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shiraishi-mai · 1 year

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[And After?]

(kind of a part II but could be read as a stand alone)

You broke up with Atsumu your final year of high school.

Was it because you both would be in separate areas of Japan and you didn’t want to go long-distance? Partially.

But when you uttered those words, you both knew that wasn’t the real reason.

You stood in front of him, eyes downcast and refusing to meet his.

“I’m leaving for Yokohama. I got accepted to university there.”

His eyes widened and you smiled wryly.

“No congratulations?”

“Congratulations.” Atsumu couldn’t help but say flatly.

“I’m guessing you’re going to continue volleyball.” You felt a tinge of regret. You hadn’t bothered to ask him about scouts or recruitment.

He nodded. “I’ve already gotten offer...None close to Yokohama though.”

You gave him a small smile and shrugged in what you hoped looked like a nonchalant way. “I want to focus on my studies and I don’t think I’ll be able to do that if I’m trying to make a long-distance relationship work.”

His hand clenched and his eyes took on a stubborn look that usually signalled the beginning of an argument. “I’ll make it work. I can come visit and I’ll make time when I’m not practising to call and -”

“Atsumu.” He ached at the resignation in your voice.

“‘Tsumu, I need to get away from here. Just start again y’know.”

His eyes flitted toward the boot on your ankle and you unconsciously shifted in discomfort, at the real reason why you were making the decision. He cursed - at it and the entire situation and you couldn’t help but blink back the tears forming at the corners of your eyes. It wasn’t his fault - it was entirely yours.

There was a thud and a ‘oh my god’ rang out from the women’s volleyball captain.

Atsumu was beside you in an instant. He had watched, wide-eyed in horror, as your leg had crumpled, taking you down with it.

“Give her space,” the captain’s voice rang out as you clutched at your ankle, face twisted in pain. “What even happened?”

“I tripped -,” you spit out through clenched teeth. Atsumu saw how your foot had been wrenched in a position it should never be in and felt a rising panic he tried to stifle. Years of experience on the court told him that this was not a minor injury.

You looked up at him with pleading eyes, and he scooped you up, speeding away to the nurse’s office and away from the pitying looks of your teammates.

You groaned in pain and looked at him with panicked eyes. “Atsumu, this-”

“You’ll be fine. It’s okay, it’s going to be fine.” He chanted as if it would make it true.

Your skin had already turned purple and the area surrounding your ankle had swollen up bigger than an egg. You whimpered, both at the pain shooting up your leg and fear of the consequences of what just happened to you.

A trip to the hospital later and you found yourself hobbling back to school in a few days, ankle held tightly in a brace and leaning against crutches. You knew your ankles were weak from a few sprains over the years and they finally gave up and the muscle had torn.

Atsumu had held you while you sobbed as the doctor told you that you couldn’t play for the rest of your final year and most likely needed rehab for longer than that. He was there, waiting outside the classroom to carry your bag between classes and helped you around school. He was there when he found you, squatting with your back against the outside of the gym doors, crying about how unfair it was and he was there to shush you when you beat yourself up for being so clumsy.

It took a while, but eventually you came around and accepted the situation - well you made your peace with it as best you could. You focused on steadily on doing rehab exercises, gritting your teeth and sweating through the pain. You began to joke around again, bickered with Atsumu as you held hands in the school corridors when you graduated to just wearing a boot, and went back to chatting animatedly with your friends.

Atsumu had tried to be positive and not treat you any differently to maintain some sort of normalcy. But when he realised you no longer came to watch the teams practice, he found it hard to swallow the lump in his throat and felt his chest tighten. He stopped looking towards the stands at games, knowing you weren’t there, and forced a fake smile that reflected yours when you politely congratulated him on his wins. He’d never felt such helplessness whenever he caught you staring absent-mindedly out of the window during class, your eyes dull and shoulders slumped.

“The change will be good for me and I don’t - I don’t really want anything to do with volleyball anymore," you said, confessing what he’d known all year.

“It might seem dramatic because I know I can do PT and get better again but I’ll never be back to how I used to play.” You shrugged again casually and he hated it.

“And honestly? I was tired of it anyway. I can’t remember a time I haven’t had bruises or walked without stressing about getting hurt. I like waking up at a normal time and not at the ungodly hours of the morning and not having to force myself to exercise or eat a certain diet. I want to go somewhere completely new and live life free without remembering how difficult all that was.”

Atsumu felt hollow. “But you loved volleyball so much you never minded that before?” He wanted to yell. But he knew it was hopeless - you were determined to throw volleyball away and he was always going to be a part of that.

And so, you were throwing him away too.

“Don’t worry, I’ll still be cheering you on, even if I’m not there,” you gave him another smile that he wanted to scream at.

He couldn’t bear to see how hard you were forcing yourself to be normal and he pulled you into his arms and squeezed tightly, as if you’d disappear right then and there.

“We can keep in touch okay?”

He nodded into your shoulder, not trusting himself to say anything that could drive you any further away than you were already were. He knew you well after dating you these past couple of years. He knew how stubborn you could be about certain things and while he was equally as stubborn, he didn’t want to end things with the two of you screaming and arguing. He needed to accept that you needed to heal and that you didn’t want his help in doing so.

Your hand stroked the back of his hair affectionately, untangling the knots and failing to soothe him.

“I’ll see you around, Atsumu.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

A few years passed. You survived university and you managed to get a job back in Osaka at an arts museum and were grateful that your hard work had paid off. You got a new apartment, dated here and there, and went out with friends. All in all, you were content with your life.

And some nights after work, you’d make a cup of tea,

snuggle into some blankets on your couch,

grab the remote,

and watch the MSBY game.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You loved being at the museum. Everything was neat, orderly, and most importantly, quiet. The silence, save for soft murmurs, was comforting. You didn’t have to speak much and spent most of your day hanging out with paintings. It was a stark change from the sounds of balls smashing against wooden floors, sneakers squeaking, and the constant cheers of teammates. Playing such a team-oriented sport had forced you to be around people all the time and you savoured being able to introspect and have alone time now.

You were in a particularly good mood that day. The cute barista had drawn a flower on your cup, you managed to get on the bus on time, and a new exhibit with one of your favourite artists had just begun.

You weaved in and out of different rooms, occasionally writing down information on your ipad regarding the works to present at a meeting later. The muffled atmosphere was music to your ears until you heard a loud laugh accompanied by not-so-silent whispers.

Ugh who is being so disruptful? Do they not know basic etiquette for places like this?

The voices grew louder as you walked in that direction and you shook your head. Probably some youths who didn’t know respect.

You strode into the room ready to scold some rambunctious teen boy when you locked eyes with a very familiar blonde-haired guy.

He had put his hand by his face in an attempt to whisper to a girl beside him and had frozen with his mouth open when he saw you. You kept a straight face as you walked forward, catching yourself nearly snorting at the “caught-with-his-hand-in-the-cookie-jar” expression he had.

“Excuse me sir,” you said sternly, “I’m not sure if you read the sign outside, but you are supposed to keep your voice down here.” He straightened stiffly at your tone and the girl he was whispering to looked at you with alarmed eyes.

“I-I’m sorry ma’am.” She stuttered out.

Atsumu tried to stifle a laugh, saving himself by coughing as your eye twitched. Ma’am? I’m not a grandma.

You whipped your attention to him. “And I’ll have you know that we don’t have any exceptions - even for superstar volleyball players.” Your voice was cold but your eyes held a familiar shine, and he relaxed. He made a note that you still sucked at having a poker face and he could tell you weren’t actually mad.

“What about the handsome ones?” He said grinning but faltered when you didn’t crack. Perhaps he didn’t know you as well as he used to.

You finally sighed and Atsumu mentally danced in victory as you finally gave up your act. “Especially the handsome ones. We hold those to an even higher standard.”

“What are you doing here?” he demanded and you shushed him, dragging him out of the room.

“What are you doing here?” he said whispering this time.

“I work here. What are you doing here?” you shot back, “Since when do you go to places like this?”

“Actually he’s been into art for a few years now,” you turned to see Osamu walking towards you grinning. “Hi y/n.”

“'Samuuu,” you greeted and gave him a hug while Atsumu twitched at the exchange.

“Yeah well I -,” the setter said, scratching the back of his kneck and looking uncomfortable, “It’s an important part of society and culture and stuff.” It's not like he used Osamu to mildly stalk you over the years or anything weird like that.

You looked at him incredulously. "And you chose to come here?”

“No, my fiance wanted to go,” Osamu cut in. “Apparently it has one of the best collections.”

The blonde girl who Atsumu had been whispering to peeked from behind his figure waving. “Hi!”

You blinked, surprised. You had assumed the beautiful girl was Atsumu’s girlfriend. Not that you cared of course.

The three of you exchanged pleasantries, Osamu mainly driving the conversation. His restaurant was doing well apparently and he and the girl were due to be married in a month or so.

“Congratulations!” you squealed, beaming at the both of them.

“Yer welcome to come,” Osamu said winking and you giggled. Osamu was always easy to talk to and you were glad that hadn’t changed.

“I’ll have to see if I’m free,” you replied with a smile and internally pushed the thought of seeing Atsumu looking radiant in a suit and standing at the end of an aisle out of your mind.

Speaking of the man, he had been uncharacteristically quiet during the conversation - a fact that did not escape his twin.

“Well,” Osamu said, “Kaori wanted to check out the special exhibit so we’ll head there first.”

The now dark-haired brother dragged his fiance off and with that the two of you were left alone.

“I should head back-”

“How are you-”

Both of you stopped and he scratched the back of his kneck again. “Right yeah you have to work.”

You nodded. “I should go.”

He bit his lip and looked at the floor. You couldn’t help a small smile looking at such a large man looking so timid.

“Atsumu.” He glanced up, your eyes locked for the first time. It registered how he was a man now, the softer curves of his face had become more angular and he was even taller than before with a broader build as well.

“It was really nice to see you again.” A glimmer sparked in his eyes your statement.

“And we have some cool new exhibits coming up you know since you’re so interested in art and all now…” You trailed off as he shot you a breathtaking grin and you desperately tried to ignore the fact that you were still weak for it even after all these years.

“Yeah I saw some of the posters. I’ll drop by if I see something I like.” He winked and you almost rolled your eyes as you turned to swiftly walk away, heart pounding in your chest faster than it had in years.

Why did I have to blurt that out??? You groaned internally before speeding off to your meeting. You remembered the warm brown of his eyes. Yep. Definitely still weak. Damn it.

After that, Atsumu started showing up to the museum. Every Saturday in fact.

You did a double-take the first time you saw the setter standing in front of a painting with headphones on. You walked over to stand beside him and peeked at him, catching his attention.

“What are you doing here?” you found yourself parroting when he lowered his headphones.

“It’s a museum,” he said confused, “I’m looking at the artwork. You said to come by?”

“I-” you tilted your head to the side, a bit flustered at his re-appearance. Ah that was a stupid question why y/n why??

You bit your lip. You didn’t think he’d actually come. Wasn’t he busy??

“Okay, please enjoy our collections.” You said in a formal voice before walking away, cringing at your awkwardness.

But after a while, you began looking forward to Saturdays and would make an excuse to wander the halls to see where he was. He’d shoot you a toothy smile when he saw you before turning back to the works with a pensive face. Hasn’t he memorised the works by now? You shook your head as you headed back to your office. He did have poor memory from what you remembered.

As you sat down at your desk, you thought back to what happened years ago, remembering how overwhelming everything felt. It took all this time for you to become yourself again and it had taken nearly repressing most of high school to succeed in forgetting all the trauma.

But after seeing Atsumu, you remembered all the good that came with those times too. How you’d hit Atsumu with the volleyball the first time you met, the fighting and bickering that came after, and how surprising it was that the two of you ended up dating. How he used to walk you home after both your practices ended and helped you with your serves. How after your injury, he spent his time not practising nodding off beside you in the library to keep you company and his goofy smile when he saw you supporting him at games . He’d even show up at the part time job you took your final year in a desperate attempt to find something to occupy you during all the free time you suddenly had by pretending he was a customer. You fought back a smile.

Kind of like he was doing now.

You swung your feet as you sat on the edge of the fountain, the both of you sipping on iced coffees. He’d taken to accompanying you on your break and you’d often go to a nearby cafe together.

“Are you even allowed to be out in public like this? I mean Sakusa-san’s always in a cap and glasses whenever I see him in the news photos.”

“Omi hates being social to begin with so he’s extra paranoid when he goes out.” Atsumu shrugged before grinning cockily. That cockiness made you bristle in annoyance - a reflex of yours that hadn’t changed. “What, scared you’ll get caught in a scandal with me?”

“I just don’t want your fangirls coming after me,” you said flatly.

He scoffed in response. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of them?”

“I don’t want to be harassed about it. I’ll end up getting pushed around,” you frowned.

“As if,” he snorted, “You aren’t the type to be bullied so easily.” He felt the ghost of a volleyball slamming into his back and chuckled.

Your frown deepened in disagreement and Atsumu glanced at you before continuing. He never liked to see you doubt yourself. You used to be so confident, standing on the court steadfastly with your eyes alight with mischief. Even when you told him you got into university, there had been a prideful look on your face that he had been relieved to see.

“Though it might be a good idea to have a few photos snapped of us. Our PR team says I need to shake off this playboy image.”

“Image?”

An indignant noise erupted from the man beside you. “Contrary to popular belief, I am NOT a fuckboy. When do I have the time to sleep around? I’m either at practice, matches, or here with you!” He pouted and crossed his arms.

“I’m honoured that the great Atsumu Miya chooses to grace me with his presence during my busy work day,” you said dryly.

“Exactly, you’d be lucky to be caught with me,” he said, winking.

“Still a celebrity I see,” you said shaking your head and opted to look away to focus on the bustle of people around the plaza.

“I’m not bothering ya, right?” You looked at him, confused, as he kept his gaze on the passersby as well. “Ya know, from yer busy work day.”

“Since when do you care about things like that?” Miya Atsumu was not the type to ask permission to intrude on someone’s life.

“I didn’t know if it would be okay,” he said softly and in a tone much more serious than you expected. “To see you again. I know we tried to leave on good terms but…”

You knew what he was talking about. It was good terms - well the best you could do at the time but there was a sense of uneasiness. As if you lost something and you had been so eager to get away that you didn’t realise just what you lost. Seeing him again brought memories back, memories of a time that meant a great deal to you.

“Why do you come back then?”

“I can’t seem to stay away,” he said, chuckling weakly.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t gotten over me yet or something,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood. When Atsumu didn’t respond you felt your breath hitch as your throat felt suddenly tighten. You snuck a peek at him and when your gazes locked, both of you cleared your throats looking away quickly.

“Osamu’s wedding is next week,” he suddenly said, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Oh right. He must be excited,” you smiled. It was nice that your friend had gotten such a happy ending.

“Want to be my plus one?”

“I believe I was invited.” You raised an eyebrow at him.

He mirrored your raised eyebrow and said, “What, so you’re bringing a plus one?” You laughed at his audacity in automatically thinking you didn’t.

“Maybe I am? You never asked me if I had a boyfriend ‘Tsumu.”

He frowned. “Well do ya? It’s hard to do better than me, you know.”

“Wow, you’re still a dick.”

“And you still dated me. So do you?”

You wanted to press your palms to your eyes in exasperation. How was he still the same?

“No I do not have a boyfriend, Atsumu.”

“What a coincidence,” he said, shooting you the toothy smile. “I don’t have one either so we can go together.”

“You don’t have a boyfriend?”

This time it was Atsumu that felt a surge of exasperation. “A date smartass. So it’s perfect if we go together.”

He cut off your noise of protest at his sudden declaration by waving his hand, “I think your break is almost over. I’ll text you more about it later okay?” he said and walked off, turning around once to frantically wave goodbye at you.

You gave a half-hearted wave before making a shoo-ing motion at him. As you watched him finally turn and leave, you felt your smile slowly fading. You wanted to keep Atsumu at a distance and you had a strong instinct to flee - to go back to ignoring that part of your life. But how could you? You stupidly still found him charming after all these years. Miya Atsumu was slowly managing to worm his way back into your life and you found you were reluctant to kick him out.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

At the insistence of his fiance, Osamu had decided to hold his wedding near the beach. You had been stunned at how pretty the venue was and admittedly a bit jealous at how gorgeous Kaori looked when she was showing you her wedding gown. You were also a bit nervous at spending a whole weekend with Atsumu around and knowing his personality, he would make sure he’d be harassing you the entire time.

Your suspicions were indeed correct. After you arrived at the hotel, you slid your key card into your room lock and found the red light blinking, preventing your access to a hot shower you desperately needed. You grunted in annoyance, dumping your heavy suitcase on the ground and aggressively slid the card in and out. The red light continued to greet you and you swore in response.

“Why is this not working??”

You heard a click and the door opened to reveal a damp Atsumu, towel slung around his neck and wearing nothing but boxer shorts.

“I thought I heard a sailor with a potty mouth,” he grinned, rubbing the end of the towel against his hair to dry it.

“Atsumu?? What are you doing in my room??”

“y/n I think you mean my room?”

“What? I’m in room 261?”

“You’re in 262,” he said simply and pointed down the hall.

You blinked at him and he snatched the card from your limp hand, lifting your discarded bag from the floor.

You spluttered uselessly as you trailed after him. He slid the card in and green light betrayed you. He easily opened the door and looked at you pointedly, “See this is what it looks like when you use the key for the right door.”

“Whatever,” you grumbled and just as you were about to thank him, he strolled through the door.

“What are you doing? I never said you could go in!”

“Nice,” he said looking around. “It’s the same as mine.”

“No shit,” you were about to say but yelped again when he dumped both your suitcase and himself on the bed.

“I swear your bed is softer,” he remarked as he laid sprawled out on his back.

“You’re getting it wettt,” you whined and he propped himself up on his elbows, his eyebrow lifting.

“You have a hot, shirtless pro-athlete on your bed and you’re complaining about the bed getting wet?”

“I think I’m more questioning why you have boxers with ducks on them,” you mocked trying to ignore that you did, in fact, have a hot, shirtless pro-athlete on your bed.

His lips stretched into a familiar shit-eating grin. “Maybe you’re just grouchy that YOU aren’t wet on the-.”

“MIYA ATSUMU,” you screamed, horrified as you rushed over to clamp a hand over his mouth. Of course, you being you, you nearly tripped as you reached the bed and you yelped as strong arms pulled you forward.

Your palms landed on a VERY solid chest and you looked up to see Atsumu’s face dangerously close to yours. Your eyes widened and you pushed yourself up only to have warm hands grip your thighs, stopping your attempt to get off of the offensive boy.

His eyebrows shot up as you sat, straddled on top of him. “Now we can change that if you-”

“UGH,” you threw your body weight to the side and tumbled off the bed.

“Nice to see you’re still clumsy.” He peered down at your dishevelled figure sitting on the floor glaring at him. “How you managed to play a sport, I’ll never know.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Atsumu regretted it. He internally cursed as you refused to meet his eyes, lips twisting unhappily. His mouth was dry as he tried to smooth over his mistake.

“I mean I didn’t-” He stammered.

“I don’t know if you recall Miya,” You nearly spit and you saw him flinch as you stood up putting your hands on your hips. “But I was an EXCELLENT volleyball player.”

Yours eyes flashed at him in a defiant way and he nearly fell for you all over again.

“Ehh but your serves kinda sucked.”

“Oh I don’t think you’re in a position to call my serves shit Mr. ‘Don't make me lose my focus or I’ll throw a temper tantrum’.”

“Though,” you pondered for a moment. “You don’t seem to mind people cheering nowadays.”

He sat up, a triumphant smile slowly spreading across his face this time. “Oho and how would you know that? Has someone been stalking my games?”

Your eye twitched and your mouth opened and closed. You wracked your brain desperately for a way to deny this without sounding stupid before settling for a lame, “Get out Miya.”

“You know if you wanna come watch all you have to do is ask, princess,” he said half-jokingly, half-hopeful that you would make the request.

“Leave Miya,” you repeated, refusing to acknowledge that you did want to see him play. “I’m going to take a shower and I don’t wanna see you when I get out,” you warned as you moved towards the bathroom.

“I can help you if you feel lonely~” he chuckled as he heard the door slam. Not wanting to push your wrath any further, he got up stretching before leaving the room.

He was greeted with a face identical to his standing outside the door.

“Ah so this is why you asked for the room next door to y/n.”

“You were listening? Creep.” He said, striding past Osamu towards his own room.

“I’m glad the two of you seem to be getting along,” he heard the amusement laced in his brother’s voice.

“Yeah,” Atsumu said softly with his hand paused on the handle of his door. “I hope we are.”

There was a silence between the two brothers and they distantly heard the sound of kids running down the hallways of the hotel somewhere.

“What? Too reluctant to leave her already?”

Atsumu grimaced and Osamu nearly threw his hands up. “I know you’re whipped but she’s next door ‘Tsumu.”

“Osamu,” Atsumu said in a serious manner that made his twin scrunch his face in concern. “I forgot my key card.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sun was setting as Atsumu blearily opened his eyes. He hadn’t had a nap in years and it felt weird to actually get some rest. He rolled over to grab his phone and saw a message from his brother.

If you plan on waking up anytime soon, we’ll be down at the beach.

He groaned and opted to scroll through instagram when he got another message.

[y/n] is here too.

He remained unmoving on his back for a moment before groaning again and rolled his eyes up towards the ceiling at the bait his twin set. Pulling on a pair of red basketball shorts and throwing on an old Stussy shirt, he made his way down to the beach.

The sound of seagulls and crashing waves greeted him as his feet hit the sand. There were yells, the sounds of laughter, and he was surprised to see a volleyball net set up nearby. His eyes flitted towards Kaori blowing Osamu a kiss from across the net and froze as he saw a familiar figure yell at her about fraternising with the enemy.

There you were, face glowing with excitement, standing at the service line and spinning a volleyball in your hands. His feet took off towards the net before he could think and his gaze was glued to you as your palm made contact with the ball.

He could practically hear your ‘tsk’ sound as Osamu dug it up and he couldn’t help but worriedly look at your ankle as you crouched low. Kaori jumped to block and his heart pounded in anticipation.

You darted out and dove, sending the ball high into the air. You scrambled to quickly get up and jogged back, your eyes following the set arching back towards you.

Atsumu unconsciously held his breath as he watched you jump, feet kicked back behind you and arm drawn back - the orange sunset behind you highlighting your form.

A malicious smile spread across your face as you found Osamu jumping up to reach over the net and you spiked against his arms.

“OUT,” his fiance screamed as the ball ricocheted off the block and outside the court.

“C’mon ‘Samu,” Atsumu heard your teasing voice. “You must be getting old if you let me score off of you like that.” You finally noticed his figure by the makeshift court and perked up. “Oh, 'Tsumu’s awake!”

He finally let out a breath when he saw you and Kaori waving excitedly at him. “Atsumu! Come join us!”

“Aw, how is that fair,” Osamu’s teammates groaned. “You guys can’t have a professional player on your team!”

“Suck it up,” you stuck a tongue out at him. “Atsumu is mine so you can’t have him.” You laughed gleefully at the protest that came from the opposing side and you playfully nudged him as he came to stand beside you at the net.

He smiled down at you for a second and as you stared into his eyes, momentarily mesmerised. He looked at you with such familiarity and warmth and you couldn’t help but shyly smile in return.

Your gaze was interrupted by a low growl.

Atsumu’s eyes flitted up to meet his twin's through the net. “Pro or not, 'Tsumu you’re going down.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The games continued until the stars were coming out and you all settled around a fire, snacking on fruit as a reward for all the exercise. You felt the sand shift and Atsumu plopped down beside you.

“I didn’t know you played.”

You grimaced at the slight hint of betrayal in his voice.

“I can’t seem to stay away,” you laughed, repeating his words from the fountain. “I play some pickup games here and there.”

“...and you’re all healed now?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “I go to PT but the muscle has been healed for a while. I have to wear a brace when I play but it’s more out of caution.”

“It still creaks sometimes though,” you made a face.

“Still. It’s good to see you stand on a court again.”

You looked over and winced at the expression on his face. He had a wry smile that didn't suit his face and a distant look to his eyes.

“I’m sorry Atsumu.” His gaze remained trained towards the darkness of the ocean. “I realised I never apologised for treating you badly back then. I know it’s not an excuse, but I was angry and hurt and all I could think was to get away to protect myself. I couldn’t think about anything else - anyone else.”

A muscle flexed in his jaw. “I know. I know better than anyone but god y/n, I was there for you wasn’t I?” He couldn’t help the reproach in his voice. “And you,” he bit his lip. “You just threw me away.”

With those words, Atsumu realised what he’d been feeling since your breakup all those years ago - resentment. He felt guilty for doing so and he’d pushed it deep down but it was threatening to spill out from him now.

“‘'Samu quit playing and then you left,” he said hoarsely. “You both left me alone.”

“You had your team,” you tried to argue weakly.

“Wasn’t the same.” He shook his head, broad shoulders slumping and he tucked his knees up, resting his head on them. “And you said that you would always be there for me," he said in a small voice.

This boy - no this man - had done so much for you. Back in high school and now, he remained insistent on being by your side, even when you pushed him away.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated lamely. “I can’t thank you enough for supporting me and loving me then.”

“And I’m thankful that you’re in my life again.” You reached out a hand to cover his. His palm turned and he wrapped his fingers around yours. “I know I’m late,” you hesitated, gathering your courage before taking the plunge. “I’d like to be a part of yours again, if you’d let me.”

The blonde setter finally looked at you and his eyes crinkled in a joyful manner that suddenly made you see the image of a younger, teen Miya Atsumu - the one you had loved so much. You both felt something - as if you found a missing puzzle piece fallen on the floor - placed back into its rightful place.

“I’d like that."

Epilogue

“Relax, she said she’s running late right?” A sullen boy with raven curly hair pushed Atsumu towards the court. The stadium was already loud as people waited in anticipation for the MSBY match to start.

He nodded, repeating to himself that you indeed sent him a text earlier saying you would be late. Besides, they were just warming up. The match hadn’t started yet and there was plenty of time left.

The empty seat beside Osamu seemed to mock him as he recalled the time when he ached upon seeing it empty yet again. He shook his head as if to clear it as the whistle blew to signal the teams should start warming up their serves.

“WHOO let’s go ‘'Tsumu!”

His eyes couldn’t leave your figure, clad in his jersey, lifting both your arms in the air and shaking pom poms. He let out a smile, one goofy enough that Sakusa rolled his eyes as he mouthed an ‘i love you,’ towards the stands.

He looked away triumphantly at your stunned figure as the whistle blew, this time to signal the beginning of the match. He focused his mind toward the game giddily and cemented his resolve that they would win today.

Because the seat was finally filled. You were there.

Right where you were supposed to be.

#dear lord this was long #but i kinda like it #couldn't stop writing #atsumu miya #atsumu angst #atsumu fluff #astumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #hq atsumu #haikyuu fic #haikyuu x reader #atsumu x y/n #atsumu imagines

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jensensfanfic · 1 year

Note

could you do a protective ellie one shot? like maybe the reader gets hurt and ellie loses her shit on whoever hurt her? thank for considering !

DRAW YOU, DEFEND YOU, OH, AND I LIKE YOU

pairing: student!ellie x fem!reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: fighting (not much), bullying, mentions of a few minor injuries, reader wears glasses, reader has anxiety

a/n: i'm gonna say you're both around 16/17 in this. school systems confuse me everywhere, so just apply that to whatever year group you'd be in. reader is written as being quite shy and quiet in this one! also, i name the a-hole liam :). hope you like it!

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Unsurprisingly, the news that you were the new kid in class had already travelled well, making it through the entire school within a day. The thing that made this bad news was that everyone's eyes were on you. They were probably waiting to see if you were going to be a spitfire, loud mouth who took nobody's crap, or one of the quiet kids: an easy target.

You were the latter. Quiet, introverted, not used to having more than one friend, but very accustomed to eating alone every lunch.

Nobody bothered you much for the first month or so, but then one guy had seen you eating lunch with a teacher, and now you were the subject of nerd jokes.

You had sat with your Maths professor one time to go over some homework. It had taken longer than expected, and you decided to grab a cereal bar from your bag, your tummy begging for it through growls. This tiny choice had deemed you nerd, teacher's pet, and a plethora of other jokes relating to the fact that you wore glasses.

Then, one day, it escalated. One of the self entitled 'popular' guys had taken a seat in front of you at lunch. He started blabbing on, tossing around the nerd jokes, clearly looking for some kind of response that you refused to give. Even if you wanted to tell him to piss off, you never would because the thought of doing so made your heart race.

You were caught up in your own thoughts, his voice sounding as though he were underwater, when he suddenly bangs his hands down onto the table. You flinch, glancing around, seeing that the movement had caused your drink to spill.

"Crap." You mutter, picking it up before it could get onto your clothes.

"Oh, so you have a voice." The guy says, mockingly as he looks over to his friends, who are all laughing. "The freak actually talks."

"I—" Before you can speak, you see a shadow move over the dining table. Looking up, you're surprised to see that it's Ellie Williams.

Ellie wasn't a quiet kid like you, but she also wasn't a nobody either. You'd seen her with a couple of friends, but you'd also seen her alone, smoking on her way to and from school, or sitting in windows with her guitar or a notepad. Ellie was that girl that no one knew too much about, but they were all curious – mostly about her tattoo since she didn't even attempt to hide it on most days.

Ellie was in a few of your classes, one of which she was seated in front of you. You would sometimes find yourself trying to peek over and look at her sketches she doodled during lessons. She was incredibly talented, once or twice you wanted to compliment her, but then your pounding heart would stop you.

She was also really, really hot, but that was a thought you pushed away, for fear that if someone found out, that would be the next thing you'd be singled out for. Plus, it's not like you would ever tell her.

"Hey, Liam." Now, she was standing next to you, notepad tucked under her arm, one hand pressed against the table. "Back off, okay?"

"Williams? The fuck do you want?"

"I want you to leave the girl alone." She glances at you, and you immediately cast your eyes down. "Go fuck with someone else."

Liam scoffs and then goes back to his friends, flipping Ellie off as he walks away.

"Jesus." Ellie refills his seat, plopping down with a grunt. "Sorry about him. He's a dick. Hard to believe he used to be kinda cool. Anyway... Are you good?"

"Uh..." She waits patiently for your answer, and you gather quickly that she's not planning on leaving until she gets one. "Yeah... thanks."

"Cool." She stands again. "See you around."

You mutter a 'bye', but she is already halfway across the dining hall, shooting a glare at Liam's table as she goes.

Over the next few weeks, Ellie comes to your defence several more times. She tells you how sick she is getting hearing Liam and his friends torment you.

"I just... don't really care. If I react, it'll just make it worse. I can handle it." You momentarily realise that Ellie has gotten more words out of you than anyone else since you'd transferred here to Jackson Academy.

"Yeah, well, you shouldn't have to deal with it. Tell 'em to fuck off." Ellie sighs then, loudly. "Hey, you wanna get lunch together today?"

"What, so you can sit there like a bodyguard or something?"

"Maybe." Ellie laughs, grabbing her things, along with your own bag. "Come on."

"Uh, okay..."

—

After you've eaten everything, Ellie pulls out her sketchbook while you tap away at a game on your phone. You watch her squint and twist her head, concentrated on whatever it is she's drawing.

"You know..." You remind yourself that Ellie has called you her friend many times, and she defended you, so she's not going to lash out or anything... you decide to bat the anxiety away for a second. "You're really talented. I've seen a little of what you've drawn here and there and... it's really good."

Ellie's pencil stops, and she looks up at you through her lashes. "Really?" She smiles and then looks up fully. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." You feel the spread of heat on your cheeks and rest your head in your hands in an attempt to hide it. "So, uh, what're you drawing?"

"You." Ellie answers instantly.

You blanch. "What?"

"That's okay?"

"No, it's fine. Just, uh– why me?"

"Your face." Ellie pauses again and drops a pencil into her case, swapping it for a slightly thinner one. "It's interesting."

"Interesting?" You feel a drop in your stomach, you anxiety ridden brain immediately thinking of the worst case scenario - that maybe this was an elaborate plan to mock you and—

"Pretty." Ellie sees the panic and diminishes in a word.

"Huh?"

"I meant you have a pretty face, and I wanted to draw it. Okay?" She chuckles softly, pushing her pencil into her hair bun and then reaching over to touch your arm. "Chill."

"Right... uh–"

"What's going on here, ladies?" You are once again met with the sight of Liam's annoying face. He stands inches away, obnoxiously smacking his lips as he chews on some gum. "Aw, you two pals now? Or..." He wiggles his brows, and then you realise that Ellie's hand is still on yours, and he's looking right at them.

Years of pent-up frustration fill your chest, and you stand suddenly, your chair scraping along the floor and creating an ugly sound that makes you cringe. "Liam, for fuck sake, can you just... leave me the hell alone."

"Ooh, the kitten has claws. Did Williams tell you to–"

"Shut up!" You yell, gaining the attention of a few more students as they look on and listen in. "Just fuck off. Go smoke a joint or jack off with you buddies, whatever the fuck. Just get lost."

You tap Ellie on the shoulder, who raises her brows in question. "Wanna go?"

"Uh, yeah." She gathers her pad and pencils and stands with you, looking a little impressed. "Let's go."

Before you can make even a couple of steps, you trip over something and go tumbling to the ground. Unfortunately, your elbow and chin take most of the fall, but you ignore it for a moment to twist and find the source of what happened.

Liam is standing above you, his foot still frozen mid-air, and he actually looks surprised. For a second, you think maybe he regrets tripping you, but then his friends are all cheering. He looks back and forth between them and then echoes their laughter, but it sounds forced - and you should know, he'd laughed around or in front of you a lot by this point.

"Are you okay?" You hadn't even noticed Ellie kneeling at your side.

You look up at her and nod, but upon seeing your face fully, she switches from concerned to pissed off. She abruptly stands, and you follow her movement until she is nearing Liam. You notice her fist is clenched, and before you can scramble up to stop her, it connects with Liam's face.

She shakes her hand after, flexing her fingers and looking down at where he now sits on the floor. "Asshole."

The next day, you meet Ellie on the bleachers before school. "So, what's the damage? Detention?"

"Yeah, every day for a couple of weeks. But it was worth it."

"Not really. Haven't you had like a perfect record before this."

Ellie nods, and you sigh. "Ellie..."

"What? It's done, I can't take it back."

"Why did you have to hit him?" You gently prod your bruised chin, the dull ache less painful and more annoying.

"Literally, you ask me that question as you flinch and poke around your fat bruise. I fucking hit him because he hurt you."

"Ugh, it's not that bad."

Ellie rolls her eyes. "That's not the point. I don't know if you've noticed, but over the past few weeks, I've gotten kind of attached to you."

"Um..." You frown, not quite believing what you just heard, but something blooms in your stomach, sends a wave of tingles up your arms and legs. "Okay. I... don't know what to say to that."

"It's pretty simple, my oblivious friend. I've had my eye on you since you enrolled in this crappy fuckin' school. Everytime that stupid fuck said something to you I wanted to hit him. And then when you were on the floor and I saw you were hurt... I wanted to rip his face off."

"Jesus, Ellie."

"What can I say? Maybe I have some anger issues. The point is... I finished your drawing."

"What? I-" You're so confused that you laugh. "How does a drawing conclude your point in this conversation?"

"Take a look." Ellie smiles, smug, but with a hint of nervousness. She points to her notebook between you, and you take it. Flipping through the pages, you search for your drawing, and when you find it, you blush right away. "So?"

Your hand glides down the page. Ellie has drawn you with your head resting on your hand during lunch, one hand on your phone. She has even drawn the name of the game you were playing in that moment. Underneath, your name, followed by your name.

'I always thought it was kinda weird to gift someone a drawing of their own face... anyway I like you. Can I buy you dinner sometime? —Ellie :)'

You pluck the pencil from her ear and find a new page. You scribble for a minute or so, and Ellie is impatient, tapping her foot on the metal seats.

When you're done, you turn the sketchbook around. Ellie quickly reads it and then grins.

In big letters you had written, 'YES'.

Then, underneath, in much smaller writing:

'(Also, I think you're really, really hot.)'

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