knowing you as a reason to meet that Hinata Shoyo, but I’m sure you’ve heard that story. You’re really incredible, Kiyoomi. There's never been a moment where I wasn’t in awe of you, even today. Watching that flick of your wrist will always send a shy smile to my face.

Everything I do now, and everything I’ve always done, has been for you. It's completely selfish, I know, but all this time I’ve been waiting for your return to me. There's something enthralling about how you've always been, and I don't think I had enough all those years ago. No matter how different our paths are, I still think we can do it. Besides, it was you who made it abundantly clear you couldn’t fall for someone too similar to you. Volleyball is so much of your life, seems strange that you’d go for someone on the same side of the court.

I heard, somewhere, that you were recently married, and I’m writing to tell you how happy I am about that. You truly deserve the world, it's just mildly surprising that your world is the same guy you loathed in highschool. Funny how times change. Maybe I’m still living in the past, but I can't help but wonder how this even happened? You always had so many choice words about him; it feels a little off to see you two kiss on the court after a big win.

So, I suppose, this is the end. I’ll be blunt, as you always said you liked that about me: Sakusa Kiyoomi, I hope your husband dies. I cannot imagine a world without you, and I really hope he fucks up. I know you never will. You’re perfect, my sweet Yoomi, and seeing you with that trainwreck of a man… well it feels like I’ve truly lost.

You said yourself that I was yours. You said it so many times, I can still hear it ringing in my ears. I’m still yours; I’ll do everything I can for you to be mine too.

Love, Y/N. Always yours.

#sakusa angst #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa #kiyoomi sakusa #haikyuu #hq #haikyuu!! fanfiction #haikyuu fanfiction #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #undertagged on purpose LMAO #itachiyama #bruh moment

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lcnelyinthesky · 3 years

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vampires night out - matsukawa issei

a/n: normal mattsun monday piece but this time its horror and i’m going nuts. BUT HAPPY MATTSUN MONDAY!! based on the harley poe song of the same title

genre: horror

word count: .7k

warnings: descriptions of blood. mattsun’s a vampire and a flirt. he wants to kill ya but in a weird sexy way where he just made out with you and now wants to suck all of your blood. i dont know why i wrote this..

pairing: vampire!mattsun x gn!reader

enjoy?? i promise my next thing wont be as bonkers LMAO

“College kid like you, with nothin' to do, let's go back to my place and I'll show you a thing or two,” his words lingered in the air like a scented candle. His lips fell into a smirk. His eyes were a piercing shade of blue, but they were practically black with the intent behind them. He was always so, well, you didn’t really know. You didn’t really know him.

He approached you at a bar, six feet of muscle overpowering every little part of your body, and chatted you up for a second. There was nothing particularly cruel about his mannerisms or intent--nothing scary about him--but maybe that was wishful thinking. Besides, he was hot, that was a plus in every regard. His aura was full of holes though, masked with confidence and intensity.

There was something strange about the man you grew to know as Matsukawa Issei. He was normal, sure, but the things he said in hushed tones seemed to speak louder. You only knew him for one hour before you were in his apartment on the opposite side of town.

His pisces sun made him malleable. He could go from one mindset to another at the drop of a hat, pulling a complete one-eighty within seconds. He was intense, but not without his moments of quiet composure. He was mostly moments of quiet composure. Nothing about him was out of place, but that was all seen within moments of meeting him. Reading him was easy, or so you thought.

He was intriguing. Interesting. Fun. He seemed tame and fine, but powerful enough for a good time. Powerful enough to keep you reeling afterwards. Powerful enough to have some fun with you

Clothing dripped to the floor like a roaring waterfall as the whole room heated up, and there was nothing mistaking the way the night was heading, until he

Well

Let the fangs come out.

He was practically a gentleman about it, really. He let the air get hot and heavy before making you question every last second of your time with him. He let things seem interesting before scaring you into oblivion, poking your bottom lip with a sword made of bone between deep kisses.

“I said, I don't want you. I want your blood,” Mattsun laid on his back, propping his incredibly well toned body up with his elbows. There was a drop of blood on his lip that he quickly wiped away, biting the pink skin and winking to turn the heat back up. Was this guy delusional?

“What the fuck?”

“Seems perfectly reasonable to me,” he shrugged, “I'm at the top of the food chain, baby, and in my world you don't have a voice.”

You stood there, almost completely naked, absolutely perplexed. But why won’t you leave? Why aren’t you running away? Was he not scary enough?

“Do you think I’m bluffing?” He moved a bit, holding himself up now with his hands, biceps flexing under the weight of his upper body. The deep yellows fluttering around the room were borderline delicious, especially what they were doing to his abs. Are you too horny to leave?

“Because I’m not. It's nothin' personal but you gotta do what you gotta do.” He scoffed. “Besides, you shouldn’t complain, in a world where death is so much gain.”

“Matsukawa.”

“Yeah, sweetcheeks?” He flashes his fangs once more, rubbing one with a finger like he was polishing it before work.

“What are you?”

“A vampire? I’m surprised you didn’t notice. I’m also surprised you’re not running, actually, most people don’t let me get through my spiel first.” Issei let out a breathy chuckle, carding his fingers through his hair and sewing his eyes shut. “You were in the wrong bar on the wrong night. These’re the cards you were dealt, so why fight?”

A singular bedside lamp lit up the studio apartment, boxy walls reflecting soft shades of yellow on everything. In a moment of panic, you looked around, noticing small splatters of blood and deeper stains on a few white shirts. He was at home, bits of his duvet more worn out than others--likely due to insistent washing out bloodstains.

“You seem like a nice girl, so I’ll let you go, but not without tryin to get ya on my side.” He started gesticulating now, annunciating with his hands like it'd make his words even more pertinent. “There’s really no downfalls here, unless you see immortality as a downfall. Why don’t ya just give it to me?”

“Give me what I want, baby.”

#mattsun x reader #matsukawa x reader #matsukawa #mattsun #matsukawa issei #matsukawa horror #matsukawa haikyuu #matsukawa issei x reader

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lcnelyinthesky · 3 years

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giving this the olde rt bc it’s all done now!!! thank y’all for joining me on this ride

PLAYBOY - ATSUMU MIYA

a three part, enemies to lovers, fake dating au by lcnelyinthesky

– in which second year inarizaki student miya atsumu wants to make a girl jealous. you were his best bet at doing just that.

pairing: atsumu x fem!reader

genre: enemies to lovers, fake dating, fluff, hurt/comfort ??, comedy

warnings: swearing

taglist: closed!

updates: thursdays at 20:00 est

start date: thursday, third december!

end date: thursday, seventeenth december!

enjoy!

masterlist

- part one

- part two

- part three

#ellie’s recs #atsumu x reader #atsumu fake dating #playboy masterlist #we so :))) in here

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lcnelyinthesky · 3 years

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PLAYBOY - PART THREE

– in which second year inarizaki student miya atsumu wants to make a girl jealous. you were his best bet at doing just that.

a/n: omg?? part three?? already?? its been a wild ride. big big thank you’d to lay, leaf, and isa for the beta reads. yall really made my night. another quick thank you to all the people reading this lil idea of mine, it means more than i could ever express. youre all lovely.

genre: fluff. its fluff.

warnings: atsumu expresses a lil bit of insecurity but hes not very deep about it.

word count: 2376

enjoy!!

“Chamomile? I don’t want you to be too tired though.”

“Do you have any cranberry? I like putting a lot of sugar in it so it just tastes like juice.” Atsumu’s flirtatious nature wore down to its bare essentials: wide smiles, nonsensical behavior, and base level goodness.

“I don’t think that’s,” you paused, wondering how this all happened. Wondering why he was in your home, sitting at a kitchen table, tapping his fingers insistently on the wooden tabletop. Wondering how the last fifteen minutes even came to be. “Sure, okay.”

After your proposal, he wiped his face and followed you, speaking at length on anything that came into his head. He was very spontaneous by nature, and would go on a small tangent about anything, even between deeper topics.

“Samu’s always been slightly better than me. Whether with people or at volleyball or whatever. He just wins. Maybe it made me subconsciously think I’m worse.” He dragged behind you roughly three steps, holding your hand like a lifeline as you guided him away. Even with all the acting, both of you realized how much small touches really meant. Both of you grew to need more contact than you were getting.

“I’m really sorry about that Tsu-”

“Hey!”

“What?”

“Ya were just gonna call me Tsumu.”

“Huh?” He jogged up closer to you, still keeping his right hand firmly in your left, tapping his fingers excitedly on your knuckles.

“Tsumu” he whispered to himself, a smile creeping to his lips. He didn’t seem broken up about it anymore; you walked the rest of the way in comforting silence, save for the five minutes he was stopped by a stray cat.

He crouched down to be at eye level with the creature, staring into its piercing yellow eyes with all the focus he coils muster. Both sets of golden irises slitted in what looked to be a profession of power. Atsumu was having a staring contest with a stray cat.

After two minutes, he won. Blinking and shouting, “shit, Y/N! Why’d you make me do that?”

“Excuse me?” He shot up, rubbing his eyes with his fists, hoping tears would drip back into them and soothe the pain. You giggled slightly, watching him suffer but still beat an animal in a battle of pure strength. This was the guy, huh.

“Hey! Don’t laugh! That’s the product of years of practice!” He tapped your shoulder with kind malice, making you grab it and scoff. The acting abilities of both of you became impeccable over these last few months.

“Practice?” You were properly laughing at him now, loud chuckles falling from your lips as he pouted like a baby trying to get what he wants.

“Yeah! Like with Samu! Sometimes even with Omi-omi from across the gym. Did that a few times at camp.”

“Did he know you-”

“Yes! As a matter of fact he did!”

“He probably thought you were just being-”

“Hey!” Your fingers were interlocked again, almost like magnets back together without a second thought, and he pushed his shoulder into yours, tossing you a few inches in the opposite direction. Neither of your smiles could be tampered with, and the faint giggles falling from your mouths echoed on the concrete below.

The walk home proved two things lingering in your mind. You had feelings for Miya Atsumu and Miya Atsumu was definitely not a playboy.

“I keep the tea bags in so it’s way more potent. Do you have cranberry juice?” When you showed Atsumu all of the mugs you had, he became transfixed on a pale blue and yellow one with ducks on it. When you lifted the mug to show him the small ceramic duck sitting at the bottom, his face beamed. When you poured the water over the tea bag in the aforementioned mug, he grabbed four packets of sugar that sat on your kitchen table.

“So you just wanted juice?”

“No; the juice is too bitter, it needs sugar anyway.” He sipped calmly, a matter of fact look plastered on his face as the steam blurred his features. “Yeah this ain’t potent enough.” He looked vaguely disgusted at your tea making abilities.

“You let it set for thirty seconds, Miya,” a sigh punctuated your sentence, eliciting a scoff from the man across from you.

“Back to Miya I see,” an eye roll punctuated his.

“‘Tsumu.”

He smiled brightly. The kind of smile that lives in your brain far after the moment passes. The kind of smile you think about late into the night when you recount potential things to be grateful for. The kind of smile that makes you fall in love with even the most insufferable of people.

Disgusting.

“But this tastes too much like tea,” he grabbed another few packets of sweetener and positioned his hands to rip them open in one fell swoop, all before you reached over and slapped at his hand, forcing him to drop the bad decision he was about to make.

“I have juice.”

“Can I have some?” but you were already pouring it into his little rubber duckie mug.

You both sipped between bouts of light conversation, one of you losing energy by the second and the other gaining. He’d crash soon, thankfully.

The atmosphere was nothing short of soft. The pale yellow glow of a lamp in the corner of the room gave everything a lived in feel that fluorescent lights always manage to diminish. Those lights reflected off of everything, making the wood and the neutral accents feel golden. No matter the temperature, there was a consistent heat about the space. He looked more attractive than you’d ever seen him; hair still damp from a quick shower after the game earlier, eyes threatening to close from intense jumping, clothes comfortable enough to sleep in draping across his incredibly toned- watch it, Y/N.

He looked to be at home, but he had a way of always looking to be at home. There was no space that fully accepted Atsumu, but he always forced them to, with one action or another. He’d waltz into a gym with his cocksure smile and people would groan, but by the end of the match he’d get all of their respect. He was magical like that.

Intensity waved off of him like some pheromone, dripping from his every inch and forcing people to either rise to his level or cower away in fear. His circle was small, but they were loyal. They all wanted to be on his level.

“Oh, Atsumu. I never actually asked,” your hands were in two pale green rubber gloves, a mug in one hand and a soap-laden sponge in the other. He stood next to you, rinsing out the other mug and drying it with a towel. “Why Hisakawa?”

“Oh,” he was focussed on his hands, intently drying the bottom of the mug, “she dated me a while ago and hurt me bad. I thought I could make her jealous enough to want me back.”

“Women don’t really work like that,” a breathy laugh laced your words as you turned to look at him.

“She does, it’s annoying.”

“Hmm.” He was frowning now, gripping the mug tightly.

“I don’t know what was so great about her,” he laughed a bit while deep in thought, pushing everything he was doing to a slow stop, “maybe it’s ‘cause she was like you.”

And all you could do was giggle, hoping he couldn’t read the uncomfortable feeling behind it all. He has to know what he just did, right?

Then it began to rain. Buckets and buckets of lukewarm water dripped on the floor outside, creating cascades down the street. Small droplets pelted the ceiling like the insistent taping of anxious fingers, and both of you continued washing the mugs.

If there were two deities on either of your shoulders, one with good intentions and one with bad, they’d be arguing. The only agreeable point was, though, that he can’t go home in this weather! What if he gets sick? Practically hell on earth.

Six seconds passed. Well, technically it was six seconds, but it felt like millenia. He dried the duck mug, making a little noise of approval when he rubbed along its head, and looked back at you, eyes pleading before anything left his mouth.

“I don't wanna go out in that rain, sugar.” He managed to never cross the set boundaries. He only ever called you sugar and any cuter variation of it.

“I didn’t really want you to either, if I’m being honest.” You looked a bit worried, which excited him to no end.

“Awww ya care about me? That's so sweet of ya, bear!” Scratch that, he also called you bear. It was excused when he claimed it’s just short for sugarbear! You let me call you that one! Damn his charisma.

“I don’t want you sick before nationals, idiot.” You smiled and pushed past him, waltzing into the living room.

The warm lighting followed you two into the other room, and you kept that up with some full-bodied pop-rock music. A record player sat in the corner, comfortable among the mahogany and cardboard sleeves. The album you chose scratched and skipped, but the small pops of dust as the needle spun were enough to fill the space with comfort. Atsumu put a sizable dip in the brown and red paisley-adorned fabric of the center couch, laying his legs to point at the opposite arm from the one his back was resting against. Once again, his ability to be at home anywhere was given new life. “Do you want to watch something? We can-”

You turned around to look at him once again, noticing the way his head sunk into the back of the couch, eyes shut, mouth open. He passed out in a matter of seconds.

“Oh.” There were three options. One, waking him up and letting him sleep somewhere else, even though that’d probably be the couch anyway. Two, leaving him here, in the same position, but he could get a crick in his neck by morning. Three--the worst option--waking him up and letting him sleep in your bed, among your stuffed animals and in your space where you definitely don’t have the hoodie he gave you draped over a chair because you wear it to bed every night.

But he is a volleyball player and he would complain about being hurt for all of the next day. So. Bed it is? Shit.

“Atsumu?” you tapped on his shoulder, allowing his eyes to steadily open. He swatted you away. “Hey, you can sleep in my bed instead. Come on.” you grabbed his hand in yours and brought him to his feet. He stumbled after you into the bathroom as you forced him to brush the heinous amounts of sugar out of his teeth. He complied politely, but not without a tad bit of pushback,

“Ya sound like Omi!”

“Oh no! He cares about you too! Just do it ‘Tsumu.”

He proceeded to walk into your room and sit on the edge of your bed for a fraction of a second before falling down on his back and closing his eyes. He shuffled around for a while, getting comfortable in the new scents and fabrics, but eventually his movements stilled. Finally, some bliss.

You quietly changed into comfier clothes back in the bathroom and padded your way back, settling down next to your boyfriend-. No. Pseudo boyfriend. At best.

He was soft and warm and comfortable; curling your body up against his felt like a dream, but you didn’t want to push his boundaries.

“Sweet dreams, Tsumu. Thanks for being here. I like you a little bit.”

He hadn’t lost consciousness yet. He was glad your eyes were closed when he cracked a genuine smile.

Of the two Miya twins, Atsumu was the early riser. Osamu would sell his soul for Atsumu to stop waking up at five in the morning, but sadly no one is willing to make the exchange. His alarm plays loud bass riffs, expertly muddled with layers of overdrive, and somehow it shoots him right into consciousness. He clamers about on the upper bunk, jumping down the ladder like some sort of intensely trained gorilla, as Osamu would say, and with the power of one thousand suns.

You were not aware of this fact.

Disgruntled noises of anger spilled from your lips as the music started and Atsumu practically hopped up, using the incoming sunrise to his advantage when navigating your room. You learned later that the rain stopped about an hour before, but the sky was still a sheet of grey clouds. He found the light switch and turned it on, allowing piercing white light to break your retinas far earlier than usual.

“Mornin!” Atsumu’s smile was brighter than all of it put together.

“It’s too early,” you drew out the last syllable, picking up and dropping your head in defeat.

“Fine, ya can go back to sleep. I should probably make my way home though, ya know, for school.” Ah yes, the only pro of sending him home last night. It was only Wednesday.

“I’ll see you later, ‘Tsumu.” You shut your eyes and immediately passed out again, waking up to your own soothing indie music an hour later.

A normal morning routine came and went, and you were back to acting. Well, was it even acting anymore? Maybe not from you, but the situation itself was unclear. He was an enigma, that Atsumu Miya.

He locked your fingers with his at the first possible moment. He winked at Suna and shot a quick glance to where your hands met, making sure the other boy knew what was going on. He made sure he could rub it in. Suna just scoffed in response.

You leaned in a bit closer to whisper a “have a good day, pseudo boyfriend” in his ear.

As you parted ways, your hands lingered together as they always would. The second they dropped, he grabbed your face and kissed you. Atsumu was a fan of frequent public displays of affection, this was established months ago, but there was something different this time.

“Drop the pseudo and I will.”

part two || masterlist || next

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