#Miya atsumu x reader angst

[ceijoh]

title: holy ground

summary: in which miya atsumu is completely in love with you and you find that very hard to believe. 

word count: 3.2k+

warnings/contents: angst, fluff, humour 

masterlist

Miya Atsumu has always been a stubborn man. He was stubborn in his opinions, and feelings, and contrary to the popular belief that he flies through people romantically -that was not the case. 

He’s only ever had two major loves in his life, the first being the girl in the cereal commercial when he was a kid. Atsumu was dead set on marrying her and living on a dairy farm, and plus free cereal for life. It wasn’t until he found out that she wasn’t real -courtesy of Osamu- that he refused to believe in love. 

He’s had crushes and flings, sure, especially in high school, the majority of people do. However, he was too busy trying to win Nationals and be the best setter in Japan that romantic relationships often took the third or fourth spot in his priority list. 

Then he met you. It was raining, Atsumu remembers meeting you. You coming in, rushing into the training centre, while you handed off a bento box to his personal trainer. Watching from  the ground he was sitting on, watching as you turned, almost slipping on the floor because of your wet shoes, and Atsumu rushing over to help you before anyone could. 

Looking down at your wide eyes, your mouth parted in shock and the sheepish smile that soon took over, until he said, “Oi, watch where yer goin’, could have damaged the floor wit’ that face.” 

At the scowl on your face, and a clever comeback on your lips, he decided right then and there that you were the only person that was going to be in his heart. You were the only person that he wanted to love, and he wanted to prove it to you. 

What Atsumu didn’t know was that loving you was quite a challenge. He was expecting you to put up a little fight, but ultimately after a couple of weeks, you would fall into his arms and you would start your happy ever after. Because that’s how the greatest love stories go, right? 

It wasn’t easy for Atsumu, it turns out you were more closed off to the idea of love than he thought. Having been burnt from past lovers, and not really having your parents as good relationship models obscured what your idea of love was. 

You told him that you weren’t ready for a relationship, not after your last ex. The pain and games he put you through wasn’t worth the bits and pieces of affection that he gave you. You needed to take time to work on yourself, to find out who you really were before starting a relationship. 

Plus, you weren’t over your ex, as much of an asshole as he was, he still had a place in your heart, and while Atsumu was starting to slowly creep in, you refused to start something with him while your heart wasn’t fully committed to one person. As much as you have started to fall for Atsumu, you just couldn’t do that to him. 

Atsumu knew all of this. He knew he had his shortcomings. He knew that he was impatient when it came to things, but with you? He would wait a million years if he had to. 

He remembers the conversation he had with you when he first declared that he loved you, and you said that he was being stupid. Which he probably was, because it was months into being friends with you.

 “I’m in love with you,” Atsumu blurted out as you sat down next to him. You slowly passed the bag of takoyaki to him. 

“Well, I know that I did you a favour by bringing the best takoyaki Osaka can offer but I didn’t realise it will bring such a strong reaction,” you jested as you willed your heartbeat to slow down. 

“I’m being serious,” you knew that he was. From the moment he finished his sentence, you would have placed all your money that this moment was the most serious moment in Atsumu’s life. 

“‘Tsum, we’ve talked about this,” you turned to face the ground, unable to look at the distraught or angry look on his face. “I can’t. Not yet.” 

“I never said that I wanted us to be in a relationship,” Atsumu smiled at you fondly, not that you could see it. Placing the bag by his side, Atsumu slowly reached out for your hand that was now fiddling with the bottom of your top. “I just wanted ya to know,” he shrugged, as if the atomic bomb he just dropped was a mere raindrop. “I don’t mind waiting, if it’s for you.” 

“What happens if I ask you to wait forever?” 

“I’m a patient man.” 

“You’re one of the most impatient people I know.” 

“I can learn.” 

--

“I think, I think that I may want to start a relationship with him,” at the knowing glance of Tsukishima, you rolled your eyes. 

“Wow, you’ve finally come to the conclusion that everyone has,” at the bluntness of his tone, you roughly shoved him. Looking at his watch, “It only took you long enough.” 

At the passing comment, you frowned. “Do you think I took too long?” 

Hearing the sincerity in your tone, Tsukishima’s smirk dropped a little, and briefly looked at Kuroo who just shrugged at him telling him silently ‘you fix it’. 

Tsukishima scoffed and rolled his eyes, “That man is wholly in love with you that it’s so fucking disgusting, anyone and everyone can see it. You could be fifty and he would still love you the same amount, possibly more.” 

--

Letting yourself through the door, you called out Atsumu’s name. Hyping yourself up mentally, you felt pretty good. You felt confident, and this was something that you’ve wanted to do for a long time. You looked at your hands which were slightly shaking and you closed them tightly, swallowing the heartbeat in your mouth. 

Walking over to his couch, you briefly looked at the beautiful view that Atsumu’s apartment overlooked. It was absolutely breathtaking. Calling his name out again, you watched as he popped out from his bedroom, a bright smile on his face. 

Feeling your heart relax at the sight of him, you smiled largely. Before you could say anything, you heard another pair of footsteps, turning around to face the person, you couldn’t help but feel your heart drop to your stomach. 

You’ve seen this before, you’ve felt this emotion before. Before, you would have cried and screamed and stormed out of his flat before he or she could say anything. But now? You felt frozen, numb and detached. It felt like you were watching the scene unfold in front of your eyes but you were not yourself. 

“Oh Atsumu-san, thank you for lending me your shirt,” a woman you’ve never seen before walks out of Atsumu’s kitchen, looking at the clothing that was now on her body. 

Finally noticing that Atsumu wasn’t wearing a shirt either, your brain connected the clues. Eyes roaming over his body, you couldn’t detect any love marks, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have them. 

Turning to you, Atsumu paled. No, fuck no. This was not happening. Pinching himself, he realised that this was in fact happening. “(Y/N), it’s not what you think.” 

“OH!” You yelped out, forcing yourself to calm down by clenching your first, you internally berated yourself. This was not the time to cry. “Oh, I’m so, sorry,” you rushed out your apologies, bowing profusely, already mentally and emotionally checking out of the place. You both gave them a tight lipped smile, “I’m just leaving, I’ll leave you two.” 

Rushing out the door, desperately trying to wipe away the tears before any of them saw, you ran to the elevator. Punching the key to make it go faster, you could hear Atsumu’s footsteps rushing out to catch up to you. 

Praying to every deity you could think of, you were finally blessed when you heard the familiar ding. Pushing the lobby, and forcing the doors to close, you kept your eyes down as you saw Atsumu rounding the corner before the door closed. 

Gasping and leaning on the wall, you let out a painful sob. You knew this was going to happen, eventually this was going to happen. It always did, so why did this kill you more than anything? If this was love, you didn’t want it. 

--

“(Y/L/N)-san,” the familiar voice of the waiter greeted. Looking at the clock and realising that it’s only been a couple of hours since he last saw you, “You’re back.” 

Shrugging and smiling at him, he led you to your favourite booth. Sitting down and telling him your order, with a few extra sides, you collapsed forward. Realising that this was the booth that you and Atsumu always sit in brought a new fresh set of tears. Your heart clenching, you tried to drink some water to try anything to distract you. 

You sat there in silence, not even bothering to look at your phone. You knew that Atsumu was calling you and texting you by the frequent vibrations. Maybe tomorrow when you’ve had a somewhat decent night's rest and food will make your head feel more balanced. 

“No Miya-san, today?” The waiter asked as he placed down the first couple of dishes. 

Looking up at him, you smiled politely, “He was preoccupied doing other things.” 

--

“I thought we made a promise that we’d never go here by ourselves?” 

Clenching your jaw, you refused to look at the man standing by the booth. And you promised to wait, jerk. 

You watched as Atsumu leaned back into the booth, grabbing his own chopsticks and picking up the dumpling you were about to eat. 

“Miya Atsumu,” you warned, giving him a glare. All he did was grin back at you and plop the dumpling in his mouth. Unaware that it was a soup dumpling, which earned you a front row seat to the MSBY star setter burning his mouth and panicking as the hot soup went all over his clothes. 

Glaring half-heartedly at your laughter, you handed him some napkins. “Serves you right for trying to eat my food.” 

“But ya love me,” gone was your smile and easiness. 

Once cooled down, Atsumu began to eat bits and pieces of your food. “Ya know, yer one of the smartest people I know,” he looked up at you after eating a piece of beef. “So why are yer so dumb right now?” 

Offended you scowled at him, “What the actual fuck, ‘Tsum?” 

Leaning back into his seat, playing with the placemat, “Why do ye think that I’d sleep with someone else when I told you that I love you?” 

Glancing away from his stare, you looked at the restaurant around you. It was dead quiet, and you could hear the quiet rain from outside. Shrugging, you took a sip of your drink. “I mean, it’s been so long I thought that maybe you would have been done waiting. I wouldn’t fault you for sleeping or wanting to sleep with someone else.” 

It hurt to say those words to Atsumu because you hoped that he didn’t. While it was selfish of you to indirectly ask him to wait, you just wanted someone to wait for you, like all you've been doing all your life. 

Atsumu rolled his eyes and leaned forward, flicking your hand once -which earned another scowl, he looked at you. A part of you wanted to look away but something inside of you told you that you needed to look at him. 

“I told yer, and I’ll gladly tell you again, that I’ll wait for you,” he stated simply like you just asked him the weather. 

“But why?” 

Shrugging, “Because I love you. Yer it for me, no one else. If I have to wait another year, or ten years, I’ll do so.” 

“But why?” 

“Do ya want a list?” he arched his brow and when you didn’t respond, he shrugged, and paid complete attention to you. “First, you make me laugh. With yer stupid dad jokes that ya tell all the time, the weird tiktoks that you send me at 2 in the morning, or yer goofy lil’ habits,” struggling to keep eye contact with him, you looked down on the table. “Yer never fail to make me smile, especially on the rough days after losin’ a match, yer always there to bring a smile to ma face.” 

Tapping twice on the table, you watched as his fingers moved over to yours and started tapping on it, one, two, three, pause, one, two, three, pause. 

“Second, you support me. Ya’ve always had ma back even when I was the shittiest person to be around, do ya remember how many times I’ve snapped at ya when I was tryin’ out for a spot on the National team? After every snap, after every argument, or when I’ve left ya on read -not on purpose, by the way, you’ve always been there waitin’ for me. 

“Yer always the first person that I tell when I accomplish somethin’, (Y/N), because I know that when you say yer proud of me, I know ye mean it, yer not just sayin’ it.” Now leaning forward, he fully grasped your hand, he silently knocked your foot with his, a subtle gesture to make you look at him. 

“But yer also the first person I tell when I fail somethin’. I never liked talkin’ bout me failin’ anythin’, because,” shrugging Atsumu dropped his sentence. “The point is, I know yer still gonna see me as ‘Tsum because it doesn’t matter in yer eyes if I win or lose a match, because ye love me for me.” 

Putting up three fingers, “Third, your opinion -apart from Ma’s and ‘Samu’s but they don’t count- is really the only one I care ‘bout. Every time I do somethin’, I think ‘what would (Y/N) think of this?” 

“Fourth, ya make me feel complete. It’s like this thing inside of me, ya know? That I didn’t realise I wanted or needed until I met ya. Everytime I’m around ya it makes me happier, now don’t get me wrong, yer one of the most frustrating people I know but that makes me want to be around more.” 

Taking a deep breath, he finally held up all his fingers, and smiled softly at you. “Fifth, when I picture myself in the future, retired and just livin’ the life with Samu, ‘Kaashi and their kids, the person I see myself with, is you. Yer the only person I’ve ever imagined that with, I’ve tried and imagined it with other people to see, but it felt wrong, it felt like I was trying to fit ya know those wooden shape things into the wrong hole. I have plenty more, if ya want but those are the deeper ones that I know, if ya want the smaller stuff, I can do that too,” Atsumu spoke to you as if he just hadn’t redefined what being in love meant. 

You knew that deep in your heart, and thanks to both of your friends that Atsumu was in love with you. But this? This was everything and more. This was the movies you watched, the songs that you listened to, the stories you heard, the things your heart has longed for and more. Atsumu was more.   

Paying attention to Atsumu, you watched as he began pulling out his phone, “I made a list, do ya want to see?” He quickly tapped on his phone and his notes appeared, your eyes quickly scanned the list, a long list if the sidebar had anything to say, as Atsumu started listing off the smaller things, “Ye make those weird noises when you don’t think anyone is looking, ya talk to yourself a lot, ya cry at all of those animal videos.” 

Locking his phone before you barely got to the halfway point, Atsumu placed his phone on the table and took a deep breath, “But the reality of it is, I don’t care how long it takes for you to say ‘okay ‘Tsum, I’m ready’ because I’m always going to be here waitin’ for ya, maybe we’ll be type of couple where it takes a long time for us to get together, and yeah, there’ll be hiccups,” a small serene smile appeared on Atsumu’s face. He looked at you, like the many times he has before. It was the same fond look, the kind where it makes you feel warm and fuzzy. “But then, it’ll be perfect. You an’ me.”

Plopping the final dumpling in his mouth, he grinned at you while pointing his chopsticks, “Plus, when I sit down our kids’, it’ll be a hell of a story, don’t ya think?” 

Not being able to say anything, you picked up the extra set of chopsticks on the table and pushed the dumplings in the middle. Atsumu’s heart lightened as he saw your peace offering. Maybe one day he’ll tell you that this was the hardest moment in his life. 

--

“Come on,” he bent forward and you looked sceptically at him. When you didn’t hop on his back, he rolled his eyes. “We have to walk for like ten minutes to get to yer place, and yer wearing those shoes ya don’t like because it makes your feet hurt,” turning back around, “now hop on.” 

--

It was a Thursday night, yours and Atsumu’s Thursday nights. You were sitting on the kitchen counter as you watched him prepare the dinner he was excited to make. He was talking you through it; Osamu had one of the cooking shows in the background while Atsumu was over, and the dish caught his eye.  Watching him right now was something you knew you could do for the rest of your life. 

It’s funny really, for you, you thought it would be this giant explosion that hey! You’re in love! Or there would be this grand epiphany. But that never happened. Maybe it was slow at first, a slow burn that when the ember finally sparked into a forest fire you didn’t realise. Or maybe, it was always there. It was there when you first met Atsumu all those years ago, him helping you and then insulting you.

“Hey, ‘Tsum,” you watched him turn around. You thought that your heart would be beating so hard that it would be flying out of your chest, but this was the most calm you’ve ever been around him. Tilting your head, you smiled at him and he knew. 

“I just wanted to tell you that I love you,” you spoke softly. There was everything in those words that you just spoke, and from all the times you thought it would be the hardest thing to say, it was somehow the easiest and truest thing you’ve ever spoken. 

Grinning, you saw his eyes tear up before coughing to hide it. “Yeah?” Walking over to you slowly, fearing that it was one of the many dreams that he’s had before. Finally reaching you, he hesitantly reached out, hands shaking. 

“Yeah,” pulling him into your arms and breathing in the familiar scent you’ve now come to realise was home, you whispered the words that made Atsumu feel whole, “I’m so in love with you Miya Atsumu.” 

Miya Atsumu is a stubborn man, and you were thankful for that. 

‘...but i don't wanna dance, if i’m not dancing with you.’ 

let me know what you think! :) 

-e

#atsumu x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu one shot #atsumu angst #haikyuu imagine #atsumu imagine #miya atsumu x reader angst #miya atsumu angst #miya atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu one shot #haikyuu

[smoolpotaeto]

An Unsent Letter

Pairing: Miya Atsumu x Reader

Summary: Unsaid words to the Inarizaki setter. Can be considered platonic or romantic.

Dear Atsumu,

Did the fame finally get to your head, Atsumu? Watching you from afar feels painful. All I can see and remember was the time where we would often be together. Just us and our favorite sport: volleyball. When did things start to change?



Honestly... I want to go back. But going back would mean starting from 0 again, going back would mean having those tired days as we spend hours and hours honing our skills in volleyball, but going back would also mean we'd get to spend time together again, right?



I miss our time together, Atsumu. Is there no chance for things to be what it once was?



I feel so stupid trying to message you in the late nights after your volleyball practice trying to check up on you and catch up on things. I feel so stupid waiting for your replies excusing your behavior as you getting rest, and yet I see you being so happy replying to our other friends. I feel so goddamn stupid always putting your thoughts, feelings, and wellbeing above mine. I feel so fucking stupid trying to convince myself that I don't even like you anymore.



I am so tired of trying to salvage the relationship we have... or had. I am so tired of trying to be understanding. I want to try saving this. I'm trying so hard. Are you even doing the same, Atsumu?



Seeing your replies of the things you're going through and what you're doing, I can't help but to be understanding. That's what I'll always do, because you are so goddamn important to me.



What do I have to do for us to be okay again? What do I have to do more? What do I have to stop doing? What do I have to change about myself? Because honestly...



I am so willing to lose myself if it would mean I get to keep you and this relationship we have right now.



I'm not expecting much, Atsumu. Just for things to be okay again. But will it?



Can I continue trying? Will you let me continue trying? Will you even try to?

Signed,

(Y/N)

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x reader angst #atsumu x reader angst

[emmyrosee]

Yes I’m 20 and I still love Friends, but post-fight Atsumu who is absolutely heartbroken when he comes home and your stuff is gone. You told him it would be if he went off and did whatever the fuck he did in three cities over, but he’d called your bluff. It was a grave mistake, apparently. You’ve left him for good, but when he happens to check his answering machine, he hears your internal battle as you board your plane to soar far, far away from him.

You smack yourself, call yourself stupid, question why you ever thought you could live a life without him, his drive and passion and your cozy post-retirement dream with him right beside you. He hears you beg and plea to be let off the plane, voice breaking as you sob and are forced to hang up, and he’s just sitting there, clutching his chest as he sobs in anticipation.

Did you get off the plane?

“GET OFF THE PLANE!” He shrieks at the phone, dropping to his knees and listening as the voicemail ends. Trembling hands grasp messily at the phone, snot dribbling from his nose and eyes burning from the ferocious tears. “Oh fuck, oh god, fuck-“ his fingers fly as he dials your number, “please get off the plane, please get off the plane-“

“Tsumu?”

“BABY! Oh god baby, I-I-I just got your message, and I-“

“Atsumu,” his blood runs cold. “It’s… it’s three am here; I can’t talk right now.”

You didn’t get off the plane.

#it’s been a while since I’ve posted angst 🥳😂 #I’ve missed it #angst is my fave #probably delete in the morning idk I like my word vomits #atsumu miya #atsumu miya angst #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu miya x gn!reader #atsumu miya x reader angst #atsumu miya imagine #atsumu miya haikyuu #miya atsumu #miya atsumu angst #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x gn!reader #miya atsumu x reader angst #miya atsumu imagine #miya atsumu haikyuu #haikyuu #haikyuu angst #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu x yn #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x gn!reader #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #haikyuu x you

[tomitsuya]

pairing. kita/f!reader/atsumu

summary. kita shinsuke knows better than to ignore what he wants. atsumu knows better than to deny what’s in front of him. you know better than to lie about what your heart truly desires.

tags. angst, love triangle, growing up, slice of life, atsumu and kita keep their timeskip jobs, kita is the same age as atsumu and the reader, small town au; tw: infidelity

part three. we may be able to peek out of the horizon yet. | series masterlist

Try as he might, Miya Atsumu remains true to himself. So true in fact, that nothing really changes about your relationship now that you’re dating. Yes, you’re a lot more affectionate and he makes time in his busy schedule to see you and spend time with you. But he still excels at pushing your buttons and driving you to get up every single day and be the best that you can be so you can dazzle alongside him. 

Still, he notices that city life isn’t for you. The city is harsh and cruel and you just don’t seem to adjust. The issue has never been about your merits, you excel at work. You come home drained and unmotivated, sluggish and overwhelmed to try again the next day. Atsumu wonders if it's because city life has disillusioned you— there is no freedom in the concrete jungle, not the freedom you had at home and certainly not the freedom you dreamt about with Kita. Perhaps Kita saw this himself when he came to nationals, the buzz of city life is a thrum of listlessness not a hum of activity. Perhaps Kita Shinsuke rejected what he thought would make him happy for what he knew made him happy. 

You reject his advances, his affection, his love. It hurts, like the pain of being rejected as your playmate all those years ago for a boy who just showed up on your doorstep, of watching you give yourself to Kita when his heart wasn’t in it. Atsumu wonders if you’re living your life for your childhood self, to realise the dreams you had, or whether you were living for you. Either way, you cannot go on like this. Atsumu will be damned if he lets this happen for the third time. He has the opportunity now to fix things.

“Tell me what I can do,” he whispers into your hair, cornering you after a long day of work, channelling the spirit of his former captain— the fixer, not the doer. 

“I’m tired, ‘Tsumu. I miss home.”

“Then, we’ll go,” he promises and purchases a pair of express train tickets the next day.

Playing support has never been Atsumu’s forte; he’s always been one to charge headfirst into every situation and fix whatever he can grasp on to with his own two palms. But support is what he must play when he brings you home, drops you off, and reluctantly sends off a message to Kita that you’re back and that in truth, you miss him. That home means Kita. And removing you from him meant he cut an anchor off its ship, left it to sink freely to the bottom of the ocean. Atsumu feels terribly guilty that his shot of happiness plucked you from your own universe and transplanted you into his but he was being optimistic, thinking he could love you out of your funk. 

Kita does come to his own family home later that night, but they drag a couple of beer cans and head to the field nearby instead.

“You’re takin’ care of her?” Kita asks, gazing into the expanse of the open sky, fingers running through the grass under him.

“As much as she’ll let me,” Atsumu admits. 

“I didn’t think you were good enough for her, and—”

“Then do something about it!” Atsumu barks, “I’m tired of being caught in between the two of you and being forced to play a role when I know you both would much rather I not be involved!” 

“Atsumu…”

“You’re terrible to her, y’know that,” Atsumu growls, “Letting her hang on to loose threads even though you dumped her and dashed her dreams of a life with you.”

���I’m not destined for success like you are; I didn’t want her to hang on to me, ” Kita sighs. 

“Newsflash, Captain,” Atsumu’s words drip with malice, like poison with the intention of festering in Kita’s heart, “she did. She can’t let go of you no matter how much money I earn, how much love I give her, how many presents, dates, flowers I give. She wants you. She doesn’t care that you’re a rice farmer, she hates the city! I bet she’d be happier comin’ out here than either of you realise.”

“I didn’t realise she hated the city,” Kita whispers, “I would’ve never have forced her to go and-”

“You didn’t force her to do anything. She went because she wanted to, in fact she enjoyed university. But I think it’s draining her to spend every day in some stupid office job when she’d much rather be out here and be with you, work the earth, and just live.”

“She told ya all this?” Kita asks. 

“I could guess,” answers Atsumu, “I am more perceptive than you give me credit for. A-and I love her. I can’t see her like this anymore.” 

“I’ll talk to her,” Kita declares, entirely side-stepping Atsumu’s confession, “I’ll talk to her and help her. I want her to be happy.”

The declaration feels like a knife to the gut. The inescapable cost of your happiness comes at Atsumu’s own, but he knows it isn’t the time to be selfish and make any demands of you. 

As soon as Atsumu leaves, Kita thinks about what he wants to say to you. He thinks long and hard; he hasn’t spoken to you in years. An unceremonious break-up as soon as he got back home from a disappointing Spring Inter High and decided that big city life and all its great gloriousness was never meant for him. Kita felt uneasy in the city, with the buses and trains and cars and noise and lights. He liked the quiet of the countryside, somewhere he could hear himself think and be happy. 

He lives his life by routine. Kita Shinsuke is intimately familiar with the comfort that only his routines provide him. He had once charted his routine out to include a career in the city. A decent office job, something to ease his parents’ worries and put food on the table. Something he would achieve with his lifetime of diligence and preparation.

But even a lifetime of preparation did not prepare him for the possibility that they would lose at volleyball to a team far less polished and far less experienced than them. It suddenly brings to mind the futility of all his routines if he isn’t at least happy performing them. His plans to work in the city are born out of his desire to please his parents, not out of his own dream. His own heart and soul lay in the rice fields of his uncle’s farm, where he saw the result of his work every single day.

He knew that you could not be saddled with a life in the countryside. Kita has heard about your dreams, and about your aspirations, seen the five year plan you scribbled out in your diary. He could not bring himself to be the one who diverted you off your path by even an inch. So he had broken up with you, citing the reason that he needed to find himself on his uncle’s farm. Truthfully, what he needed and what he wanted were running in opposite directions because he heard you packed your bags six months later and moved to Osaka with Atsumu. 

Atsumu was a shooting star on the course across the galaxy. Kita knew that wherever Atsumu was headed, he would bring you along. Because while Kita Shinsuke had envisioned a more humble dream for himself, he hadn’t done the same for you. He wants you to spread your wings in the city, to never have to look back to this small town. He never anticipated that the central aspect in your dream was him, and that his absence left your dream a hollow one. 

He shares your sentiments exactly. He misses you, aches for you in the cool nights and hot mornings. He wishes you were there to share his joy with, to share his sadness and stress and worries with. He thinks about you when he sees his neighbour dropping off sweet potatoes on his doorstep— your favourite. He thinks about you when he watches the news at night, the Osaka skyline from the newsroom sends pangs in his heart. Maybe you won’t be able to see the stars, but you were both looking at the same sky. 

Distance is a constant. He doesn’t dare reach out to you and give his heart something to long for, he doesn’t want you to come back either and give him a taste of what could have been when you eventually return to your life in the city. 

Naturally, Atsumu’s request and visit are huge surprises. Kita could not have anticipated the city not turning out the way you wanted, nor Atsumu coming to him like he had the solution for your unhappiness. It feels oddly like Atsumu has given up, something he wasn’t aware Atsumu was capable of. He obliges Atsumu’s request because it brings him a step closer to what he’s always wanted— an opportunity to ask you to stay. He let you go all those years ago and it would kill him to let you go again. 

When you poke your head into his farmhouse, he beckons you in with a soft smile. 

“How are you?” He asks, reaching forward to wrap his arms around you.

Perhaps the gesture is too familiar for an ex-boyfriend, but he’s also known you his whole life. 

You melt into his arms like they’re your home. And if home is the place where you’re warm, comfortable and relaxed, then perhaps Kita’s arms were your home. He would be there to catch you, your solid foundation, your rock, your present. 

“I missed you,” is your answer, your eyes soft and loving as you gaze at him. 

“And I you,” Kita whispers, capturing your lips with his. 

The two of you tumble to the floor of his living room, mercifully empty for the evening as his family was out of town for the week. Kita presses hot kisses to the side of your neck, hands roaming around your body. You surrender to him; Kita Shinsuke plays you like an instrument. Well-worn hands sink into the curves of your body like they belonged there, his lips teasing and ghosting your heated skin. 

Though you feel at ease, your reunion is anything but. You feel immensely guilty- surrendering to your base desires without a shred of consideration for the man who made this all possible and overcame the inertia for both you and Kita. 

“Wait,” you breathe, reluctantly tethering yourself back to reality, “This isn’t fair to Atsumu.” 

“I understand,” he nods, climbing off, offering a hand to help you up. 

“Shinsuke,” you say, “I want to come home. I don’t like it in the city.”

Kita holds you close. You sit in his backyard and stare at the night sky, an expanse of stars of which the two of you were but another pair. Bright and twinkling but unremarkable, indistinguishable from the rest. 

“My home is yours,” he answers, “You’re always welcome here.”

“I love you,” you feel tears prick your eyes, the imminent relief of everything settling in, of everything feeling just right again, like you were a child with no concerns and worries, “I love you so much.” 

“And I you,” he presses his forehead to yours, “I love you more than anything. My life hasn’t been the same since you went to Osaka.” 

“I wish we’d just talked to each other,” you give a wet laugh, wiping your tears, “I wouldn’t be depressed and burnt out and you wouldn’t be lonely.” 

“Never mind all that,” he murmurs, “We found each other again.” 

You return to the city a week after Atsumu does. You spent all your time in the countryside with Kita, tending to his farm, cooking simple dinners with him and listening to his stories of the time the two of you spent apart. You avoid kissing and touching him too much, acutely aware of how disrespectful you’re already being to your boyfriend. To Atsumu. 

This is where you would have been if you stayed behind, you think. Comfortable and content, though not necessarily challenged and successful. Atsumu’s life was never meant to be a congruent path to yours, it was meant to be separate. And this meant talking to him. And ending your relationship and going home. 

You weren’t giving up, you were moving on. Your life was meant for more than the rat race in the city, you were put on earth to feel satisfaction and nurture the earth beneath your skin. You were not meant to be cooped up in a concrete box at all hours of the day, surrounded by insipid people whose idea of fun was visiting the shopping arcade on the weekend. 

You miss running through the fields and the laughter that spilled from your lips when one of your friends caught you and tackled you to the soft grass. Of that first grass ring Kita gave you, a flimsy piece of nature binding your heart to his for much longer than either of you possibly anticipated at first.  

Meanwhile, Atsumu tries his best to soothe the ache of being abandoned, albeit for a week. He knows what’s coming but he foolishly hopes you’re back to give Osaka a second shot now that you’ve recharged. 

“How was your time back home?” He asks softly as soon as you step through the door.

“Good,” you keep your answer mild for what’s about to come.

As always, he beats you to the punch, “I know you still love him.”

“This is yours,” Atsumu rises and presses something in your palms. SOmething he bought impulsively after only 6 months of dating when he put his heart before his head and went on a feeling.  

You peer down only to see a ring with a diamond on it, flashy, just like his tastes. 

“Figures you’d never wear my ring,” he sighs, “Just like when we were children.” 

You gasp softly at the memory. Of how cruel you must be to him at this moment. 

“I’m sorry-”

“Save it,” he grunts, “I want you to be happy. You’re miserable here- with me, in this city, in your job. I’m not sorry it has to end like this because I love you too much to see you suffer anymore like this.”

“I never wanted to hurt you, Atsumu,” you touch his arm softly.

“Well, you did. But I know you didn’t mean it,” he smiles sadly, hugging you tightly against him, “You’re too kind for that. Maybe that's why I love you.” 

“I’m going to go home,” you say, because home is wherever Kita Shinsuke is, not the home you created with him in the city, not the place you live currently, “And I’m not going to touch a computer for the next month.”

“I’ll miss you,” he says instead, “As a friend, as my girlfriend, as my everything.”

“Atsumu,” you whisper his name in awe as you watch tears leak from his eyes.

“I suppose I should be just happy that you’re moving back and that you’re going to be happy again. But I can’t help but feel like I could’ve done more, like I wasn’t enough.” He wipes his eyes clumsily on the back of his hand.

“I don’t think it’s that you weren’t enough,” you cup his cheeks, “But it’s that I wasn’t meant for you nor you for me. ‘Tsumu, you need someone who’s as much of a firecracker as you are.” 

“How far did you go with him?” Atsumu queries, a brokenness settling in on his face. 

“We kissed,” you lie through your teeth, softening the blow. But the lightness in your shoulders, the pep in your step, surely relay a deeper emotional connection that cut far deeper than whatever physical actions took place between the two of you.  

He looks at you earnestly then, a plea in his eyes to tell him that you’re lying. That you didn’t betray him and break his heart for someone else. 

You hold each other throughout the night, comforting him the way only a lifelong friendship could, balming the wounds on his heart like salve; you pretend you’re children at a sleepover. He would always be your Atsumu, your childhood best friend who was also an Olympian, destined for great things and complicated things but not simple things, not good things. There is a man a train ride away, whose destiny is cultivated every morning in his rice fields, whose simple and good life is all that you want, all that you could ever need. 

Atsumu is not familiar with rejection. When his life has been the night sky upon which he was the shooting star, being dragged back down to earth was never his reality. To lose someone he never truly had was an obstacle he never thought he’d face. Perhaps it was his own hubris, but he never thought you’d want to leave him. Though if lessons from childhood taught him anything, it was that Atsumu was your friend but Kita was the point around which you would orbit. And since he was ready to accept the position by your side, Atsumu supposes he could remove himself from the picture. 

You move back to the countryside. Atsumu drops you off at the station, bidding you farewell with a kiss to your forehead. You feel terrible for hurting him but you knew you were withering away in the city. You thrive with Kita and back at home, doing whatever it was that he needed your help with, cooking dinner in his simple kitchen, letting him hold you as you gaze at the night sky dotted with bright stars.

It’s no matter that you hopped off the shooting star for just one of the many stars in a crowded sky. Kita Shinsuke will always be your tether, whether tied to you with flimsy grass jewelry or the comfort whom you seek at the end of a long day. Returning to him feels like a ship returning to harbour, your safety, your comfort, your home. 

#kita x reader #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x reader #kita shinsuke x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x reader #atsumu x you #kita x you #kita x reader angst #atsumu x reader angst #miya atsumu x reader angst #haikyuu x reader angst #by: tomitsuya #series: grass rings

[ilylovelyz]

⍣ ೋ the times they cried because of you

☆ includes ushijima, iwaizumi, atsumu, kageyama, bokuto

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI — he never cries. you met this guy when the two of you were young freshman in high-school, and you quickly became a good friend of his. that being said, you never saw him cry. even when the two of you began dating in your senior year, you still never did. years passed, and it was the same as the previous years. sure, he occasionally got upset, but even then, he still put on a stoic display, never really letting you in on that side of him. even at your wedding, he sure showed some emotion but he didn't cry. then came the birth of your first child.

"she's so cute, isn't she 'toshi..?" you said weakly, forehead still damp with sweat, bodu trembling with the aftershocks of your hard, long labor. your eyes fluttered open, focusing on the sight of your dear wakatoshi holding your newborn baby.

your heart fluttered at the soft image of your husband holding the tiny baby closely again his chest, his forehead mere inches away from the baby's forehead. it was barely there, barely noticeable. if it weren't for the reflection of light, then you wouldn't have been able to see the way his eyes were glazed over, corners red, tears brimming at the borderlines of his eyes.

he was so memorized, so in love with this product of you, this product of his and your love. god, you just make him the happiest guy on earth.

with a grunt, he sniffled lightly, trying to mask his emotions. "yeah.."

IWAIZUMI HAJIME — he hates crying. but being the responsible and knowing person he is, he knows that crying is inevitable. but the "strong", reliable guy in him wants to punch himself every-time he feels his eyes sting at the feel of salty tears brimming at his waterline. unbeknownst to you, he would avoid you every-time he felt like he was going to cry, usually hiding in the locked confides of the bathroom. he thought he was hiding it well, until one fateful day where it all came crashing down..

"haji?" you said on the other side of the door. he immediately shot up, his eyes darting to the doorknob. he always made sure to lock it, but today, he was just so exhausted and down that the idea of a lock was forgotten. crap, "hey wait-," before he could even rise up from his slouched kneeling position on the bathtub's side, you opened the door unknowingly. "i just need my–hajime?"

there he was, in all of his fucking glory, hunched over, his face long and clearly expressing his hurt feelings. his heart fell to his stomach, his vision going cloudy as his day just kept getting worse. "hajime?" you called out once more, only your tone had softened, more light and tender. you reached a hand out to him, eyes full of concern. he couldn't help but jolt away from your hand, eyebrows furrowing at your softness.

he didn't like your tone. why are you looking at him like that? like some sad kicked puppy lost in the middle of nowhere? it made him feel so small, so weak. "haji.. are you okay?" you whispered, crouching down to his level outside of the bathtub. you attempted yet again to touch the side of his face, lightly pressing your fingertips against his cheekbone before fully pressing your palm against the side of his face.

his lips trembled as he was just a second away from breaking down, his eyes locked on a single object as to hold on to the last of his will. you sighed softly at his resistance, of course he wouldn't want to cry in front of you, but you don't understand why, afterall, what makes a person weak for crying? "it's okay, hajime."

with that, fat tears finally ran down his cheeks, his eyes shutting close as he finally broke at your words. he could only grab onto your hand as you climbed into the tub, his head going straight into your chest as he sobbed and wailed.

MIYA ATSUMU — surprisingly, you've seen this guy cry many of times before. he cried when getting accepted into nationals, winning nationals, just crying at things any normal person would do. but he never cried for you. no, he held himself to higher standards. he'd never cry for someone, not even for you. yeah, he loved you, but he wasn't about to cry for someone like a little child. all high and mighty, he never thought you would actually have an affect on him like you do now. him being someone who wears his heart proudly on his sleeve, he found himself getting into an argument late at night with you, too prideful to back down.

"are you serious atsumu?! you know i'd never do that!" you yelled, voice hoarse and scratchy due to the ongoing screaming match between you and your boyfriend. "oh really?! then why were ya' 'll over that fucker earlier? huh?!" he yelled back, pointing out the way you were seemingly flirting with a guy at the club earlier.

but you weren't? you would never do that, you're not a scum. "what?! we were just talking?! am i not allowed to TALK to people atsumu?" you scoffed, arms crossing defensively. "if you wanna consider talking as flirting, then let's talk about that girl you were laughing with the other day? huh? let's talk about that!"

his eyebrow raised at your counter, fumbling nervously as he wondered what to say. "w-wh- you know what?! fuck you! i don't know why i'm even dating a bitch like you!" he said, almost immediately regretting his words when he saw the way your eye's widened at his harsh words. the apartment was finally silent as you registered his words, he wishes you had any sort of expression on your face, but you had nothing but a stoic and emotionless face.

"okay then," you finally said, arching your eyebrow in a taunting way, resting your hand down on your hip. "bye." you followed, grabbing your bag and your keys, turning your back on him.

he watched, frozen in his spot as you exited out the apartment with your composure. his body jolted when he heard the slam of the front door, finally letting out that breath he was unknowingly holding. he scoffed at what you said, clenching his jaw tightly as he tried to hold onto his pride. "damn it." he said.

he felt the tear roll down his cheek before he could even register that he was crying. "..damn it!"

KAGEYAMA TOBIO — to him, life is volleyball. his childhood consisted nothing of volleyball, and so will his adulthood. maybe his obsession with volleyball was a little extreme, but you never really minded. he respected you greatly for your patience, he wasn't dumb, he knew that his priority of volleyball was evident, so he always tried to make it up to you by spending time with you whenever you wanted. but it seemed like after awhile, he began to take your patience for granted. it wasn't until the nth time when he didn't show up for the nth date was when he realized.

kageyama was careful to shut the front door as quiet as he could, tiptoeing as he took off his shoes and walked throughout the dark hallways and into the master-bedroom. he jolted like a cat when he sat you sitting up on the side of the bed, back facing the doorway.

"y-you scared me. what are you doing up at this time? it's nearly 10PM." he stuttered obliviously. it was silent for a few seconds before you sighed, slowly turning your head to face him. "you forgot." you muttered before turning back to look at the wall. forgot? forgot what? it was then he noticed the way your hair was done, still clad in a pretty dress.

"o-oh.. the date! i-i'm sorry y/n, i promise i can make it up to you"— "don't bother." you interrupted, voice stern yet monotonous. what do you mean 'don't bother?' you love going on dates don't you? his lips pursed into a straight line, chewing on his bottom lips nervously. "w-what do you mean? i really promise, this thursday i have a free day.." he trailed off when you suddenly stood up from the bed.

"i mean that i think we should break up." his heart dropped at your words, eyes widening. break up? his mouth was agape, mind spinning with different solutions and apologies. before he could detest, you walked over to the corner of the room, pulling up a suitcase that he didn't even notice.

"b-but why? you said yourself that me and you are meant to be together?" he cried out, quickly rushing over to your side and grabbing onto your wrist. he watched your face closely, eyes taking note of every single feature of yours. you inhaled deeply, still refusing to look at him.

"i said that when we were in high-school and didn't have any major responsibilities. things have changed, we aren't in high-school any more. you're now a pro-volleyball player with big responsibilities, and i'm.. someone who clearly has too much time on their hands, wasting it on someone who can't give me any of theirs. it's not your fault, kageyama, but we just don't align anymore."

you finally said, tugging your hand away from his grasp. before you could take a step, his hands were once again on you, gripped onto your shoulders, forcing you to look at him. "but.. you said you would be there for my game at nationals.." he whimpered out, tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

it was then, when you were finally walking out of his apartment, out of his life, was when he finally did realize, that maybe, he did take your patience for granted..

BOKUTO KOUTARO — this guy cries a lot. he's cried so many times you might have to start writing it down somewhere. he rarely masks his emotions, he's an open book. thats what you love so much about him, that he's so open and honest. you love the way he's so eager and sweet, you love the way he's always willing to talk to you and so damn clingy it's like you have your own personal koala. aside from the times he's happy, he's sad, sad because he didn't perform well, or because you didn't kiss him. but you never really made him cry, you'd never do that. or so you thought.

"y/n!! i missed you!" you hear a booming voice yell, his footsteps speeding up at the sight you. he paid no mind when you didn't respond to him, as you were currently hunched over the your work desk, laptop gleaming at you brightly. your back was turned to him, so you were basically calling him for a back hug.

"y/n!" — "not now koutaro." you interrupted, tone serious and stern. he raised his eyebrows at you with surprise, his arms a few inches away from your shoulders as they stilled in their preparation to hug you. "babe? is something wrong?" he asked curiously, lips pouting at your stern denial. you never decline a hug. you love them. right?

"i'm working. can't you see that?" you spit out, sighing deeply. you pull away your cramping fingers away from your keyboard, rubbing them over your sore eyes. "my gosh." you mumble under your breath, eyebrows intensely furrowed with stress. you had been working for a few hours straight, staring at nothing but a bright screen with words that were becoming incoherent to you.

you yelp out when you're suddenly pulled from your chair, being lifted up into bokuto's strong arms as he spins you around. "don't be so sad!" he says cheerfully, hoping to cheer you up with a big warm hug. only— this seems to make you mad. "put me down, koutaro!" you yell, pushing his chest away and forcing him to practically drop you.

"don't you see i'm working?! why are you so damn clingy? you're so annoying, god, why don't you just leave me alone?" you spit out. your words are like venom, stinging his heart greatly as his hair is quickly deflating once your words reach his ears. you simply return to your laptop once you've finished, typing mindlessly once more.

him? annoying? he didn't mean to annoy you..

he couldn't help but softly whimper, left standing in shock. he opened his mouth to say something before your previous words were reminding him to stay silent—leave me alone. he clutched his palms, looking at your turned back with teary eyes. he hopes you don't find him annoying for long..

#haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu!! smut #haikyuu pregnant #haikyu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu angst #haikyuu ushijima #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima x reader #iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu iwaizumi #iwaizumi x reader #atsumu miya #haikyuu atsumu #atsumu x reader #kageyama tobio #haikyuu kageyama #bokuto koutarou #haikyuu bokuto #bokuto x reader

[teamatsumu]

wrong twin? (miya atsumu x reader)

summary: you have a massive crush on miya osamu. so the plan is to get closer to him through his twin brother. it’s genius. it’s bound to work. right?

word count: 3008

warnings: fem!reader, fluff, slight angst, swearing, maybe a dash of humor, atsumu being atsumu, him and reader bicker a lot

tags: @keiva1000

When you handed in your application to join the Inarizaki High School volleyball club as manager, you had a very clear agenda in mind, but nobody needed to know about that. You had a good knowledge of volleyball, you had good organizational skills, and you were responsible. They accepted your application in a heartbeat, and were none the wiser of your true intentions behind joining the team.

It was only when you cornered their blond setter after practice one day that you actually said the words out loud.

“Ya want me to do what?” He raised an eyebrow, shoving his volleyball shoes into his backpack.

“Help me get close to him!” You whispered in a conspiratorial tone, looking around to make sure no one was paying attention to you two. Your eyes lingered on Osamu where he was helping Gin clean up. “You’re his twin brother. You’re closest to him. If we hang out more, that would inevitably mean I get to hang out with Osamu more too. And we can become friends. Eventually, I will get him to fall in love with me.”

Atsumu stared at you with a very distinct ‘what the fuck’ look, but you stared right back, determined.

“Yer insane.” He stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder and making his way to the gym door. You followed behind.

“Please, Atsumu!” You begged, following him out of the gym and down the path leading out of the school.

“No!” He responded, not looking back at you. “Ya wanna get close to him, just go talk to him! Why ya gotta drag me into yer crazy schemes?!”

“I can’t just go talk to him, it would be creepy! I need a way into his circle.”

Atsumu gave you another look. “Oh yeah, what yer saying right now isn’t creepy at all.” Sarcasm dripped from his words.

You huffed, scowling at the back of his blond head. Your eyes caught the lights of the corner convenience store, and you felt an idea forming.

“I will buy you an after-practice snack every day for a year.”

Atsumu stopped short, looking back at you. “Yer bein’ serious?”

You gestured to the store up ahead. “We could start right now. I have money on me.”

His answering grin meant you had a deal.

……………………

When you joined the twins for lunch the next day at Atsumu’s desk, Osamu raised an eyebrow.

“It was my idea.” Atsumu explained. “She’s cool so I said we should hang out more.”

Osamu seemed to buy it, shrugging and giving you a welcoming little smile. You felt yourself flush, giddy as you pulled up a chair and sat down next to Atsumu, opposite to his brother.

“Oh sweet, are those pancake rolls?” Osamu asked when you opened your bento. You nodded eagerly.

“I made them myself!” You replied, pushing the box closer to him. “Wanna try?”

You knew Osamu liked food (okay, maybe you had stalked him a little), and even though you sucked at cooking, you had meticulously made your lunch today for this very reason. You couldn’t help your grin when Osamu bit into a roll and moaned at the taste, saying it was delicious. You could feel how hot your face was, even the tips of your ears felt warm. Atsumu rolled his eyes in your periphery but you paid him no mind, striking up a conversation with his brother instead.

“Yer like a different person around him.” Atsumu commented later that evening, when you were sitting on the curb outside the convenience store and he was chowing down on a pork bun you had bought him. The rest of the team had gone ahead, most of them too tired to stop for a snack and just wanting to get to bed as soon as possible.

You sighed and shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you. He makes me feel things.”

Atsumu chewed for a little bit, watching you stare at the moth circling the streetlight.

“Gross.”

You slapped him hard on the bicep at that, making him let out an ‘ow!’. He pouted at you as he rubbed his arm, while all you did was roll your eyes in return.

……………………………

Lunch became a normal thing with the twins after that. You would wake up at 5am, cook something new that you thought Osamu might appreciate, and you would watch him devour it, praising you for how good it was. One time, Atsumu had gotten curious and tried to reach for a piece of onigiri, making you smack his hand away. He yelped and clutched it.

“What was that for?!”

“You already get a snack out of me every day, Miya. Keep your paws off my lunch.”

Osamu had snickered at that, and your heart had skipped at the sound, effectively forgetting Atsumu even existed as your focus shifted entirely to his brother. Atsumu grumbled but complied, saying something about ‘’s probably not that good anyway’. You paid him no mind.

You got to know Osamu a lot better during your little lunch sessions. He didn’t talk as much as his brother, but he was perceptive, and a great listener. He seemed to balance out Atsumu perfectly, and you could see how close they actually were. You would often giggle at their banter, witnessing the many foul names they would call each other, but knowing they didn’t mean it at the end of the day.

You often went to their house, under the guise of tutoring Atsumu. At first, Atsumu had told you no one would buy it, but you were adamant to try. And you were right. When you told Osamu why you were there, he snorted in response.

“Figures. This dumb fuck needs all the help he can get.”

Atsumu had yelled and tried to swat at his brother, but Osamu expertly dodged him. You had laughed at their antics.

Your study sessions were often spent with you stealing glances at Osamu from the dining table where you and Atsumu were located. He wouldn’t stick around much, preferring to camp out in their shared bedroom, but you still appreciated every glimpse that you got of him when he wandered down to the kitchen for a snack. Atsumu would nudge you with his knee under the table.

“Be a little less obvious, will ya?”

You stuck a middle finger in his face in response. He grabbed your hand and twisted it a bit, just enough to make you yelp and try to push him away.

“Tsumu, you jerk! Let go!”

“Say sorry!”

“Over my dead body!”

Osamu had to break you two apart sometimes, while you glared at each other from either side of him.

At practice, you would stay late when they needed help perfecting their quick attack, throwing balls so Atsumu could set them for Osamu. On the way back, you would buy Atsumu his daily snack and offer to pay for Osamu’s as well, which he always refused.

“Unlike this tool, I’m not shameless enough to let someone else pay fer me.”

“Hey!”

With every passing day, you felt that you were getting closer and closer to Osamu. Where you had barely exchanged words before, you two could hold long conversations now, and you especially loved when you ganged up to shit on Atsumu, who would be overdramatic as hell about the insults and act like he just got shot. You couldn’t remember the last time you had laughed so much.

Then, Osamu got a girlfriend.

You didn’t learn about it until you saw a girl at the gym on one random Wednesday. You had raised an eyebrow at her, watching as she looked around for something.

“Can I help you?”

She shook her head. “I’m just looking for Osamu. He left some stuff at my place last night.”

Your brain short circuited. Her place? Last night?

Then he ran over to her. Greeted her and thanked her for bringing his stuff. And then he kissed her.

You were mentally tuned out of practice for the rest of the evening.

When Atsumu walked up to you after practice so you could make your usual trip to the convenience store, you had just silently followed him. You had bought him some yakusoba bread, and you sat on the curb, waiting to walk home after he finished eating.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You finally asked.

Atsumu sighed in return. “Didn’t want ya to get hurt.”

You turned to look at him. His attention was on the bread. “Did you expect me to never find out?”

He shook his head. “I was hopin’ to tell ya after practice. Just couldn’t think of the words.”

For some reason, you felt anger boil up inside you. You stood up abruptly. Atsumu paused his chewing to look up at you.

“I don’t need you to coddle me, Tsumu.” You grit out. “That was not the deal.”

Atsumu didn’t seem fazed by your tone. “Sit down.”

You glared at him. “I’m going home.”

When you turned to leave, you were stopped by his hand reaching up to clutch at the hem of your jacket, pulling you back.

“I know yer hurtin’. Just sit.”

You don’t know why that did it. Tears that had been building up all during practice were set free, rolling down your cheeks. Silently, you sat back down next to him. He didn’t talk as you cried, only shuffling closer until his side was pressed to yours. An unexpected comfort came to you with the contact. You leaned on him, resting your head on your knees, shoulders shaking.

When you had calmed down enough, you wiped your face with your sleeves, sitting up straighter. Atsumu extended his bread to you. You raised an eyebrow.

“When have you ever shared with me before?”

He rolled his eyes. “Ya want it or not?”

The bread seemed to melt in your mouth. Food did make you feel a bit better, but your mind was still on Osamu.

“‘M sorry yer scheme didn’t work out.”

You laughed a bit, taking another bite. “When you call it a scheme, it makes me think it was bound to fail from the start.”

Atsumu shook his head. “Nah. Ya made an effort. I respect that.” He stretched his legs in front of him, leaning back on his hands. “Yer a real catch. Yer smart and yer pretty. Samu’s blind ta not see that.”

You giggled, nudging Atsumu a bit. “Careful, Tsum-tsum. I might think you were falling for me.”

If your emotions weren’t so over the place, and if you hadn’t just tired yourself out from crying so much, you would’ve noticed how the older Miya’s eyes softened.

…………………………

Getting over Osamu wasn’t easy. Especially after having chased after him for so many months. It didn’t help that his little girlfriend seemed to come around more often, sometimes joining the team during practice. At times like those, you tried to stay as far away from her and Osamu, and that often meant you would find comfort in Atsumu, the only person who knew about your crush.

“What does he see in her anyway?” You voiced out loud, watching her laugh at something Osamu had said. You were sitting on a bench outside the gym with Atsumu, watching the two interact on the other side of the path. The rest of the team still weren’t done with their run. As usual, the twins were the first ones to reach the school.

Atsumu ran a towel over his neck, setting his water bottle down next to him. “Ya need ta get over him.”

You rolled your eyes. “Easy for you to say. You’ve never loved anything except volleyball.”

“Damn right. Has volleyball ever betrayed me? No. So suck it.”

You dug your elbow into his side, making him yelp and grab your head, pushing you away. His hand was massive and covered over half your face, and you struggled to get him off, digging your nails into his forearm.

“Tsumu, you asshole-”

You didn’t even notice when Osamu stared at the two of you, too absorbed in your little squabble.

So yeah, getting over Osamu wasn’t easy, but having Atsumu around helped a ton. Everytime he would see your eyes linger on Osamu too long, he would make some sort of comment, or change the subject, just trying to get your attention anywhere else. Too many times, he would physically grab you and turn you away from his twin, saying something along the lines of how you should be looking at the ‘better twin’ instead.

“Sorry but which one of you decided to dye their hair the color of piss?”

“It’s blond!”

“You ever heard of toner, dumbass?”

And you would grab his hair, messing it up and tugging at it a bit, giggling when he whined about you ruining his ‘hairstyle’. You also knew that Atsumu would kill anyone else who dared touch his hair, and the fact made your heart skip a bit. It also made you think, and once the gears in your head started turning, there was no going back.

Now that the fog of your infatuation with Osamu was lifting a bit, you seemed to notice his twin more. You would watch how Atsumu seemed to almost shield you from anything that reminded you of Osamu. How he had made it a habit after that one evening to always share half his snack with you, no matter how small it was. He would often say out of pocket shit, but rather than annoying you, it seemed to endear you more. It was like these little quips were a part of his charm, and you would giggle along instead of telling him to shut up.

He was awfully touchy too. You suppose he had always been, and you had just never thought about it. But now it seemed like none of his moves went unnoticed by you. He had a habit of gripping your head with one hand and turning your face to his when you weren’t paying attention. It used to annoy the crap out of you but now it made you pause and blink, meeting his caramel colored eyes. He would nudge you and poke you, he would drape an arm over your shoulders and whine about how tired he was. And your cheeks would warm up every time. You were forced to admit it.

You had a thing for Atsumu.

Deep down, you cursed at your luck, almost laughing in incredulity. What a joke this was, having a crush on both twins. But you knew that this was different. You knew this wasn’t just a silly crush.

Atsumu was more. He had always been more.

“Tsumu?”

He hummed in response, indicating he was listening, even if he was busy stuffing a chocolate bar into his mouth. You two were in your usual place, sitting on the curb outside the convenience store, lit up only by the light of the store behind you and the lamp post across the street. You watched his profile, the way his jaw moved when he chewed, his eyes trained before him, his undercut, and his dyed hair falling over his forehead slightly.

He was so painfully attractive. And you had never noticed.

He looked at you finally when you didn’t speak, raising an eyebrow.

“Everythin’ okay?”

You nodded hastily, turning away from him. You heard him pause, wrapping up what was left of his chocolate and placing it next to him before shuffling closer to you.

“Yer lyin’. What is it?”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. “You can read me so well.”

He shrugged in response, draping his arm over your shoulder. You closed your eyes, mentally accepting how the action now made you feel.

“I did spend the whole year hearin’ ya whine about yer feelings, so yeah. I can read ya pretty well.”

You sighed, turning your head to look at him. At this proximity, you could see the brown swirling in his eyes, and it reminded you of milk chocolate. You were nearly nose to nose with him, and you weren’t nervous at all. With Osamu, you would always be on edge. Your insides would squirm, your heart would race, and oftentimes, you would stumble over your words.

With Atsumu, you felt every muscle in your body relax when he touched you. Despite his chaotic personality and his crude language, Atsumu was so tuned in when it came to you. When you needed it, he was as calm as they come. There was such unprecedented comfort in his presence. When you were around him, it felt like everything would be okay.

“I love you.”

It came out of you involuntarily at that moment. But you weren’t scared to tell him. You should have been, but one look at him this close and all your fears were melting away. When Atsumu gave you a little smile, you couldn’t help but return it.

“I love ya too, sweets.”

His kiss was expected. Soft, slow, perfect. His lips were plush and warm, and he tasted like the chocolate he had just been eating. His arm around your shoulder tightened, and his other hand came up to cup your jaw, tilting your head enough to deepen the kiss. You felt your head buzz, your hands fisting at the front of his shirt and trying to pull him closer, though it was impossible.

You whined in protest when he ended the kiss, making him chuckle slightly. The sound made your lips twitch up a bit, and you ran your eyes all over his face. He hummed in approval.

“There it is.”

You blinked. “What?”

He traced your cheekbone with his thumb. “Ya know how long I’ve wanted ya to look at me like that and not Samu?”

Right. Samu. You had forgotten about him completely the moment Atsumu’s lips touched yours. The thought made you giggle and pull at his jacket collar to tug him close, until his lips were meeting yours again.

#miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu fluff #miya atsumu angst #miya atsumu x you #miya atsumu x y/n #miya atsumu fanfic #miya atsumu imagine #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #friends to lovers #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu imagines

[fushisagi]

miya atsumu and the chronic lovesick disease

୨୧ ━━ ❛ what am i to you, atsumu? ❜

word count ⋆ 12.6k (12,607) genre ⋆ fluff, slight angst, friends to lovers, college au ━ gn!reader

the question comes to him one autumn night, surrounded by his friends and the chilly november breeze, asked by, who he assumes to be, just another nobody looking for money: what is it that you desire most, boy? the psychic asks, her saccharine smile forgotten when he looks into the crystal ball and all he ends up seeing is you. alternatively: miya atsumu is not in love. what the hell? who would ever suggest something like that?

warnings ⋆ alcohol consumption, mutual pining, denial of feelings!!! lots of it!! and with this denial comes some stupid decisions!!! author’s note ⋆ ive actually like never been to the psychic before so if its inaccurate im so sorry ..... it’s not really a big part of the plot though so hopefully u can overlook it 😭

o. Desire

This is a scam, is Atsumu’s first thought when he takes a seat inside the tent and finds himself face-to-face with a crystal ball.

People like this are dangerous — his twin brother never lets anyone forget it. They take advantage of an individual’s fear of the unknown and they make money off it. It’s genius, because even the strongest people can become weak to something as mundane as self-proclaimed clairvoyants setting base near a college campus.

Atsumu supposes he’s no exception. Even if Bokuto was the one who forced him to do this in the first place.

“Hello,” the woman greets, her hair pinned into a tight bun. “You’re here for a reading?”

“Sure,” Atsumu huffs, shivering when the cold breeze sneaks into the tent. He really should’ve worn a thicker jacket.

When he looks up from the table, the woman gives him a smile. It’s analytical, as if all he needed to do was sit down for her to know everything about him. He fidgets in his seat, growing more uncomfortable under her gaze.

“So,” she says, clasping her hands together and resting them on the table. “What is it that you desire most, boy?”

 “I’m sorry?”

“Your greatest desire,” she repeats patiently.

Atsumu blinks before tilting his head. “Um, I’m not—”

“I’m sure you know,” she says. “Is it strength? Power? Love?”

All colour drains from Atsumu’s face. The psychic smiles wickedly.

Atsumu thinks this may be the end of him. He never liked it when people acted like they knew more about his intentions than he did, and it only took mere minutes before the woman figured him out.

His hand twitches. He would feel a lot better if you were here—

“Ah,” she clicks her tongue, “bingo.”

i. Strength

After a borderline homicidal game of rock, paper, scissors, Sakusa lands himself a new roommate.

Move-in day comes two weeks later and Atsumu sits in the lobby of the building, waiting for your car to pull into the parking lot.

He notes the time — it’s five minutes past 8:30, making you more than half an hour late — before grumbling under his breath and continuing to scroll through his feed. When Instagram notifies him that he’s all caught up, he exits the app and opens Twitter in hopes that something will be able to entertain him until you show up. He likes some tweets, retweets a few more, and terrorizes Suna before he grows bored at the lack of anything interesting on his timeline.

Another glance at the time. He scowls. It’s only been two minutes.

Atsumu debates asking Sakusa if he knows what’s happened to you. When he opens their message thread, he raises an eyebrow at how unbelievably one-sided their conversations are, but he decides that’s a problem for another day. Your absence is more important to Atsumu than Sakusa’s terrible conversational skills ever will be.

(He’ll bother Sakusa about it later).

He’s about to send a long string of emojis when an incredulous voice reaches his ears.

“Tsumu?”

He looks up and immediately pockets his phone with a grin. “You’re late.”

You adjust the box of donuts in your hands and squint at him as if his smile is as blinding as the sun. “I slept through my alarm. What the hell are you doing here?”

Atsumu gestures to his outfit. “What does it look like?”

You stare blankly.

“Seriously?” he scoffs. “I told you last night I’d help you move in. How’d you forget? Am I that forgettable? You wound me, I—”

“Shut up,” you say, shifting your weight. Atsumu’s eyes flicker to the sticker on the box, and he tries his best not to frown when he notices you’ve written Sakusa’s name in calligraphy with a heart at the end. “Of course I remember you offering to help because I spent my entire night telling you it was fine.”

“You expect me to believe that you can bring all your shit in by yourself? You look like you just rolled out of bed.”

“Thank you, Tsumu, I can always count on you to make me feel like I’ve been shot by Cupid’s arrow,” you quip, brushing past him to get to the elevator, and as if it’s second nature, he follows. “I can’t believe people walk around campus calling you sweet.”

“I never said you looked bad,” he says. “I think the dried drool on your chin is pretty cute, actually.”

“Whatever,” you hurriedly wipe your face. “Speaking of bad, what on Earth are you wearing?”

Atsumu knows full well you’re not complimenting him, but he decides to treat your comment as if you have. He beams, picking at the sweatpants you eye with disgust before walking into the elevator with you.

“It’s my mover outfit!”

“Your mover outfit,” you deadpan. “Disregarding whatever that means — those sweatpants are baggier than Kenma’s eyebags. And they do nothing for your ass.”

He smirks. “You were checking out my ass?”

You avoid eye contact, feigning indifference, but Atsumu’s known you for too long and immediately recognizes your fluster by the way you tug at the hem of your clothing.

“No,” you deny curtly, straightening your posture when the elevator doors open to show Sakusa’s floor. “It’s just hard not to notice when those sweats are ridiculously baggy. Seriously, are you trying to put something in there? I could fit a month’s worth of groceries in those.”

You’re walking swiftly, eager to get to your new apartment and end the conversation. The both of you are well aware that Atsumu’s more than capable of catching up with you, but he hangs back, preferring to watch you babble while he trails behind.

You clutch the donuts closer to your body as words tumble out of your mouth — a list of things that could fit in his sweats, including two jugs of milk and a family size pack of chips — and Atsumu can’t stop the lopsided smile from appearing on his face.

“Maybe a carton of eggs, too,” he suggests.

“Oh, I wouldn’t trust you with eggs,” you say sharply.

“Why not?”

“Are you really asking me that? Last month I lent you my blanket and you gave it back to me with a hole in it.”

“For the last time,” Atsumu begins, quickening so he’s side-by-side with you, “that was Samu’s fault, not mine.”

“…Alright.”

“Y/N,” he whines. “I’m serious! None of that was on me — I even bought you a new blanket! Would Samu have done that? I don’t think so—”

“Actually—”

“The point is,” Atsumu interrupts, throwing you a glare before continuing, “blame Samu. Whenever something bad happens, blame him. That’s what I always do.”

“Spoken like a true, responsible individual.”

“Hey!” he protests. “I’m responsible!”

You open your mouth to deny his claims, but the pout he plasters over his face is enough for you to give in. Too tired to give him something as golden as a verbal agreement, you opt for changing the subject. “Do you think Sakusa will like the donuts?”

Atsumu frowns. “Why does it matter? They’re donuts.”

You grow annoyed at his impertinence. “I want him to like me, you moron.”

His expression sours further. “He’s your friend.”

“And I won a game of rock, paper, scissors, so now I’m his roommate,” you remark. “There’s a difference between being friends with someone and living with them. I mean, would you want to live with Bokuto?”

Atsumu’s answer is swift. “Hell no.”

“Exactly,” you say, “I need us to get along.”

You stop in front of a door and begin searching your pockets for your key. There’s a pinch between your eyebrows, the box trembles as you struggle to balance it with one hand, and your clothes are a mess, but underneath the fluorescent light of the hallway, Atsumu can’t help but think you almost look angelic.

He shakes the thought away, squashes it beneath his foot until the remnants of it have been absorbed by the carpet.

“The last time I saw you this nervous was when you asked out that barista,” he muses.

You dig your hand into the breast pocket of your shirt and huff when you find nothing. “What are you implying?”

Atsumu stares pointedly at the sticker on the box. Your face morphs into one of horror.

“Are you dense?”

“Calligraphy, Y/N. I’ve never seen you write calligraphy in my entire life.”

“I was trying something out!”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

You smack him on the shoulder. “I was being thoughtful,” you grunt, softening when Atsumu winces and rubs the spot where you hit him. “He’s my friend, and that’s all he ever will be.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

Your eyes leave him for a millisecond, flickering to somewhere else on his face before returning his gaze once more. “Of course,” you say softly, “Besides, I—”

The door swings open.

“You’re loud,” Sakusa deadpans in the doorway. His eyes travel down to the donuts. “Are those for me?”

You hand them over to him. “Yeah, I didn’t know what you liked, so they’re all assorted.”

Sakusa hums in thanks before tilting his head at Atsumu. “Why’re you here?”

“To help them move in,” Atsumu grins, placing a hand on your shoulder and squeezing it. “I know you’re going to the drycleaners, and I couldn’t let Y/N do this all by themselves.”

Sakusa shrugs and turns to go further into the apartment. “Sounds good to me. I’d rather not have to press those nasty elevator buttons multiple times just so I can come down and get your stuff,” he gives you the best apologetic look he can muster. “Have fun, though.”

Before you can go on a tangent about how Sakusa should be more welcoming, Atsumu pipes up, “Yeah, don’t worry! ‘S all in good hands,” he nudges you with his elbow. “Right? Your stuff can’t be that heavy.”

Atsumu, not for the first time and certainly not the last, stands corrected.

Not only is your stuff heavy, but there’s much more than he expected.

With each trip down to the parking lot, his muscles grow strained, and he feels the fatigue threaten to droop his eyelids shut. But, in the corner of his eyes, he sees your persistence to get this over and done with, and Atsumu decides it won’t hurt to push through.

His complaining and wailing can wait until later.

After you place the last box into your new bedroom, you turn to him while wiping the sweat from your forehead. “Thank you,” you say breathlessly.

He goes to tease you, to say that you owe him now, that you’ll be indebted to him for life.

But what comes out of his mouth instead is: “‘Course. Call me whenever you want, and I’ll be there.”

Atsumu calls it a housewarming gift. Sakusa says there is hardly anything warming about it.

It referring to the group of boys gathered in the living room — your friends on good days, the bane of your existence on all the others — with their limbs strewn about and their soda cans sitting too close to the edge of the coffee table. It’s an odd sight for Sakusa to have this many people over on a Thursday night, but Atsumu insisted, and he caught Sakusa on a good day when he asked if he could hold a movie night at the apartment to celebrate your new accommodations.

You’re sure Sakusa regrets it now. He sits in his armchair with a permanent scowl, swatting Hinata away when the boy reaches to fix the crease between Sakusa’s brows. If looks could kill, Atsumu would’ve been dropped dead ten minutes ago.

He covers his fear with a grin, but out of the corner of his mouth, he says to you, “Help me.”

You snicker. “You’re on your own, dude.”

“I thought I told you to stop calling me that.”

“What? But Bokuto calls you that, too!”

“Yeah, but it’s Bokuto.”

“I have no idea what you mean by that.”

Atsumu only tsks, forcibly ending the conversation by suggesting to the room that they should all play a game to decide who’ll prepare all the popcorn. A chorus of agreements is what he gets in response, along with someone complaining about how he should be spared due to his gruelling volleyball practice, and another person expressing his sympathies for the future loser.

Atsumu prepares the ladder game, and after he’s done, he looks at everyone with fiery hot intensity, an expression similar to one he wears during a match. “Remember,” he declares, “whoever loses can’t complain.”

Luck isn’t on his side tonight.

“What the hell!” he screeches once the reality of his defeat settles in.

Osamu, far too smug for Atsumu’s liking, quips, “I thought you said no complaining.”

The noise that leaves Atsumu’s mouth is something akin to a pathetic but animalistic growl. He goes to protest, even raising his hand to list off reasons why he’s been wronged — someone must’ve cheated, or maybe everyone in this room has a ruthless vendetta against him — but just as the words are about to leave his lips, his eyes land on you.

You challenge him to complain with a look, and he suddenly gets a much better idea.

“Y/N,” he says sweetly, growing pleased at your uneasiness. “As the host of this housewarming party, it’s only fair that you help me, too.”

“What?” you squawk, leaning forward as if you’ve misheard him. “But you were the one who suggested doing all of this! How is it now on me to help—”

“Well, he wouldn’t have done this if it wasn’t for you,” Sakusa muses.

You stare at him in disbelief. “Are you taking his side? What happened to roommate solidarity?”

“You just made that up,” Sakusa replies. “Besides, this thing will go by faster if two people prepare the popcorn, and I don’t think Miya wants anyone else other than you.”

Atsumu shifts uncomfortably at the implication, and he involuntarily commits your surprised expression to memory.

(When he goes to sleep later that night, your surprise is all he sees against the darkness of his eyelids).

“Other than me—?”

“To make the popcorn,” Sakusa drawls matter-of-factly.

You blink. “Right.” You look at Atsumu, and he shrugs dumbly, unsure of how else to react to your sudden change in behaviour.

To him, you have always been easy to read, but right now, he’s not entirely sure if there’s a word for the expression on your face. He yearns to press a hand to your cheek to melt the malaise away, to be rid of it forever so he can see you smiling again.

Something in his chest twists.

“Right!” you repeat, more loudly this time, and startling the rest of your friends. You slap your hands on your lap before standing and grabbing Atsumu’s wrist to pull him away. “I guess I’m helping you make popcorn. You owe me one, Miya.”

Your skin is warmer than usual, threatening to burn him until your fingerprints are marked onto his skin.

(Behind him, Suna stage-whispers, “You are so whipped, Y/N.”)

Your touch disappears the moment you’ve both crossed the threshold into the kitchenette. Atsumu flexes his hand, trying to get rid of an urge in his veins he can’t quite explain.

“Hey,” you say casually, back turned to him as you dig through the cabinets for the popcorn packets. “Did you finish that essay for literature class?”

Atsumu awkwardly clears his throat and begins playing with the settings on the microwave. “The paper?”

“Yes, the paper,” you say. “The one I told you to start two weeks ago so you wouldn’t end up sending a half-assed essay two minutes before the deadline?”

“Why are you talking like you think I didn’t start it yet?”

“Because I know you, Tsumu,” you reply, shutting the cabinet with your elbow and ungracefully dropping the packets onto the counter beside him. “And I lost faith in your ability to listen to me a long time ago.”

“How rude. I always listen to you,” he sticks his nose in the air like a scorned, evil, cartoon antagonist, “I just don’t take all your suggestions. There’s a difference.”

“You make my life so much harder,” you huff, inputting a minute-thirty into the microwave. “I honestly think I lose ten years of my lifespan whenever you tell me you’ve gotten yourself into another dilemma.”

“Don’t be dramatic. I’m sure you only lose, like, three at most.”

“No, it’s definitely ten,” you say. “You worry me too much, Miya.”

The smile on Atsumu’s face, previously smug and confident, softens.

“Seriously, though,” you continue, jabbing a finger into his sternum. “The paper? It’s due tonight.”

He flicks your nose, snorting when you pull a face. “I sent it in this morning.”

“Seriously?”

“Hey! Don’t act so shocked!”

“Well, this is, like, the first time you’ve ever done something even remotely responsible, so—”

“I thought we both agreed I’m a generally responsible person.”

Your silence is enough of a response.

Atsumu gasps just as the microwave beeps, allowing you to ignore his stunned expression in order to begin preparing another bag of kernels.

“Give me one reason—”

“The blanket—”

“—that isn’t the blanket,” he says sourly. “That doesn’t count. I told you that was Samu’s fault, not mine.”

“Do you want a list? Because I have one.”

“Are you serious or are you just fucking with me?”

“Osamu and I have a Google Doc.”

Another gasp. You roll your eyes.

“Now you’re in kahoots with my brother? What’s next? Planning my downfall with Suna?”

“I’m sure he’s fine doing that himself without my help.”

He whines, stomping his foot when you only stare back in amusement. “Don’t be so unrepentant, Y/N!”

You dump the contents of the hot popcorn bags into a large bowl for everyone to share. “Unrepentant? Was that the word on your word-of-the-day calendar?”

“Shut up. You know only Kuroo has lame stuff like that,” Atsumu grumbles, throwing the last popcorn packet into the faulty brick of power you and Sakusa call a microwave. “I used it in my essay. Thesauruses are a godsend. It really came in handy when I was writing about the flower symbolism in the book. Y’know what’s even better, though? SparkNotes.”

You tilt your head, studying Atsumu with furrowed eyebrows. “Huh.”

“What d’you mean huh?”

“Nothing,” you say innocently. “I just didn’t think you’d choose that essay topic, that’s all.”

“It was the easiest one,” he states. You hum in agreement, but he can sense you falling into a state of pondering before it even happens, so he lightly pokes your shoulder in hopes it’ll be enough to keep you from drifting too far from his reach. “Why, what did you think I picked?”

He can tell you’re debating what to tell him, letting a few seconds pass before you give in. “I thought you’d do the one that centred more around…” you trail off, clenching and unclenching your jaw, “the love aspect of it all.”

He blinks. “Why?”

Childishly, you retort, “Why not?”

Atsumu licks his lips. “Well, you’re always telling me to write what I know. And I may not know a whole lot about flowers, but I know more about those than, y’know, love.”

Something passes over your face, the same thing he saw when Sakusa said something — implied something — in the living room. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he answers. “I’ve had relationships, sure, but none that made me feel anything like— like that.”

You drum your fingers against the bowl. “None at all?”

“None at all.”

You click your tongue and stare at the microwave. Its buzz has become more prominent in your silence, a mocking hum hanging over the air as you contemplate and Atsumu stares, waiting impatiently for a word to slip past your lips.

But there’s nothing. Instead, the microwave beeps again, indicating that the last of the popcorn is ready.

“That’s good to know,” you say lightly. At least, that’s what you attempt, but you sound different, like a parasite has found solace in your vocal cords and fiddled with everything Atsumu’s familiar with.

“It is?”

“Yeah,” you nod, handing the bowl over to him. Popcorn threatens to spill but Atsumu can’t bring himself to care. “Hey, be careful. What, is it too heavy? Are you too weak to carry it?”

“It’s popcorn,” Atsumu rasps.

You eye him oddly, as if he’s the one whose behaviour should be examined under a microscope. “Don’t spill it everywhere. Sakusa’ll get pissed, and we’re already pushing it with this movie night thing.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Of course,” you agree. “But if you need me—”

“I know,” he interjects.

Simple promises are often uttered during private moments between you and Atsumu — an oath to be there for the other, to stand by their side no matter what. The words soothe him when they’re said aloud; he knows, underneath all the teasing and the bickering and the irritated eyerolls, is your pinky and his, intertwined.

And despite the voice in his head taunting him about a secret he’s unaware of, he allows the promise to enchant him.

I’ll be there for you.

“Do you need help?”

Atsumu grunts, adjusting your arm around his neck as he opens the car door. “No, I’m fine.”

“Thanks for picking them up,” Aran says, voice loud above the frat house’s music, “I know you were tired from practice, but—”

“It’s fine. I probably would’ve killed you if you didn’t call me, anyway.”

“Osamu said you’d say that.”

Atsumu expertly brushes off the statement, gently ushering you into the passenger’s seat and putting your seatbelt on with gentle fingers. Behind him, Aran watches the movements with thoughtful eyes and a quirk of his eyebrows.

“The last time they got this drunk was at the fall festival last year,” he muses. “For your sake, I hope it doesn’t happen again.”

“What does that mean?”

“Hm?”

“For your sake,” Atsumu echoes, turning to face Aran once the door’s been shut and he’s made sure you’re sleeping soundlessly with your head resting against the cold window. Atsumu stands pin-straight, his posture contrasting the way Aran stands opposite him, relaxed with his hands stuffed in his pockets. “What’s that mean?”

Aran laughs, like he’s unsure if this is a serious question. “Well, I mean… they’re always asking for you whenever they get drunk like this.”

“I guess so, yeah.”

“That’s why you got here in record time, right?” Off Atsumu’s questioning gaze, Aran continues, “I called you five minutes ago, and your place is a fifteen-minute drive away. And you’re not in your pajamas, even though you said you’d change into them the moment you got home.”

“I was in the area,” Atsumu says weakly.

“Doing what?”

“Getting dinner.”

“Why didn’t you just get something delivered to your apartment?”

“Is it illegal to want to pick up the food myself?”

Aran raises his hands up in defence. “No, it’s not, but it’s also not illegal to say you knew this would happen,” he shrugs. “You knew they’d need you Atsumu, so you came. Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Before Atsumu can force a response from his throat, Aran has already slipped back into the party, leaving Atsumu alone on the street. With an annoyed huff, he stomps to the driver’s side, muttering irked questions under his breath about what Aran could possibly mean. He opens the door with more aggression than necessary, only softening when he sees you stir underneath the jacket he’s draped over you to keep you warm.

He unlocks his phone when he feels a buzz in his pocket.

[00:30] Atsumu: are you still awake?

[00:48] Sakusa: Yes. Why?

Atsumu knows that your apartment’s farther from here than his, and he’s sure that by the time he arrives, Sakusa won’t answer the door because he’ll grow tired of Atsumu’s lack of response and go to bed.

The decision is made when he takes a right instead of a left, when he pulls into a parking lot that isn’t yours, when he carries your body up the stairwell and into his bed with ease.

Everything else comes as routine. He tucks the blanket under your chin, moves the glass of water so it’s too far for you to accidentally knock over in the morning, and leaves a change of clothes at the foot of the bed.

Atsumu likes routine. He likes the predictability of it all.

A groggy voice stops him from leaving the room.

“Tsumu?”

“Hey,” he whispers, crouching so he’s eye-level with you. “I hope you don’t mind I brought you back here.”

You blink sleepily at him, too inebriated and fatigued to acknowledge his words. “You’re a really good person, y’know,” you say languidly.

He smiles, amused. “Really?”

“Yeah. Thank you for picking me up.”

“It’s nothing,” he murmurs.

“It’s not.”

“I’m sure you would’ve been fine without me. Omi could’ve picked you up, couldn’t he? Samu could’ve, too.”

“I know, but you’re the one who always does,” you respond, nuzzling further into the pillow. “You’ve—you’ve helped me a lot.”

You shakily reach a hand to his face, playing with the strands of hair that fall to his forehead. He relaxes, eyelids growing heavy at the feeling of your featherlike touch against his cool skin.

“You’ve brightened up my life, I think,” your voice is muffled, but it rings in Atsumu’s ears clear as day, almost as loud as his quickening heart rate. “I appreciate you a lot more than you know.”

ii. Power

He watches with bated breath as the ball cuts through the air while gravity begins to pull Hinata back to Earth. Everything unfolds in slow motion; everything has faded into white noise.

With a slam, the volleyball connects with the ground, and it’s only when he’s pulled into a hug does the reverie shatter. Like being hauled out from underwater, the roars of the crowd flood his ears as Bokuto begins jumping on the balls of his feet and Hinata comes rushing over to them with a triumphant shout.

On the other side of Bokuto, Sakusa smiles, rolling his eyes fondly when Hinata and Bokuto begin making post-game plans to celebrate their victory. Atsumu, on the other hand, is uncharacteristically silent as he searches the bleachers with a cloudy look in his eyes.

He’s snapped out of it once again when Bokuto tugs on his wrist so they can go and listen to what their coach has to say.

Atsumu isn’t a stranger to winning — he used to get drunk on this sort of stuff, the exhilarating rush that shot through his veins after every successful game. He basks in the crowd’s excitement and admiration, because to be fawned over is the closest to love he’s ever been (if he could even call it that), but once the adrenaline cuts him off and he’s left alone in the locker room, it all fizzles out.

Something’s missing at the end of all this. Usually, the void in his chest is insignificant enough for him to brush off. However, today is different.

It’s abnormal for the power of the win to dwindle into nothingness only minutes after the game ends, but the blue moon has risen tonight, and now everything feels weird. The cheers aren’t enough to keep him from searching the gymnasium for a familiar face, and he itches to get to his phone in the locker room when he can’t find who he’s looking for.

“Why do you look like we’ve lost?” Bokuto asks. “C’mon, man! Smile! We just won! Aren’t you happy?”

“Of course I am,” Atsumu grunts.

(But…)

But.

The adrenaline shoots through him again when a voice he knows all too well catches his attention over the noise.

“Hey!” you rush towards them, dishevelled. “Before you get mad, I know I missed the game, I took a nap and slept through it, fuck, I am never going to stay up late playing Fortnite with you again, Tsumu, you’ve ruined my sleep schedule, but—” you huff, trying to catch your breath as you hand Atsumu a bag, “I’m sorry that I didn’t come. Congrats on winning, I heard the shouts from down the street.”

Atsumu smiles and peers into the bag. “What is this?”

“Mochi,” you answer. “A celebratory gift for my favourite setter.”

“I’m the only setter you know.”

“Which is why you’re my favourite.”

Atsumu snorts but hugs the bag to his chest, like it’s his most prized possession and he’d drag it along to the grave with him. “Thank you.”

If someone were to ask Atsumu if he liked the pedestal he’s put on after a match, he’d say yes. Of course he does. He quite likes it on top of the world.

But you match his joyful smile with one of your own and Atsumu finds himself rethinking his answer. “Anytime.”

The top of the world may be nice, but it is nothing compared to being on the ground next to you.

“You know what they say. With great power comes great responsibility.”

“Would you relax?” Sakusa snarls. “You’re in charge of us for a day. Get your head out of your ass.”

On the floor, Hinata lays like a starfish as he stares up at the ceiling, cheeks tainted a bright pink hue. “I think power’s gotten to your head.”

Atsumu waves him off. “I think this is the best practice we’ve ever had.”

Their captain had to run out five minutes into practice — relationship problems is what he grumbled to Atsumu before leaving him in charge without a second thought, much to the rest of the team’s dismay.

“I hope you’re never put it in charge again,” Bokuto complains before downing the rest of his water.

“Don’t be dramatic—”

“Do you know how gruelling this practice must be for Hinata to be tired?”

“Give us a break,” Hinata pleads, shifting his position so he’s on his knees. “Please. I’ll buy you lunch for the rest of the month if you end our suffering.”

Atsumu pretends to ponder the offer and grows more amused as Hinata begins to twitch nervously. “Okay, fine,” he relents.

Hinata cries with glee, hugging Atsumu’s legs before pushing himself off the floor and rushing out of the gymnasium — whether it’s to refill his water bottle or hide until he’s found, Atsumu may never know. With a snort, Atsumu grabs his own bottle amongst the rest on the bench, promising Bokuto absentmindedly that he’ll go easy on them for the rest of the day.

“I want to have at least a little energy left for the party at Kuroo’s tonight,” Bokuto adds, his smile widening when Atsumu nods in agreement. “See, I knew you’d get it!”

Sakusa takes a seat on the bench. “Are you going to the party, Miya?”

“Yeah, Y/N’s forcing me to come with,” Atsumu says. “How about you?”

Bokuto answers for him. “I’m making him come!” he exclaims. “You’ll have so much fun, Omi, you don’t have to worry.”

Sakusa deadpans, “I’m only staying for five minutes.”

Bokuto waves off his iciness with a flippant hand. “I’ll convince you to stay longer.”

“I really doubt that.”

“Don’t underestimate me!” Bokuto huffs. He turns away from Sakusa before he can continue to argue and focusses on Atsumu. “It’s good that you’re coming too, Tsum-Tsum! Maybe you can finally meet the guy Y/N’s going on a date with.”

Atsumu halts, hand tightening around his bottle. “What?”

“Some guy from their Psychology class asked them out a few days ago,” Bokuto says obliviously. “I think it was the night you picked them up? I don’t know. I think he was nice, though. Y/N probably already told you about it.”

You didn’t.

Atsumu forces a grin on his face. “Right, they did.”

Sakusa studies his expression with pinched eyebrows.

Atsumu’s cheeks hurt for the rest of practice, a consequence of the cheerful façade he’s plastered, but the pain subsides — if only for a moment — when he sees you outside the gymnasium, carrying your favourite boba drink in one hand, and his favourite in the other.

“Hey!” you greet, handing him the drink. “How was practice?”

“Awful,” Hinata mopes with a pout. “Your boyfriend here was running it like the navy.”

You frown. Atsumu blanches. “My boyfriend…?”

“Yeah!” Hinata slaps Atsumu on the back. “Him.”

All colour drains from your face. Your grip on your cup loosens for a split second before tightening it again in panic. You look from Hinata, the picture of innocence, to Atsumu, who only stares back, just as bewildered.

Hinata seems to take the hint as his eyes flicker between the two of you in confusion. “Sorry, I… I overheard Bokuto saying you were going on a date with someone, so I assumed—”

“Date?” you interrupt frantically, arms flapping to deny the words that have recklessly tumbled from Hinata’s mouth. “With who— with Atsumu? He’s not— we’re not— I’m not— we’re—”

“We’re friends,” Atsumu finishes, saving you from your stammering. You look at him gratefully, and he can only offer a weak smile in return. “I don’t know why you’d think we’re dating, Shoyo.”

“Sorry—”

“They’re going on a date with someone else.”

You narrow your eyes. “What do you—?”

“Oh, hey,” Sakusa says as he walks out of the doors. He tugs on the string of his mask to make sure it’s secure before nodding at you. “Did you stop by the grocery store yet?”

Atsumu’s words are long forgotten when realization engulfs your figure at the speed of light. “Oh, no! I took a nap and—”

“You really need to fix your sleep schedule.”

“I’ll have you know I slept four hours last night.”

“…That’s not a good thing.”

“It’s an hour more than usual.”

The genuine concern is evident in Sakusa’s eyes before he rubs his temples with a sigh. “Okay, whatever. Let’s go to the store before we head home, I need to buy more protein powder.”

“Ay, ay, captain.”

“Don’t call me that.”

You snicker then turn to Atsumu with a smile he’d move mountains for. “I’ll see you later, Tsumu?”

“Yeah, sure,” he murmurs. “Don’t take too long to get ready.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” you say, patting his cheek. “Thanks for agreeing to drive me there and back.”

He finds himself involuntarily leaning into your touch. “Don’t mention it.”

Your touch lingers for a second too long before you salute him in goodbye and rush to follow Sakusa to your car. Atsumu watches as your figure gets smaller and smaller, a smile on his face as you glance over your shoulder and stick your tongue out when you catch him staring.

He flips you off and makes sure to stick his tongue out, too, in hopes that it’ll make you laugh loud enough for him to hear.

(He doesn’t notice the mischievous glint in Sakusa’s eyes, nor does he catch his name slipping past Sakusa’s lips).

(But he does notice you tilt your head, lost in thought, before you look at him again, attempting to figure him out despite the distance.

He thinks nothing of it).

Just after his 9am lecture, someone asks Atsumu out on a date.

She’s nice and easy on the eyes; a little timid, but he supposes that’s just the affect he has on people. Big man on campus is what he’s always referred to as, until they realize that he’s nothing if not a goofball off-court. Still, the girl — Miwa is what she said her name was — doesn’t know that yet, so Atsumu gives her the benefit of the doubt.

And he says yes.

At 11:00, the whole team has caught wind of his evening plans, and Sakusa texts him to tell him he’s an idiot. Atsumu frowns, asks why, but Sakusa doesn’t reply.

At 6:00, an hour before his date, he shows up on your doorstep with a bag of clothes and a tie loose around his neck. His left pant leg is tucked into his sock and the other is haphazardly cuffed; his hair is all over the place, sticking up at the back as the result of a hair-gel disaster.

You stare at him with pinched eyebrows. “What do you need?”

“I’ve got a date,” he explains frantically. “I need your help.”

You hesitantly let him in.

At 6:15 is when the argument occurs. The reason why is something Atsumu can’t recall, only that it was something so small and insignificant that the argument shouldn’t have even happened in the first place. He thinks you may have been in a bad mood before he even arrived, but that doesn’t change the fact that you haven’t talked to him in the past five hours.

Oh, right. And the power goes out at 6:45.

He texts Miwa to cancel, promising to reschedule on a day where they won’t be talking to each other in the dark, but his phone dies before he gets a response. With a shrug, he tosses it onto the coffee table and makes a mental note to charge it as soon as the power comes back on, knowing full well that he’ll forget the reminder the second he makes it.

He should feel more guilty about the fact that he cares more about your absence than his postponed date.

Atsumu stares at your door for far too long before deciding that he’ll apologize to you — for what, he doesn’t know, but apologize first, ask questions later is his motto — once you’ve left your room. He’ll grovel and get on his knees and even humiliate himself if he has to, as long as it gets you to talk to him again, because God knows he’ll never survive this outage by himself.

(Also, you’re his best friend, and — Atsumu has never told anybody this — the last time you gave him the silent treatment, his chest physically hurt from not speaking to you that he vowed to never anger you again).

It’s 11:35, and you still haven’t left your room.

For the past few hours, you’ve been watching Netflix without headphones to torture a bored Atsumu, but the noises stopped about ten minutes ago, meaning your phone must’ve died too, so it’s only a matter of time before you leave your room in hopes of finding something to do.

Atsumu’s almost giddy at the thought.

At 11:50, he makes his move.

He hears the creaking of your door and your socked feet softly padding in the hallway. Atsumu’s always tried going to sleep early so he can hit the gym before it gets too busy the next morning, so you must’ve waited the latest you could bear with the assumption that he had fallen asleep on the couch.

Atsumu tiptoes to the end of the hallway, teeth bright compared to the darkness of the apartment, and his grin only widens when you finally see him.

You blink before scoffing, brushing past him to enter the kitchenette.

“Y/N,” he says, attempting to be stern but it comes off as a whine in his desperation. “Look at me.” You spare him a glance. Atsumu deems that’s good enough. “Listen, I’m sorry.”

He watches you open a cupboard and fill your glass with water. The seconds that pass by are agonizingly slow and Atsumu shifts uncomfortably when the silence drags on.

Finally, you look at him, unamused, and say, “What exactly are you sorry for?”

He purses his lips in thought. “Uh…”

Rolling your eyes, you turn to make your way back to your room.

“Wait! Wait,” Atsumu shouts, rushing over to block the exit. His eyes dart all over the kitchen in hopes the walls will have the answer to your question. You tap your foot impatiently, and it’s only when you go to open your mouth to tell him to move that he blurts out, “I’m sorry for eating the rest of your chocolate cake.”

You look at him incredulously. “That was you?”

“Yeah, I— wait, you’re not mad about that?”

“I am now!” you huff, using an arm to try and shove him out of the way, but he catches your wrist.

“Then I don’t get it!” he groans. “What did I do?”

You give him a once-over. “Well, what didn’t you do?”

“This is about the outfit?”

“You’ve cuffed your slacks, Tsumu. They’re cuffed. No sane person cuffs their slacks.”

He struggles to wrap his head around your response. “You’re mad,” he repeats, then gestures to his outfit confusedly, “about what I’m wearing.”

You seem to realize just how ridiculous it sounds uttered out loud, because you pout. “Not just that.”

“Then what else?”

You stumble over your words before you coherently state, “You’re going on a date.”

He frowns. “Yes.”

“You’re going on a date,” you say again when it’s obvious he’s not catching on to what you mean. When all Atsumu can manage is a perplexed sound, you add frustratedly, “You’re going on a date, which I don’t understand, since Sakusa told me that I didn’t need to worry anymore, but I guess he’s wrong because you came here asking for my help with looking nice on your night out with Miwa and—”

“Wait,” Atsumu interrupts, still puzzled. “What did Sakusa tell you?”

“He told me not to worry.”

“Worry about what?”

That snaps you out of it.

You open and close your mouth like a fish out of water. Then, you cross your arms over your chest, muttering out a response with feigned nonchalance, “Whatever.”

Atsumu protests, “Hey, I—”

“Where were you even going to take her?” you swiftly change the subject, and Atsumu decides that he’ll let it go — that’s what he’s been doing for a while, anyway, and another day really couldn’t hurt, could it?

“Dancing,” he says.

“Dancing?”

“Yes,” he responds, relaxing at the sight of your amusement. “I searched up unique date ideas and Google told me to take her dancing.”

“You should’ve just taken her to dinner,” you say. “Because you can’t dance.”

“That’s not true at all.”

“You were born with two left feet.”

“Quit lying, you’re only saying that because you’re mad at me.”

“I’m only telling you the truth!”

“I’m a good dancer!”

“You really aren’t. I thought that was established two weeks ago when we were playing Just Dance and you knocked over Aran’s vase.”

“That says nothing about my ability to—”

“Yes, it does.”

“I’ll prove it.”

“Yeah, okay, sure.”

“I’m serious,” he says, stretching his hand out for you to take.

You look at his palm and back up at him. “You’re kidding.”

“Not in any way, shape, or form.”

“We don’t even have music—”

“I’ll sing,” he shakes his hand. “C’mon, hurry up, my arm’s getting tired.”

Without a second thought, you interlace your fingers with his as he whisks you around the kitchen, his laugh loud when you yelp at his fast movements. He places his other hand on the small of your back to keep you from slipping on the tile as he leans to whisper into your ear.

“Any song requests?”

“None. You’re an awful singer,” you retort, bristling at the warmth of his breath.

“So, what are you saying? You’d rather waltz in silence?”

“Yes. And I wouldn’t even call this waltzing. We’re just sliding around the kitchen.”

“We’re waltzing,” Atsumu says firmly, daring you to argue. You only sigh, letting him pull you closer as you two clumsily move around the room. He sings your favourite song despite your insistence for him not to, humming the parts he doesn’t know and doing his best to hit every note.

You laugh into his chest, and he makes sure the sound is trapped in his ribcage so he’ll never have to go a day without it.

When the song reaches its end, you place your head on his shoulder, your breath piercing through his blazer and skin. “I’m sorry that I got mad at you,” you whisper despite the quiet, as if making your voice any louder will shatter the atmosphere. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“It’s okay,” he murmurs.

“It’s not, but thanks for trying to make me feel better,” you say timidly. “I guess I just got my hopes up.”

Atsumu tries to get the information out of you again, the very thing that’s been bothering you — and, as a result, him — for weeks. “About what?”

Your fingers tighten around his. “Nothing,” you answer, and if you notice just how much his posture deflates then you say nothing of it. “Can we stay like this for a little while?”

“Yeah, of course,” he says, rubbing circles onto the back of your hand. “We can stay for as long as you want.”

iii. Love

“You’re gonna get it in my eye!”

“Then stay still!”

“Just promise not to poke me.”

“I’ve already promised five times.”

“Then promise again!”

“Tsumu—” you sigh, slumping your shoulders as you meet his defiant gaze. “I promise I won’t get anything into your eyes or your mouth or your nostrils. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

Atsumu narrows his eyes. “For some reason that doesn’t make me feel much better.”

You groan. “We’ve been over this millions of times—”

“Sue me for thinking you’re still mad at me.”

“I told you—”

“Sakusa got into my head,” he explains for the umpteenth time that evening, “he keeps on saying I’ve done something wrong, but he won’t tell me what, and he keeps looking at me as if I’ve committed a felony. His face keeps me up at night, it’s the reason why I’ve had so many nightmares recently—”

“Sakusa’s being a nuisance. Trust me, you haven’t done anything wrong,” you assure, your voice echoing off the walls of your tiny bathroom. “You have nothing to worry about, so stop acting like I’m trying to kill you with this face mask.”

He stares pointedly at the tub sitting next to you on the sink. “It’s scarily green,” he whispers conspiratorially. “Like, it’s Hulk-green. Nothing should be that green.”

“If you’re implying it’s poisonous, it’s not.”

“That’s what they want you to think.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you grumble, spreading the mask across his cheeks, ignoring his murmured whines about how cold it feels on his skin. “You weren’t acting like this last time.”

“You were using a different face mask last time,” he rebuts. “I liked the other one better than this one.”

“Well, I’ll keep that in mind the next time I go to the store,” you hum. “Maybe I’ll even take you with me, so you can choose the face mask. It’ll save me from your complaining in the future.”

“You love my complaining,” he replies quickly. “But I really should. I’d make your grocery trips so much more fun.”

“You’d get us kick out.”

“Would not!” Atsumu scoffs when you don’t even bother to hide your unconvinced mien and places his hands on either side of the marble countertop, trapping you against him and the sink. “I’ll prove it this weekend.”

You shake your head. “I’m not going this weekend. The fall festival is on Saturday, remember? I’m holding off spending money this week so I can buy a ton of cotton candy without feeling guilty.”

“Really?” he snorts. “You’re not gonna get wasted this year?”

“Definitely not. Last year was a nightmare.”

“You don’t even remember what happened.”

“Exactly,” you say, smoothing out the mask. “And you’re always taking care of me when I’m drunk, it makes me feel bad.”

Despite his proximity, you don’t seem to feel the intensity of his stare. His demeanour has softened in the past five minutes, smiling warmly at the pinch between your brows and the way your lips have twisted into a focussed frown.

This has happened countless times before — on all the other self-care nights, Atsumu finds himself in the four walls of your bathroom, free to admire you all he wants without the company of his friends and their teasing remarks. Though he’d never admit it, he prefers the quiet, because here, the both of you aren’t brushing off comments made about your relationship; here, it’s just you and him, pressed against the bathroom sink, worries left behind on the other side of the door.

Here, it’s so peaceful that Atsumu believes, for a few short moments, that everything will be okay.

“Don’t feel bad,” he says breathily, dreading the moment when you finish and he’s forced to pull away. “I like taking care of you.”

“You’re required to do it because we’re friends.”

“No, I like doing it,” he says again, ingraining the statement into your brain so it’ll stay there forever. “You don’t see me letting Bokuto or Hinata — hell, even Suna, stay over at my apartment and sleep in my bed.”

You pause your movements, eyes flickering to his. “What does that make me then?”

“Huh?”

“Bokuto, Hinata, and Suna are your friends, but you don’t pick them up from parties and let them say the night at your place.”

“Well, that’s cause I can’t be bothered most of the time, since they’re usually going to on-campus parties and my place is so far from—”

“But you picked me up a few nights ago,” you interrupt, and Atsumu is drawn to the determination in your irises more than he wants to admit. “And a couple weeks ago too, I think. You’ve been picking me up before I even moved in with Sakusa, and my old place was thirty minutes away.”

“What are you saying, Y/N?”

“What am I to you, Atsumu?”

He grips the countertop so tightly his knuckles are as white as the marble. His heart drums against his ribcage, so loud in the cavity of his chest that he wonders if you can hear it too.

“You’re my friend.”

“Like Bokuto? Or Hinata, or Su—?”

“No, of course not,” he scoffs. Comparing yourself to them is absurd. “It’s diff— you’re different.”

“Different how?”

Suddenly, everything feels stuffy. Tension floods the room until he’s neck-deep in it and drowning, all while you stare up at him, awaiting an answer.

“I—”

Someone knocks loudly on the door.

“Hey!” Bokuto. “Is someone in here?”

You don’t answer. The ball is in Atsumu’s court.

There’s an answer that lingers in his mind, one that he wants to give you despite the risk that it could destroy everything he’s ever known. But as his hesitation grows, the ring buoy that is Bokuto’s voice becomes more tempting — something to save him from this situation where he’s flailing in hope and what-ifs. Something to save him from your want and his dread and all the other sharp objects that could slice your friendship in two.

(Aren’t you the one who’s always saying he should be more responsible?

Doing this is the most responsible thing he could do, isn’t it?)

“We’ll be right out,” he responds, and just as he replies, you pull away from him in defeat.

Everything in his body tightens.

You turn to wash your hands. Through the mirror, he can see you blink rapidly and clench your jaw.

When he finally goes to exit, Bokuto stands impatiently on the other side. His eyebrows rise when he spots the hairband keeping Atsumu’s blond strands out of his face.

“That’s cute,” Bokuto coos, poking at the heart that sticks out from the material.

“Thanks,” Atsumu says, adjusting the band and letting his fingers brush against the plush heart. “It’s Y/N’s.”

The sun had set a long time ago.

In its absence is the moon, its light barely sufficient to lead you and Atsumu home — home being his apartment, but you’ve been there so much it might as well be your own. It’s alright, though, he thinks; your arm is interlinked with his, and that’s all he’ll ever need to guide him.

Your hips bump his as you both walk down the sidewalk, the air a melody of your laughs as he retells a childhood story about him and Osamu. You fail to refrain the teasing comments that fall from your lips about how he’s always been a troublemaker, long before you ever met him.

“You’re supposed to be on my side,” he’d said a couple minutes ago. “Since I’m your favourite and everything.”

You smile, and every time you do so, the more he believes that the bathroom incident has been forgotten.

But Atsumu’s not stupid. He senses your discomfort — it’s miniscule, but it’s there, and deep down he knows it’s all because of what happened last night.

Every Tuesday, you wait for his evening lecture to finish before you both walk back to his place to watch a movie. Some nights you leave before the clock strikes ten, most nights you stay over. It’s a routine that’s been implemented since he first met you, and never once has it ever felt tense.

Atsumu itches to fix it.

“Hey,” he pipes up, hoping to avoid any uncomfortable lulls in conversation. “You never told me how your date went.”

“My date?”

“Yeah. Bokuto says some guy from your Psychology class asked you out.”

“What?”

“At the party.”

You crinkle your nose in thought before a light bulb goes off in your head. “Are you talking about Kuroo?”

Atsumu’s eyes may as well bulge out of the sockets with how much they’ve widened. “Kuroo asked you out?”

“No,” you say quickly. “Well, yes. But he didn’t mean it. He only did it to get someone to stop bothering him.”

Atsumu frowns. “Then why did Bokuto say—?”

“Bokuto was drunk,” you snicker. “Plus, you know how much of a lightweight he is, and Hinata just kept on giving him drinks, so you can imagine how that went.”

“Not good, probably.”

“Nope,” you say. “Just imagine everything that could’ve gone wrong then double it.”

“Did he puke on Akaashi?”

“Yeah, and on Kuroo too.”

“See, that’s why I never let him stay the night.”

Your smile wavers and he pinches himself for saying anything in the first place.

“That’s probably the only good idea you’ve ever had,” you eventually say, but your voice is weaker than you intend it to be.

Atsumu can’t find the energy to argue.

He allows himself to be pulled down the street, your footsteps hasty compared to how he tries to drag his feet along the cement. Atsumu assumes you want to get this night over with, to spend only an hour — maybe two — with him before bidding goodbye, and the thought causes an ugly feeling to root itself into the pit of his stomach.

The wind whistles in warning. He should’ve expected something like this.

All good things come to an end is something he’s heard far too many times to count, but Atsumu is nothing if not an optimist, and even so, he never thought a saying such as that could ever apply to his friendship with you. Despite the hardships, the two of you have always pulled through.

But the clouds begin to drift over the moon, hindering its light, and his stomach churns at what’s to come.

Your voice, disguised as a remedy to soothe his unease, carries him forward. “Listen, I think I’ll head home after the movie.”

He blinks. “What?”

“I just want to sleep in my own bed tonight, y’know?”

“You can sleep in mine,” he suggests, his tone bordering on a plea. You always sleep in mine. “I can sleep on the couch.”

“It’s okay, Tsumu,” you reply. “You’re probably tired of seeing me all the time, anyway.”

“I’m not,” he insists.

You give him a tight smile in response.

Atsumu’s always believed he was good with words. His voice has failed him before, sure, and it’s not like it’s a secret that sometimes his carelessness lands him in undesirable situations, but he’s usually so quick on his feet. He knows what to say, and if he doesn’t, he can crank up the charm until everyone in the vicinity begins to suffocate on his charisma.

Miya Atsumu is rarely ever speechless.

But then you started acting different, and suddenly he couldn’t decipher your expressions or predict your every move. You would dance with him in the kitchen and tenderly apply skincare products on his face, but no matter how much he pulled you close, you would drift further away. You’d open up before brushing everything off as if he had nothing to worry about.

It's like you haven’t been paying attention at all. If it involved you, Atsumu would always worry.

The question slips out of his mouth too quickly for him to control. “Are you ever gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

“What?”

He stops walking, and as a result, so do you. “Something’s been bothering you,” he says hoarsely. “And I was waiting it out because I thought you’d tell me, but… I feel like you never will.”

You lick your lips — to stall, he thinks, but doing so only spares you a second. “Do you have any guesses?”

“Huh?”

“You’re not an idiot,” you sigh. “You must have some idea.”

(And, perhaps, maybe a small part of him does. You’re his best friend, and he is yours, and you each earned that title by knowing the other like the moon knows the stars, like the stars know the sky, like the sky knows the sun.

He knows, you know he does. But this is irresponsible. It threatens everything).

“I don’t,” he lies.

“Atsumu,” you exhale, as if he’s entangled in your system, “do you really need me to say it?”

He doesn’t answer. You continue, anyway.

Three words are whispered into the dead of night, and the world tilts on its axis.

This was never part of the routine.

“Maybe I should just go home,” you murmur when he doesn’t speak. His fingers twitch, screaming at him to reach out for you as soon as you pull away. “I’ll see you when I see you.”

“Y/N—”

“Just let me go,” you say — you beg. “Please.”

His body screams, his nerves flare, but the messenger between his spinal cord and his brain fails to relay the message that he should do everything in his power to prevent you from leaving.

“Okay,” he responds. His voice sounds like it hasn’t been in use for years, tainted with defeat.

You turn to leave, and for the first time since you’ve met him, Atsumu doesn’t follow.

Atsumu’s moody, he has been for a while, and it doesn’t take long for everyone to realize it’s because of you.

Or, more specifically, the absence of you.

You’ve been spending more time by yourself than you have been with anyone else, cooped up in the safety of your bedroom and listening to — according to Sakusa — music that ranges from soft, heartbroken ballads, to hardcore fuck-you anthems. The lack of your presence is strange; you’ve always been a constant in Atsumu’s life, and to live without it leaves a lingering emptiness in his chest.

He'll catch glimpses of you sometimes on campus, and he feels, what he assumes to be, the same emotion people feel when they claim they’ve spotted Bigfoot.

For a moment, everything feels a little more bearable.

But then you disappear, leaving sorrow in your wake, and reality washes over him like an ice-cold bucket of water.

His moping is how he ends up tagging along with Bokuto and Hinata at the fall festival, trailing after them like an upset puppy while they frolic down the streets, gawking at all the stands and taste-testing every snack they come across. The plan was to have them cheer him up, to make him smile even if it’s only for a second, because when Atsumu is upset, it becomes everyone else’s problem.

Hinata offers him some funnel cake and Atsumu absentmindedly murmurs about how it’s your favourite. They all buy friendship bracelets and Atsumu buys one for you too because he knows how much you’d want one. They all clamber onto the carousel and Atsumu wonders if you’d fall off if you rode the horse.

Bokuto and Hinata get tired of it all eventually.

“He’s hopeless,” Bokuto cries when they reunite with Suna and Osamu. “He won’t stop whining.”

Atsumu opts for standing on his toes to look over the crowd in hopes of finding you instead of replying to his friend. His eyes drift first to the ring toss, then to the man selling cotton candy, then to the spinning teacups.

Nothing.

Osamu says something that finally catches his brother’s attention. “Well, Y/N’s not coming,” he waves his phone in the air, which is open on his message thread with you. “Said they were busy.”

Hinata huffs. “They’re only saying that cause Tsumu’s here.”

Bokuto slaps his arm. “Shoyo!”

“What? It’s true!” he exclaims defensively. “You know how they’re always on top of their assignments, I doubt they’re doing anything but watching TV and—”

“Yeah, but still, don’t say that! Isn’t Tsum-Tsum heartbroken enough?”

“I am not heartbroken,” Atsumu snarls.

Suna gives him a look. “Well…”

“I’m not!” he flails, frantically gesturing to himself to show that he’s perfectly fine. “I mean, yeah, am I a little upset? Yes. But heartbroken? You guys are just saying anything at this point, like—”

Osamu interrupts him before he can continue rambling and digging himself into a bigger hole. “What did you even do, anyway?”

The Miya twins are notorious on campus for their bickering, but Atsumu thought that in this situation, at least his own brother would be on his side. “What makes you think this is all my fault?”

Osamu raises an eyebrow, mocking and patronizing. “Well, for one—”

“If anything,” Atsumu continues, hurriedly cutting him off, “I should be the one avoiding them. Not that I’d want to, I’d never want to, obviously, but if we were getting technical then they should be the one worrying about me and not the other way around.”

Hinata speaks, mouth full of the last of his funnel cake. “Who says they don’t worry about you?”

“I— wait, what?”

“They’re always asking me and Shoyo about how you’re doing,” Bokuto chirps. “How screwed up could things be that you won’t talk to each other?”

Atsumu inhales, and he feels the world begin to collapse into him. Unsure of what to say, unsure of what to think, unsure if it’s fair of him to reach for his phone and hope you’ll answer his calls. He knows why the two of you have found yourselves here, standing on opposite sides of a field of regret and hurt. He knows, that in his attempt to dodge change, he blew something up in the process.

Suna tilts his head in question. “Atsumu. What happened?”

Atsumu exhales. “They told me that—” the words lodge themselves in his throat, unwilling to leave.

But they all understand.

“Huh,” Suna hums. “Didn’t think they had it in them.”

“What did you reply with?” Osamu asks.

Atsumu prepares himself for their rage. “Nothing.”

He’s met with silence. Then, incredulously, Suna asks, “Are you stupid?”

Osamu answers for him. “Chronically so.”

Atsumu doesn’t have the heart to respond to the jab, and the severity of the situation significantly increases.

Hinata bites the inside of his cheek in thought. “I think he’s broken.”

Bokuto leans forward to study Atsumu’s expression as much as he can before the latter waves him off. With a frown, Bokuto steps back and looks around the grounds, hoping to find something that’ll cheer Atsumu up and make tonight not a complete bust.

A tent, flashy and sparkly and enchanting, lures him in.

Osamu looks like he’s about to say something, but before he can utter a word, Bokuto tugs on Atsumu’s sleeve and drags him to the tent, ignoring his protests. “I have an idea,” he says reassuringly, but it does nothing to calm his friend. “Trust me on this.”

Atsumu snatches his arm back and rubs it as if Bokuto’s harmed him. He cranes his neck around to look at the sign just outside the tent, and scowls at the pink and yellow doodles on the chalkboard.

“This is a psychic.”

Bokuto nods vigorously. “Yes.”

“Your idea of cheering me up is having me scammed?”

Bokuto pouts. “You love stuff like this.”

He’s not wrong. If it were any other day, this place would be Atsumu’s first stop. He’d be the one begging people to join him despite the fact that he knows the consequences involve a dent in his bank account, but today, predictions of his future are the last thing on his mind. Today, convincing people to get their fortune read is the least of his desires, because you aren’t trying to convince people with him.

There’s no point being here without you.

Atsumu moves to get out of line.

“Hey, dude,” Bokuto whines and holds onto his arm to keep him in place. “Just give it a try. It can’t hurt, can it?”

“Boku—”

“It’ll be fun!” he says cheerily. “Maybe it’ll give you some insight on how to apologize to Y/N.”

Atsumu wants nothing more than to move — to leave — but Bokuto mastered the art of the puppy dog eyes long before he could talk, and the moment he flashes them Atsumu realizes he has no other choice but to stay.

When he steps into the tent, the atmosphere changes.

He tugs on the sleeves of his windbreaker when the autumn air threatens to pierce his skin, and reluctantly sits down on the chair across from the psychic. She eyes his every move, trying to figure out what type of customer he might be — someone who’s just doing this for fun, or someone who’s going through a rough patch, or someone who needs a stranger to light the path they need to walk down.

Atsumu fidgets in his seat.

“You’re here for a reading?”

A shrug and feigned indifference are what she receives as an answer. “Sure.”

His mask of nonchalance begins to slip when the reading starts, growing restless as he checks the time on his watch and calculating the probability of you still being awake. He glances over his shoulder, praying to whichever deity who’ll listen that Bokuto will come in and drag him out once he’s realized that this is the last thing Atsumu wants.

You are not here, and his body stings whenever the reminder worms its way into his mind.

His uneasiness must amuse the psychic, because when he finally looks back at her, she’s grinning, knotting his stomach in worry.

She asks him a dreadful question, made of nuts and bolts and things that rub salt in the wound of his heart.

What is it that you desire most, boy?

Atsumu freezes, plastering a confused smile on his face. “I’m sorry?”

“I’m sure you know. Is it strength?”

Definitely not, Atsumu wants to say. He’s more than capable enough to lift heavy boxes, he doesn’t have to take multiple trips to move things from point A to point B, he doesn’t struggle carrying his friends’ slump and inebriated bodies into a bed.

Atsumu is strong. He’s proved it during his frequent trips to the gym and by winning arm-wrestling contests. He wears the trait like a badge of honour, a reminder.

He does not need any more physical strength.

He checks his watch and wonders if you’ve brushed your teeth and dragged yourself to bed.

The psychic pushes. “Power?”

Atsumu briefly shakes his head, a movement so miniscule it’s a surprise the woman catches it.

It used to be such a thrill, the popularity that came with his volleyball reign. He used to ride that horse and sit in that throne with pride, he let the excitement course through him and, for a while, let himself believe the squeals that came with victory was interchangeable with love.

But power does not compare. He was foolish to believe nothing could beat the rush that came with the admiration — the shouts of his name in the bleachers, the ever-growing follower count, the people confessing their infatuation whenever they caught him alone.

They do not know who he is underneath the volleyball uniform. They don’t know that he likes to go to the diner after games and order a strawberry milkshake, or that his bottom drawer is filled to the brim with spare clothes for you, or that his favourite nights are spent with you applying a face mask to his skin.

They will never know him as much as you do.

The psychic leans forward. “Love?”

Atsumu clenches his jaw. Yes, would be the short answer, but to say that without an explanation would mean to lie, and he’s never been a good liar. Because Atsumu’s always been loved — not by the crowds or the student body — but by his friends, his family, you.

You gave your heart to him, and he noticed too late that the bleeding organ resided in the palm of his hand, cracked and yearning and brave. And after he realized this, he selfishly craved for more, even though he knew it scared him. He has been in relationships before, but none of them crossed the threshold of what truly mattered — the intimate conversations, the dances in the kitchen at midnight, the confessions murmured under the duvet.

So, perhaps, yes, Atsumu desires love, but the one thing he supposes he wants more is courage.

The psychic smiles. “Ah. Bingo. So—”

“Miya.”

Atsumu whips his head around to find Sakusa standing at the entrance, skillfully ignoring the protests behind him to get in line and wait his turn. Sakusa raises an eyebrow at the situation Atsumu’s found himself in, but saves him from his judgement to state, “Bokuto told me you were in here.”

“Excuse me,” the woman chirps. “We’re in the middle of something.”

“If you think a scam is what’ll solve your problems, then you’re stupider than I thought,” Sakusa says.

Atsumu sighs. “You came here just to tell me that?”

“Well, yeah,” Sakusa shrugs. “There’s a simpler solution to all of this.”

“Okay, well—”

“Talk to them,” Sakusa interrupts, exhausted. “Before they give up.”

Atsumu kisses his teeth, changing his position in his chair so he’s fully facing Sakusa. “Since when were you the type to give advice?”

Sakusa ignores his retort with a shake of his head and a roll of his eyes.

“I have never seen you cower before, Miya,” Sakusa says, and the words are like needles on his skin. “Don’t let the first time you do so be now.”

Atsumu inhales shakily. “I don’t—”

“They got Hinge a few days ago,” Sakusa deadpans. Atsumu stiffens. “Don’t lose to some hack they found on a dating app.”

Atsumu looks from his friend to the clairvoyant before flashing her a sheepish smile and shooting clumsily out of his chair. The words that tumble from his mouth are barely coherent, and the last thing he hears before he exits the tent is Sakusa mumbling moron under his breath.

The journey from the festival to your apartment is a blur. He vaguely recalls running past his friends and returning their questioning shouts with a wave of his hand and getting angry at least two cars who cut him on the road, before he ends up in front of your door, nose tinged red from the cold.

His knocks are insistent.

“I’m coming, God, be patient,” he hears you say before you open the door to see him, and your annoyance is wiped away in seconds.

“Hi,” he says, out of breath from running up three flights of stairs after he got impatient waiting for the elevator. His eyes land on the blanket you’ve wrapped over your shoulders, and his lips quirk up at the familiar pattern. “Didn’t I get you that?”

You tug on the material defensively. “What are you doing here?” you ask. “And what the hell are you wearing? Did you not look at the weather before you left the house? It’s freezing outside, you idiot, you should be wearing a thicker jacket. And your face is so red! And your hands! They’re gonna get all dry if you don’t wear gloves! How many times do I have to tell you to dress for the weather otherwise you’ll get sick and…”

Atsumu rasps, “And?”

You gulp, taking a step back to distance yourself. “And you shouldn’t be here,” you say, sending a knife to his chest. “I thought you were at the festival.”

“That’s why you didn’t come,” he concludes. “Because I was there.”

“Well, what do you expect me to do?” you snap. “I told you I loved you and you looked at me like I was crazy.”

“I didn’t.”

“Whatever,” you bark. “My point still stands. You shouldn’t be here.”

He nods. “I know.”

“Then why are you?”

Eight letters are whispered into the darkness of the entryway, and the world is thrown off-balance.

“I love you,” he says, surprising himself with just how easy the words escape after he lets them, “and I’m so, so sorry.”

Your lips part in surprise. “What?”

“I love you,” he repeats. “And I should’ve told you sooner, but I— I was scared—”

“Then why are you telling me now?”

“I don’t know,” he whispers. “Love conquers all, I guess. My fear included.”

“You came all the way here to tell me that?”

He risks a step towards you and his heart flutters when you don’t move away. “I ran out of a psychic’s tent, too.”

“What?”

“I’ll tell you later,” he murmurs. “That’s not important right now.”

“It sounds pretty important, I mean, you mentioned it and everything.”

“It’s not.”

“What exactly is more important than that?”

“Your forgiveness, actually.”

You huff. “Believe it or not, forgiveness doesn’t come so easily, Atsumu.”

“Can I kiss you, then?” he questions innocently, placing a hand against your cheek. “Will you take that as an apology?”

You still, licking your lips as you try to maintain your defiant stance. “…That won’t work every time you make me mad, you know.”

He tries his best not to smirk. “Is that a yes?”

“I hate you.”

He lets his lips hover over yours, and he’s not sure if the loud heartbeat ringing in his ears is his or yours (or maybe a mixture of both). “Is that yes?” he asks again, searching your eyes for any signs of discomfort.

Your eyes flicker to his mouth and then you mumble, “Yes.”

Atsumu pinches himself before capturing his lips with yours, eager and desperate, to kiss you with enough pent-up want and need to cause you to stumble. He’s gentle in the way he cradles your face, as if the world has found itself in his hands, still beautiful despite how much he’s hurt it.

He’ll make up for hurting you later, but for now he’ll allow himself to be selfish.

I love you, he whispers into your mouth, and you capture the confession with your own and let it live in your beating heart.

I love you, he whispers into your neck as you both stumble into the kitchen, making sure to tattoo the words into your skin so you’ll never forget.

“I love you,” he whispers one last time as the blanket covers you both and he’s sure you’ve lulled to sleep with your ear against his chest and his thumb drawing hearts on your shoulder, “so, so much.”

Slumber takes over you both, blanketing your smiling figures with hope and love.

© fushisagi, 2023. do not translate or plagiarize my works.

#atsumu #miya atsumu #hq #haikyuu #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #atsumu fluff #miya atsumu fluff #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #atsumu angst #miya atsumu angst #haikyuu angst #hq angst #fic: miya atsumu and the chronic lovesick disease

[missmeinyourbones]

CLEAN ME UP 

c/w: established relationship, hurt/comfort, light mentions of blood and injury, atsumu lowkey gets his ass beat </3 but he is so sweet

Atsumu sits crisscrossed on the floor of your bathroom with a tender black eye and a busted lip—and though this should be a rare thing, you need all five fingers to count the number of times you’ve seen this film before.

The first two were ages ago, high school days when he and Osamu couldn’t stop themselves from throwing a punch or two over nothing at all. Their egos too big and brains too small, twice you'd gotten roped into their post-brawl aftercare. Another time it was a fight off the court, when a rival captain made a snide remark about his foul accent. The fourth, a drunken, immature mistake.

Tonight’s wounds are different. Because when Atsumu nonchalantly shows up black and blue at your door, he doesn’t tell you what happened. There’s no story attached to the bruises he bares, no lengthy explanations or excuses. And Atsumu is a lot of things, but speechless is never one of them. 

He looks childish, you think, the way his broad body folds itself into a tiny pretzel and hardly takes up a corner of your tiled floor. He’s oddly quiet, too. Sure, you heard his witty comments down the hallway about how you should see the other guy, but something’s still off. His eyes aren't lit with their usual flame of youth, pride. 

Only a few words are exchanged through the process of cleaning him up. Between wet washcloths and tiny sniffles, Atsumu fumes, You haven't asked enough questions yet, and it’s beginning to freak him out. He doesn't know whether or not he should be grateful or unsettled with your silence.

A frozen bag of vegetables presses against his left eyelid when you finally ask, "What the hell did you do this time?"

Atsumu smiles at the mere sound of your voice, an instant warmth against the burning ice on his body. "Why's it always my fault?"

You remove the bag from his brow to shoot him a look, that look. He knows better than to argue with that look. Arguing with that look gets him nothing but trouble and an achy back from a night on the couch. So, he diverts. 

"Nothing,” he sulks. “He started it, and—"

"—And you finished it, right?" 

Your words are meant to be sarcastic, at his dispense of how stupid he behaved, but Atsumu doesn't take them as such. Instead, at your interruption, he shoots you an earnest smile filled with satisfaction and dried blood stretched across his chapped lips.  

"See? So smart, baby." 

His hand rises to pet your chin but you lean back quick enough to dodge his caress. His eyes fall to the bag of vegetables that now sits by your lap. 

“Atsumu,” you try again, foreboding. 

He rolls his head back in a huff against the bench of the bathtub, and the ceramic feels warm against his neck compared to the still stinging chill on his eye. 

“What was I supposed to do? They were bein’ assholes.”

His whole team had gone out drinking tonight for a celebratory round or five, followed by a few days off. And as charming as Atsumu is, he does have his foes. People in the volleyball world he’s not the biggest fan of, for reasons he doesn’t seem to discuss with you. He likes to leave it at his good intuition, something you know he lacks.  

With the context clues provided, you can think of two or three people he’s implying. 

His reasoning is flawed, to say the least, but the way he says it has your heart breaking in the slightest. He avoids eye contact, as if he's embarrassed, dancing around the subject and wishing the ground to swallow him whole. 

His shyness has you trying a softer approach. 

“Everyone is an asshole,” you whisper, lightly returning pressure to his eye with the makeshift ice, “if punching assholes was reasonable, I’d do it all the time.”

Atsumu smiles a bit at that, but you catch how he winces slightly at the movement. 

“Yer so funny, baby,” he tries to trail off. “Funniest person I—”

“Miya,” comes his second warning, and by the look in your eye, he’s not brave enough to try for a third.

“Fine,” he grumbles, “but when yer a Miya, I’m playing that card on you, too. Y’know that, right?” 

You nod, and whether it's to his proposal or to encourage his words, you don't know. But it works, because Atsumu takes a deep breath and stares at the ceiling again. 

“This time was different, okay?”

His tone is eerily soft. One only you get the privilege of hearing, and not because it's out of love, but because it's out of hate. Something’s shaken him so bad, he’s almost been rendered speechless. 

“How was it different?”

“They were talking about you,” he shakily exhales. “Sayin’ stupid shit that isn’t true.”

Your heart softens as you do your best to keep a strong facade, but maybe Atsumu does have good intuition, as his hand squeezes yours through the quick moment of silence. 

“If it’s not true, then it shouldn't have mattered, right?” you try.

“No,” he’s quick to work himself up again, eyes finding yours. “Like hell was I gonna let ‘em keep talking about you like that, ‘specially when I’m right fuckin’ there.” 

Your fingers lightly skim his jaw, nowhere sensitive but he jumps all the same. You apply pressure to tilt his head, forcing him to find your gaze. He does.

“Do you want to tell me what they said?”

Atsumu gaze softens, and after a moment of thinking, he shakes his head. 

“No,” he decides, “I don’t.” 

His eyes fall to your lips and back up to your eyes. “Do you want to know?”

You smile at his sincerity. Atsumu, who you know to be just as sweet as he is boisterous, would tell you if you asked. He’d do anything you ask. But, you decide against it. 

“No. No, I don’t.” 

Atsumu exhales a breath he didn't realize he was holding as he lets his head nuzzle against your palm. Contrary to the ice, it's warm and soft on his skin. He thinks it could heal wounds faster than any bag of broccoli ever could. 

“I trust you,” he hears you coo into his hairline, kisses now dancing along his forehead and jaw, “even if you do have the emotional intelligence of a middle school boy, sometimes.”

Astumu hmphs at your words, simultaneously agreeing and brushing you off. He doesn't care enough to bicker, right now. He doesn’t need to tell you about how the man from the bar was talking about you. About how easy you’d be to persuade into bed. About how you're just with Atsumu for his flashy perks and award winning smile. 

He doesn't need to because he knows they're wrong. Because they don't see these moments, when Atsumu sits on the ledge of your empty bathtub. With popped blood vessels and tender welts, those men don't melt beneath your careful fingertips or soothing pecks. 

He doesn't have to say anything, because you trust him. You trust Atsumu, and it's the one thing in this world he knows to be true. 

He lifts his head up from your hold to find your lips. 

“I jus’ love you,” he insists, lightly pressing himself to you with such caution, “so much.” 

And if there’s one thing in this world you know to be true, it's that Miya Atsumu loves you.   

#atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x you #miya atsumu x you #atsumu angst #atsumu fluff #miya atsumu fluff #miya astumu angst #atsumu fic #miya atsumu fic #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu atsumu

[mangogobibiboo]

Fighting for them w/ Hinata, Atsumu, Osamu

Hinata, Miya Twins x Reader (Seperate)// Warnings: Bodily harm and fighting // Word Count: 1000+

Synopsis: In which they are flirted with, and you just can't take it anymore. (DO NOT DO THIS)

Osamu:

This girl had been coming into the shop daily for the past month to stare at Osamu. She always got the same order: an iced matcha tea with a strawberry ice cream mochi. It was just a cutesy order, too. You scoff just as the words leave her mouth.

It's not like it was a bestseller that most people ordered. You must admit you were a tad irrational; some may say it was petty. But she was gawking at YOUR man. It was unforgivable.

You couldn't help but scoff every time she came into the store and ordered in her stupid cute voice, batting her eyelashes, leaning over the counter ever so slightly to make sure he would get a peek at her cleavage. She did the same thing today but went too far this time. She gripped his biceps and gushed over how strong he must be. Those were YOUR BICEPS that only you had the right to feel up and gush over. How dare she!

You had enough. You stomped up to the counter and shoved her out of the way, knocking her to the ground. She looked up at you with wide eyes, almost on the verge of tears. "Back off, my boyfriend," was the only thing you needed to say before she hurried away. "And don't forget your drink!" you yell after her as you grab the order from the counter and cuck it out the door, barely missing her.

"Ya been talkin to Tsumu too much." You look back to Osamu to see him laughing. "Crazy does look hot on you, baby, but you probably shouldn't do that again. I need these people to come back. Yer gonna kill ma livelihood." He came around the counter and planted a kiss on your forehead.

"I'm not crazy! And how come you never said anything to her? " you playfully punch his chest.

"Cuz, I barely notice em. Yer only one for me." you snuggle closer into his chest. "Okay?" "Okay."

Atsumu:

"C'mon, babe, talk ta me. I tried to tell 'er off, I swear!" It was after a game, and Atsumu was driving the two of you home, albeit unwillingly on your part. He had to beg you to get in the car, and you were set on taking a taxi. Leading to at least 30 minutes of quiet arguing in the parking garage. You felt a bit guilty making such a fuss, knowing how tired he must be from his game. But it was all the more reason to let you take a taxi like you wanted!

This was probably already bubbling before tonight. About two weeks ago, the Jackles had hired a couple of assistant managers. There was one in particular that gave you pause. You knew her; everyone on the team knew her. Not personally, of course. She was notorious for her affair with a captain of another team down in Okinawa. The scandal was in every magazine across Japan for weeks. It was a shitshow. The captain had to leave the team, and his wife left him, not that he didn't deserve that. And she was forced to step away as well. But it seemed that it didn't damage her professional reputation too much as the Jackles so quickly hired her.

After the game, you saw her throw herself onto Atsumu and gush about how amazing he was. She had his hands all over him.

If you had taken two seconds to process things, you would have seen that he was uncomfortable.

It was outside the locker room, so there was no press, but you were there, and before you knew it, you grabbed onto her hair, pulling her away. She didn't miss a beat, grabbing onto your hair as well. You two wrestled to the ground, scratching each other up before Atsumu finally got you off her. She yelled something about you being "A crazy bitch" before walking off.

Now you were sitting in the car, scratched up with a sore scalp, giving your boyfriend the silent treatment. "Baby, I swear, I was gonna tell 'er off, but ya didn't give me a chance." You stayed quiet, still not looking at him. "Fine, how 'bout I get yer favorite food and give ya all the cuddles ya want." You look at him, arms still crossed on your chest, and grumble, "And we watch a movie.". He smiled a bit and chuckled. "Okay, anythin' ya want. You kinda scare me now, babe."

Hinata:

Shoyo was too pure for his own good. He doesn't even realize the bartender is flirting with him. She was playing right into it, too! She opened by asking about his nice tan, which was all your dear boyfriend needed to start going on and on about Brazil and beach volleyball. In his excitement, he couldn't see how her eyes roamed his dress shirt, which couldn't quite contain his newly built Brazilian body.

But you noticed.

Honestly, after a few drinks, you didn't care if he noticed; you just wanted it to stop. You stomp over from the dance floor to the bar. Pull the bartender in by her ear and pour the drink she had served Hinata down her shirt. This quickly earns you a punch, and before you know it, the two of you grabbed a fistful of each other hair and began screaming obscenities at each other. It took Hinata a minute to process what was happening, and as soon as he did, it took all his strength to pull you two away from each other. After that, you two quickly ran off before the girl returned with the security. You make it outside and lean in an alley while trying to catch your breath when Hinata pipes up, still out of breath.

"Wow, Y/N, when did you get so strong? You have to teach me how to fight like that." He looked at you in awe; honestly, you couldn't help but laugh. You had to admit that you were a tad embarrassed by your outburst. How could you ever let your jealousy get the better of you? He was perfect and absolutely adored you, even in this situation,

A/n: Hi, yes, hello. I just wanted to pop in to say…THIS IS FICTION. Please don't do this in real life!

#haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu fluff #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #osamu scenarios #haikyuu osamu #osamu headcanons #osamu x reader #miya osamu #atsumu headcanons #msby atsumu #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu #atsumu miya #hinata x reader #hinata headcanons #hinata shouyou #hinata shoyo x reader

[cr4yolaas]

not strong enough — miya osamu

notes: based off of “not strong enough” by boygenius <3

tags: reverse comfort, cheating implications (no actual cheating), self-deprecation + jealousy (osamu), super heartfelt tho

osamu hadn’t been home lately.

the kitchen was devoid of heart and soul. gone was the warmth that seeped into the apartment at his presence, or the comfort that his voice provided as it wafted through the halls. you didn’t see nor feel him anymore, save for the few glimpses of him getting ready before the sun could even greet your windowsill.

miya osamu was disappearing from your life, and you could do nothing but prepare for it.

you instantly feared the worst — that he was planning to leave you, or that he was seeking solace in another, or anything else that involved him separating himself from the life he built in your shared home. and so, delusion after delusion fed into one another, thus leading to an overwhelming bubble of anxiety that infected every inch of your bones.

when you had finally seen him — not just witnessed his shadow in the darkness of a lonesome bedroom — he appeared as if he had just barely dragged himself home. his skin hung heavy under his eyes, his hair was oily and tousled, his hands seemingly obtained an impossible amount of callouses and burns and scratches. you did not say a word, fearful for his response. instead, you held him in your arms in the doorway as he collapsed to the floor, the buckle of his knees bringing you down with him.

you could hear the remnants of an apology muttered into your shirt (his shirt, truthfully).

“what was that, ‘samu?” you whispered, your voice barely reaching his ears.

he turned his head to look to the side with his cheek still firm on your shoulder. “don’t ya ever wish things were different?”

his voice was hoarse; it was littered with exhaustion and pain and misery that you could not begin to understand. his question nestled itself deep into your lungs. you weren’t entirely sure what he was asking.

“a life where you’re living comfortably … and you’re free to do whatever your want …” he began to trail off, his features lined with sleepiness. “didn’t ya ever want that?”

you began to rub circles around his back, which was damp from the sweat that accumulated beneath his work uniform. you were waiting patiently for him to say it — to tell you to go pursue greater things to conceal his desire to rid himself of you, or that he didn’t deserve you because he had committed an act of betrayal. but instead, he continued, “‘tsumu’s doing great things … ‘n he’s rich ‘n happy ‘n famous and so much more. but what about me? what have i done?”

his words dissipated gradually. the cracks in his voice exposed him quite easily, not to mention the teardrops staining your skin. “you’ve done more than enough for me, ‘samu. i’m sorry i didn’t make you feel that way.” your boyfriend only gripped onto your harder, as if he were scared you would melt away if he didn’t.

“i jus’ wanna make you happy. i’m not sure if my job can even do that,” he muttered. “i’m trying to work harder at the shop, but i’m scared it isn’t enough.”

if it were situationally acceptable, you would have heaved a heavy sigh of relief. but it was not — so instead, you began to hold him impossibly tighter. “you don’t need to work so hard for me to love n’ appreciate you. everything about you is enough to make me happy,” you spoke softly to him. “as long as you’re by my side, i’m happy.”

miya osamu, despite his intricacies, was a delicate man at heart. that night, as you held him at the front door, the porcelain shell concealing his truest soul had shattered.

#haikyuu #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu!! fanfics #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu smut #haikyuu osamu #osamu haikyuu #osamu miya #miya osamu #osamu x reader #osamu fluff #osamu angst #osamu smut #haikyuu atsumu #atsumu haikyuu #atsumu miya

[tomitsuya]

pairing. kita/f!reader/atsumu

summary. kita shinsuke knows better than to ignore what he wants. atsumu knows better than to deny what’s in front of him. you know better than to lie about what your heart truly desires.

tags. angst, love triangle, growing up, slice of life, atsumu and kita keep their timeskip jobs, kita is the same age as atsumu and the reader, small town au

part two. i live under an overcast sky. | series masterlist

Your life is a torrential downpour. 

You tear down the poster of Keio University you pinned up on your bulletin board. You tear the pictures, the polaroids, the love letter Kita wrote you. If he could tear your heart to shreds, you could tear up everything he gave you. If you meant so little to him, then so would he to you. You would force him out of your life too. You ignore the genuine twinge in your heart that you feel when the carefully crafted words he wrote up for you are ripped to shreds in your hands. 

As you open up your laptop to pull up your favourite playlist, the application screen for your selected Tokyo universities mock you. You exit the screen with a huff, tears brimming at your lashes. 

Kita Shinsuke threw away your plans to go to university together in Tokyo because he wanted to find himself in this small town, he had plans to work on his uncle’s rice farm. He tells you something meaningful (meaningless) about how life finds a way of besting you even if you follow its intended path and so all he wanted to do were the things that gave him comfort. Greatness was not destined for him, Kita Shinsuke wanted to build his future in a rice field somewhere. He didn’t want to leave and he didn’t want to hold you back. He had his responsibilities and they didn’t include you. So be it. You would give up on him too. You didn’t care to understand where he was coming from for how could he have but a taste of greatness in the city and then come crawling back with no intention to go out and seek it again? 

Your heart genuinely feels like its been split open. Everything that you worked for and dreamed of has been dashed now– you feel helpless and hurt and lost. 

Atsumu bears the brunt of your tirade, holding you as you cry in his arms after screaming about the boy who broke your heart. You soak his sweater in tears, allowing him to buy you ice cream and milk tea and a plush toy and keep you company when you’ve been able to manage nothing more than sobs and forlorn sighs. 

He showed up last week, after you ignored his messages for two days straight, never having left your room, save to use the bathroom and have dinner. He burst into your room, brows furrowed until he catches sight of you crying into your hands. 

“Hey, hey,” he soothes, “What’s this about?” 

“He broke up with me,” you blubber, “After you lost to Karasuno.” 

Atsumu’s face softens immediately. He pulls you into his arms, tucking your head under his chin. He smells nice, like soap and the cologne you saved up to get him for his birthday last year. You lose yourself in his warmth for a moment, trying your best not to compare his arms to Kita’s. 

He’s been showing up every day in an effort to cheer you up, and the two of you would watch movies together or laugh about an old memory, before you inevitably broke down into tears as he held you and rubbed your back. 

“Listen,” he says, “I’m going to Osaka. I’ve been scouted by a team there. Ya can come with me, we can live together. Osamu’s heading there too for culinary school. It’ll be like always.” 

He’s desperate to piece you together, “There are good universities there, too. Ya can come with me; there’s so much more out there than yer could ever have here. With him.” 

“I’ll do it,” you take his metaphorically proffered hand and leap. Osaka could be good too. It’s a big city, with shiny offices and good schools, you could make something of yourself, just in a different place (with a different boy).  

You pack your bags, apply for the schools, go apartment hunting with him, have a heart-to-heart with your grandmother. 

“Be sure that you’re going there because you want to and not because you’re running away,” she tells you.

You nod, assuring her that it’s long been your dream to venture out. But you don’t mention that it was equally your dream to make a home with Kita. A part of forcing him out includes leaving him behind, something which cuts you deeply when you see the resigned smile he gives you at the train station, eyeing Atsumu’s protective posture by your side with a hint of disdain. He has no such right to, but you revel in the jealousy he seems to exhibit. 

Atsumu embraces his newfound proximity by your side with gusto, easily filling in the space that was previously occupied by Kita. This is what he’s always wanted, after all, and facing no obstructions means he has a clear path to you, even if his own sight is clouded by your heartache at the empty space. He sees a window of opportunity but you see a gaping hole. 

Atsumu is a good roommate, despite every instinct in your body thinking otherwise. He’s clean and keeps to himself, never brings over unwanted guests and even keeps all his fights with his brother confined to his room only. You try to be as equally considerate, making sure that if you’re burning the midnight oil it’s in your room so he can get the adequate rest he needs to function at his early morning volleyball practices. 

The two of you have always been close, so moving in together wasn’t at all hard. His brother preferred to dorm at the university he was studying at, but Osamu was a frequent houseguest. Still, Atsumu and you had managed to build a little cosy nest of your own, complete with your trinkets lying around together with his awards and photographs. 

“Tsumu,” you ask one day, your knees pressed against each other as you fold laundry on the sofa, “Why don’t you bring any girls home?” 

He turns pale. “I’m not really interested in that sorta stuff.” 

Your eyes narrow, “Even Osamu is seeing someone. I thought you’d be ahead of him when it came to this kinda thing.” 

He scoffs, “I’m too busy with the team, is all! I could get a girl if I wanted to, no problem!” 

You giggle, punching his arm. “Let me know if I need to find someplace else to stay for the evening.”

He gives you a watery smile, nodding slowly. Atsumu looks like he wants to say something, gripping his t-shirt tightly in his fists, but he decides against it at the last minute. You nudge his knee with yours, trying to lighten the mood. He smiles back, poking your side. Soon, your laundry lays abandoned while he tries to tickle you to death. 

As the months go by, you settle into a routine. Atsumu takes cleaning the living room and grocery shopping, you take the bathroom and cooking. You do your best to help him out with his extensive meal plan, initially a stress relief for you to cook after a long day at school. Now, it feels more like your grounding in reality, the rhythmic slicing of vegetables or steaming of rice soothing your tired, tired soul. Work is so draining. Osaka is so draining. 

Cooking chains you to the earth. You look at the vegetables you’re slicing and the beef from Kobe with a small smile— home. Even all the way here in Osaka, home has a way of finding you. 

But the thought of waking up and going to face another computer screen made your stomach twist. But you had to— bills to pay, parents to please. Atsumu had his own burdens to deal with, like sponsors, his coach and his teammates who demanded he be at his physical best every single day. You couldn’t keep turning to him with your disappointed face as he comes home exhausted but fulfilled from another day of living his dream. You wish you could have even a crumb of the happiness he had; clearly, Osaka was working out for him. More often than not, you withdraw to your room after dinner and try to fall asleep so the day can pass more quickly. 

And from what you hear, Osamu is very happy with the opening of his new shop. He had a hidden business acumen lingering in a dormant wait, roaring up when Osamu opened a shop selling his beloved (and delicious) onigiri. 

Social media plays no small part in all of this– the handsome brothers have taken the city by storm. You see the hordes of fans Atsumu has amassed on his instagram page, where he shares photos of himself and his team, always sporting the same bright smile. You feel almost embarrassed that the Atsumu you know is some superstar, while you’re a miserable office worker, stuck in her bedroom all the time. 

Word from Atsumu about the possible Olympic team position being on the horizon brings a smile to your face. Atsumu is obviously excited, his long-held dream finally coming to fruition, with everything he’s worked for finally within reach. You wish you could be as excited as he was because his announcement is a screaming reminder of how your own dream is so far from reach. You got the degree, the job, the apartment but you do not have the life you envisioned. Atsumu is a visual representation of how one should thrive in the city, and you are the visual representation of someone who should not be here.

Sluggish posture, dark eye circles; you’re stressed and upset. You can’t help but be swept into Atsumu’s current of happiness, the last reminder of your hometown, the last reminder that there are positive things in your life. You leech off his infectious joy. 

You wonder when Atsumu had gotten so charismatic. You wonder when you had gotten swept into the wave. You crave more, you latch on to him. He showers you with affection and attention, bubbling up from his intense happiness at being well, happy. But that’s how Atsumu is— his happiness belongs to his loved ones, his sadness belongs to his loved ones. He’s open and inviting and warm. 

You seem down. That’s the first thing Atsumu notices about your gradual shift upon graduation from university. You’re withdrawn and tired and while he does feel a little guilty at taking up all of your conversations with his stories about MSBY, he doesn’t know what else he could do to help you. Kita was always the one who comforted you and uplifted you; Atsumu hates that he even thinks about what Kita would do in this situation.

If he ever wanted to earn your heart, he would do things his way. He would show you what it was like to live life with him, not discarded on some farm somewhere, wasting away while your contemporaries chased success. 

He stubbornly ignores the wistfulness in your eyes when you watch a farming documentary about Hyogo, the longing when you see the scenery so reminiscent of home. He would prove to you that Osaka is where you belonged. That you belonged by Atsumu’s side, being excellent and successful like he knew you were capable of. He would make you happier in the city than you would ever be back home. 

Determined to make you forget about home and live more in the moment, Atsumu begins to lay it on thick. He flirts with you openly, teases you more, anything to get you flustered and display something other than apathy. 

Atsumu confesses to you after he makes the Olympic team. He rushes over to you in the apartment that you now deem a home, pounces on you on the sofa and smothers you in a hug. 

“I made the cut!” He declares.

“What?” You ask, puzzled. 

“I’m on the Olympic team,” he breathes out, like he can’t quite believe that his own hard work has led to the very outcome he’s spent his entire life dreaming about. You throw your arms around him, feeling incredibly proud of your best friend. 

Unable to help himself, with the surge of emotions that bubble up within him, he blurts, “I love you.” 

“I love you,” he repeats reverently, “Since High School.”

“I never knew,” you gasp.

“Of course,” he laughs, unable to stop the triumph from bleeding in, “You were so caught up with Kita that you didn’t really pay attention to me, but that’s fine. I have you now.” 

“W-will you let me kiss you?” he intones softly, so reminiscent of Kita Shinsuke all those years ago. 

You nod, fully allowing yourself to get swept up in the current that is Miya Atsumu, allowing him to bring you along to wherever it is he had planned like he always did. There was no point in resisting the inevitable, the one shot you had at creating something happy in this city. Your attempt to build something reminiscent of your hometown, where you were last happy. You cling on to him because he’s the last piece you have of home. 

He kisses you softly, tentatively, like he’s afraid. Subconsciously, he is— he doesn’t want to step into Kita Shinsuke’s shoes. He wants to forge a path of its own. He’s always loved you but your heart longed for another, for the dutiful, respectful Kita Shinsuke.

Atsumu knew he wasn’t any of those things but he still likes to pretend like you might have moved on from the boy who occupied your entire youth. He knew that the best way forward was to be himself, but he was afraid. Being himself didn’t work before- so why should it now?

You kiss him back, tentatively. Atsumu feels like all of his waiting, all the time he patiently spent waiting at your side, has paid off. He wants you to look at him as your future, never mind Kita Shinsuke. He’s going to work hard to make you proud. Atsumu will assert himself in your future and you can put the past behind you. 

“I’d like to give us a try,” you say, echoing his thoughts. “I think we could be something.”

“I’m going to make you so happy,” he promises, reaching forward to kiss you again, “So, so happy.” 

#kita x reader #atsumu x reader #haikyuu x reader #kita x you #haikyuu x reader angst #miya atsumu x reader angst #atsumu x reader angst #kita shinsuke x reader #kita shinsuke x reader angst #haikyuu x you #by: tomitsuya #series: jjkdads

[noosayog]

Miya Atsumu - university au, enemies(ish) to lovers

contents/warnings: angst, fluff, alludes to cheating, non-con (kissing), lots of yelling and slamming of doors, fem reader, Atsumu refers to reader as princess

total wc: 7.7k COMPLETED

part 1 - he interrupts your sleep for a silly bet, pervs at your bare legs, and gives you a concussion all in the span of 8 hours. talk about a meet ugly

part 2 - an unwilling friendship, one could say

part 3 - atsumu would be the first one to discover that you've never been kissed and never cuddled with a man. makes sense that he'd want to take all your firsts

part 4 - after missing Atsumu's big game and accidentally being late to his celebratory part, he has a surprise waiting for you. not the pleasant kind.

part 5 - you really try to give him a chance, but should've known that Atsumu's always been like this - careless with this words and brutish with his actions.

part 6 - Atsumu learns that some mistakes can't be taken back and some doors can't be pried open once they're shut.

part 7 - the end of the semester gives you a much needed break from Atsumu. the break gives you the time you need to return to your equilibrium and rebuild the ice-cold facade you used to reserve permanently for Atsumu.

part 8 - with how many people Atsumu claims to have kissed, he's a terrible first kisser. but in all honesty, you've known you wanted him as your first make-out partner since you've let him in your bedroom.

part 9 - it's ironic to you how pathetic Atsumu seems to have been without you and while it's comforting to know that he's equally as affected by this as you, you're not the type who can forgive and forget this easily.

part 10 - as someone who is endlessly proud of his useless persistence, Atsumu is hardly able to cope with the feeling of only being allowed to watch behind bars. that must be why he's dreaming that you sought him out first

part 11 - you sock atsumu in the face and call it even

bonus - you're not used to being taken care of but it's nice to know that from now on, you can start because Atsumu has solemn promises to do so

#noos writes #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst #hq fluff #hq angst #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #hq x reader #hq x y/n #hq x you #miya atsumu #atsumu miya #miya atsumu x you #miya atsumu fluff #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu angst #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu x you #atsumu x reader

[strwbrryeyes]

𖦹°｡⋆ haikyuu boys as my breakup playlist

⟡ featuring: suna, oikawa, tsukishima, atsumu

⟡ cw: angst, idk still bad at these

⟡ an: i found my old breakup playlist from three years ago and took inspiration from that so these songs are old lol. writing this was silly because im in a loving relationship but it was like i felt all the pain of a breakup again </3

⟡ part two, part three

⟡ suna rintarou: you broke me first - tate mcrae

suna would be the one to break things off with you. when you first started dating he genuinely thought he loved you but as time went on and he became more distant, you started to feel like he was losing feelings for you so you asked him about it. in his words, "i think you were just the first girl to give me attention after my last relationship" and "im not ready for a relationship". a week later, he starts talking about all the girls that have come to him after the breakup and started talking about his hookups to you. this bothered you and hurt you deeply so you decided to cut things off with him completely and he was not a fan of this. so he tried everything to try to get you to talk to him again saying that he misses you and that he wants to get back together. you couldn't care less though, he's already broken your heart too many times for you not to notice his pattern of wanting your attention just to make you jealous or upset. in the end, it actually did end up hurting him and made him realize what he lost. he knew he fucked up but there's no going back anymore.

⟡ oikawa tooru: over breakfast - ellise

it's been a few months since oikawa left for argentina. it's been hard for the both of to be apart for so long and in completely different timezones. you could feel the connection fading but neither of you wanted to admit it because you both loved each other so much. but the longer you guys try to keep the relationship afloat, the more frequent you end up arguing over text or facetime. but you both decided that it could be something to figure out when oikawa visits for the holidays. well, the holidays come around and you finally have time to see each other and talk in person. from the moment oikawa entered your apartment, you both knew it was over. you could tell so many things have changed over the course of the last few months but instead of facing it, you just decide to spend one more night together just to have one final time to say that you tried. it was bittersweet and it hurt a lot but you didn't want the night to end. maybe you could fix this over night? in the morning everything will be better and you can set aside your differences! unfortunately, that morning, nothing had changed and you and oikawa finally came to terms with the fact that maybe you two just maybe weren't meant to be.

⟡ tsukishima kei: high definition - waterparks

when tsukishima was still part of the sendai frogs, he traveled a lot. it's not like he was off in another country like some of his old teammates and rivals, no, you lived with him. even though you two had been dating for quite some time by this point, tsukishima still had trouble expressing his love for you. he tended to push you away whenever he was stressed even though the one thing he wanted the most was your comfort and loving. he was just worried he would end up snapping at you and making you hate him. he didn't know that you'd end up upset with him regardless. you loved him so much but you don't know how long you could going on like this. i mean come on! tsukishima was always away for volleyball matches and even when he's home...it's like he's still not even there. tsukishima knew that you were starting to slip away from him so one day he sat you down and explained how he was feeling and it was finally then that you understood why he acted the way he did. you tried protesting his decision to break up with you but he kept insisting it was for the better. by the next week tsukishima had moved out leaving you alone in the once shared apartment, wishing and hoping he'd come back one day.

⟡ miya atsumu: better off - ariana grande

everyone knew that atsumu could be hot headed most of the time when it came to volleyball but what they didn't know is that it would sometimes affect your relationship with him. much like tsukishima, he would close himself off from you whenever he was mad at the world or whatever else there is that could make him upset. it was starting to get tiring for you. you felt like you had to walk on egg shells around him just so he wouldn't snap at you (wether he meant to or not- his mind would always fog up). towards the end of your relationship, you could feel yourself start to get numb in regards to your feelings towards atsumu. atsumu couldn't really tell at this point that you were losing hope for the relationship. if anything he thought everything was normal but that was only because half of the time he was too much into his own thoughts to notice any flaws between the two of you. it wasn't until he came home one day after an away game on the other side of japan and found that all of your stuff was gone along with you, that he realized nothing is what it used to be. he found a note from you that explained that you weren't happy in the relationship anymore and that you felt trapped. you also stated that you hope he figures out his issues and that you'll always be there for him if he needs but that right now you just needed space. atsumu spent that night crying and angry at himself for letting your relationship get to this point.

#𖦹°｡⋆ 𝓃𝒾𝓃𝒾 #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x reader angst #haikyuu angst #suna rintarou x reader #suna rintarou angst #suna x reader #suna angst #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa x reader #oikawa angst #oikawa tooru angst #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima angst #tsukishima kei angst #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu x reader #atsumu miya angst #atsumu angst

[atsumulogy]

“atsumu, when i die —”

“no, stop, don’t say that. ‘ya aren’t going to die.” he interrupted you before you could even finish, his gaze burning.

“of course i won’t, i’m immortal!” you joked. and to this, he flashed a small smile.

“but, hypothetically, if i do die, i want you to make my coffin look cute. maybe LED lights? yeah, and —” you were cut off with your rambling by a kiss to your lips. the two of you savoring the fleeting moment, gripping onto his shirt as you felt yourself weaken from his touch.

“yes, angel, i’ll do that okay? now stop yappin’ about ‘ya dying. ‘ya aren’t goin’ to die. i — i won’t even let ‘ya.” he said with so much determination that you couldn’t help but believe him.

your eyes feel heavy. “‘tsumu?”

“hm?” he looks at you, shimmering eyes.

“i’m tired, i wanna go to sleep.”

“oh — okay, sure — i, i love ‘ya, goodnight. let’s talk again tomorrow, m’kay?” he asked, the hope in his voice felt quite cruel to even exist.

“of course, i love you.”

the beeping from the monitor went to a deafening halt. atsumu felt like he was suffocating, the air in his lungs evaporating. you — the air that filled his lungs, the air he breathes, ceased. the shimmer in his eyes turned into tears.

you two never really did get to properly talk again tomorrow, or the day after that, or ever again.

#UM … i hate this Kinda idk sorry 🙏 #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu x you #miya atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #atsumu angst #haikyuu one shot #atsumu drabble #haikyuu!! #hq x you #hq x reader #atsumu x y/n #atsumu x you #tw: angst #tw: death #FUN FACT THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE AKAASHI LOL #haikyuu blurbs #haikyuu headcanons

[mavrintarou]

[3:00 PM] Miya Atsumu - A/B/O

All I can tell you all is that it's long and dirty... hope you have a wonderful smutty Friday.

Warning: Full of smutty smut... A little different from most A/B/O au

.

Atsumu returned home early from a four-week-long training camp.  

He first noticed the unfamiliar pheromone in his shared apartment with Y/n.

Immediately his ears perked, and he could hear moaning and whimpering coming from down the hall.

Sighing, Atsumu contemplated going to Osamu’s place for the night. Now that he recalled, Y/n did remind him that she was going through her rut cycle soon. Normally, they respected each other’s boundaries and spent their ruts at the specialty hotel that was designated for ruts & heats. She had asked if he would be okay if she brought her partner to spend the night at their apartment since he would be out during that time, and he was okay with it.

Before Atsumu could put his shoes back on, he heard a door swing open.

“This is fucken pathetic, screw you!”

Atsumu froze and before he could hide, a half-naked omega stalked past him before stopping to glare at him. “Your roommate is a pathetic alpha!” She shouted before slamming the door after her.

Blinking, Atsumu was shocked at what had just happened.

“She’s just mad I lost my vibe. I didn’t know you were coming home early.”

Turning his head, Atsumu sees Y/n standing only in her robe, leaning against the wall. He could see red blotches along her neck.

He took a step closer to Y/n. “You okay?”

She shrugged and smiled, “don’t worry about it.” She walked over and dropped herself on the couch.

How could he not worry? Atsumu inhaled softly before sitting beside her. He noticed the oddness he had been feeling the last couple of days and couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

He glanced over at Y/n who had her arms crossed over her chest with her eyes closed, almost like she was sleeping.

Y/n was one of the few female hybrids, a special case of an alpha and omega. Hybrids were able to choose between either gender and could breed and be bred.

The setback for most hybrids was that they have a smaller physique than an average omega and due to that, oftentimes time they were looked down on as alpha hybrids. Like both genders, hybrids go through both rut and heat phases and sometimes both could happen at the same time. Hybrids were able to release alpha and omega pheromones yet unable to detect them like betas. They often have to carry with them a pheromone neutralizer to prevent unwanted attention.

Eventually, most hybrids will adopt the more dominant gender. The high percentage of hybrids become omegas due to the challenges of being an alpha.

But Y/n had no problem attracting both alphas and omegas.

Atsumu himself was physically and sexually attracted to her until he discovered that her preference was omegas.

He would take it to his grave that he had imagined how it would be to have Y/n below him, how she would take him…

But they were friends, roommates for three years.

However, things changed two weeks ago when the two of them were casually having a beer in their living room after a long work day.

“Hey,” Atsumu started, staring at Y/n sip on her fourth beer. She was one of the few ladies he knew who enjoyed a good beer and a lot of it. “Wanna play Truth or Dare?”

He could see she was thinking about it before she smirked and answered, “sure.”

Being the gentleman he is, he allowed her to go first.

“Truth or dare, ‘Tsumu?”

He felt a sense of nervousness for some reason and decided to play it safe and chose truth.

“Why are you so uptight?”

Atsumu frowned before letting out a laugh, that was her question? “Honestly, I haven’t had sex in three months. That’s the longest I’ve ever gone without sex since losing my virginity.”

Y/n’s face distorted humorously and she tried hard not to laugh, “okay, your turn.”

“Truth or dare, Y/n?”

“Truth,” she answered.

Atsumu smirked, wondering if she was playing it safe. “Which one do you like more, being top or bottom?” This was one question he had been dying to know the answer to.

Y/n consistently projected an aura of composure and ease, effortlessly connecting with everyone she encountered. It came as no shock that alphas and omegas alike gravitated toward her; there was an undeniable allure about her that drew them in.

She wasn’t surprised at his question at all. “My answer would be top because I’ve never been a bottom before.”

His eyes bulged out in disbelief. “I don’t believe you, you have never…” Atsumu’s voice trailed off as he tried to connect the dots in his head. “But you’re a… hybrid…” his tone was filled with nothing but confusion. “Don’t you get heats?”

Y/n shook her head, gulping her beer. “No, I have never gotten through a heat before. I know, it’s odd. My doctor doesn’t know why either and just continues to tell me to monitor myself.” She shrugs her shoulders, “so, I only know how to top.” She narrows her eyes at him playfully, asking him that nearly makes him choke on his saliva. “Why? You want to do you want to show me how it feels to be a bottom?”

The fun and playful mood Atsumu was in suddenly turned him sober and serious. Was she joking? He swallowed, trying hard not to make it obvious that his cock had gotten excited and was semi-hard.

Their game of Truth or Dare came to an abrupt end before neither had a second round as the fire alarms in their apartment complex went off.

Neither spoke again about that subject and went on with their lives.

Or at least Atsumu tried to.

For days, he couldn’t get the subject out of his head, wondering and questioning how she had managed to go this long without having a heat, let alone that she had never been a bottom before! It had also bothered Atsumu about her question she asked him if he would like to show her, was she serious about it? It made Atsumu excited every time he thought about it.

Atsumu has been wanting to bring the conversation up again and suddenly had the urge to do so.

His mouth opened to speak when something hit his sense of smell, a delicate aroma. Blood began rushing down south and his mouth watered, his mind clouded with nothing but wanting to have a taste of this deliciousness that was taking over his senses.

Realization hit him as this was typically how he becomes when he is being affected by an omega’s heat pheromone.

His eyes narrowed as he looked at Y/n.

“Atsumu.”

He flinched at the way she called his name, not in a threatening way, but in a way that made him want to be nothing but possessive of her. His throat tightened as her pheromone poured more onto him.

“I… think I’m going through my first heat,” Y/n murmurs softly, opening her eyes to peer into his. They were a different color and most definitely very dilated.

He noticed her crossed arms tightening around her petite body. Realization hit him, the faint lingering smell he had detected was Y/n’s omega pheromone, something completely different from her alpha pheromone he was used to. It was no wonder he was not threatened by it because it still had a bit of her scent in it, keeping him calm.

“What?” he growled, trying to maintain his composure and sanity, he wanted to pounce on her. Atsumu stood up and distanced himself from her. “But you said you –“  

“I never had one before so I don’t know what to expect but I’m confident… enough that what I’m experiencing right now is my heat.” Y/n hunched over, her shoulders trembling.

The silence in the room was unbearable and she broke it by quietly asking, “would you – be comfortable to help me?” She bit her lower lip before asking, “I’ve – I’ve never been a bottom… show me. Show me what it's like to be a bottom, Atsumu.”

Atsumu’s eyes bulged out, “sh – show you?” He inhaled sharply as he closed his eyes to absorb her request. He paced back and forth in their living room before clarifying, “say that one more time? What are you asking me to do?” He needed a second confirmation.

“Atsumu,” Y/n called his name, it flowed like soft butter from the tip of her tongue. “I’m in heat right now and I want you to show me what it feels like to be a bottom…” she paused, “if that makes you feel uncomfortable I can go ask –“ She was suddenly tugged onto her feet and pressed against his chest. She felt his hardness press against her abdomen and her eyes widened, breath hitching.

“All you need is me,” Atsumu’s eyes suddenly become dark as he stares at her lips. “I will show you how to be a bottom, Y/n.”

.

“You’re breaking my heart here, Y/n,” Atsumu growled softly against her nipple. Three of his long and thick fingers have been thrust back and forth inside her pussy. “Am I doing a shit job that I can’t even make you moan for me?”

Y/n shook her head, her knuckles had turned white from gripping his comforters tightly. She let out a heavy breath, “no – no… it feels…”

“Feels?...”

“Fucken amazing…” she finished, opening her eyes. “I’ve… never felt this bliss before…” her back arched when Atsumu’s fingers curled and fastened.

“Nope,” Atsumu chuckled when she tried to close her legs. “Keep these beautiful legs open, wide open for me.” He shifts his large, toned body to fit in between her legs. He withdrew his fingers to stroke his cock.

Atsumu still couldn’t believe that Y/n has never had a heat before, let alone taken a cock before.

“’Tsumu,” Y/n whimpered, her fingers grazing over her wet pussy, her pussy ached to be stuffed, filled in ways she never imagined before.

Since finding out she is a hybrid at the age of 16, her gender has always been alpha-dominant. She has never experienced a heat since discovering her hybrid gender even though she was capable of adapting to both genders.

Unlike most, Y/n had no problem attracting either gender but she had preferred to be a top giver than a bottom receiver.

It wasn’t until recently, until the game of Truth or Dare with Atsumu that it had piqued her interest. She suddenly was curious about being a bottom but she did not know who she trusted enough to share that moment with. Unconsciously, she began manifesting it.

On numerous occasions, she caught herself staring at Atsumu, and it was then that she began seeing him in a different light. She considered the idea of asking him but was frequently reminded that it would alter their relationship forever.

Her request tonight was her heat speaking. During the few weeks of Atsumu being away, Y/n’s body began experiencing a change she had never felt before. Unlike the times she was going through a rut, her body was burning and throbbing at her pussy.

Y/n has never touched herself in such a way, never having to need to until now. For two nights in a row, she tossed and turned in bed until the temporary relief was her fingers dipping in between her legs and stuffing her pussy in ways she’s done to other omegas.

“Atsumu…” his name slipped from her lips unconsciously. Her eyes widened and embarrassment shamed her for calling out her friend’s name while imagining him, imagining it was his fingers stuffing her pussy.

And now three of his finger pump quickly in and out of her pussy, the mere thought of knowing it’s his fingers that is building up the pleasure is all Atsumu’s doing.

The following day, she snuck into his room and inhaled the scent in his room, filling her desire and yearning.

“Yes,” Y/n moaned, eyes rolling shut, “yes, Atsumu…”

Atsumu shifted onto his knees.  “I can’t believe you’ve never taken a cock before. I find that hard to believe,” Atsumu rubbed the tip of his cock against her clit.

Y/n herself can’t believe she hasn’t either. It may be partly because she never had a heat to begin with. Y/n sat up and reached for his cock, her eyes bewitched at the size of his cock. “It’s so… big.”

She wasn’t big and she was aware of it. The first time she spent her rut with an omega, she thought it was a disaster, not knowing what to expect but the omega had expressed how good her cock felt.

An omega once told her with a wink, “it’s now how big, it’s how you use it.”

“I won’t deny that I’ve never wondered how you would look beneath me, Y/n.” Atsumu admitted, “surely you must know you’re fucken desirable, right?” He pushed the tip of his thick cock in her, groaning when her walls tightly refuse to let him in until he compel, shoving just the tip through. “Relax for me, Y/n…” he slowly pushed back and forth, pushing more of his thick long cock into her until she has lubricated his cock, taking him easier. His eyes were transfixed at his cock disappearing into her pussy until she’s taken all of him. Looking up he sees her eyes were squeezed tightly shut, her lower lip trapped between her teeth. Reaching up he freed her swollen lower lip and smoothed it with his thumb. He pressed his thumb past her lips, “bite me instead…” His cock jerked when she clenched her teeth against his thumb. “That’s it, baby…”

Her teeth loosened and she wrapped her tongue around his thumb, sucking it.

“Fuck…” Atsumu swore before choking out a chuckle, “I’m going fuck your mouth afterward.”

Y/n freed his thumb, “promise?” her legs wrapped around his hips pressing herself upwards to him. “Hurry,” she pleaded, “fuck my pussy, ‘Tsumu…” She never thought she would hear herself say that phrase.

Atsumu didn’t need to be told twice. His body crushed her small one, sandwiching her to his bed as he hiked her legs and began thrusting into her pussy. The bed began to shake violently and the wooden bedframe creaked loudly.

Y/n’s arms encircled his neck tightly while her fingers weaved through his strands of dirty blond hair, gripping them firmly at the roots and giving it a gentle tug. Her hips rolled, meeting his powerful thrusts. She cooed and encouraged him, “yes! Yes… just like that… fuck… you’re so big, ‘Tsumu… you feel so good…”

Atsumu only hummed, his mouth busy sucking a perfect hickey against her neck. It has always made him jealous seeing other omegas mark her and now it is his turn and he is going to make sure his mark is engraved into her skin.

His hips fasten, cock repeatedly hitting her sweet spot. If it felt this wonderful already, he couldn’t imagine how it would be when he was in a rut, when his senses would be fully heightened.

“Y/n,” Atsumu groaned, sliding his tongue along her neck and to her jaw, licking along her cheek. He felt so high, in a state of bliss. Every thrust into Y/n’s pussy sent pure excitement and euphoria pulse through him. “Look at me,” he growled, and when she found his brown eyes, he leaned down and kissed her.

Their tongues tangled and eagerly danced as their mouth moved over each other hungrily.

Atsumu was finally satisfying a lingering curiosity within him, having Y/n beneath him and kissing her.

Y/n moaned his name breathlessly from his kisses, “my tummy… it feels tingly… I’m – I’m going to cum… please let me cum…”

The tightening of Y/n’s pussy and increased enhancement of her pheromone pushed Atsumu to the edge, losing the last of his control. He tightened his arms around her small body and pounded hard until the tip of his cock continue to stimulate her cervix. He badly wished he was in a rut so he could penetrate her cervix and knot her.

Breed her.

Y/n’s teeth sink into his collarbone as she comes undone, her nails digging into his shoulders as her body trembles.

Atsumu follows seconds later, filling her pussy with his hot cum.

There’s no going back, I can’t let her go now, he tells himself. He inhales her scent, feeling his cock already semi-hard once again.

.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you two in a long ass time, what have you guys been up to?” Their mutual friend, Ryuji said, gesturing to Atsumu and Y/n to take a seat in the two empty spots at the end of the table.

“Just the same stuff, training and tournaments,” Atsumu shrugged, pulling the seat for Y/n and pushing in the chair like a gentleman. “Season is wrapping up so I’ll finally get some relaxation.”

Atsumu and Y/n were oblivious to their physical intimacy, they didn’t see how their three other friend’s eyes widened as Atsumu’s body turned towards Y/n, his arm resting behind her chair and thumb rubbing circles on her upper arm. He fills her plate with food and continues updating his friends about his life.

Of course, he is keeping his relationship with Y/n out.

It has been two weeks since Y/n’s first heat, and it took almost two days for her heat to conclude and yet, neither of them has had their fill. They have fucked each other in every possible space in their apartment. Day and night, every possible moment.

They had even pulled a quickie in his car before meeting their friends.

“Be my good girl and keep my cum in you. I’ll reward you later,” Atsumu murmured breathlessly. Y/n could only nod as she squeezed her walls and slip off his cock. He assists by slipping her panties back in place before lifting her and placing her gently back in the passenger seat before slipping himself back into his pants.

Aside from Y/n’s lightly pink cheeks, he didn’t think anyone would notice their coupling.

“Are you two… seeing each other?” Their other friend Yuma carefully inquired.

Y/n was the first to calmly deny it and laugh softly, “no, why do you ask?”

The three friends, Yuma, Ryuji, and Masachi, exchange glances, silently acknowledging a shared thought but opting to not broach the subject further.

They didn’t need to.

No one would be stupid enough to even dare look her way with the way that she reeked of Atsumu’s pheromone. It unmistakably screamed she belonged to him, and him alone.

.

The minute passing was only making Atsumu anxious.

Y/n promised to be home thirty minutes ago and it was past the promised time by ten minutes.

Atsumu was aware of his behavior, the possessive behavior he harbored for Y/n. He couldn’t deny it and it only continued to manifest each passing day.

He couldn’t even blame it on his upcoming rut that only seemed to have enhanced with Y/n’s change of pheromone as of late. Atsumu couldn’t quite put his finger on it but something about her has changed and it only made him more addicted to her.

There was one thing that he knew for sure and it was that he was in love with Y/n and wanted her and only her.

.

Y/n was fully aware of Atsumu’s perilous fixation on her.

She had not meant to let their fling go on this long, or at all. It was all a mistake and now… she couldn’t undo it.

She acknowledged that he wasn’t the only one going through this change alone. Y/n too has become possessive of Atsumu. When he would come home with the scent of another omega on him, she would feel her mood turn sour.

Y/n refused to accept it but since having sex with Atsumu, she has not wanted an omega again. She came to terms that she had officially adopted the omega gender, a lot sooner than later for other hybrids. It was inevitable with the amount of sex she was having.

Studies have shown that the more dominant gender would manifest with the amount of climax and chemicals released each time. Whichever gender they possess during their highest climax constantly, their body will begin to adapt to that gender.

It was an addiction, once Y/n had a taste of being an bottom, there was no going back. She craved for Atsumu, his pheromone, his cock deep within her. She craved feeling his thick cock graze and stimulate her pussy walls. She craved being filled to the point her belly bulged.

Y/n began to be delusional. She has never wanted to be knotted so badly, she wanted Atsumu’s knot. She wanted to be bred.

Aware of her behavior and obsession with Atsumu, Y/n tried to meet other alphas… hoping any alpha would do but when she was approached by an alpha at the bar, her nose crinkled in disgust.

It was undeniable that Atsumu was all she wanted.

For a brief moment, she allowed herself to be greedy, to give in and savor all the seconds she could have with Atsumu. She convinced herself that if she took as much as she could from him, she could let him go and move on with their lives.

She fueled his obsession and possessiveness, allowing him to have his way with her, and ravish her body, mind, heart, and soul to his content. After all, she not only wanted something to remember him by but the same for him, even if it was just her body. She’ll make it so that he would only think of her when he would be with future omegas.  

They were constantly having sex everywhere and at any time, morning sex, second-morning sex, before-work sex, after-work sex, shower sex, and bedtime sex. As if they were in a constant heat and rut cycle. She was not blind to Atsumu’s attempts to mark her. Every time he took her from behind, she would freeze when his teeth would graze over her scent gland, where his teeth could puncture the sacred spot that should be reserved for her mate. Her hand would cover the spot but Atsumu has now locked her wrists together above her head.

Y/n has become weak for him, submissive per se, and allowed him to do what he pleases.

But she needed to put an end to it.

Whatever they were doing was unhealthy.

.

“Why – why are you doing this?” His voice wavered, his tone laced with pain.

She waited for him to return home from his daily training and as soon as he entered through their apartment doors, the bright smile he always had faded slowly as he felt the heavy atmosphere in the room. Y/n called for him to take a seat across from her before breaking both their hearts.

“We shouldn’t have even started this in the first place, ‘Tsumu.”  Y/n said calmly, but she was anything but calm.

“Don’t call me that, if you don’t want to be with me anymore you have no right to call me that!” A tear slid down his cheek. “Only the woman I love can call me that.”

Y/n held back her tears and swallowed hard before forcing the words out again. “Atsumu, this thing between us should not have even happened in the first place.”

“Why not?” he argued, “it was like you forced me or I forced you. Everything up until now has happened because we both wanted it, and both needed it. We needed each other!”

“Look at us, we know what happens when you cross that line between friends!”

“So what, we can be lovers now?” Atsumu shot back, roughly wiping his tears away. “We can be boyfriend and girlfriend and whatever more if you want, I don’t care. I just want to be with you. I just want to love you!”

As if a veil lifted, she suddenly realizes he loves her.

Y/n blinked, the tears that filled her eyes slipping down her cheeks as she heard his confession.

“You – you do? Like in a real relationship?” Y/n clarified with a careful tone. She didn’t want to misinterpret his words.

“Fuck yes. Do you want to be in a relationship? Then let’s make it official. Do you want to get married? Let’s get married. You want me to mark you, I’ll be glad to mark you to let the whole universe know you are mine…” Atsumu took steps until he was in front of her. When did she look so fragile, so small? He wrapped an arm around her back while his other hand cupped her cheek, wiping away the tear that slipped down her rosy cheek. “I want whatever you want, just as long as you are by my side. Whatever title you want, you can have it all.” He rests his forehead against hers. “But if you are to ask me, I want you as mine in every possible way.”

Y/n shut her eyes tightly. “Say it again,” her voice was barely above whispering, “say you love me again.”

“I love you, Miya Y/n.” Her eyes snapped open and Atsumu grinned, “you didn’t ask but I’m going to give you my last name, so no backs.” He rubbed the tip of his nose against hers, “tell me, Y/n… tell me you love me too.”

“I love you, Miya Atsumu. I love you.”

His life felt 99% complete, there was only that 1% left.

“Now, tell me you’re going to stay by my side for the rest of our lives?”

Y/n pressed her lips to his, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I’m going to stay by your side for the rest of our lives.”

.

Her fingers tremble as the third pregnancy test reveals the same thing, a positive result.

“No… how…” she muttered to herself. She dropped it into the garbage can and massaged her temple.

She began experiencing symptoms that she couldn’t avoid and excuse any longer.

Craving, tenderness, and fatigue.

Everything that was pointing to what she was afraid of was pregnancy.

But how? Atsumu has never knotted her.

“Pregnancy can happen without a knot, it is not as common but it can still happen if you are extremely sexually active.” The doctor raised a brow, questioning, “especially if you are not using protection. Are you sexually active? Having unprotected sex more than four times a week?”

Y/n’s ears burned and she was embarrassed to answer the question.

She and Atsumu did use condoms but would forget, losing themselves to the feeling of skin on skin. Y/n was weak to Atsumu’s begging to always cum inside her. It was to feed his ego of knowing she had a part of him inside her at all times.

Her silence and flushed cheeks were all the doctor needed to know. “The chance of conceiving is much higher if you and your partner are extremely active, which is the case since you said your partner has yet to knot you?”

“That is correct,” Y/n answered meekly.

“With this confirmed pregnancy, there is a high percentage of you becoming an official omega.” They explained that Y/n would no longer be a hybrid, and would no longer have any alpha traits.

The doctor placed a booklet before her titled New Mommy and What to Expect and went through it briefly.

Y/n cleared her throat before asking, “my… partner is due for his rut soon… would it be okay to be knotted while… pregnant?”

Her doctor nodded and flipped to page 8, with big and bold letters at the top: Knotting during pregnancy. “You should be fine, if anything, your body will need your partner’s semen to nourish your pregnancy.”

.

Y/n shivered feeling the heavy pheromone throughout the apartment. Now, it made sense as to why she had been sensitive to his pheromone lately, her pregnancy hormones had enhanced all her senses. “Atsumu?”

Before she could check the kitchen, strong arms enveloped her in a tight bear hug. His hot body heat penetrated through her clothing and she was swallowed wholly by his pheromone at straight physical contact.

His nose buried into her neck as he inhaled sharply, “what took you so long?”

He knew of her appointment but it did run slightly longer than she anticipated.

Before she could answer him, he picked her up, throwing her over his shoulders and carrying her to his bedroom.

Y/n blinked, hands pressed against his lower back to steady herself… and at the same time comprehend the sight in front of her.

Atsumu’s bare ass. He was completely naked.

She is dropped onto his bed and is immediately pressed against the mattress with Atsumu’s body which somehow feels larger than usual, she feels so small under his body.

His mouth is hot and heavy on hers, his fingers already pulling and ripping off her clothes just to feel her naked flesh against his.

Y/n gasped, feeling his cock pressed against her abdomen, it sent a jolt to her pussy and she instantly felt herself wet.

Atsumu straddled her small body but kept his weight off of her. The only weight he had on her was the weight of his cock and heavy sacks against her lower abdomen. His eyes are glowing gold and dilated, a trait of an alpha in a rut cycle.

“Y/n,” he groaned, rocking his cock against her bare skin, seeking any sort of physical touch. He was fighting against losing control, he didn’t want to scare or hurt her. “I don’t want to hurt you… but my rut cycle… it can – I’ve been told I’m too rough… I might hurt you…”

Y/n cupped his cheek, “you will never hurt me, ‘Tsumu…”

He nuzzled against their palm, pressing a kiss to it. “I’m happy to hear… You’re made for me... right? You can take my everything I give you, right?”

She nodded her head like an obediently, eager to please. “Yes. Yes, I am made for you. I will take everything you give me, ‘Tsumu.” She widened her legs, offering herself to him, “hurry, give me your knot.”

Her approval and request are all Atsumu needed to hear to be tipped over the edge, to allow his rut cycle to take over and please Y/n.

He flipped her over onto her tummy and lift her ass, his palm came down onto her left cheek, making her yelp before moaning. He rubs his more than ready cock along her slits before pushing it deep within her warm pussy, stretching her to accommodate his rut-size cock.

Atsumu leaned over her, his whole body wrapped around hers from behind as he pressed a light kiss below her ear, murmuring, “relax for me…”

Y/n’s buried face against his comforters helped her control her breathing as she tried to accommodate the size change of his cock, something that was march larger and thicker than usual. Atsumu was already large and thick in the first place, but his rut-size cock was on another level.

“That’s it baby,” he cooed, feeling her ease up. He wasted no time ramming his cock, groaning as he nudged her cervix opening that immediately began spreading. “I’m going to knot you, baby. Give you the knot you deserve.” He leaned back, straightening himself before scooting them to the edge of the bed. He stepped off but kept Y/n remaining at the edge of the bed with her ass still in the same position, with that, he ram his knock repeatedly.

The bed squeaked along with the clapping of their skin on skin.

Atsumu’s fingers dug deeper into Y/n’s hips, pulling her back to meet his thrusts hard and fast, his cock stimulating quickly each time the tip of his cock would touch her cervix opening.

It wasn’t as common to knot on the first time but Atsumu is positive he will knot her. Her cervix has already propped open, encouraging and readily welcoming his knot.

And he will happily oblige.

He withdrew quickly, smirking at her whimper of emptiness. Flipping her onto her back, he smiled down at her and swiftly filled her with his cock once more. “I need to see your face the first time that I knot you.”

Her eyes enlarged, knowing knotting rarely occurred on the first try, at least for her during her rut cycle days.

“Your cervix has already opened for me,” he whispered hotly, fastening his hips. “Your body is ready for me, for my knot.”

Her eyes rolled back as he confirmed it, the tip of his cock pushed past her opening and locked in place. A loud moan escapes from Y/n’s lips as she tightens and curls against him.

His sack emptied its load of cum deep, filling her womb, breeding her.

Atsumu has been impatient, wanting to impregnate her soon, wanting to see her full and round. Wanting to meet their children who will take after Y/n.

He groaned in pain and pleasure. It was true to the rumors, knotting the person you love was different in all the best way possible. The intimate bond was indescribable.

His thumb massaged deep circles into her hip, trying to distract her from the pain of his knot. “You did so well, you’re taking my knot so well…” he murmured, pressing light kisses all over her face.

Atsumu is suddenly hit with a self-awareness of being selfish. He had never even discussed it with her about children yet, here, he had knotted her. It was a 99% chance of guaranteed pregnancy.

He dropped his head beside her and muttered an apology.

“Why are you sorry?” Y/n asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

He rolled them onto his back with her above him. He avoided her eyes, “I knotted you without asking if you would be okay with… being pregnant…” His eyes closed, unable to witness the expression she might give him.

“Atsumu, look at me.”

His eyes snapped open at the tone of her voice, one he had never heard her use on him. Panic surged through him as he searched her eyes. His eyes suddenly fell on her tits, noticing they looked slightly bigger than he remembered.

“My eyes, Atsumu, look at me.”

With flushed cheeks, he reverted his gaze to hers and swallowed. She shifted over his cock, his knot already begun to deflate.

“I had wanted to announce this much differently but… there’s no better time to announce it than now,” she giggled and reached for his hands and pressed them against her belly. “You see, I’m already pregnant.”

Atsumu’s world froze as he processed her last sentence. “Come – come again?”

Leaning down, she pressed her lips to his, “I’m already pregnant, Atsumu. We’re expecting.” Her eyes widened as she squealed, pressing her hands against his strong muscles. “Atsumu!” she shrieked. Atsumu’s cock that was still inside her had instantly become erect once again.

He groaned and pulled her down flushed against him. “My cock is just as excited…” That meant he would get to have all the raw sex, knowing his duty now is to supply her body with all his cum. Rocking his hips he slowly thrusts into her, ignoring how each time he withdrew, his cum would leak.

Y/n pushed against his chest until she settled on her elbows, trapping his head in between them. Her face hovers over his, “the doctor says my gender has officially changed, I’m an omega now. So, no more rut-cycles for me.”

“Good, you’re my omega now,” Atsumu thrust upward, his hand came around the back of her head and pressed her lips against his, “only mine.”

. . .

E/n: :)

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