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No match - Atsumu Miya

Atsumu is a simple man, even with a tunnel vision for volleyball, he did think about others. He thought about his twin when he saw an ugly character on the back of the comics you read. Atsumu thought of his mom when he saw you cook for him, thinking back to the time he brought you to meet his mom the first time on Christmas, a few years back. As soon as December rolled around, Atsumu would already be drooling for the cookies you and his mum baked on Christmas every year since.

He has always been big on Christmas, receiving gifts, food, cookies and throwing you in the picture, and it becomes even better than it has been. Now that Atsumu was older, one responsibility that he had as someone who earned his own money was buying gifts for his family and friends.

To say, Atsumu was good at thinking of gifts would be a lie. He was absolutely uncreative when it came to gifts, he would buy everyone the same gifts every year if it wasn’t for you. He loved every single minute of Christmas shopping with you.

The blurred golden glow from the lights that hung from the trees by the sidewalk, under the giant Christmas tree that stood tall in the center of the street, Atsumu couldn’t help his heart from swelling up in the happiness he felt in that single moment. He couldn’t have seen a sight prettier than you in the Christmas lights, soft white snow falling on your head while your cheeks and nose blushed red from the cold weather, laughter tipping from your lips. At that moment, he couldn’t hear anything but the giggle that left your lips and the jingle that the kids sang around him.

Pulling your beanie higher on your head, Atsumu crouched, pressing a kiss on your forehead fondly. The laugh that he started was from his suggestion to buy his twin brother an ugly sweater because;

“Samu, can suck it up and take it or leave it, I don’t care, I am gifting his ugly ass an ugly sweater to match ugliness, tho it won’t be any match for his level”

And so, began the search for an “ugly sweater to match samu’s level of ugliness” or so he thought.

“Pooh, look, we HAVE to buy this”

“‘Sumu, we were looking for a gift for samu, it’s already getting late, let’s speed this up”

“But–”

Atsumu knew exactly how to convince you to buy these couple sweaters. As you dragged him away from the rack which held the sweaters he wanted, Atsumu knew to have his eyes stuck on them, staring longingly with tears sitting on his waterline.

“Pooh, but what about us, we don’t wanna look ugly like samu” He forced you to look at his eyes glistening with tears.

“Just — yeah, whatever. We can get them” you said, rubbing your temples to express your annoyance even with the smile growing on your face as he grabbed your face, showering your cool skin with warm fleeting kisses to show his appreciation.

Atsumu was basically vibrating with happiness while he paid for his sweaters, hanging from your shoulder with his arms draped over your form that he was back hugging, insisting that he was doing his boyfriend duties of keeping you warm. Heading home with Atsumu still hanging from your shoulders was something. While you appreciated your boyfriend’s warmth, you would still prefer his boisterous laugh not being directed straight to your sensitive ears.

Being whipped for his girlfriend had its own disadvantages. The same night, he fell asleep in your arms, totally forgetting the gift he set out to buy for his brother. Waking the next morning as he gloated in love and the cold snow, it still had set in that was missing a gift for his brother and instead of reminding you the same when he did remember, he sneakingly wrote his name beside yours on the gift you had planned for his brother.

“Sumu, do you have all the gifts in the car?” you said, pulling over the sweater Sumu had bought from yesterday.

“Uh, yeah, yeah, I counted them too, don’t worry” he said, tugging his sleeves impatiently.

“Pooh, let’s head over already, ‘wanna have your cookies” he continued while resting his chin on your shoulder, tired from all the late night packing.

“MA, ‘SUMU FORGET TO BUY ME A GIFT AND WROTE HIS NAME ON HIS GIRLFRIEND’S GIFT FOR ME”

“YOU UNGRATEFUL SCRUB, I DIDN’T FORGET, I JUST —- I JUST DIDN’T WANT TO BUY YOU ANYTHING AND ALSO WHATEVER MY GIRL BRINGS IS ALSO FROM ME”

“THAT IS NOT HOW IT WORKS AND IF SO THEN, FINE I’LL KEEP THE GIFT I BOUGHT YOU THEN”

“WHAT?? YOU DON’T GET TO DO THAT, BABE, say something”

“Good going ‘Samu” you said, fist bumping Samu while your boyfriend whined to his mom about his girlfriend being unfair.

“BTW, ‘Sumu You’re banned from Onigiri Miya for the next whole year” Samu said, draping an arm around your shoulder, directing you towards the kitchen.

“YAH, ‘SAMU THAT’S MY GIRL” He said, stomping his steps, smiling softly at the view of you in the kitchen with his mum and brother, icing on your fingers as you offered him some.

Atsumu was a simple man, he thought as he licked the icing off your finger, his mood immediately brighter. His Christmas never ran smoothly, but with you here in the lights always shone brighter, the laughter louder and the days lasted longer. He was glad he could shop for Christmas with someone, although in the end he always ends up buying things for himself, and you, buy gifts for him to give. Samu was lucky he received the gift you bought for him instead of an ugly gift like himself because surely there was no match for “Samu’s ugliness”.

  forty, love ᵕ̈       tennis au!miya twins x gn!reader       ( pt. two ) ˎˊ˗

⋮⋮ ˒ ₍ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 𖥻 ⿻ : what to do when two  ⋮⋮  fellow pro tennis players are ⋮⋮  interested in you ? you compare ⋮⋮  their stats , of course !

📋 content     ♡ # 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧 🐮     ♡ # 𝘴𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦❕     ♡ # 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 🥛     ♡ # ~4.1𝘬 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 ( wow )     ♡ # 𝙘𝙬 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘦 ( all characters are 18     or older during all events of the story !! ) ,     𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨

🧺 extensions  ⋮⋮  prev  ⋮⋮  series masterlist  ⋮⋮  next ( coming soon ! )  ⋮⋮

🎶 on shuffle " yeah x10 " - trent reznor & atticus ross ( challengers movie soundtrack )

🧸 directory  ‹ ✩  like what you read ? check out more of my blog !  •ᴗ•

💬 kuroppiii ─ “ i locked tf in for this one ... ( also thank you ree for helping with the smau stuff i ' ve never done myself prior to this lolll ) ”

atsumu and osamu are neck-and-neck in a tie break. the crowd around you grows frustrated in a twisted type of voyeurism as the two tennis players are almost equally matched in the masterful way they return the ball to each other.

it's still only the first set but it feels like you've been sitting there watching 100 tennis matches–and in a sense, you have been.

as the ball gets traded between the miya twins on each side of the net, the countless times you've seen the two passionately rally tennis balls with their rackets cycle through your mind. they overlay the sight in front of you, almost like a flip book–one that eventually lands on a page from a long-gone time.

a time when the twins used to play alongside each other on one side of the net.

،   の   ✧   後    🌱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗻 …

after winning the match that made your young pro-athlete career those many years ago, you remember you took your new trophy with you to sit in on a certain mens doubles match a few hours later that same day.

there were a few hours to kill between when the cameras flashed in your face as you held your trophy and when you'd have to deal with it all over again that night for the winners' banquet. so, you decided to take up the two twin brothers' offer from the previous day to watch them in action.

slipping into a secluded corner of the stands, you were just barely able to catch the last few sets of their game since yours had overlapped slightly time-wise. but even in those few sets, you found yourself drawn to how the two ruled the court.

looking at the scoreboard, it seems like they breezed past the first set, had faltered and lost the second, but were definitely back on track to secure the third when you had arrived.

under the searing afternoon sun you noticed how atsumu always donned a certain smirk on his face before serving. this smile somehow shone brighter than the rays of light beating down on him and his sweat-drenched shirt.

and not too far from the blonde and closer to the net, osamu continuously provided ample support whenever atsumu's serves were returned, no matter how powerfully their opponents hit them back. he had a show-stopping habit of leaping into the air to reach the tennis balls whenever they were returned up high. volley after volley, osamu's usually bored expression would turn to one that was laser-focused on swatting at his neon green targets with his racket so the balls would quickly crash onto their opponents' side.

in this way, the twins weren't ones who waited for the ball to hit the court. they always had the ball in motion. it was like they were so in-tune on some deep and unspoken level, and you hadn't seen doubles partners play in any way like it.

'maybe it's because they're brothers,' you thought to yourself as you found yourself more invested watching a tennis match than you ever had before, 'maybe it's because they're twins, at that!'

either way, the miya twins secured that third set, and despite the annoyance of your manager as you were completely oblivious to their calls and texts telling you to start getting ready for the winners' banquet, you intently watched every moment and every point as they finished off their match by winning the fourth set.

you earnestly joined the audience in the stands as you applauded the two, watching them drop their rackets and excitedly embrace one another in a tight hug upon realizing the match was now over. they were winners.

the trophy gets brought out, and you get a great view of their faces lighting up in celebratory smiles, holding their shared trophy between them for the cameras.

the image of them both–hair sticking to their foreheads and dripping in sweat yet still grinning impossibly wide–as they clutch their new trophy and both kiss it at the same time, was one that would be burned into your memory for years.

but at the time, the moment passes as quickly as it came before they go to pack up their duffels on the sidelines. you take this as your queue to leave and finally catch up on the notifications from your manager. but just as you stand up from your seat, atsumu spots you in the crowd, and you see his jaw drop.

immediately and without risking to glance away from you, he aggressively swats at osamu's arm next to him to get the gray-haired one to look at where you stood, too. osamu reluctantly follows his brothers gaze, and you see the frustrated expression aimed at his brother quickly melt into one mixed with shock and admiration as he locks eyes with you.

(unable to fight the small smile that tugs at your lips upon seeing their ego-boosting reactions again) you nod at them in acknowledgment, give them a small wave, and go to pick up your trophy as you leave while they flash those winning smiles right back at you.

،   そ   ✧   の後    🌱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗻 ...

the banquet a few hours later was held in a classy venue, with winding spotless marble staircases and chandeliers in every room. when your ride pulled up in front of the building, you stepped out onto the ostentatious red carpet that was laid out for all the tournament's victors to waltz down. you could hear the buzz of chatter and crystal glass clinking inside. the louder it grew, the more your hands gripped at the shiny handles of your award as you entered the hall.

a worker directed you to a table where all the winners were asked to place their trophies for a round of pictures that would take place before dinner started. just as you go to set yours down, two similar and familiar faces entered through the banquet hall doors.

the voice of the tournament employee started to sound more and more tuned-out as you watched them step into the hall. the miyas were clad in clean and simple dress pants and blazers. osamu's outfit was on the more, of course, grayer side than atsumu's (and defiinitely more of atsumu's dress shirt buttons were unbuttoned than that of his brother's).

osamu held in his hands the brothers' trophy from their match earlier that day, and a different worker suddenly approached them, kindly gesturing to the table you were standing right next to. they were probably asking osamu to place the trophy down on the table–something you were still yet to do.

you quickly look back at the worker talking to you, apologizing for "spacing out" before carefully positioning your prize in the spot where they needed it. you feel a presence come up next to you, and look up to make eye contact with the two twins.

"long time no see," atsumu teases as his brother sets down their trophy next to yours.

"nice trophy ya got there," osamu adds on. a light-hearted scoff escapes you before you attempt to congratulate them on their own win.

"thanks! congrats to you t–"

"l/n! i've been looking everywhere for you!" your manager suddenly appears and interrupts you, "there are some photographers who're asking for your picture. right this way, please..."

as your manager nudges you away from the award table, you glance back to give the two brothers an apologetic smile. they wave you off and soon you lose sight of them as the crowd in the room gets between you.

and that's how it went for the first half of the evening: looks here and there exchanged between you and the miyas, but always getting whisked away by the crowd to each take pictures with so-and-so or do another interview with whatever news outlet.

until finally, all the trophy bearers are called up to take one big picture together, and you find yourself standing next to the doubles partners once again. osamu is right next to you, and atsumu next to him. the moment after all the athletes have clobbered their big trophies in their grasp to hold up for the cameras, you start getting bombarded with flashing lights.

as you try to maintain your smile for the pictures, you catch in the corner of your eye osamu leaning closer to you, and he whispers, "ya looked great out there"–he pauses and smiles again at the flash of another camera–"and you're lookin' great now, too."

"lay off the gorgeous singles winner, would'ya 'samu? you're ruinin' our photos right now," atsumu smoothly joins in on your brief hushed conversation.

your smile begins to resemble a more genuine one at the interaction, and you're hoping the photos of you don't show the blush dusted on your cheeks once they get released to the press.

again, you don't get to talk to the twins much throughout the rest of the event. but during dinner hour–while them and their team are off somewhere else in the venue doing some p.r.–you successfully managed to slip a napkin with your number scribbled on it into the cup of their trophy as you pass by.

that night at your hotel, two new numbers popped up on your phone.

،   そ   ✧   の後    🌱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗻 ...

the sound of tennis balls making contact with hardcourt echo through the darkness of night.

a few weeks later you're practicing late-night at a hotel court for your first grand slam appearance. for you recently, it's been nothing but nonstop training and drills. you were aiming for the final. sure, you could tell yourself to make it to at least quarter-finals, or even be satisfied at seeing yourself at semi-finals.

but no, your mind was set on the final. hell, your mindset was to win overall.

you got ready to practice your serve for another time, following the neon green ball as it went from the palm of your hand, to spinning in mid-air, to crashing against the wires of your racket–

your phone emits a small beam of light from where it laid on the bench in your peripheral vision. you wondered for a split second who could be texting you at this hour.

watching as your serve hit the exact corner you were aiming for, you decided you could give yourself a short break to check.

you reach into your duffel and fish out your towel, and you pat your neck and arms dry as you unlock your phone to open up the sudden set of notifications accruing on your homescreen,

it was the miyas.

ever since they added your number from the winners' banquet napkin, the three of you have had a shared groupchat you used to stay in touch. you had discovered pretty early on that the twins were very different, even if it's in how they text.

recently, however, on account of your intense grand slam preparations, you haven't been very active in it. but out of nowhere, here the two brothers are blowing up the chat. as you caught up on the messages, you pick up on an interesting amount of typos–more than usual...

at the mention of bottles, you immediately caught on. a small laugh escapes you as you type back to voice your suspicion, and atsumu almost instantly replies back to confirm it–that they've had a few drinks tonight.

you shake your head at the bench. it was almost midnight. and they want to see you this bad?

you debate for a moment how much you really wanted to see them again.

they were definitely staying at some different hotel than yours, as they were going to be at the upcoming tournament as well to compete in their usual doubles bracket. you had no idea where or how far their hotel might've been, though. how would they even get to your hotel from theirs anyway? how long would you have to wait for them out in the dark? you could probably fit some more drills in that time instead.

after thinking about it for another minute or two, you sigh and look up at the moon in the dark sky, too exhausted from the hours you've already spent on the hard court to really think of an excuse not to have them visit you. a small break right about now couldn't hurt.

besides–other than catching sight of them on tv or on online tennis news articles–the last time you saw them was at the winner's banquet, and you really wouldn't complain about seeing their faces in person again.

so you tell them what you're up to at your hotel, and you're met with eager replies back in the groupchat: atsumu suggesting they join you in your practice, osamu saying they have a driver that can bring them to you.

a sudden surge of energy enters your system realizing you're about to have them right in front of you again. you bounce your leg against the court impatiently to try and let some of it out.

you start thinking back to the last time you were face-to-face with them, and you can't help but cringe a little, recalling how you were more of a flustered mess than you might've wished in front of them.

you internally cursed the effect they have on you.

and yet, here you were giving in to see them. but if you were going to have to face them again, you concluded you'd need a bit of liquid courage pumping through you yourself...

around 20 minutes after you seal the deal and send your hotel's address to the two brothers, you hear footsteps approaching where you were sat at the court bench.

and then there they were–casually in t-shirts and shorts they were probably about to wear to bed–in front of you. you hear the clink of bottles as atsumu drops the duffel on his shoulder onto the court.

"be more careful with that, would'ya 'tsumu?" osamu hisses while landing a quick blow to the side of atsumu's arm.

you already find yourself giggling in their presence again and barely a minute has passed by. but what can you say? both on and off the court, the two were so interesting for you to watch.

after atsumu does in fact fail to open some more bottles with his racket and osamu instead opts to use the cap of one bottle to open two others, the three of you then start rallying in a friendly 2-v-1.

with the twins opposite you across the net, tennis balls start to get lazily passed over the net using one-handed forehands and backhands (you each had an occupied hand holding your drinks, after all). though you three aren't giving it your all, a steady and precise rhythm of clicks still start to ring out like a metronome with each pass of the ball, accompanying the catch-up conversation that you share on the court.

a few rallies in–and a drink or two more–atsumu suddenly poses a question mid-rally that catches you off-guard.

"hey, say if you had to date one of us, which one you would pick?" the blonde shouts across the court, almost causing you to miss your return on the ball. you question if this was atsumu, or the alcohol talking.

click!

skeptical, you shout back, "i'd go out with whoever actually liked me, obviously."

click!

"but what if we both did?" you barely catch osamu add on, as his words are more mumbled and almost slurred before you see him hurriedly take another swig from his bottle.

you can hear the joint-confession in his words, and your other hand goes to give you another sip from your own bottle to calm your nerves.

click!

"is it normal for you both like the same girl?" you tease.

click!

"nah, not really, actually," osamu calls back.

"so what, should i feel honored or something?" you can't help but sarcastically throw at the two.

click!

"of course. you're hot and talented," atsumu reasons, dropping his description of you like it's the most normal thing to say in that moment. you feel your face start to heat up–and it definitely wasn't the alcohol making its way through your system.

click!

"oh, is that all i am?" you feign offense, and for once both brothers mistakenly go to return the ball, when they usually are so coordinated only one ever has to take initiative. you loved messing around with them.

the ball falls between their two outstretched rackets, and atsumu curses under his breath as osamu goes after it as it starts bouncing away. after retrieving it, he tosses it to atsumu to serve it over and start up another rally.

click!

"'s not that," says osamu, "we've both gotten to know ya, you're great all-'round."

click! click! click...

"but based on what you've gotten to know 'bout us," atsumu speaks up in the pause of conversation, "who would'ya pick?"

click... click... click–

you suddenly give it your all and crash the ball hard onto their side of the court, downing the rest of your bottle right after, "let me think that over."

،   そ   ✧   の後    🌱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗻 ...

the three of you had stopped rallying, opting to hanging out on the bench and just talking about life. the few bottles from the miyas' duffel were about halfway through and it was close to about 2 in the morning now.

the sound of tennis balls and rackets making contact was now replaced with hushed giggles, the sound of tennis balls lightly being dropped against the court surface and being caught again once they inevitably bounce back up, and the whirr of rackets being twirled by absent-minded hands.

all these sounds muddle together in your ears, an internal tell-tale signal to you that you were very tipsy.

since you were asked the question, the notion of getting with either of the miya twins has been floating in your mind. other thoughts came along with it, too, and the alcohol was not helping to push those curiosities of yours away.

as always, these two made it so easy to cave into your wants of selfish self-satisfaction. but this was a much-welcomed respite from the otherwise constant pressures and grueling day-to-day of going pro so young on the tennis court.

that you could be sure of, sober or not.

... so you figured your future and more sober self in the morning can't get that upset for what you were about to try.

"i think i know how i can figure out an answer to your question from earlier," you find yourself humming while atsumu was on your right, attempting a racket trick on the bench, and osamu was to your left, on the ground leaning up against the bench and bouncing a ball between the court and the palm of his hand.

"which one?" atsumu questions with a quick glance over to you as he tried balancing the middle of his racket on one finger.

"who i'd go out with," you nonchalantly shrug as you hear the wires of your racket slice through the air when you quickly spin it in your grasp.

"really?" osamu cranes his neck back to look at you, hand still trading contact with the ball between his hand and the court.

you look between them, the blush from the alcohol clearly visible on their faces–one you can certainly feel is shared on your own facial features, too–before looking back down at your racket, "i dunno, i just think i need more... stats to compare."

"what d'ya mean?" atsumu now puts down his racket in his lap and asks. you bend down and use your racket to slice the tennis ball out from under osamu's palm, directing attention to the racket by tapping it against the ground.

you ask osamu, "heads or tails?"

a beat of expectant silence passes by the three of you, as the brothers wonder what you're getting at.

"...tails," osamu finally replies, and it almost sounds like he utters his words on bated breath as he looks at you. (or maybe that was just your ego getting to your head.)

you twirl your racket one more time and let it clatter to the ground. the sound reverberates in the now completely-silent space, as the miyas are frozen in place as they scan your every move.

heads.

you look at atsumu, and mustering up all the confidence from your inebriated system, you reach your hand up to lightly hold his jawline. his skin under your fingertips runs soft as you dare to start leaning in closer, and closer, and at the moment your lips brush the slightest bit, you feel his breath hitch.

for a second, you reconsider if now was the time to settle into desire, if this may all just wind up being a big mistake–

but then atsumu quickly gets fed up, and he finally closes the gap between you. before you know it, your eyes flutter closed as you get lost in how his mouth feels on yours. his kiss is relentless, leaving no room for you to catch your breath as he constantly makes sure you can feel as much of him against your lips as you can. it's like he doesn't want you thinking about anything but him, not on his watch.

yeah, this is definitely not a mistake.

after a few moments, you hear shuffling and the bench creaks under a new weight on your left, and suddenly you feel a hand on your left thigh–osamu's, no doubt.

you carefully pull back from you and atsumu's kiss, catching how atsumu's eyes remain lidded as his body involuntarily tries chasing after you, both of you letting out soft pants to try and breathe in much-needed air.

you turn your head to face osamu, and you follow how his eyes trace over your face and his teeth subtly gnaws at the inside of his bottom lip in an anxious state of anticipation. you take it as your sign to start leaning in towards him–your fingers still lingering on atsumu's face as you do so.

osamu's kiss is much softer, but deliberate nonetheless. he isn't afraid of pulling back a little bit, but it isn't long before he takes the initiative to gently trap your bottom lip between his teeth now and then, forcing content sighs out of you–this in itself almost eggs him on further to toy with you more.

and then the skin under your right hand's finger tips disappears, a pair of lips start to kisses your jaw, and a pair of hands starting to wander along the right side of your body.

now both miyas are all over you, their possessive hands almost competing in grasping at more of you than the other. that, combined with the feeling of lips on yours at the same time as lips trailing along the side of your neck, made your head buzz.

you felt giddy–you've only ever seen them playing on the same side of the court. but right now, they were opponents, but instead of fighting over some glass trophy or medal, they were trying to win your attention.

finally needing air, you pull away from osamu. when you open your eyes to see his face, his lips are swollen and even in the dark of night you can catch a glimpse of his pupils appear blown out.

those same eyes flick over to glance at his brother on your right, and before you can follow his gaze, osamu's going in for the left side of your neck.

in the dark you can feel every touch–two varying paces of lips working against your skin, bleached and dyed hair brushing along the underside of your jaw. there's hands on your thighs, hands on your waist, hands peeking just under the hem of your shirt, hands threading through their blonde and grey hair–

your phone starts to ring.

"oh shit–" you quickly stand up from between them, stumbling a little from the imbalance that comes with your current tipsy state. you feel around for your phone on the ground and by the time you locate it among the mess of duffels and rackets and empty bottles, you see a missed call and texts from a member of your team. they're wondering where you were, and telling you to wrap up and head to bed if you haven't already.

"s-sorry," you stutter out at the two boys, picking up your racket from where you left it on the ground and fumbling with the strap of your duffel, "i gotta go–thanks for... the drinks."

and all osamu and atsumu can do is dumbly nod as you leave them at the bench–lips slightly parted and hair messes, with star-stuck looks from them that you've grown quite accustomed to.

🗒⋆ *. ୨୧⋆｡ taglist (2/30 at the time of publishing) : @zumicho , @liillyliilly (just send me an ask if you’re interested! xx)

  tough as nails ᵕ̈       boyfie!msby boys       x nail tech!gn reader ˎˊ˗

⋮⋮ ˒ ₍ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 𖥻 ⿻ : when you want ⋮⋮  to practice some designs ⋮⋮  and they volunteer them- ⋮⋮  selves as your test dummy !

📋 content     ♡ # 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧 🐮     ♡ # 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘴 🥛     ♡ # 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘴 🥛     ♡ # ~2.5𝘬 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴

🧸 directory  ‹ ✩  like what you read ? check out more of my blog !  •ᴗ•

💬 kuroppiii  ─ “ ik that ' s not really the context of the saying in the title but i couldn ' t think of anything else ! nail pics as with all my other header pics are from pinterest <3 also lmk if you want to see more characters for this prompt bc highkey i loveee looking through nail designs lol ”

︴hinata shōyō ․﹒∗*○․﹒✧∘° 

this is not this man's first time around some nail polish

natsu used to paint his nails all the time, so he’s so down!

big color inspo from the colors of a classic blue and yellow mikasa volleyball because of his love for the sport (obvi)

howeverrr switching out the yellow for a bit more of an orange hue to go with his hair <3

also!!! some tropical floral designs as an homage to his time in brazil

a super fun vibe for a bright and go-lucky guy :)

when you first take his hand in yours, the tips of his ears start to redden a little bit

"hey shō are your ears alright–?" [you]

"your hands are so soft." [hinata]

"okay, shō." [you] (totally not fighting back a smile)

he's held your hand countless times but for some reason this–you holding his hand so gently and focusing in on it as you start prepping his nail beds–feels so much more intimate

seeing your face as you're so focused on him and his hands makes him blush lowk but good thing you're looking down and can't see how flustered he obviously is

like for someone so talkative, he's silent and almost as attentive as you the whole time and he's not even the one doing the work

you also notice he holds his breath every time you make the nail polish make contact with his nails until you finally lift back up CUTIEEE

“love, you know you can breathe, right?” [you]

“i don’t want to mess you up though! you’re doing so great by the way, babe.” [hinata]

cups your face when his nails are finally set and dry and you can see his eyes dart between your facial features and his nails contrasting against your skin and his smile gets bigger in real time

then he gives you a biggg kiss as a thank you for your hard work

definitely goes to every one of his teammates in the msby locker room his next practice to show them the nails

on tvs, cellphones, laptops and countless other kinds of screens everywhere: the camera following the msby jackals' game whips around to land their sights on hinata shōyō.

ten seconds remain on the clock. the jackals are behind their opponents by the most miniscule handful of points. in a last-ditch effort, atsumu's in place, and in a matter of seconds hinata is already high in the air.

the ball is met with a collision from the redhead's hand and quickly surpasses any of the opposition's lines of defense. an abrasive buzzer blares throughout the area and the msby jackals all start to jump onto one another with screams and yells and high fives in celebration.

"another excellent shot by hinata! what a way for the jackals to clutch this game folks!" a commentator excitedly blabbers.

"let's take another look at that one, shall we?" another accompanying commentator beckons.

time slows on screen during the instant replay–from the moment hinata gets in front of the net, to the moment his feet leave the ground, and especially as his arm is reeled back moments before the winning shot.

the camera takes the liberty of zooming in on hinata’s hand then. it captures the precise moment when his purest love and energy for volleyball surges through his body. the unseen electricity has ricocheted throughout him to finally trail up to his fingertips, adorned with colors that showcase the blend of his identity with the same ball his skin almost adoringly caresses for a second in the eyes on the slow-mo cam footage.

blue and yellow, blue and orange side-by-side in front of thousands and millions of eyes to witness as the ninja shōyō’s manicured hand follows through and pushes that volleyball past the net to bring his team to victory.

︴sakusa kiyoomi ․﹒∗*○․﹒✧∘° 

as babygirl as sakusa kiyoomi is, black’s just really his vibe i think

not on like some emo shit but the black would go really well with not only his hair but his iconic beauty marks above his eye

speaking of his hair, the cyber tribal chrome kind of sitch kinda alludes to his curls :0

i mean to the rest of the world he’s this stoic and serious guy all the time

but they don't see how he looks at you while you paint the finer details on his nails

or the subtle and soft dopey smile he’s got on as he asks you in lovestruck whispers about your technique, how work's going, what materials you use, etc.

"and... what's this for now?" [sakusa]

"it's to make sure your nails stay nice and strong for whenever you hit your incredible spikes, omi." [you]

"oh, that's definitely important. wouldn't want to skip that." [sakusa] (before you laugh at his little joke and his heart skips a beat and he gives you a quick kiss on the top of your head as you continue to work)

once the nails are finished, he goes to look at them with his fingers clawed–boyishly characteristic of a dude who's never gotten his nails done like this before

you can't help but laugh and he asks what's wrong

"what do you mean i'm looking at them weird?" [sakusa]

"your hands look like when you posed with the msby jackal mascot that one time." [you]

"how else am i supposed to look at them?" [sakusa]

you demonstrate how people normally check out their nails at the salon

and then it delves into a mini hand modeling lesson and many, many, giggles between the two of you as he tries to figure it out

you end up with some new reference pics of his set for any of your future clients, what a supportive boyfriend!

a certain photo is going viral as it makes its rounds online. the photographer who took it had to have known they struck gold capturing this certain moment, and the racking number of likes and comments are only affirmations of that.

it's a professional shot of sakusa kiyoomi mid-game. late-game, actually, as its evident though the state of his appearance in the picture.

visible droplets dot his face and figure, giving his skin and curly hair a certain sheen that proves the dedication he puts into every one of the msby jackals' games. to combat the sweat that's accumulated on himself, it seems like sakusa had absentmindedly reached for the edge of his jersey to act as a substitute for a towel in that particular moment (his expression is clearly focused on nothing but what might've been happening next on the other side of the court net). the muscles that adorn his torso peek out from the action.

and on top of it all–the sweat, the abs, the way the rest of the jersey clings to the rest of his body–the subtle chrome detailing of his nails stand out where his hand tugs the fabric to wipe at the bottom of his face...

and you hadn't even really caught on to this picture online yourself. the only reason you went to look it up for yourself was because of the influx of work emails you had received since the jackals' last win.

the public was vaguely aware you specialized in cosmetics, as sakusa had alluded to now and then in press conferences and interviews. however, it wasn't really until people online started to wonder where your boyfriend got these nails from did google's reverse-image search bring them to the pictures on your profile that you and sakusa took post- his manicure.

to say your clientele grew overnight, would be quite the understatement.

︴miya atsumu ․﹒∗*○․﹒✧∘° 

ik the picture is a bit blurry but PLEASE stick with me here yall 🙏 HEAR ME OUT

heavy on that barbie ken atsumu sort of agenda

you ask if he had any colors in mind

and he’s like "y'know what? fuck it. go big or go home."

he knows people might shit on him for having his nails done at his next game so yeah get the most stereotypically “feminine” color you got–just to mess with whatever losers might whine about it

“but... do ya think pink would look good on me y/n?” [atsumu] (AND HE'S KIND OF SHY WHEN HE'S ASKING YOU)

"OF COURSE IT WOULD BABY??" [you]

as you're ducked down working, he misses seeing your face

so he cranes his neck and looks up at you from where his hands are

"hey baby, funny seeing you here." [atsumu]

"tsumu, stay still!" [you]

"sorry angel, just missed lookin' at ya." [atsumu]

in that position, he loves the feeling of you holding his hands and the sensation of the nail polish brush against the top of his fingers so much, that he semi-falls asleep against his forearm as you wrap up

he just feels so much at peace <3

and when you’re done he is definitely giving ken, and that his job is volleyball

and tbh i hc his hair post timeskip isn’t so much piss yellow as ppl joke it was while he was at inarizaki

but that if he stuck through with keeping it blonde for so long he eventually managed to get it professionally done, and with some GODDAMN TONER 😭

i think it’s like a brassy sort of blonde

which looks perfect as an accent to the nails

like pop off regina george!!!!

something endearing about your loving atsumu is he never fails to get you the best seats in the arena whenever you come watch the msby jackals play.

from front row, you can see everything, and in so much detail—the action, the sweat, the tears that goes into each and every matchup the team faces. truly, the experience was leagues above settling for a closer look on any big screen or arena jumbotron. everything was just so much clearer!

but most importantly, you can see your boyfriend. very clearly.

so clearly, in fact, that after a particular great serve to bokuto for a spike that earned the jackals yet another point, you have the luxury of soaking in all the glowing details of atsumu in his element.

the way he clutches his strong fists and yells with joy at the small win, a bit of pink peeking out from the insides of his palms.

how his hands clap and grasp at the hands of his teammates in quick celebratory high-fives that leave streaky blurs of pink trailing behind his excited movements.

when his hand quickly drags over his smiling and glistening face, before carding through his hair—small pink detailings disappearing and reappearing amidst the blonde strands that rest on the top of his head.

by the time all the players on the court are settled back into their places for when the moment the ball will be up in the air once again—anticipation pulsing on both sides of the net—you can even catch as atsumu quickly glances at his nails with a small, blink-and-you’d-miss-it smile.

thankfully, your top-tier seat allows you to catch it. and although he’s smiling at his hands, you know that it’s for your work and by extension, it’s all love for you in that split second before your boyfriend has to lock in again.

when the next ball is served, you find yourself almost falling out of your chair from how far you’re leaning forward to take in as much of your great view as possible.

︴bokuto kōtarō ․﹒∗*○․﹒✧∘° 

MISMATCH IS A MUST

you say the few designs you want to try out and ask him which one you can try on him and he just goes: ALL OF THEM!

(he knows it’ll take longer to do with all the different elements, but that just means he gets to stare at you for longer as you work)

"are you sure? i mean, do you have a color you want in particular? i can tweak them so they all have the same palette." [you]

"nope! cover me with whatever your beautiful mind is envisioning!" [bokuto] (he's jutting his fingers out in front of you and wiggling them around with the biggest grin on his face)

these nails also just fits him as a person because he’s super all over the place and spontaneous so it works it JUST WORKS OK

plus his hair’s literally greyish whitish so it’s like a perfect neutral and blank canvas to accent the color palette

it's one thing having him sit still for an extended amount of time, but having you this close? right in front of him?

how is he not supposed to give your lips a quick kiss now and then

BUT!!! he always goes to double check he didn't mess up the nails every time he pulls back

"kō, the nails are fine! you didn't even move your hands, you're just moving your head to kiss me, silly." [you]

"just making sure, babe! i know this stuff takes a lot of work. plus, i can't really think of what else is happening when i'm kissing you, really." [bokuto] (already going in for another kiss)

you can see in the corner of your eye as you work on your designs that bokuto's nose scrunches up now and then

it's because he's not used to the smell of the nail products you're using

upon completing the whole nail set, he concludes it’s legitimately one of THE COOLEST THINGS anyone’s ever fucking done for him

doesn’t stop staring at his hands in a little bit of awe even after you’re done and chilling on the living room couch, completely oblivious to what's going on on the tv in front of you two

the crowd is going absolutely ballistic. the jackals are in the lead. and your boyfriend, the bokuto kōtarō is up and about to serve.

you watch the arena's big teleprompter with the rest of the spectators as the cameras pan to bokuto.

he has that look on his face–confident and happy playing the sport that runs through his veins. his hand crashes down onto the ball once. wham!

twice. blam!

when the ball comes back up, he grips it between his hands. it's evident even through the screen how his arms tense and pulse. it's like he's revving up.

as everyone hangs off the edge of their seats and keep their eyes glued in anticipation to the broadcasting of bokuto holding that unmistakable combo of blue and yellow–it's impossible to ignore how the ends of his hands glint and reflect the bright overhead lights.

colors of all kinds twitch in excitement against the leather and the star player quickly glances down at the ball, sure, but most definitely also at the intricate art you so graciously blessed his nails with. bokuto's lips crack a smile.

then he's tossing the volleyball up. a loud and powerful smack reverberates throughout the arena. in the blink of an eye the ball whizzes past two of the opposite team's players and the crowd explodes once again as the ball is now rolling on the outskirts of the court across the net.

your boyfriend's chest swells with pride, and his carefully manicured finger darts to point over you in the stands. you cheer even louder for him as he beams a tooth-filled smile your way.

💬 kuroppiii  ─ “ oh and i forgot to point out that most of these designs are short and with minimal charms so they don't get in the way of a volleyball player ' s , well ... volleyball playing ! short nail - ers rise up ! ”

cheater cheater

characters: bokuto, brief mentions of atsumu, akaashi is mentioned once; post! timeskip

wc: 6.3k

warnings: angst!! slightly suggestive for like two paragraphs (it’s italicized), mostly sfw, cheating obviosly

tagging: @a-kaash-me-outside​ 

a/n: in no way shape or form do I condone cheating nor do I think bokuto would ever cheat, the collab was just too fun to pass up... PLEASE head on over to @a-kaash-me-outside’s blog for the rest of the cheater cheater collab pieces!

Bokuto was seated across from you at the small dining table-it only sat four people because he had said a bigger dining table meant more space between him and yourself. You set your cup down, the water doing little to ease the nerves pooling in your stomach. You tried to stop the bouncing of your leg too but to no avail. Your eyes scanned your lover’s face, starting with his eyes that stared at a random spot on the table, down the bridge of his nose toward his lips that were set into a firm line. He was deep in thought, that much was obvious. His hair was disheveled from how many times he ran his hand through it.

Bokuto wasn’t acting like himself, and it’s safe to say he’s been like this for about a week now. His overflowing affection for you is nowhere to be found, and you figured it had something to do with their recent loss. Sure, the MSBY boys were no strangers to the concept of losing, however they had practiced tirelessly for this match and had been so sure of themselves. So, you attributed Bokuto’s uncharacteristic mood to last week’s match and went on with your day.

What else were you supposed to do after he reassured you he was fine and just needed space. You wanted to do nothing more than to pull him into a hug and run your fingers through his hair, telling him he’d win the next match for sure and that you’d one hundred percent be there, unlike the last match.

You felt as though your absence may have affected him more than he cared to admit, and you’re correct. Bokuto did want you to be there, but how could he be upset with you over you not going when you try to go to all of his matches. He understands that you can’t get away from work every time and that your work is just as important to you as volleyball is for him. He couldn’t be selfish, but he had to admit to himself he was disappointed.

However, the loss was the least of his worries.

“Kou?”

He blinked several times before his gaze lifted toward your own concerned one. “Yeah?” His expression was blank, devoid of any emotion.

Your brows furrowed in growing worry and instinctively, your hand reached out across the table in hopes his own would grasp it. You were throwing him a lifeline, hoping he’d catch it.

He didn’t. His hands remained in his lap. You couldn’t see it, but he was twirling his thumbs around each other in a poor attempt at easing his own nerves. But you could see the slightest of wrinkles on his forehead, and the way his eyes didn’t glimmer as bright as they usually did. You were afraid to speak again. Clearly his inner turmoil was slowly breaking him down, and whatever it was you wanted it to stop. But how? How could you make it stop when you couldn’t even bring yourself to ask him what was wrong, afraid that another push into any direction would be the wrong direction and you’d set him off.

Taking a deep breath, readying yourself to ask him if he was okay, your hand gripped the cup you realized you never let go. You were holding onto it so tight your knuckles were turning white. Maybe you needed the lifeline.

“Kou, are you okay?”

He continued looking at you. His gaze gradually relaxed until a slight smile curved his lips. “Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, was just thinking about practice today.” With that, he pushed his chair back, the scraping of the chair’s legs against the linoleum too loud in the silence. You couldn’t help but cringe as it rang in your ears. Standing up, he picked up his plate and walked into the kitchen, dumping the food into the trash before putting it in the sink. Your eyes followed his every move, and you realized he had barely eaten anything.

Before leaving the kitchen, he stopped at the table and gave you one last look. “I’m gonna shower, ‘kay?”

You hummed and watched him leave as your heart permanently lodged itself in your throat. You could hear his footsteps fade the further he walked from you. You looked down at your food that was probably too cold to eat, and then at your hand that was still holding onto the cup like it could save you from what you were feeling. You let the cup go and massage your hand before it begins to cramp. Tears pooled in your eyes and you blinked them away, not wanting to make this personal…not yet anyway. Sighing, you did what Bokuto had done moments ago in the kitchen. After emptying your plate, you walk over to the sink and stare at the dirty dishes. Well, they weren’t going to wash themselves.

  While Bokuto showered, you got ready for bed using the hallway bathroom and when you were dressed in your pajamas, you snuggled into bed hoping that maybe he’d be up for some cuddles. While you waited, you stared at the ceiling, wondering how bad their loss could have been to have your boyfriend in such an awful slump.

You had started falling asleep when your cell phone pinged. You unlocked your phone to see it was a text from Atsumu.

9:48 PM – Atsumu: Hey, are you and Bokuto in a fight?

Your brows furrowed as you read over his text, chewing on your bottom lip as you wondered what could have possibly made him think that. Well, Bokuto’s mood obviously but you would’ve thought he of all people should know why he’s feeling down.

9:50 PM – You: Uh, no. Has he said we are?

As soon as you hit send Bokuto opens the bathroom door, startling you in the process. The scent of his shampoo follows him as he walks around the room. You inhale out of habit, suddenly getting hit with a pang of nostalgia. That soapy scent that clung to him whenever you cuddled him after his shower was strong enough to ease your worries, and suddenly you wanted nothing more than to be engulfed in his arms.

You sink back into bed, leaving your phone on the nightstand in the process. You turn on your side as you watch Bokuto sit on the edge of the bed, his back toward you. You tug on the hem of his shirt to get his attention.

He turns around, a brow raised, and you know he’s waiting for you to speak.

“Atsumu asked me if we’re fighting.”

He swallowed and you could see his Adam’s apple bob, causing you to sit up.

“Bokuto, have you told them we’ve been fighting?”

Bokuto couldn’t bring himself to say no because he knew it was going to be easier for him to handle you being mad at him over this than over why he was truly pushing you away. He wanted to get used to the silence before sealing the deal. He knew it was selfish of him. He was cushioning the blow for himself, but who would cushion it for you?

You mistook his silence for a definitive yes. Why was he telling his teammates that you and him were in the middle of a fight? When you in fact were not. You say his name, this time your voice is a little louder, firmer.

“Bokuto.”

His heart clenched at your use of his surname. There was no love laced in your voice either, only concern and a growing frustration. But you were still at his side. He was still going to get to feel the bed dip from your weight, and he’d savor it; he’d savor every last bit. He didn’t say anything other than a soft-spoken goodnight. He lied on his back and got comfortable under the covers, or as comfortable as he could since you were still sitting up and glaring daggers at him.

“This isn’t over.” You sighed for what seemed like the hundredth time since he had returned home from practice. You reach for your phone to send Atsumu one last text before turning off the lamp on your nightstand.

10:13 PM – You: I guess we are…

  By the time you wake up Bokuto’s gone. You look over at his side of the bed, running your fingers over his pillow. There was no use in starting your day in a sour mood, so you swing your legs off the bed and stand up, deciding that your boyfriend’s mood won’t ruin yours. You start to get ready for work, the only noise in your room coming from the open window. Quickly, you make your way toward the kitchen, making breakfast while the TV hums quietly in the background. You needed some form of noise other than the ticking of the clock and the air conditioning, and the news did just fine in filling the apartment with whatever was going on in the world.

While you eat, Atsumu sends you another text.

7:27 AM – Atsumu: Are you okay?

You lock your phone after skimming over the message, not bothering to respond yet. Damn Atsumu and the care he has for you. Being Bokuto’s girlfriend comes with its perks. You both share the same group of friends because let’s admit, who could hate them. Of course, you both have your share of personal friends but for the most part, you’re always around one of Bokuto’s friends.

Throughout the years as Bokuto’s girlfriend, Atsumu and you became close. His friendship turned into one you valued a lot, but you couldn’t deal with his questions at the moment, not before work. Later. Later would be better.

And like that, later turned into never. You were headed home from work and had gone through the day with no text or call from your beloved partner. You can’t say the same for Atsumu. He called you during your lunch break, which you ignored, and he texted several times more after. You ignored them all.

This wasn’t like Bokuto, and you were beginning to get tired of the radio silence. He never pushed you away, especially when he needed you the most.

Then it dawned on you.

He’s going to break up with you. It only made sense considering it seemed like he no longer needed you. Suddenly, an immense weight fell on your shoulders at the thought of having to face the fact that he no longer loves you. When did he stop? You rack your brain for clues, for telltale signs that show he obviously doesn’t want to be with you anymore. And that’s when the confusion settles in because prior to their loss he had never gone a day without telling you he loved you. Not a day had gone by without him looking at you with the utmost adoration. He never stopped loving you.

So, why the sudden change? If it wasn’t you, was it the team?

You pulled out your phone to call Atsumu, feeling that for the first time in over a week you had an idea of what was going on. He answers after the first ring and you can’t help the smile that graces your features.

“Finally, I hear from ya.” You can hear the scowl in his voice and you huff out a quiet laugh.

“I’m sorry, ‘tsumu. Hey, I’ve got a question.”

“Uh-oh, sounds serious. Should I be worried?”

You hold your phone between your shoulder and ear as you unlock the front door of your shared apartment with Bokuto. Atsumu can hear the jingle of your keys as you hum a quiet no in response to his question. He can hear you shut the door behind you and the click of the lock, no doubt your shoes probably being slipped off after shrugging off your coat. You drop your keys in a bowl by the door before making your way to the kitchen to get something to drink.

“Atsumu, I’m the one that’s worried. Did Bokuto get into an argument with any of you guys after your last game?”

Atsumu swallows thickly as he recalls the memory of the last game, shuddering as if you had just rubbed salt into the wound. He thinks about what Bokuto had said after, about how he wished you were there and that he would’ve played better had you been cheering him on. But he can’t remember a fight. After the game, the group hit a bar and got tipsy. The night blurs into a muddied mess he can’t remember.

You wait with baited breath as he silently picks through his brain, trying to gather the pieces of that night. You’re about to say his name to get his attention but he speaks up before you can.

“No, we haven’t fought since then. But that’s what I wanted to talk to ya about. Are you two fighting?”

You set down the cup you reached for and fill it with water. “No, Atsumu, we’re not. Which is why I was hoping he’s been upset with one of you guys.” You take a sip and set the cup down harder than you intended. Water spilled over the edge and you shook your hand to get the water off.

“Hoping?” Atsumu can hear you open and close a cabinet.

You wiped down the counter after having grabbed a napkin. You sigh into the phone as you throw it in the trash. “Yes, Atsumu. I was hoping.”

That’s when Atsumu hears it, the helplessness in your voice.

You’re slowly coming to the realization that Bokuto doesn’t want you anymore. You hear keys jingling and the door knob rattle, announcing your boyfriend’s arrival. The panic you feel terrifies you but you can’t help it.

“I gotta go ‘tsumu! He’s here.” And with that, you hang up.

Bokuto steps in quietly despite seeing that the kitchen light is on. It’s only late in the evening, still too early to go to sleep, but he was hoping he wouldn’t have to see your face or hear your voice. He needed to keep the distance. He holds his breath as he slips his shoes off and drops his duffel bag by the couch, waiting for you to come bounding up to him the way you usually do to greet him after practice. But you don’t. And he’s afraid. He’s afraid to call out your name, afraid that you’ll respond.

You’re frozen in place by the counter, gazing at the water in your cup, vision blurring the longer you stare. Bokuto takes cautious steps toward the kitchen, and when his eyes land on your obviously tense figure his heart deflates. You both were walking on eggshells around each other, and he was to blame.

He could tell you now and get the heartbreak over with, but the devil on his shoulder told him to wait one more week. Just one more. It was awfully selfish and it made his gut twist in guilt but he couldn’t let you go. You’re his everything. You kept him grounded. Who was going to tell him to take a break when he pushed himself too hard during practice? Who was going to wash his hair when he was too tired, or simply because he wanted to spend time with you? Who was going to reassure him every morning and night? No one else would hold him the way you did because you held him as if he’d disappear. No one would love him the way you did.

You blinked several times before shifting your gaze to his face, and you noticed the way his eyes welled with tears.

“Kou? Do you still love me?”

His heart clenched as he registered your words. He wanted nothing more than to pull you into a hug and apologize for how he’s been treating you. You have no idea how much he wishes that’s all he has to apologize for, how desperately he wants to be able to blame their recent game for his awful behavior.

His ears ring with your question. He does still love you, and precisely because he loves you, he should tell you.

You stand there, waiting for Bokuto to answer. His eyebrows furrow as he thinks, and you wonder if he truly has to think about how to respond to a simple yes or no question. He doesn’t speak, but he closes the gap between you with quick strides. He pulls you into his arms, cradling the back of your head with one of his hands while his other arm snakes around your waist.

He holds you close as he wills the tears not to fall, and as he runs his fingers through your hair, he recalls the brief moments he remembers of that night. He shuts his eyes to force the images away but that only makes them more vivid.

He knew it was wrong as his fingers danced along her skin. Was he that upset about your absence from his game? He understood you were busy, and yet he couldn’t stop thinking about what could’ve happened had you been there. Perhaps they would’ve won. Perhaps they could’ve made it further into the tournament. Perhaps they could’ve stepped onto the court once more. All these maybes and what ifs were useless, he knew that. And yet…

He was too far gone to care as he let himself indulge in the girl beneath him. She clung to him tightly as he continued to take the stress and the disappointment of the day out. A light sheen of sweat was present on both of their bodies, and the moon illuminated them throughout the entire time, like a blanket meant to keep Bokuto Koutaro’s secret. The pleasure was short lived as he realized that she didn’t fit perfectly against him the way you did. You two were like puzzle pieces that fit every time, two souls bound together. He couldn’t bear to keep his eyes open. He squeezed them shut tight and his ears rang with the lewd sounds that tumbled past her red lips.

Bokuto opens his eyes as he clings to you. A single, guilty thought sat in the back of his mind, however. What she doesn’t know won’t kill her. Bokuto’s arms slightly tighten at the intrusion. He shouldn’t be thinking like this. If he loved you, he wouldn’t be playing with your emotions the way he currently was. He saw the way your eyes looked at him after asking him if he still loved you. The way your eyes, glassy with unshed tears, were like an open door. He could see the fear, the confusion, the hope-your life was hanging on the balance of that one question. He knew his answer would either lift the current weight off your chest or would weigh you down until you couldn’t breathe.

So, he decided to wait.

He let out a shaky breath as he pulled back to look at you. “Of course, I still love you.” He turned you so that he could lead you toward the room. “Come on, let’s get some sleep.”

You eyed him warily, unconvinced despite his reassurance, but for tonight you’d play along. You were tired, both mentally and emotionally. So, you wait for your boyfriend to turn off the kitchen lights, then let him lead you to your bedroom. Bokuto gulps as he walks down the hallway with his hand on the small of your back. He felt worse than before, and he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to make it through another week. He desperately wanted to give himself a few more days with you, but the guilt was eating him alive.

The atmosphere is tense as the both of you get ready for bed, opting to take turns using the bathroom unlike your usual routine, which consists of the two of you shoving each other to get to the sink first. Tonight, there’d be no playful shoves while brushing your teeth, just your own pair of eyes with dark bags under your eyes staring back at you.

You settle into bed, both of you staying on your own side. You’ve been with Bokuto long enough to know he can’t sleep without holding you, so you’re very aware of the dark bags under his eyes too. Neither of you have been able to get much sleep, and tonight is no different. He tosses and turns, kicks the blanket off then pulls it over him again. And this continues well into the early morning, until finally you give in and reach for his hand.

He tenses up, then slowly starts to relax. You turn on your side so you can wrap an arm around his torso, and you can tell he isn’t fully relaxing his body into the mattress. You pull him close, your hand rubbing circles into his lower back, and his breathing eventually deepens. Sighing, you kiss his forehead and cup his face in your hand, your thumb smoothing out the wrinkles on his forehead, then rubbing over the apples of his cheek.

He was distraught and you weren’t sure why. It had to be more than having lost a match. He’d lost games before and never reacted like this. You kiss his forehead once more before wrapping his arms around you so that you too could fall asleep. Maybe tomorrow during that split second after waking up where your memory is foggy, you’ll think that it’s just another morning waking up in his arms. And maybe you’ll be able to trick yourself, for even just the briefest of moments, that you’re happy.

Bokuto may have had the same idea because after waking up the following morning, the sky still a pale blue, the city still quiet, he forgets what’s been plaguing his mind. He pulls you in close and kisses your forehead like he always did before. A smile graces his face, and it’s a genuine smile. The one where his eyes turn into crescents and his lips pull back to reveal his teeth. He’s happy, truly happy, for a few seconds. And then the weight of the world collapses on him and he feels like he’s falling. He rubs his temple with a hand then untangles himself from you, giving you one last longing look before stepping into the bathroom to get ready.

He always goes to the gym before practice, and if not the gym, then he goes for a run. He gets ready for the rest of his day as quietly as possible so as to not wake you up, and before he leaves the room, he leans over your sleeping figure and presses a kiss to your forehead, then the tip of your nose. He looks at you and feels his chest tighten because this is what he threw away. He risked the unconditional love and safety you gave him all because he was upset that you couldn’t go. There was no excusing that. It was a ridiculous reason really, because it makes him sound selfish. And he was, in that brief moment, he was selfish and it was going to cost him a relationship he never thought would end. Because when he pictured his wife, it was you. You two were supposed to grow old together. It was supposed to be you and him in this life and every other life that was to come.

He blinks the tears away, leaves a chaste kiss, and turns to leave the room when you reach out and tug at his shirt. Sleepily, you mumble a soft I love you then let go. You continue sleeping as if you hadn’t just ripped his heart out. Bokuto covers his mouth before he can let out a choked sob. He deserves to feel this torment and more, because what you’d be feeling would be a thousand times worse. He turns on his heels and leaves the room, not bothering to grab breakfast before leaving the apartment. He had to get away, because being inside your shared dwelling was suffocating.

  The next few days go by like a blur. You’ve gradually become accustomed to the quieter responses you get from your boyfriend. He’s somewhat responsive now and reciprocates the featherlight kisses you press to his cheek whenever he arrives or leaves your home, and you think that maybe he’s beginning to get over it. However, you can tell he’s not completely back.

So, when Bokuto asks you to wash his hair after one of his practice sessions, you think finally, his sour mood is gone and the Bokuto you know and love is back. You hope he’ll be cuddly after because you miss being in his arms-his arms that kept you safe and warm. Nothing would ever beat being held by him because he held you like nothing else mattered, as if nothing more important would ever exist at the same time as him.

Little did you know, Bokuto was savoring the last few moments he was allowing himself to share with you. He’d tell you tonight. He didn’t want to tell you, but my god, the guilt was gnawing at his insides. Every time he looked at you his stomach would turn, and seeing the hopeful look in your eyes when he’d press a kiss to your cheek was like a punch to his gut. He knew you deserved better.

You follow Bokuto into your shared room, a small smile raising the corner of your lips as you walk past him and into the bathroom. “I’m gonna start your bath, Kou.”

He hums in response as he starts to pull his shirt over his head, but stops and pulls his shirt back down so he can scan your shared bedroom. He’d probably never see his room with your belongings again. His place won’t feel as inhabited considering he was gone for long hours most of the time, whether it be for training or practice, matches at home or out of the country. You made his apartment feel like a home, with your clothes thrown over the chair in the corner of the room, your skincare a disarray in the bathroom cabinets after the two of you would have your weekly skincare date because sometimes it was all he’d have time for but at least you were spending time together. He noticed the books on your nightstand, one a little more worn out than the rest because it was your favorite. He knows if he were to open it, he’d find your messy handwriting, which was usually neat but because of the limited space it looked messy, in the margins of the pages. Your glasses sat atop the book and that’s how he knows you had been reading it before he arrived.

He looks over to the closet where your clothes are clearly overtaking his half. Once you leave, he’ll have room to spare. He finds the rest of your books sitting atop the shelves in the closet, and he recalls you shoving them in any place they’d fit because you just had so many. His eyes wander to the photos of the two of you, some plastered to the walls while others are placed in picture frames that sit atop both of your nightstands, your vanity, your bookshelf, anywhere that has enough space for a frame. He hopes you’ll let him keep a few, for his memories’ sake.

You peek your head out from the bathroom after having called out Bokuto’s name twice, only to be ignored. “Hey Kou, did you not hear me?”

He turns around, tears falling down his cheeks. Your frustration is long forgotten as you walk toward him, pulling him into the tightest embrace. “Kou, whatever it is that’s bothering you…you know you can tell me, right?”

At that, he sobs. Loud. His shoulders shake uncontrollably as the dam he had built throughout the past two weeks crumbles. His resolve shatters as his tears soak your shirt. His fingers grip your shirt tightly as he holds you impossibly close. He manages to quiet down, choking on his whispered response. “But I can’t tell you.”

You try to pull back, but his grip only gets tighter as he buries his face into your neck. “Kou, you need to tell me why you’re so worked up. Baby, I’m worried about you.”

He lets you pull back just a bit, and you cup his face so you can thumb his tears away. His heart constricts at both the pet name and at the way you’re gently holding his face. He continues to speak in a hushed tone. “I can’t tell you because you’ll hate me and never want to see me.” At his admission, tears well in his eyes again and you can’t wipe them away quick enough. You settle for just cupping his face in your hands.

“Why would I hate you? Did you do something worth hating?”

He squeezes his eyes shut, not being able to look at you as he nods. At this, your own heart constricts, and the concern your heart held for Bokuto slowly turned into anguish. What had he done?

“Bokuto…what did you do?”

He opens his eyes, the anguish in your heart somehow reflected in them. You could see the fear, it was the same fear you had last week, the fear of losing one another. He stumbled over his own words; the panic evident. “I-I’m your Kou!” He choked on his own sobs as he clung to you once more.

You were at your wits end though. You were tired of feeling like something was being kept from you. “Bokuto, please! Just spit it out!”

His eyebrows were furrowed and his eyes were shut tight as he confessed. “I cheated! Okay?!” His chest heaved as if he had just run a marathon. “I cheated…” he repeated, quieter this time.

Your hands fell to your sides, your body numb as you processed what he just said. He cheated? Cheated when? With who? No, you didn’t want to know who. You felt your knees begin to buckle, so you sat on the bed before you could fall. You stared ahead but not really seeing. You couldn’t tell if you wanted to cry out of disappointment, out of sadness, or out of anger.

Despite clearing your voice, it still came out strained when you spoke. “When?”

Bokuto looked at you with wide eyes. “When what?”

“My god Bokuto, don't be an idiot. When did you cheat?”

He grimaced as you called him both by his last name and an idiot. It hurt like hell and he wanted nothing more than to fall to his knees to beg you to talk about something else, about how you two were going to get over this. But he was glued to his spot. “The night we lost.”

You scoffed after realizing it’s the only game you missed this season. “So, let me get this straight…I miss one game and you screw some random girl that looks your way?” You stand up, realizing if you stay beside him, you’ll cave. Because with that look of utter remorse you’re sure he could convince you to stay, but you won’t. As easy as it is to forgive Bokuto Koutaro, you know you’ll never forget. You can try and work this out with him, but this is something you’d hold over his head for the rest of his life. You knew that’d only make your life miserable. So, you walk to the closet and grab a duffel bag, throwing in a few changes of clothes to get you through a couple of days until you’ve completely moved out.

Bokuto sees the resolve on your face, and he knows that no amount of crying and begging will get you to stay. He stands in the doorway of the closet, effectively blocking your only way out, and he foolishly asks you a question he already knows the answer to. “Can’t you stay? Can’t we work this out? Because it wasn’t like that I swear!” He tentatively reaches his hand out, but you retreat.

You finally look at him, angry tears spilling down your cheeks. “So, what am I supposed to make of this then?! Huh?!” You turn your head so you can blink the tears away.

“I don’t know! Think of anything other than me not loving you because I swear, I do!” Warm tears run down his cheeks again, this time in defeat.

You angrily wipe at your eyes. “No, Bokuto! If you loved me, you wouldn’t have done that! How could you have been so selfish?! You knew I was busy and yet you couldn’t keep it in your pants long enough until you got home!” You dropped your duffel bag after zipping it closed. “You came home to me right after, Bokuto! I took care of you that night because of how wasted you were! You came home and slept beside me after doing God knows what!” This time you let the tears flow freely, hoping that the hurt in your eyes and the pain laced in your voice hurt your now ex-boyfriend tenfold. You wanted him to hurt the way you were and more.

He reached for you, pulling you into his arms, and you had never felt more repulsed in your life. His arms that once promised security and safety, his arms that you could call home, no longer were any of that because those same arms embraced another woman. You shoved Bokuto off, pushing him as hard as you could but it didn’t faze him. “Bokuto, move.”

The look in your eyes was enough to kill, and so he stepped aside. He was frozen in place as he watched you grab the duffel bag from the floor and walk past him as if he’s not there. He watches as you grab your phone to call God knows who, but when he hears you say Atsumu’s name, his stomach flips. Atsumu would hate him for this, probably for the rest of their lives.

You continue surveying the room and the bathroom for any necessities you may need as you wait for Atsumu to stop talking. Your voice is hoarse when you speak. “I’m leaving in a minute or so, Atsumu. I’d rather drive myself then wait for you to get here. I can’t spend another second with him.”

Bokuto balls his hands into fists because now you won’t even address him by his name. He knows he’s the one to blame, yet he can’t help the tinge of jealousy.

“I know I’m in no condition to drive, but I just can’t stay!” You let out a frustrated breath. “Sorry ‘tsumu. I’d just rather risk it right now. Look, I finished packing. I’ll see you soon.” You hang up the call as you sling the duffel bag over your shoulder and start walking down the hallway.

Bokuto knows there’s nothing worth saving anymore, you have made your decision abundantly clear, and yet he follows you anyway. He stands a few feet away from the entrance, giving you plenty of space so you can put on your sweater and shoes. When he speaks, his voice is hoarse too, and he has to clear it several times so he can speak clearly.

“Can I…can I keep a few photos?”

You pause midway of tying your shoes and look up from your crouched position by the door. His figure is blurry from the tears you’re holding back, so you let out a humorless chuckle to mask the hurt because you would not give Bokuto the satisfaction of knowing that you too felt like your heart had been ripped out. You notice him flinch at your indifference and feel a small sense of pride, but the feeling doesn’t last nearly as long as you hoped. “Do whatever you want with the photos, Bokuto. I don’t care.”

You stand up, suddenly not wanting to leave. This had been your home for the last few years, he had been your home for the last few years. You take in a deep breath, readying yourself for whatever it is you’ll feel once you leave. You put your hand on the door knob and pause, looking at Bokuto over your shoulder. “I hope it was worth it.”

Bokuto can only watch from where he’s glued to the floor. His limbs feel too heavy to move. Your figure is blurry to him as well, but he shamelessly lets the tears fall. He wants you to see that he’s sorry despite knowing that won’t change the outcome of the situation.

You step outside, the cool air allowing you to breathe freely for once in the last two weeks. Before shutting the door, you give him one last, good look. “I’ll come get my stuff when you’re not home, and since you’re never really home it shouldn’t be that hard.” You couldn’t help the jabs that you were throwing his way.

“I’ll have ‘tsumu accompany me, so I can be sure you won’t be here. I know you won’t wanna face him any time soon.”

Bokuto just nods, because he hears you but doesn’t quite understand. His ears are ringing after every sentence you speak. He doesn’t hear the soft goodbye Bokuto that tumbles past your lips before closing the door with a soft click. And he wishes he had, because his name coming from your lips would always sound heavenly no matter in what tone you said it.

He walks toward the window and pushes the curtain aside. He watches you pull out of the driveway, and just like that, you’re gone. Just like that, his relationship is over. He pulls out his phone because there’s only one person he could talk to right now that would hear him out.

He puts his phone up to his ear and impatiently taps his foot as the line continues to ring. Finally, they pick up, and the breath Bokuto is holding to keep his composure is released. He lets the curtain fall closed as he begins to cry again and somehow, he manages to spit out a few words through choked sobs. 

“Akaashi…she’s gone.”

you look like you’ve seen a ghost

a ghostface au

characters: atsumu and reader; post! timeskip

wc: 2.1k

warnings: PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS Y’ALL. THIS IS THE DARKEST THING I’VE EVER WRITTEN SO PLEASE PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS! use of pet names such as ‘doll’ and ‘my love’, slightly suggestive early on in the fic but nothing too explicit, mentions of reader having to use a safe word, there is a knife involved so there will be graphic content since the knife is used to harm reader, stabbing, harming, chasing, overpowering, blood, violence, death; MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! this is heavily ooc for atsumu

a/n:  i debated for a long time whether i’d post this or not, so i just hope people heed my warnings. this is loosely based off of the scream movies, which is why it’s being posted the day of the official release of scream 5! i love horror movies y’all that’s why i felt like writing this. also i watched scream 5 yesterday since there was a showing with a live q&a after the movie, and y’all david arquette was so giggly it warmed my heart! not proofread! and thank you @haikyutiehoe​ for beta reading <3

Did you ever think you’d find yourself in a situation like this? No, not in the slightest. Writhing beneath Atsumu, wriggling in his firm grasp in a feeble attempt to slip away. His hands, warm and rough from callouses, held you close. There was no escaping. He had tossed the mask aside long ago, its empty eyes now mocking. Tears welled in your eyes while Atsumu’s glimmered with a craze you had never seen before, not even when he was dead set on winning a match.

“Atsumu, this isn’t funny anymore. Cut it out!” Your voice was hoarse from yelling, only you had been faking it for the most part, thinking Atsumu was just messing around and trying to scare you. Only when the very real, very sharp knife he pulled out from behind his back was held dangerously close to your jugular did it start to dawn on you. But by then he had already pinned you to the bed, and you remember his laugh had suddenly seemed more menacing, more daunting.

See, when you asked Atsumu to watch your all-time favorite slasher film with you, you didn’t think it’d come to this. So really, you’re to blame for your own death…and in a way, the fall of a famous volleyball player that would definitely end up in jail for brutally slaughtering his girlfriend. That is, if he was found guilty. Atsumu is as cunning as he is handsome, but most don’t see it. He hides it well under his boyish charm and dazzling smile. Besides, that accent gets him favors left and right. The judge would probably go weak at the knees and give Atsumu nothing more than a slap on the wrist if there just so happened to be enough evidence to take him to trial.

After having dated him for almost a year, you realized you had never watched the movie with him. You had mentioned it to him a couple of times before, but he never had the time to sit down and enjoy the movie with you. He was always busy, and though you knew that this is what comes with dating someone such as Atsumu, that didn’t mean you were any less bummed about it. So, when Atsumu went up to you one day during his off-season and asked you to put on the movie, you were excited to say the least. And he was hooked. You both ended up binging the rest of the movies until the early morning. You remember looking out the window and noticing the orange and pinkish hues in the sky after the movie marathon. You can almost hear the way he laughed then-an astonishing difference from the way he was laughing now.

And that’s where his fascination with Ghostface started. It was laughable really, because you had gone through this insane phase a few years prior. You remember how quickly you lost count on how many times you watched the first movie. You were just glad he was able to enjoy the movies you enjoy so much. So, when he came home one day with a Ghostface costume, you didn’t think much of it. You thought it was pretty neat actually since it wasn’t one of those cheap costumes. Who knew he’d end up taking it too far?

It started out subtle-the scaring. He’d put on the costume and hide in the hallway closet or under the bed. He’d jump out at you or grab your ankles, anything to get a reaction out of you. Of course, you’d scream because even after the countless number of times that he’d scared you half to death you’d still fall for it. You’d both laugh it off though, and more often than not it would lead to a heavy make out session on the closest surface. Not that you had a thing for the mask, more so you were always up for a quickie with Atsumu. Actually, you were up for anything so long as Atsumu was there. If he was having fun who were you to deny him of his harmless pranks?

To Atsumu this was a rush-chasing you was a rush. And he found himself loving the surge of adrenaline that coursed through his body as you screamed-however fake those screams may be. After a while, he’d find himself gripping you a little tighter, pulling your hair a little harder just to see you wince and suck in a breath of air as you whined about how he was too rough. And he wanted to be rougher, to see just what your limits were. Of course, you had a safe word, and you found yourself using it at an alarming rate. He wasn’t trying to please you anymore; he was trying to break you. He wanted to see how far you could bend until you snapped.

The increasing red flags should have been enough to get you to pack your bags. And you were ready to. You just wanted to have one conversation with Atsumu to talk about whatever it is he was feeling, and you hoped you’d both be able to work it out before you resorted to leaving. He promised he’d stop, and true to his word he did. He wrapped you around his finger and had you eating out of the palm of his hand. He let weeks go by, being on his best behavior. It was so sudden, so drastic you’d be lying if you said you weren’t concerned. But he had you so wonderfully wrapped up in a blanket of ignorance that when he brought up the mask again weeks later you played along. After all, Ghostface was your favorite slasher.

Oh, how you’d regret showing him the movie. And you do. You regret it more than you’ve ever regretted anything in your entire life. Because with the way Atsumu eyed you, with a look in his eyes you’d never seen before, his lips curling into the most godawful smile you’d ever witnessed, you knew if you didn’t run out of your shared apartment alive within the next few minutes you wouldn’t be walking out at all.

Atsumu tapped both of your cheeks with the tip of the knife, a mocking lilt to his voice as he repeated what you said. He dug the tip of the knife into your left cheek just enough to form a dimple. “Cut what out, love?”

His head was tilted, an almost innocent look in his eyes but you knew better. And as he hovered over you, dragging the knife along your neck and down to your stomach, you kneed him in the groin, pushing Atsumu off of you before making a run for your front door. Luckily your bedroom door had been left open, and as you ran down the hallway you heaved a sigh of relief as you welcomed the view of the front door.

However, Atsumu had all his bases covered. He had deadbolted the front door. When? Who knows. How you could have missed that is beyond you. Nonetheless, you jiggled the door knob, but of course the door didn’t budge. You continued to jiggle the door knob, desperately hoping the door would magically open. Your heart was pounding in your ears so loud that you almost missed that behind you, a slightly hunched over Atsumu was shaking the keys dangling from his fingertips. Your blood ran cold.

“What’s the matter, doll? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” And despite his slightly pained expression, you could hear the smugness in his voice and the slightest of smirks tugging at the corner of his lips-a smirk that said he had won and you had lost.

You began to bang on the door, screaming out for help in hopes that the neighbors would hear you. And he laughed. A laugh so awful you couldn’t help but let out a sob. You turned around and pressed your back against the door. As long as you had your eyes on him you could defend yourself.

“So, what are ya’ gonna do now, love?” You shivered at the way the word love rolled off his tongue. What was once the sweetest of pet names now dripped with a hate you didn’t know he harbored; his tone laced with a venom you were sure could kill you. And as he stalked toward you, you decided to fight. Really because there was nothing else you could do. There was no use in letting him close the shortening gap between the two of you, and closing it yourself would surprise him and hopefully have him lose his balance, if only slightly.

So, you lunged at him once he was close enough to you. But just as Atsumu is cunning, he had been enamored with you. He knew you like the back of his hand, knew all of your tells and what the slightest of change in your expression meant. He knew what to watch out for. So, when you were mid-lunge and momentum ran its course, moving you forward no matter what you wanted to do, all he had to do was let you fall onto the knife. It was simple, really, and required little to no effort on his part.

You inhaled a ragged breath that sounded nothing like you, and the pain was unlike anything you’d ever felt. You held onto the hilt of the knife, hoping he wouldn’t pull it out. Your hands covered his own, and you slowly lifted your gaze to meet his, albeit was a little hard since you had to squint your eyes so you could hold a steady gaze. Or at least you hoped it was steady, you couldn’t really tell. Your mouth was gaping in a silent scream. Nothing was coming out and you just can’t seem to find your voice again. Tears fell freely as you desperately hoped he’d regain a semblance of sanity and call the ambulance, but he didn’t. He slowly pulled out the knife, and you felt an unfamiliar warmth run down your stomach. You knew it was your own blood, but you were too afraid to look.

You also couldn’t bring yourself to take your hands off of Atsumu. No matter how repulsed you were, his hands were the ones keeping you upright. You just couldn’t find the strength to fight against him.

“Atsumu please. Please just call the ambulance. Leave me here. I promise I won’t tell anyone; I swear!” You hoped you had gotten that across. You weren’t so sure if the yelling was in your head or if you had actually managed to speak above a soft whisper. One of the few things you’re absolutely sure about at the moment is that your throat feels like it’s been swallowing handfuls of sand.

Atsumu shook his head as if he were scolding a child. “Oh, my love. How right ya’ are ‘bout that. Of course, ya’ won’t tell anyone.” He grunted as he slid the knife back into the same wound, this time twisting it left and right. You screamed, but it sounded nothing like you. At least you think you screamed. You were positive you were having an out of body experience because you couldn’t figure what was real and what wasn’t; you were on the verge of blacking out. Your knees began to buckle, but Atsumu’s hold on you was firm. You weren’t going anywhere, but you wished he’d let you fall. Your head fell back as you were fighting to keep your vision clear. Everything seemed so hazy, and Atsumu looked like he was farther than he actually was.

“Ya’ know why ya’ won’t tell anyone?” He left the knife inside of you so he could grip the hair on the back of your neck to lift your head up. “Pay attention, doll.” He eyes scanned your face before he pressed a kiss to your cheek. His lips trailed up to the shell of your ear, and he repeated his question, this time barely above a whisper and with an edge in his tone that was no longer mockingly sweet. “Ya’ wanna know why ya’ won’t tell anyone?”

You knew Atsumu well enough to know he was expecting a response. So, with the bit of consciousness you had left, you gave him what he wanted by playing his little game. “Why?” You whispered.

Or at least you thought you whispered it.

You could feel the smirk against your ear, and all you could think of was how you wanted this to be over.

Atsumu let go of your head so he could pull the knife out once more. You didn’t have the energy to scream, all you could do was go limp in his hold. And the last words you heard were delivered as he landed the fatal blow.

“Because, my love, ya’ won’t be alive to tell anyone.”

hi bae congrats on 600!! ok so uh. something i like about myself is i am really straight forward and try not to sugarcoat things, and for the chara of my choice, could i have atsumu?

A/N: I had so much fun writing this ngl (simps too hard for Atsumu) Also, Ro!! I hope you like this baby!!

If you'd also like to participate in the event, you can access it from here!

Honorable mentions: 1.2k, 1 curse word, fluff!

Synopsis: "Atsumu?" You call out, and he can't help but notice how soft your voice sounds.

"Do you have a problem with me?"

Atsumu Miya didn't like you. 

He didn't like you, you knew, and he didn't try to hide it, either.

There would be a frown on his lips whenever you were around him, a scoff audible when you spoke, whether you meant it for him or not, a snarky comment made its way from his lips too, though, rarely. 

You couldn't say you knew each other well. You had a few classes before, greeted each other maybe once every two months, might have spoken willingly one time, and that was it. So there wasn't much of a reason for Atsumu to be so utterly annoyed with you, but there he was, cursing to himself when he saw he was stuck in yet another break-out room with you. 

Because of how close your student numbers were on the class list, whenever the professor made break-out rooms, you were almost always there, waiting for him and sighing when you noticed him.

Atsumu couldn't pinpoint the reason as to why he didn't like you, even his brother, the antisocial, liked you. But there was something about you that made the blonde feel uneasy, stirring something in him that made him want to run away, and run away, he did.

He often opted to turn his mic off when he saw you staring back at him on his screen, even though he hated to admit, very prettily, too, glancing at you once or twice in the whole period of ten minutes.

You usually mimicked his actions, choosing not to say anything to the blonde, but something was different that day.

You pressed your lips together, and he could tell you were a little bored and a little nervous. For the first time, you hadn't turned your mic off, scrolling down your phone, but instead, you held your gaze on the screen, eyes wandering over the faux blonde a second or two before you spoke.

"Atsumu?" Your voice was soft, but it startled him. "Can I ask a question?" You took the grunt that was barely audible as an answer.

You waited for a few seconds before you decided to speak again, hands drumming on the table nervously. You had this question running on your mind for a while now, and you decided you had put it off long enough.

"Do you have a problem with me?"

The way you spoke was nonchalant, and it was as if you're asking about the weather. There was even a ghost of a kind smile that was resting on your lips. Atsumu wondered if he had heard you right, and your smile only grew when his warm-brown eyes narrowed.

"What?"

"Do you have," you repeated, "a problem with me?"

You still had that damn smile as you talked, and Atsumu found his eyes falling on it each time you spoke a word. "I don't think you like me, and I was wondering why."

Maybe it was the way you asked, as if you didn't care if he liked you or not, but you just wanted to know why, like a simple curiosity as a kid wonders why the sky is blue, and it irked something in him.

"You're right." Atsumu shrugged, eyes narrowing slightly to see your reaction to his words. "I don't like you."

He had meant to be mean, to wipe that kind smile off your face and maybe even see you hurt, and he clenched his teeth when you chuckled, instead.

"Figured as much. I want to know why, though. Did I do something to bother you, or is it simply our characters not getting along?"

"You're annoying." He scoffed, and you rolled your eyes.

"Oh, so you're just prejudiced." You pursed your lips and explained when he cocked a mocking brow at you. "You don't know me well enough to call me annoying."

Well, he didn't know you were the type to call him out on his shit like this or how pretty you looked when you were angry. And he certainly didn't know how much he liked it.

You feel your heart skip a beat when Ataumu sent you an amused grin. It was unfair how good-looking he was.

"Of course, I do." You heard his voice, and it made you huff out a laugh. "Do you, really? When was the last time you even spoke to me?"

Atsumu hated the way you cock your brows at him almost mockingly, and he could feel the way you're sharpening your claws on the other side of the screen. He had to admit he found it kind of... hot.

"Last week on the break-out room." He shot back with an annoying, know-it-all raise of a brow, but you dispersed it without missing a beat. "Nope, the moment you saw me, you turned your mic off and looked at your phone the whole time."

"The week before that, then." He rolled his eyes, "No, you did the exact same thing then, too."

"Then the week-" Atsumu starts to speak, but his voice falters. When did you talk last time? Did he even speak once in any of the weekly break-out rooms? 

"That's that, then." You checked the time and smiled once again, a smile of victory you didn't care to hide. Both of you knew you won this round. Oh, the time's almost up, anyway. See you later!" You waved, leaving the break-out room with one of your bright smiles that he was used to seeing like you hadn't just had a conversation about how much he didn't like you. 

Atsumu only then feels the first spark of interest in him.

~

Now that Atsumu wants to be in the same break-out room with you, he never falls in one. 

It's like some goddamn voodoo magic. He couldn't help but smile whenever he heard the sentence, "now I'll be dividing you into break-out rooms." And God knew he heard it often, but whenever he clicked the button, go to room 4, it was always someone else waiting for him there, and never you. 

It caught him off-guard when you did appear on his screen, again with a kind smile. "Hi, Atsumu!" You waved, and Atsumu found his heart missing a beat. 

"Hi," He muttered your name, quickly trying to clear his desk from all the empty cups and plates. "It's been a while."

"You're right." You laughed it off, trying to discard how good he looked still as you quirked a quizzical brow at him. "You look like you missed me."

You had expected Atsumu to stay silent at your remark, waiting for him to turn his mic off as he always did, but it was a (pleasant) surprise to see he didn't. 

"Is something wrong?" You pursed your lips, and he noticed how your brows furrowed in concern. 

"Why would there be?"

You shrugged. "I thought you found me annoying. I didn't think you would want to chat."

"You were the one who told me I didn't know you well enough to say you were annoying, weren't you?" Atsumu quickly retorted, taking note of the slight wavering of your lips into a smile. 

"Touche. So, what is it, or are you trying to prove me wrong and actually trying to get to know me?" 

Atsumu shrugged, only to find you chuckling at him. "Caught red-handed, I guess." He mutters, joining your laughter. The next few minutes, Atsumu found himself having more fun than he probably ever had in a break-out room. 

Oh, fuck, he thinks to himself, right before he clicks the turn back to the main room button. He can't wait for the next time he falls in a break-out room.

with you, of course.

♡~

take a break

Pairing: sugawara x motherly!thoughtful reader

Genre: fluff

♡~

call him out

Pairing: atsumu x honest!straightforward!reader

Genre: enemies to lovers, fluff

♡~

one where he can't take care of plants

Pairing: tsukishima x reader with pretty eyes

Genre: fluff

♡~

squish-

Pairing: kuroo x chubby cheaked reader

genre: Crack!fic, fluff

♡~

one where dabi paints your nails

pairing: dabi x reader

genre: crackfic?, fluff

♡~

more coming soon!

Taming the fox

a/n: self projecting? I think yes 🤩 (listen I dont kin atsumu but i kin him so hard) anyway, this is a lil drabble to show some love at the blond twin

(also this is a repost but,,, the tags didn't work so yup)

Warnings and honorable mentions: dives into anxiety, sadness, inferiority complex and stuff, gn reader, mostly Atsumu based anyway, genre is fluff i think, wc < 1000 (this is meant as a lil drabble I wrote in one sitting, didn't think much on it so lets be nice, yeah?)

Atsumu isn't perfect. He knows this, and even if he hadn't, he has heard it many times, too.

But he works hard to fix it, and that's all that matters, at least it is for you. And ever since Atsumu met you, that's enough for him. It's such a weird feeling, especially for someone as greedy as him, Atsumu feels like it's enough, and the person providing this is... one person?

He is greedy, he admits. Atsumu wants more, more and more from life, and nothing seems to, seemed to, make him feel fulfilled.

But here you are, you have him between your arms, fingers combing through his golden locks. Your eyes are closed as you calm him, suppressing the shake of his shoulders with your own body.

People often can't believe you are dating, that you are in love. You are such opposing characters that it shocks people to see you talking, even.

They are partly right, too. You and Atsumu are polar opposites. He's a fox, a wild one at that, too, and most people know foxes can't be tamed. Not if they don't want to. But ever since meeting you, Atsumu finds, he wants to be tamed, he wants to fit you, to make you happy. If having to change his nature is what it takes, Atsumu is ready to take that challenge.

It's ironic, unbelievable how you don't want him to change, though.

He would have laughed if anyone told him maybe months ago he would feel this way. He's had some relationships in the past, none that lasted, none that mattered. He fooled around, broke hearts, got his heart broken once or twice. But he couldn't settle for the life of him, didn't value anything, anyone, but himself.

People always approached him in hopes of fixing him, some with wanting to pride themselves on how they tamed the infamous wild fox, and some were curious as to see if they were capable enough.

Atsumu hated, despised how people thought of him as a challenge and nothing more, and he set his mind to change not one thing about himself as a result. This seemed to do more harm than good.

People got frustrated, mad at him for being who he was- they got harder, bolder, brutal at the ways they approached him.

Atsumu can't count all the times he heard the words I hate you in relationships. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you." Atsumu heard all that and more one too many times. It never helped the cause, either, since the more those words got spat in his face, the more he closed himself to change.

With the constant nitpicking on his behavior, his character- Atsumu felt he offended people just by existing. It's such a heavy burden to carry, and even though involuntarily, Atsumu was showing he couldn't take it, too.

You could still remember your first days as a manager in Inarizaki, how different Atsumu was when he first met you. He seemed so jittery, so angry, so anxious, and cocky (probably due to the feeling of inferiority) all the time. Having a twin didn't help, either.

You could still remember the chills that ran through your body as you witnessed him serve on a match for the first time.

The warm brown eyes of his you adore so much looked so cold, almost muddy. You remembered feeling scared, not for yourself, but him. He reminded you of a wounded animal.

It took time, so much time, and too much patience to pull him out of that haze. A wounded animal, especially one that was hurt by people, can't trust people back easily. But somehow, you pulled it off. Somehow, you knew that all he needed was compassion, understanding, acceptance.

Atsumu isn't perfect. He knows he still has a lot to work on, to fix about himself. He still feels scared, scared of hearing those three words from your lips, scared that

you will leave him, scared he's not good enough, he never will be.

But isn't that why he's now between your arms, surrounded by your embrace, crying?

He knows he has too much to fix, but you taught him he can take his time with it. Baby steps are still small steps to achieving it.

People think foxes can't be tamed, and they're right about it being hard, but you're the first to notice, that all it takes is just a little compassion.

》 Fool me once, fool me twice

a/n: holy fuck, it's here. It's finally here. writing this might be the hardest thing I did- sucked my soul right out of my body. If it flops I'm going to be very, very sad.

synopsis: fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me. For someone so terrified of heart breaks, both you and Atsumu sure play the part of the fools well. 

part one

genre and warnings: angst. post-break-up, cursing, tw:drinking

There's something about Miya Atsumu; it breaks your heart.

As you watch the ball flying over the court, screams erupting in your ears, you find your hands holding on the bars shaking. It's not one of the important games Inarizaki is playing that year, but it is going to determine if they can keep playing in the tournaments, so the whole school is there to watch.

Unfortunately for you, of course.

Looking at the blonde standing in the middle of his side of the court, Atsumu Miya looks heartbreakingly beautiful.

He looks jittery, unlike his usual self; Atsumu's nervous gaze keeps glancing at the bleachers, eyes scanning his audience. To find you, you know.

You check the time by tapping your phone screen twice; you find your hands shaking as you try to stuff it back in your pockets. The urge to run away is unshakable, but you can't- you won't run away.

You roll your lip between your teeth, biting on it slightly to focus on the pain instead of what will happen after the match. Your gaze once again finds him, the court falling into a deep silence as Atsumu Miya serves. He looks unaffected and smug as he always does, but you can see the nervousness running down his back.

You wonder if he feels the same as you do.

Does he wish the game would never end, as well? Does he hope you'd be gone by the end of the game so he wouldn't have to hold his promise? As if he feels your thoughts, Atsumu's eyes finally locate you in the crowd. It's the first time since you've seen that gaze since the break-up. It feels nothing foreign; the heaviness of his eyes lingering over you as you see his brows pinch together, his face for a second giving away his hurt.

You missed him. You knew that already- but all this time, you were so focused on how to hurt you were going to feel that you forgot how much you had missed him.

Ironically, it's the small details that remind him of you, the minor things that you miss the most. Like that one time, he had smiled at you when you took a bite from his cookie. The way he would trace hearts on your back as he had you between his arms, resting his head on your shoulder, thinking you didn't notice the shapes he drew.

You really missed his voice, whining at you when you said you were too tired to watch him train, missed how he would secretly add sugar to his tea when he thought you weren't looking because you had once told him drinking tea with sugar was a crime.

You missed feeling safe around someone, feeling anything other than alone, feeling like you didn't have to keep this facade of a guard up.

After all, it wasn't just him who had broken your heart, who had lied to you, misled you, let you fall in love before their eyes, knowing it anything but genuine; but your friends as well.

They love to tell you they're here for you if you need them, love to repeat that ugly sentence, "time heals everything."

Time heals nothing.

It only blurs the feelings a little, gives you new things to think about, but it doesn't heal. When you look, the hurt is still there.

What you hate even worse is to hear them apologizing- oh, that constant fucking apologizing that everyone seems to think they owe you now that the cat's out of the bag.

People think everything goes back to normal with a simple apology and a kind smile. Well, surprise, it doesn't.

Not when you still remember that night you walked back home alone, cold, shivering, and shaking with tears, emotions you couldn't handle.

You didn't remember much about the walk itself; you'd think you'd remember every detail in a moment like that- but all you could remember was how heavy everything felt, like the whole night, the world even, was crushing down on you.

You remembered how rapidly your heart was beating, how a constant stream of thoughts screamed that this was a nightmare- not true, now you'll wake up in his arms and plant a kiss on his lips.

You remember not crying, not even a single drop until much later into the night. Your hands trembled as you reached for the door- mind in a frenzy of "please, no, this isn't true!", it took you a minute to get the key into the lock.

You remember. Only you remember how your knees buckled, how your body refused to carry you any longer, how you threw yourself in when the door finally opened, not finding the energy to pull yourself back up and sitting there on the cold surface for hours.

You try to process what you're feeling, but they're too much.

There's a feeling of wrongness that coils in your stomach, presses on your lungs; it makes you feel dizzy; the room spins around you as you so desperately try to focus on staying awake, on breathing.

Hopelessness keeps you sane; it tells you this isn't happening, denying anything and everything the logical part of your mind tells you. An empty feeling sits heavy on your chest; that one's the worst, consuming your thoughts with the sticky sense of desperation.

Desperate for him, for comfort, for someone to be on your side, someone to tell you that it's okay, you'll get through this, you're going to be okay.

And despite everything, every lie he had told you, despite him playing with your heart so cruelly, you know there's but one person you'd accept those words as the truth.

You can't believe how vulnerable you are for him, how ready you are for him to break your heart once again if it means you can talk to him one more time.

You feel tears of pity run down your cheeks, pity at yourself, pity at the girl who sobs with her head in his hands, alone and broken because she was fool enough to believe she was precious for one.

What's worse is that, even when you know everything was a lie, was planned just to watch you make a fool of yourself; even when you know Atsumu Miya lied to you for the expense of your heart, right then, you find yourself crying because you wish he'd lie to you once again.

~

The first few days are the worst.

Waking up is harder than it's supposed to be. Sleep doesn't show up easily.

In your dreams, a honey-colored pair of eyes twinkle with amusement when you ask him if he loves you. He hugs you with a light laugh; it feels more real than when you're awake. "Why would you even ask that?" He kisses you tenderly, "Of course, I love you."

He's cruel, even in your dreams. It's unfair, it's brutal, you have every right to be furious and heartbroken, but there's a question that plagues your mind.

What now?

What are you supposedto do now?

You know you shouldn't thinking of the way he would caress your cheek before leaning in for a kiss, the way he would smile on your lips when your hands buried themselves in his faux blonde locks.

You know you shouldn't torture yourself looking back on your photos and texts you exchanged, seeing how many more lies he told you, how easy it all came to him. All while you opened your heart, stood there vulnerable for him.

It's like venom going through all your memories with him, blacking them all out as lies, lies, and lies, all for the sake of breaking your heart. His boyish smiles, the smallest acts of affection, the butterfly kisses he would press on your head when you fell asleep, the jokes he would make to make you smile.

Looking back, they still feel anything but.

~ People are worried about you. They have no right to be, you think.

"We're here if you need help!" They say, desperate to fix something. After all, they are your friends, and they are people who are there for you.

It's funny how genuine they try to sound. Do your friends think they can fool you as well? They knew all along, and still, let you do it. In your eyes, they were at least as at fault as Atsumu.

It's no easy thing one can handle, losing everyone dear to you in a blink of an eye. Or in your case, at the expense of a few words.

You're blunt about your distrust, your feelings. You have nothing to lose, anyway. You don't try to fake trust and let them in; you let them knock on your door and beg for you to talk to them.

You don't.

You don't let anyone in; you don't plan to do it any time soon, either. But after the one-week mark, something changes.

It's a knock on your front door, more persistent than anyone else.

You let them bang on your door for almost 15 minutes, frustration bubbling inside you when you find they won't leave. You're not emotionally stable anyway, and that obnoxious knock on the door has you running over there with fury.

"What? What do you-"

As soon as you realize who stands before you, your voice drops, your body reacting to shut the door even before your mind realizes.

Oh.

Oh no.

"Y/N, open the door." His voice is calm; you see the tip of a sneaker peaking through the gap he created between the door and the wall. You know he can just push through the door, and it would be easy to overpower you, but you keep trying to close it anyway, hoping his foot would hurt enough for him to pull it back.

"Stop tryna crush my foot and open the door already!"

"No- get out, Osamu." Your voice comes out as a strained cry, making him wince with the pressure- when did you get this strong?

Any other person would have left; he knows this, especially someone in his position, but as calm as he is, Osamu is still a Miya, and Miya's always get what they want.

You know this the best, don't you?

Your hands fall to your side, giving up trying to push him out. The sudden change in force makes him stumble, but before you know it, Osamu enters the room.

You don't look at him as he stands there, eyes fixated on the small mountain of empty cups of noodles and coffee. You know what Osamu's thinking as he looks at you. You expect him to tell you you look sick, terrible, even, but to your relief, he doesn't say a word as he makes his way to your kitchen.

"Do ya have a roommate?" You keep your quiet as he reaches for the fridge, pulling anything remotely edible out, and you try to look away; you really do, but he looks so much like his brother.

It's a moment of vulnerability you gift yourself, your gaze fixed on Osamu as he starts cooking something, a moment of vulnerability where you let yourself think of Atsumu, imagine it was him, instead.

Not once does Osamu glance your way. You're not sure if it's his courtesy not to make you feel uncomfortable or because he can't bear it himself.

"Why are you here, Osamu?" You dare to speak once; it's when he brings you the food he had cooked, a bowl of soup and rice with meat.

"Eat." He won't look at you.

"I won't." You can't.

Even when you know you need it, you can't eat it- not when it's him who cooked it for you. You're not a charity case; you can take care of yourself.

Even when you can't.

"You obviously haven't eaten anythin' in a while," Osamu tells you, annoyingly calm. "Nothin' worth eating, at least. So eat before ya pass out." You catch him sending a disgusted look to the boxes of pizza and junk food hanging around.

Your eyes narrow into slits- who does he think he is, forcing his way through your door and judging your room? Especially when he's part of the reason for it- and does he think a bowl of fucking soup will make it all okay? Is that his way of saying, "sorry, I let you make a fool of yourself to everyone and get your heart broken?" You grit your teeth, finally finding the courage to look him in the eyes. The grey gaze far too familiar, the urge to turn your gaze away eats you away, but your stubborn nature wouldn't let you.

"I already said, I won't." You snarl. "I don't wan't anything from you, not your pity, not your help, not your food. I'd rather starve than get anything from you." Osamu hears the strain in your voice, well aware of how you're starting to tear up despite your efforts trying to hide it. "And stop trying to act like you give a fuck," you go on, "you sure didn't when it was still going on, so what, you feel guilty now?"

"Of course I feel fuckin' guilty!" He shouts back, his grip hardening around the white ceramics he's holding. It's a short-lived fire that ignites in him, eyes widening and the anger dying immediately, but it's still enough to have you flinch. "What, ya think 'm heartless enough not to?"

You stay silent; Osamu gets his answer.

The worst part is, there is no reason for you not to think he isn't, and he knows that.

You're taken aback by his shout, but not by the quiet apology that follows it. "I shouldn't have raised ma voice." He mutters. "I'm sorry."

You hate it when people apologize, you think. But for some reason, Osamu's apology is the only one that doesn't make you want to carve your ears out- rather it makes you feel... relieved. seen. cared.

"Okay."

"I can- I can go if you want to." Osamu presses his lips together, gritting his teeth, angry at himself as he places the food full of plates in front of you. "You should eat."

You contemplate on it for a few seconds- it smells godly, almost dizzyingly so, but you did say you'd rather starve than eat it. You curse how proud you are- it was that proudness that brought you here, your ego that refused to see the bright red flags dangling before your eyes. You've been humiliated enough already; nothing would change if you went against your ego this once, would it?

You bite your lip, deciding to eat. When you don't answer, Osamu plops back on the couch, leaving distance between you still on the couch. His gaze follows your trembling hand as you raise the spoon to your lips- the soup is the first thing that makes you feel warm in a while now.

It takes you a while to finish with it, but he was right about you not having eaten anything worth eating, so even that bowl of soup has a role in making you feel at least a bit more alive.

And with the feeling of aliveness comes the feelings you've been trying to suppress. You can't do this here- no, you can't cry in front of Osamu fucking Miya but-

"D'ya want more?"

sniff.

Osamu doesn't seem startled at the sudden stream of tears down your cheeks, unlike you. You don't know why you're crying, and you don't want to, not in front of him.

You don't know why you nod when he gets a bit closer to you, or why you lean towards him when Osamu pulls you to his chest, why you let him suppress your sobs with his hug- the hug that reminds you of his brother. You do know, however, that it makes you feel safe.

His hand rubs your back, trying to console you without knowing how so he just lets you cry it all out. Cry it out; you do.

All those times you were alone- you couldn't let yourself sob so freely. There was always a stream of thoughts nagging you- you were too proud to cry even by yourself.

Whenever you did, it was tears of pity- at yourself, tears for the foolish girl that you were, tears for falling for a lie. You didn't let yourself cry your hurt, of how much your broken heart ached, how much it stung to be betrayed like this.

But sitting there, between the hold of Osamu Miya, it's different. You shake like a leaf; your breaths get shallower by each passing second, so much that you can't breathe; the one thing that prevents you from a state of frenzy being Osamu's steady pats on your back.

When you let it all out, he's still there, and you hate him for it.

You sometimes wish he wasn't, but ironically, he's the only one you let in, let console you. For some reason, his apology is the only one that feels genuine.

He's always there. When you don't go to school the first while, he's there to cook for you. There when you muster the courage, there when you walk through a stream of people, all eyes on you.

When nobody is, you can always trust to see his dyed-grey locks in the corner of your eyes. Despite the snarky remarks you keep throwing his way, despite everything you do to push him away, Osamu keeps staying right beside you, helping you.

Somehow, despite you trying your best not to, Osamu gains your trust.

You know it must be a mistake; that you're letting yourself get fooled once again- but you need someone to trust. Everyone does. Even if you wouldn't admit to it, you're secretly glad you're not alone.

Too bad you always pick the wrong person.

~

"Fell 'sleep again." A hand touches your upper back, not enough to wake you up; it's comforting, instead.

You hear someone mutter beside you.

There is a faint smell of dust and old books, you have your arms crossed under your head as a makeshift pillow, and your back aches. You feel a jacket of sorts gets placed on your shoulders, and the smell of it almost lulls you to sleep.

A content sigh finds its way out of your lips as you bring your face closer to the material. It's an act made unconsciously to get closer to the scent you'd came to love a little too much, one you had fallen asleep with countless times, and it has an effect of making you feel safe.

Long fingers meet and caress your hair, twirling through your locks, careful not to wake you up. It reminds you of the time you were here with him, when you'd done this- for Atsumu.

The hand eventually lowers to your back, and you feel the warmth from over the jacket.

Osamu had told you he had to retrieve a book; maybe it was him, he must've sprinted his way over and back.

You're half asleep; you don't want to open your eyes and lose your precious sleep since you don't get to do it often, anyway. Or maybe you don't want to open your eyes to see the truth and face the consequences, as you always do.

You shiver.

It must be Osamu; you probably just fell asleep for a few minutes; that's why it felt like he had just left. It's Osamu, you think. It's Osamu, you tell yourself.

But the soft traces of hearts on your back tells you otherwise.

~

"Come on, wake up." A hand shakes you awake for you to realize you're still at the library.

Atsumu?

The name appears on your mind as soon as the fog in your mind starts to disperse, and your head jerks up so fast you think you hurt your neck. But instead of the warm-brown pair of eyes, you meet the cold-grey ones, looking at you with confusion and then- guilt.

"You've been asleep for a while now. It's getting late, let me drop you to your house."

You nod compliantly, gathering your bag as something slides off of your shoulders. It's Osamu's volleyball jacket.

"Thanks for the jacket." You tell him, handing it back. Maybe it's because you just woke up, but you don't notice how Osamu hesitates as he takes the jacket from you, stiffening when he realizes.

You don't notice any of those or that he's holding two of the same jackets.

~

"Ya know, Y/N," One day Osamu tells you, hands tapping on the table nervously. His eyes are unfocused, voice soft and shy as if afraid to scare you away. "Atsumu did love you."

You know what this is about- it's about the fight you had with him a few days before, when he had told you why he hasn't been going to his volleyball practices.

"Playing with Atsumu isn't that easy anymore."

You didn't want to hear it, but he told you anyway. How heartbroken his brother was. You scoffed. "Because he lost the bet?"

"Because he loved you, too, and you know it."

You deny it, deny it with all your heart, but it's no easy feat when his twin is always by your side.

"Don't," You choke out, "don't lie to me, we had this fight. I told you I don't need comfort, not lies, at least, I had my fair share of that. I already know it was- was all a lie." Osamu hears you speak, but it sounds like you're trying to convince yourself, instead. "It was all a lie." You repeat.

"It wasn't all," Osamu tells you calmly, but the way his knuckles are slightly whitening tells you he isn't as comfortable, either. "Maybe in the beginning, but not all of it."

"I don't care." You hiss from behind your teeth, trying to stop him from talking anymore and- giving you hope- but Osamu seems hellbent on speaking his mind. "I don't care even if all he did was lie to me once- it's still enough to break everything."

"Why are you so insistent on discarding all of it, Y/N?" Osamu suddenly raises his voice, taking you by surprise. "Are you actually mad at me for-"

"Look, I get it- I get you're heartbroken, you have every right to be, but-" He pinches the bridge of his nose, "Think what ya wanna think. You have every right to hate him, hate me- but I can't let you say his feelings were lies, as well."

"Good thing I'm not asking for permission." You hiss back at him. "Why do you care anyway? Why do you have to make sure that I know he loved me at one point? The hell, do you want me to do, pity him for that?!"

"No! I'm just-"

"I don't want to- I don't want to know, Osamu!" You sob. "He lied to me- the end, why're you doing this now, now that it's all over?"

"Because," he shouts back, "because- 'Tsumu's never going to feel like this for anyone else. Never again. I know he won't- and I'm not saying that's your fault, it's his dumbasses' fault."

"But," there's a tense silence as he waits for you to wipe your tears. "He's still my brother. And as selfish as it is, even if I'm not asking you to forgive him-, I can't watch you take his feelings as a lie. It's the one time he'll get to- to love anyone."

His words hit hard, and for a moment, you want to believe him, and you do, too. But not again- you can't let yourself get fooled by him again. So instead, you smile softly at the man. "Well," you whisper, "too bad for him, then." but is there any guarantee that you'll get to love anyone, too?

~

Too bad for the winner of the bet.

It seems Atsumu's the only one who thinks that.

He's the winner, and he should be proud, right? No one thinks there's anything wrong with coming up to him, congratulating with that asshole of a smile on their faces.

"Didn't expect less from you," one tells him with a pat on his back. Atsumu despises himself for being one of them.

Didn't expect less from him.

The words haunt him every night. Was he that evil of a person that people didn't expect less from him to be able to fool an innocent girl, make her fall in love and break her heart so cruelly?

And Atsumu hates how he proved them right too.

But he's a man with faults, and Atsumu's ego, selfishness, and pride are not even a quarter of them.

So he hides. Atsumu hides his feelings and thoughts, anything that could give away that he's missing you out of his mind. That he loved you- loves you, that he's the biggest fool of all.

It works most of the time. Atsumu fools many thanks to his scrutinizing smirk and mocking words, just so no one gets close enough to see how hurt he really is.

Even he himself thinks he's okay. He doesn't cry, doesn't hurt; it's just numb as if you weren't there at all. All back to where it started; he's back to the jerk he is, loneliness a constant feeling that it's numb, this time mixed with longing.

It takes him a while before the break-up hits. He breaks down one night.

It's the night before an important game. He's just back from training, but ever since he stepped into the gym, there's been a disturbing feeling boiling in the pit of his stomach. He feels sick, he feels drained- Atsumu feels terrified.

Almost anyone around Atsumu can see he hasn't been well lately, but he's always been the one to forget everything but the passing ball during games. He demands silence with his serves; otherwise, it breaks his focus. This time, it wasn't the noises that disturbed his serve but the silence.

You weren't there.

Why weren't you cheering his name?

It's when he realizes you won't be there- you won't, ever again that it hits Atsumu that he lost you. He will never hear your voice suppressing the others' in games to cheer his name. He will never see your bright smile waving at him, never feel you squirm between his arms after a game because- don't hug me, you're sweaty!

He won't ever feel your hands in his as you walk back home after his match; listen to him as he tells you the different strategies he saw in the game- we must try them with 'Samu, he always smiles excitedly. He will never hear you laugh at his jokes, never feel your fingers run through his hair, never feel your kisses against his skin, he will never be there to listen when you speak of your day with a smile.

He will never, ever make you smile again.

You will smile, but he will never be able to feel that swell of pride inside of him when Atsumu knows it's because of him you have that beautiful smile on your lips. Now, it's his fault you're crying.

"Fuck." He mutters as he feels his eyes stinging, a warm lump forms behind his throat. The thoughts wouldn't leave him alone- why are his hands shaking? He wishes you were there to hold them. It reminds him of that time you had kissed his knuckles when he had a bad game. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

He can't cry- no, he can't! He hasn't cried at all, so why is he... now of all times, too, months later-

Why is Atsumu crying?

He's crying at how selfish he is. Even now, with his phone in his trembling hands, Atsumu Miya dials your number.

~

When he comes home, Osamu isn't too surprised to find Atsumu drunk. His brother never was the kind to deal with feelings.

A deep sigh disrupts the silence Atsumu has created in the room, but he doesn't bother to open his eyes or look at him. "Yer alive?"

"Fuck off." The blonde hisses from behind his teeth, twirling the drink in his hand before gulping it all down. It burns.

"C'mon," Osamu approaches his brother, who seems like he can't even take a step, let alone go to his room by himself. "Go to yer bed."

Atsumu doesn't protest when Osamu kneels beside him, throwing his brothers' arm over his shoulder and pulling him up. "Fuckin' hell," he mutters, "how much do ya weigh?"

Atsumu stays silent at that, and only when he stops walking can Osamu tell he's crying.

"You smell like her." Atsumu's voice a mere whisper, but even Osamu feels a jab in his heart with the raw hurt lingering in his tone. He shivers.

Why were you with her?

Atsumu stops walking, stops trying to carry himself as he slides down the wall to the ground, pulling Osamu with himself, his head buried in his hands. "Why'd ya smell like her, 'samu?"

For the first time in a long while, Osamu has no answer.

"It's not what you think." He tells the blonde instead.

Even if it was, Atsumu has no right to say a word about it- and he hates himself for thinking that might be one of the most hurtful side of a break-up. "I heard you called her." Atsumu doesn't answer. "How is she doing?" He asks instead; Osamu takes note of how he avoids your name, as well.

"Good." no thanks to you. The words hang heavy in the air, but both know Osamu has no right to speak them.

"Good." Atsumu repeats when his brother plops him in his bed, leaving and coming back with a glass of water and a bucket for the night.

"If ya throw up anywhere else, 'll kick yer ass." He warns the now half-asleep blonde, about to leave the room before he hears a broken hum coming from the bed.

"I fucked up." Atsumu mutters a few seconds after. Osamu sighs, his voice laced with something Atsumu's drunken mind can't pick, but Osamu is grateful to it since he doesn't want Atsumu to be aware of his guilt. "Ya threw up already?!" Osamu scolds.

Atsumu laughs softly at that, his eyes still shut closed, but he looks sad. "I don't wanna lost her 'Samu." The blonde mutters so low; Osamu would've missed any other night. His brows pinch together immediately, gaze finding his brother, his eyes closed, the only indication he's still awake being the fresh tears in the corners of his eyes.

"I'm terrified of losing her."

"I'm not the one you should be telling this." Osamu shrugs, voice slightly sharp from the lump in his throat. Whatever happens, they're still brothers, and it's no easy sight to see. "I know," Atsumu sighs, seemingly calmer. "I know."

A few seconds of silence pass between the twins as Osamu finally reaches for the light.

"Goodnight, 'Tsumu."

"Goodnight." His brother answers.

~

You knew you shouldn't have come to the game.

It feels like people are watching you more than the game itself. Glares that are sent your way, unfiltered whispers, and laughs of mockery never fail to follow you wherever you go.

Stop it, you want to scream, but you keep your eyes fixed on the game. It's not my fault- I didn't want this to happen.

You wince when Atsumu misses yet another service- flying over the net at lightning speed and falling out of the court, again. "Atsumu pull yourself together!" Someone in the team screams, and you shiver only by seeing his responsive glare.

You shouldn't be here, you know it, everyone else does, too. The game is going terrible, and it's all because of the obnoxious setter, standing in the middle of the game, first time in forever letting the control slip from his fingers.

As you watch his tired form set the ball, you can't help but notice how out of it Atsumu looks. It reminds you of his broken voice the night before on the phone.

"Please, just- just listen to me one last time." You can't help but remember how he sounded the night before on the phone, when he had dialed your number with trembling hands. "I have to tell you."

You had promised yourself that night, the one you had learned it was all but a lie; you had promised that you would never be the fool again. You would never listen to him again, never let him lie to you, never, never, never.

But you couldn't reject his request when he sounded so... helpless. Almost as broken as you yourself were.

So you listened, even when it hurt when you did, listen to what he had to say, listen to his strained voice, raw with emotions.

This might have been the first time you'd seen Atsumu so vulnerable. For someone so scared of vulnerability, you never thought you'd see Atsumu begging anyone, let alone you, the fool.

"I want to make this right," he whispers, your grip on the phone tightening as you realize he was crying. "I love you, I really do- and I want to make this right."

He takes a shaky breath like it was the hardest thing he had ever done. "I can't lose you, Y/N."

Even though I know I don't deserve you, I can't lose you.

"Atsumu-"

"I'm begging you," he whispers, voice shaking, gasping slight hiccups, the strain in his hoarse voice makes you shudder. "I'm begging you to give me a chance to make this right."

The silence you gift him gives the broken man his answer.

"I can't."

Atsumu squeezes his eyes shut on the other end of the line; his eyes burn with tears, he wants to hang up and cry, tries to hold himself together, the feeling of his nails digging into his flesh reminds him to answer you.

"Why isn't it enough?" He speaks, this time doesn't even try to hide his cry, "you love me and I love you, why isn't it enough for a second chance?"

"If you think it's only about love, I have a question for you, Atsumu."

"Yes?"

"Did you- did you love me while we dated?" Atsumu cringes at the question. He has told you he loved you many times, and all it took was one lie for you to believe he didn't- and you had every right to, too.

"I did," he answers, "I know you don't believe me, but I really did-"

"I do- I do believe you." You cut him off; you sound bittersweet. "I believe you, and that's why I can't do it again."

You bite your lip, trying to collect your thoughts, trying to keep yourself from crying anymore.

"I can't be with someone who used me and knowingly- willingly broke my heart even when he loved me."

"If you didn't love me, this would've been easier. But you did, Atsumu, you cared for me, you loved me, and you still purposefully hurt me. That love means nothing to me."

It isn't about a lie he told you that broke your heart; it's this. And this is why it only hurts you more whenever someone tells you Atsumu meant it; he did love you.

Atsumu wants to beg, wants to cry, wants to shout- he wants to tell you anything that would make you take him back, try again, he wants to tell you that he can't live without you, but he can't.

He can't, because if he did, it would be a lie. And he promised both you and himself that he would never lie to you again.

"Okay," he speaks after a long silence, a silence he tries to process what you said. "Can we talk one last time after the game tomorrow?" "What else is there left to say, Atsumu?" "Nothing." Atsumu admits. "I just want to see you one last time."

~

You really wish you could try again.

As Atsumu stands before you, eyes wide and glassy with tears he's too proud to cry, you really wish you were strong enough to try again.

"I never thought I would've ended up here that night when I approached you at the party." He laughs bitterly, wiping his tears away with the back of his hand.

"I just hope you can accept my apology." He whispers to you; his brown gaze the prettiest you've ever seen, you just wish they weren't so sad. "I hope you can heal-" he laughs bitterly. "From me."

"I accept your apology." You mutter at him, not knowing what else to say. It seems he doesn't expect anything, either.

"Fuck," he laughs as he cries, fingers pulling on his dead-blonde hair, pain so raw on his face you don't think you can endure it any longer. "I really thought we could try again." "Atsumu, I-"

"I know- don't worry, baby, I'll be fine." He assures you, teary eyes looking at you longingly. He stares at you for a few long seconds, as if he's trying to remember every little detail on your face. "I just think I need some time."

"Okay."

"I'll go, now, okay?" Atsumu chuckles, packing his gym bag, almost rushing away. "And- thank you, Y/N."

"It's okay," you smile, "it was nice to see you again."

Those words seem to hurt him even more, you think he might break down crying. You wonder what he's thinking. "It was nice to see you, too."

Such a pretty smile, he knows it's probably the last time you smile at him. Now, for the rest of his life, Atsumu can only stare at your pictures to see that smile again.

a/n 2: I know I said I was going to make it a happy ending, but as I wrote this paragraph: "I can't be with someone who used me and knowingly- willingly broke my heart even when he loved me. If you didn't love me, this would've been easier. But you did, Atsumu, you cared for me, you loved me, and you still purposefully hurt me. That love means nothing to me." I knew there was no way I could make Y/N forgive Atsumu. This is also the very reason this piece took me so long because I tried so hard to make it a happy ending, I literally fought with the characters, but I couldn't.

[01:21] atsumu miya has a big crush on you

warnings none!

other timestamps

you weren't surprised that he stared at her; her features so delicate, yet sharp, gentle yet so bold. envy couldn't help but knock at your door as you notice that every class you catch him staring at her: your seatmate. much like all the other people, you'd taken a liking to atsumu miya, the setter of the volleyball club.

you shared a few classes with him, but most of the time you sat apart in far distances from the room, your existence barely noticeable to his schedule. despite having a friendship with him several years back, he'd changed and drifted from you as a result of conflict in interest. blissful and short lived was the friendship, yet quality over quantity had truly reigned over that highlighted phrase, and you had come to terms with it yourself.

even though you had been friends with atsumu for two years as early teenagers; he made life feel like rainfall on a drought, sunshine in blistering winters. he'd provided you with chunks of happiness no other person could gift to you. losing him was a defeat on your behalf as you realised you weren't as important to him as you had thought.

sitting pretty your seatmate, emiko, sighed tirelessly at your cluelessness as you quietly groan at the reminder of atsumu never looking your way, when in reality it was the polar opposite.

watching you dejectedly sit every lesson beside her was a killjoy, and she'd wish you could notice that in reality atsumu had been burning holes into your face every class, and not her. although the chase was interesting to witness, it had taken far too long and she couldn't help but feel as if she'd become a wedge in the (yet to bloom) relationship.

"that ends this lesson, please make sure that all the people's names i've written on the board have handed in their assignment by tomorrow. you may all leave." like the speed of light, you pack up your books and are the first to leave the class, sparing no glance to the innocent setter waiting to grab your attention.

"miya-san," emiko calls out, "if you're going to stare at l/n-san all throughout the class, do it so they know that you're staring at them, not me."

atsumu's face burns red with embarrassment and he nods in accordance, before running towards the direction he assumed you headed. sighing yet again, emiko slowly packs her bags up and hopes that things between you and atsumu are cleared up.

a/n: this is kind of a whole like mutual pining thing but both love interests are dense and cant pick up hints ?? its really short though rip

Trust me. Love me. Shoot me.

Atsumu Miya x female reader

Summary: Atsumu finds himself with a young woman who is more that what she seems.

Warning: Implied violence, blood, injury

Genre: Yakuza AU, angst, fluff, enemies-to-friends-to-lovers

A/n: I have had sever writer block for the longest time and I got an idea so I had to write it. So please enjoy!! As always, please don’t repost or plagiarize! If you want to support me please reboot or like! Also! Send me a request if you would like to be tagged in the series!

Y/n= your name

L/n= Your last name

Y/h/c= your hair colour

Y/e/c= your eye colour

Previous//Next

Read here because tumblr decided to be difficult

Trust me. Love me. Shoot me.

Atsumu Miya x female reader

Summary: Atsumu finds himself with a young woman who is more that what she seems.

A/n: I had zero motivation to day to write this but please enjoy!? As always, please don’t repost! To support me please like or reblog. Also!! Send me a request if you want to be added to the tags list for this series!

Y/n= your name

L/n= Your last name

Y/h/c= your hair colour

Y/e/c= your eye colour

Warning: extremely unedited, mentioned blood, mentioned fire, burning, medical stuff, needles

Previous//Next

Atsumu woke up with the warm  morning sun spilling through the window, and the fresh morning air cascaded through the open window. There was no pain in his body and his head was light. His head was lying on a soft, plush pillow and the silk sheets were smooth against his skin. Everything was fine.

Well almost fine. The only problem was that he didn’t own any silk sheets. He had scratchy cotton ones. In alarm, Atsumu sat up straight and looked around the somewhat familiar room. He was is a room with lightly coloured walls and a few plants which hung from the ceiling. Beside the door was a body length mirror with two coat hooks beside it. Next to where he sat was a beige bedside table with two drawers and a single daisy in a small glass jar and 2 doors which he guessed led to the closet. Directly across from him was a  desk with a small stack of books, a spiral bounded notebook, and a few pens, along with a girl, L/n. She had her nose in a book. Her eyes following the line she was reading. Her face was relaxed, but scrunched in displeasure, or maybe anticipation, at the book in front of her. Her nimble fingers flipped the page. As she kept reading, her eyebrows scrunched and her mouth fell open in surprise, or maybe hatred or shock,  at the new page. That was a beautiful expression that she wore.

Astumu didn’t want to admit it, but she was beautiful. Her face was doll-like, giving her the illusion of youth, but her eyes showed much more maturation and pain, but held kindness and love. Her lips looked soft and sweet, and were especially beautiful when she pulled her mouth into a wide smile. Her hair looked elegant however it fell around her face, or maybe she would look more breathtaking with her hair up. It beautifully framed her face, and made her y/e/c eyes stand out. L/n’s voice was also beautiful. It was melodic and sweet, but could also held the intensity of a thousand dagger. Her laugh would sound nice too. Maybe it would be a light chuckle. Or maybe a breathy laugh where she would crinkle her nose. Or if her laugh was a belly laugh full of life and happiness. That would be lovely. Astumu watched as her face contorted to many different emotions, surprise, hate, confusion. But it made him sad that her face was almost always neutral. Emotionless.

Suddenly, the door opened, and in walked the man with dark hair and metallic blue eyes. He was very tall and was decently built. His eyes scanned the room taking inventory of the situation. L/n looked up from her book and gave him a discreet nod.

“Hello L/n-san. Anything new?” He asked. His voice was smooth and empty. His eyes, and L/n’s shifted to Atsumu. He felt like a monkey in a zoo enclosure, with everyone watching him as he flung his feces at the wall. He watched as L/n and the dark haired man had a conversation though eye contact, head movements and face expressions. The “conversation” mainly consistent of L/n rolling her eyes and the man angrily raising his eyebrows.

“Well do you have a plan for that ?” L/n said finally, breaking the silence, but adding to the tension within the small room. At least Astumu knew that the mystery man’s wasn’t a potential danger.

“Well Y/n we need to take care of Miya-san first. For all we know you would have brought a wanted criminal into our house! How do you think the rest of us will react?” The man yell at her. L/n kept her face straight. No sign of any emotions covered her face and her eyes became more intense, almost like a tiger ready to kill.

“I am going to say it once. This is my house. I will decide when things happen and how things will happen. I decided to help someone who was dying on the street, and you don't get to judge my kindness. Not after what happened at the train station!" she stated with a calm icy tone, book long forgotten on the desk. The room was noticeably colder and Atsumu was feeling unsure of what was happening. The tall man stood, face unmoved, but behind his eyes showed something more. Something about the train station bugged him. He didn't speak or move, but his compliance was displayed through his eyes. He walked out wordlessly and shut the door behind him. Astumu was still in shock. Not sure if it was the situation in general, or maybe it was the amount of power L/n held.

“So how are you feeling, Miya-san?” She asked, breaking Atsumu from his thoughts. Her voice back to the sweet voice he remembered from the day before.

“Am fine, what just happened?” Her inquired curiously, hoping to get an answer. The mysterious man gave Atsumu many question, and not a single answer.

“Well Miya-san, I think you are forgetting our deal. You said you would tell me everything, and so far you haven’t. So if you could please tell me, then go ahead.” She replied in a teasing manner. Astumu tensed at her light hearted tone. The stark contrast between her light-hearted tone now and the cold tone from just minutes ago made his skin crawl. The eagerness was written on her face as she sat cross legged in the chair across from him.

“Well it’s complicated. Ya see, we were gonna ambush a rival yakuza. But they saw us comin’ and fought us back. A got hit a few times, then someone lit the building on fire. I ran out, then I ended up here.” He said, recalling the events of that night. He remembered the scent of blood, both his and the people around him, and the gasoline, and the horrid screams of people in the fire as their bodies burned. He was lucky that he got out. He wondered about his closest acquaintances, Kita, Suna, and Aran. But also his twin brother, Osumu. Damn how could this happen? If anything happened to them, then it would be his fault. All because of his recklessness. Snapping  out of his thoughts, he looked at L/n who was in deep thought. Her forehead was crinkled and her eyes seemed to be seeing right through him.

After what could have been only five minutes, she got up quietly and walked towards the closet. Inside the closet was an artillery of medical supplies. Multiple boxes of gloves and masks, along with a small fridge that held many small bottles of drugs. There were also a crash cart with everything that could be sues in an emergency, a defibrillator, a breathing bag, a tracheotomy kit and tubes. There were also about 3 oxygen tanks with small carts. She rummaged around in the closet until she got out some bandages and a small suture kit with a pair of needle drivers and toothed forceps along with a few other tools Atsumu could not recognize. Then L/n grab a small vile of drug and a needle from another part of the closet. She walk towards Atsumu, tools in hand as he watched curiously. As she go to the bed side table, she injected the needle into the vile which Astumu could now read as “morphine” and carefully pulled back the piston until there was maybe 5 milligrams of morphine. She grabbed his left arm and injected it into his bicep. Then she grabbed his left leg and removed the bandages from his leg. At first, he was questioning his lack of pants, before he remembered the “incident”. As your hands nimbly unwrap the bandage, the stench from his leg escaped into the room, causing him to plug him nose, but L/n seemed unaffected as she unwrapped the bandages. Once the bandages were removed she walked to the small garbage can beside the foot of the bed, which he did not notice, which was already half full of bloody bandages and the sweatpants from earlier. L/n carefully inspected the neatly done stitches, making sure there was no sign of the wound reopening. Once she was sure there was no sign of reopening or infection, she rewrapped the leg in new clean bandages.

“Thank you for the information Miya-san, you will need to rest so your wounds don’t reopen or become worse. I will be back in a few hours so please don’t move and if you need anything please just scream.” She said curly before turning around and leaving before he could reply. Atsumu felt very confused, but he also felt drowsiness. “Maybe from the morphine” he thought before drifting off to sleep.

Sometime later, he woke up to hearing voices down the stairs. There were 3 male voices and L/n’s. They were murmuring urgently.

“L/n-san, we can’t let him stay here. It’s too dangerous. If they find us we will be killed. You know that.” Said the first voice, which sounded like the mystery man from earlier in the day.

“No Akaashi-san, it will be fine.” Replied another deeper voice. “I don’t see why not besides we could take care of anything that happens.”

“Why are you being kind to that lowly yakuza. It doesn’t fit your character.” Replied the first voice, which Atsumu now knew belonged to the mystery man, Akaashi.

“I am always this kind. Besides Akaashi, you are just overthinking it too much.” Said the deep voice again.

“Yeah ‘Kaashi, I agree with them” said another , “Even if they figure out that we were responsible for those incidents, they have no proof”.

“Exactly Akaashi-san,” you agreed, “And if he does anything, then I will take care of him”.

Taglist:

@kayleighbeccaa

Trust me. Love me. Shoot me.

Atsumu Miya x female reader

Summary: Atsumu finds himself with a young woman who is more that what she seems.

A/n: I honestly don’t know how to write fight scenes but I tried my best! Please support me by giving my any suggestions on fight scenes cuz I low key suck :O( any who, please dont repost, but feel free to reblog or like!

Y/n= your name

L/n= Your last name

Warning: misgendering, blood, weapons, death, dead bodies. Honestly, if gore is a no-no for you, then DO NOT READ THIS!!!!

Masterlist

Previous//Next

For the next few days, Atsumu drifted in and out of consciousness. Each waking moment was met with someone new in his room. There was the mystery man, Akaashi, who was reading a book, a large dude with bi-coloured hair doing pushups on the ground, a small girl with long blonde hair with dark roots playing on a Nintendo switch, and a rooster head who was sitting in the corner writing something in his notebook. Of course there was L/n. Atsumu was nervous about her. He wasn’t sure if he heard you properly two nights ago, or maybe 3 nights. Astumu wasn’t sure, but he was still cautious. When he wasn’t awake, he would dream of his brother and his comrades and acquaintances. He was not sure how his gang, Inarizaki, could have lost. He was on their side and was in good shape. The lose could not possibly be his fault. He was in great shape and fought extremely well. It had to be their fault. But of course, if they were hurt then he would have to blame himself. For what even he did to end up in L/n Y/n’s home. What ever her plan was, he didn’t understand nor want to know. He just wanted to get out as soon as possible. Because wherever he was, everyone around him was in danger.

This time, he woke up feeling entirely lucid. The room was empty, excluding the pair of crutches resting on the bedside table. He pulled his pant-less self off of the bed and grabbed the crutches. He placed one crutch under each arm and balanced himself on his unharmed foot. He moved to the mirror and observed his damaged body. He was wearing a pair of boxers and bandages covering his thigh. The large bandages that were wrapped around his chest, were now gone, exposing most of his tattoos. His face looking better, the stiches were taken out of his face, leaving a long scar down his face. His swollen lip and black eye had healed tremendously as well. His arms were still covered in bandages, but showed more of his tattoos. His blond hair was still messy, but it looked cleaner and more organized.

Atsumu opened the door and headed down the hallway which lead to the stairs. He hobbled down the hallway and stairs into a sitting room to see the mystery man, rooster head, the bi-coloured hair man, who looked scarily like an owl, the girl, and L/n. The five people were sitting in the dark sitting room, which was illuminated by a few candles, all except the girl with mugs in hand. As he entered the room, all five pairs of eyes, save for the girl, who was very invested in his Nintendo switch, focused on him. He once agin felt like a poop-flinging monkey in his enclosure.

The silence in the room was deafening. The silence was broken by the owl man who got up and ran towards him. He swung and arm around his shoulder and proceeded to carry Atsumu to the couch. Owl dude was a large man. He had exceptionally broad shoulders and biceps as large as his face. He was wearing a black muscle shirt with nike workout shorts. But damn, who knew an owl could be so buff.

As Atsumu was placed down gently on the couch (Atsumu swear he felt like a princess), the rooster head started to talk to him.

“So you are yakuza, right, Atsumu?” Asked the rooster head. “How did a yakuza like you end up in our little Y/n’s care”. Atsumu swore he was being provoked, two could play that game.

“Well it was an ambush, Rooster head-kun.” Atsumu rebutted. The air wasn’t tense, but felt playful. As Rooster head-kun was hyena laughing at his response, Owl-man was fidgeting in his seat and repeatedly taping Akaashi on the shoulder, like at a game show, Akaashi, showed little interest to the Owl and just told him to calm down.

“I still don’t get why you are even here.” Said a n unknown, tenor voice. Atsumu turned around to look at the source. He was staring at the “girl” who was definitely not a girl. He had his long blond hair pulled half back. His hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets, along with his switch. There was not much which was notable about this character. He was about 170cm with brown eyes.

“He is here because he was hurt on the sidewalk, Kenma.” L/n interjects, “so be nice. He will be here until he is better”. That statement seemed really contradictory to what you said the last night about “taking care of it”.

“Wait who are these people L/n?” Atsumu asked, scanning the room.  He noticed the tall fire place in the room, along with the floor-to-ceiling windows which showed a yard. The room was elegant, yet modern. Shit. How much was this place?

“Well this is Bokuto, Akaashi, Kenma, and Kuroo. And please just call me Y/n. Only Akaashi calls me L/n ‘cause he is too formal.” Y/n laughs. The group seem very cozy in the large sitting room. “We are partners and room mates. Kuroo is technically a lawyer, Bokuto is a personal trainer and body builder, Akaashi is an author and editor, and Kenma is, well a lot of things”.

“Well thank ya all the help, but I have’ta go. I don’t wanna stay here.” Atsumu replied. “A don’t think I should stay so bye”.  He said as he attempted to stand up. The owl head, Bokuto, grabbed the crutches before Atsumu could grab them.

“Sorry Tsum-Tsum, we can’t let you go until you are fully healed. Y/n even said so.” Bokuto said, holding one crutch in each hand.

“No! I have to go! Now please give me the damn crutches so I can leave.” He refuted. Atsumu felt a feeling of dread take over his body. The knew that they were coming. He was not sure who, but he felt that they were being watched thought the tall glass windows.

“Miya-san, you need to stay here until you are fully healed. So please don’t fight us.” Akaashi said.  Atsumu knew he had to leave now. There was no way he would let these nice people get hurt, even the cold Akaashi, who really dislikes him.

“I am sorry, but I need to—” Atsumu started, only to be interrupted by the smashing of the tall glass windows and doors being kicked in. Atsumu froze, waiting for the intruders next move. He was virtually defenceless in his current state, but he could at least help the other people escape. The intruders flooded in with revolvers and knives from all angles. There were no escape routes, and he could not see their faces. He turned around to expect 5 frightened faces, but instead he was met with an exited Bokuto, a smirking Kuroo, an ever-stoic Akaashi, a scheming Kenma, and a determined Y/n, still sitting around the coffee table. In a blink of an eye, weapons are pulled from under the coffee table, under couch cushions, and behind pillows. Guns, knifes, tasers, swords and a frying pan were pulled out from obscure places.

As the group behind Atsumu stood up, weapons were in hand as fighting ensued. Bokuto had A large frying pan (why, Atsumu could figure out) and was using it as a shield from in coming knifes, and a weapon for hitting people upside the head. Akaashi and Kenma were gracefully dodging and stabbing people with black knifes (maybe it was an Eckhorn, Atsumu wasn’t sure). Kuroo was tazing the masked men left and right. As for Y/n, she had disappeared somewhere in the span of a few seconds.

As much as Atsumu was enjoying the fighting, he was stuck in the middle, utterly defenceless. Blood was everywhere as bodies hit the floor. One after another. The intruders were killed and left on the ground to be kicked on stepped on. He was so intrigued in the fight around him, that he did not notice the tall man stalking towards him. Right as Atsumu noticed, a gun was placed on his head as he heard threats of death if he called for help or moved. Paralyzed, he froze, his thoughts raced, and his heart was beating one thousand times a minute. Then suddenly Y/n appeared from the shadows and sliced the man with a tomahawk. Blood spattered along her dark cardigan and onto his back. She swung again and again until his body fell to the floor in a bloody mess. The masked men were almost completely all dead. The boys were mostly unscathed, except for a scrap on Kuroo’s forehead, but covered in blood. Atsumu was still in shock over the fighting skills of a doctor, lawyer, writer, body builder and whatever Kenma did.

“Wait what just happened?” he asked in shock.

“Well our safe house was found and we were attacked by masked-” started Bokuto, only to be cut off by Kenma.

“We saved your life and killed some people.” He interjected. The other 5 were stripping off all their bloodied clothes.

“No, who are you really, and how did you act so quickly?” Atsumu clarified.

“Well, Kuroo and Kenma are from the Nekoma Yakuza, and Akaashi and Bokuto are from the Fukorodani Yakuza.” Y/n replies, now stripped down to a simple black sports bra and black cargo pants.

“And I am a freelance assassin.”

Taglist: Open

@kayleighbeccaa

Trust me. Love me. Shoot me.

Atsumu Miya x female reader

Summary: Atsumu finds himself with a young woman who is more that what she seems.

A/n: Well the creativity god have given me ideas and a literal change in perspectives. Please be nice, I take constructive criticism well no i dont. Also, please dont plagiarize or repost!

Warning: mention of dead bodies, blood, selling bodies, fire, burning bodies, gasoline and alcohol, arson, implied violence, Atsumu is now a princess, unedited. As always Also kinda dark so if you dont want to read that please skadaddle

Masterlist

Previous//Next

Well, that was unexpected. Y/n really did not expect an ambush on their safe house. The bodies where bloodied on the ground. Faces contorted in anguish and pain surrounded her. Kuroo and Kenma were calling some people from the Nekoma family to help clean up. Bokuto was moving the bodies, while Akaashi was directing him where to place each. There could have been up to 40 bodies on the ground, coving the ground in crimson blood. The once elegant sitting room had now been destroyed. The tall glass windows were now shattered. The breathtaking fire place was now noting put a pile of rocks. And worst of all, the comfy sectional was now ripped and torn in far too many places. Well looks like this place was going to have to burn.

Since revealing her true job. Miya-san hadn’t spoken a word. His eyes were perpetually following her. L/n would catch his lingering eyes on her as she talked to Kenma, or helped Bokuto lift a body. Was it really that surprising? The five worked the silence, moving bodies, and taking inventory of the weapons. Her tomahawk, Akaashi and Kenma’s knives, Kuroo’s taser and Bokuto’s frying pan (Y/n wasn’t sure where he got it, or why he had it) were lying in a pile, long forgotten. Words were exchange her and there in effort to make the body clean-up easier. The bodies were lying in a straight row, Akaashi had already gone to grab bed sheets to cover the bodies. Flys were moving into the room, flying about and landing on the dead and living bodies in the room. Their constant buzz became a rhythmic tempo as each person worked.

Soon after the bodies were covered, the door opened and entered 2 new people. Their heights difference and silhouettes were dead give aways. The shorter one, Yaku, who reminded Y/n of a chihuahua, paced towards Kuroo, while the taller one, Lev, who’s monster exterior did not reflect on his string-bean personality, gravitated towards  Kenma. Bokuto and Akaashi were discussing something. Y/n was never too sure what Bokuto was ever thinking. He was as special type of special (Not hating on him though, he has always been an amazing person. Everyone should take time everyday to appreciate him). Atsumu, who seemed to be in less shock was starting to walk around the room, taking inventory on the two new people and and lines of corpses on the ground.

Yaku and Lev were asking a plethora of questions, ranging from “How’s your mom?” To “Should we sell the bodies?”. Anyone who was clueless about the situation would probably call the police. Nonetheless, Yaku removed the bodies to his van to take to Yaku-land (Yaku never tells people where he actually takes things like bodied or drugs, so instead, he calls it “Yaku-land”). Lev on the other hand, he was bullying the injured Atsumu, poking him, taking his crutches, calling him “cripple”. All to which Atsumu didn’t seem to take to heavily.

Once the bodies, leaving six behind, where taken and Yaku and Lev had left, it was time for the plan to start. First step was to pour anything flammable everywhere. Gasoline and alcohol were poured everywhere leaving the foul stench to wander through the air. The left over bodied were then heavily drizzled in gasoline. They need to burn the most.

Next in the very complex plan (thank you Akaashi), New clothes. Akaashi and Kenma grabbed some new clothes for the group to wear, sweater shirts and pants for Kenma, Atsumu and Bokuto, a baby blue sweater vest and slacks for Akaashi, and a simple two piece suit for Kuroo, and a pair of cropped mom jeans and a sweater for Y/n. As they were leaving the house, careful  not to touch the liquids which coated everything, the six grabbed some essential, food, water, and car keys, and lit the house on fire with a simple match.

The fire roared as the house fell. The walls were burning as the fire grew. The flames were visible through the windows and the dense smoke drifted into the sky. Everyone ran away from the flames as the devoured the house. No one stopped, worried that someone would see them as they ran away from the crime scene. The exhilarating rush of adrenaline and the taste of arson was pushing everyone to run faster and faster. Atsumu, who was being carried by Bokuto like he was a princess, even seemed to enjoy the high of arson.

When they reached the car, a honda odyssey (which are great get away cars if you are trying to go unnoticed), Bokuto tried to place the princess down, he fought back. Kicking and thrashing in Bokuto’s arms, Akaashi and Kuroo tried to hold him down with on avail, and Kenma was calming playing animal crossing. Y/n tried to get him to calm down, but the large man child, kept wiggling and squirming. When he finally gave up, the look of defeat covered him face, then a look of sorrow and regret, then pure anger.

“Miya, you need to stay with us.” Said Y/n, pleading for him to stay. Y/n knew that if he left, he would get attacked again and then he wold die. And that would not be beneficial to anyone.

“Y/n, A can’t stay! Yer house was destroyed cause of me! Did ya know that! If A wasn’t there ya would have been fine! Beside, how do A know ya aren’t gonna kill me? Huh? Ya could just be using me to uh” he stuttered as he thought of a sound reason, “uh sell me? Or trade me? Or even force me to work! That would be horrible! Ma hands aren’t made for work, ya know! A thought you were a doctor Ms ‘freelance assassin’”. Y/n looked at him like a crazy person. Did he really think that she would do that? And after all the hospitality which she offered? Rude. Y/n wanted to prove him wrong. She wasn’t that type of person. The other boys, who were still holding him down all stared at her, waiting for her decision.

“Atsumu,  I realize how you feel”, y/n begins, trying her best to sound confident, “But right now if you want to live, you need to come with us. We are going to the Nekoma/Fukoridani base. We won’t hurt you, but please, I really need you to trust me”.

Taglist: Request to be added :)

@kayleighbeccaa @jojowantstocry

Trust me. Love me. Shoot me.

Atsumu Miya x female reader

Summary: Atsumu finds himself with a young woman who is more that what she seems.

A/n: Writing this was fun. It was fun. Please enjoy the awkwardness and watch me try to build character dynamics. Yay ::) please do not repost, but feel free to reblog or like!

Warnings: drugs and alcohol mentioned, weapons mentioned, Atsumu gets punched lol, I didn’t edit yet again

Masterlist

Previous//Next

The minivan was quiet, except for Bokuto’s light snores. Akaashi was driving with Kuroo in the passenger side. Kenma was sitting in the back on his switch, and occasionally pushing the sleeping Bokuto off of his lap. Y/n sat behind Akaashi, passing maps and snacks to Kuroo. Atsumu was directly beside you, looking out the windows as the buildings  turned into fields then back to buildings.

Akaashi was planning to drive to the Nekoma headquarters, where a majority of Fukurodani  also stayed. Nekoma preferred to stay in Tokyo’s countryside. It was close enough to the city, but remote enough for no one to care. It was a strategic location.

When the minivan pulled to a stop, not a a rest stop this time, a tall warehouse sat in front of the group. The tall metal walls started down at the very mini minivan, the windows were ominously empty. The warehouse had a spooky feeling to it, it felt as if no one had been there for years, yet every single step was being carefully watched and criticized.

The first time Y/n came to the warehouse, she was terrified, but none of the boys knew. After all, she had to keep her reputation as a force to be reckoned with. The rumours which shrouded Y/n were always enough to scare someone out of their wits. She was often described as a ghost who disappears into the shadows, blends in with the crowd and masquerades herself as anyone, then strikes when you think you are safe. She became anyone, a local grocery store worker, a waitress, a prostitute. She manipulated people to get what she wanted, then killed then. She camouflaged herself in the crowd and went unnoticed. Because of this, she was dubbed “The Chameleon ”. Y/n fed off of this respect. The fact that when her name was mentioned, people would visibly shiver. She didn’t care if she was called a monster. As long as she got praise and the respect that she deserved.

The 6 boys got out of the car and made their way towards the dark warehouse. Kenma knocked on the door, 6  rhythmic knocks, before the large sliding door slide open with a crash. Kai welcomed the group in, hesitating when he saw the 6 foot blond. Apprehensively, he let him in. The warehouse smelled like marijuana and alcohol. Y/n noticed that Lev and Yaku had yet to return. As the group entered the building, people from all angles yelled out in greeting to the group.

“Hey Chameleon! Did you kill anyone yet?” Yelled Yamamoto, along with other calls to the group such as, “Hey Owl!” (Referring to Bokuto and his strength, or his hair. No one has ever been brave enough to ask), or “Raven, I need your help on this assignment!” (Akaashi was dub this for his intellect. This man is smart). Other voices called for “The Hyena” (Kuroo was named this for his hyena like laugh that you would hear right before he killed you) and “The Caracal” (Kenma got this name thanks to his crazy kill methods. That man can be unhinged. Just take away his switch and get ready to die).

Y/n walked through the warehouse soaking in every word, but not replying to any. Right now she didn’t want to be the happy, friendly Y/n. Right now she had business to do. She kicked open a metal door which lead to a large office. The office wasn’t fancy, but inside sat the bosses of Nekoma and Fukurodani. As Y/n walked in, followed closely by the boys, keeping Atsumu behind them, she swiftly slammed the door shut with a loud bang.

The two old men looked up at her and the boys before their eyes landed on Atsumu. They looked surprised to say the least.

“L/n, why did you bring him here? Now were have to kill him.” Said the first old man, Nekomata. He was a carefree old man who was often smiling. Despite his appearance, Y/n knew that he could kill someone in less that a second.

“Nekomata, he is part of the Inarizaki family. If we killed him then they would be after you. So instead I propose we keep him here until his leg heals, then we make the trade with Inarizaki. They get back their man-child, and we get they alliance. Doesn’t that just sound wonderful? Akaashi and Kenma help me think of this.” Y/n asked, speaking in her sweetest, most convincing voice. She knew the last part was a lie. Kenma didn’t care about what happened to Atsumu, and Akaashi didn’t want to keep him around any longer than necessary. You just hoped he didn’t realize.

“Well L/n,” spoke the other old man, Yamiji, “I think its a good idea, except your safe house was destroyed because he was there. And how will we convince them to come, without an attack?”

“Well that’s simple, we can stay in the hotel in the city. The five of us can stay there with Atsumu. And I can take care of an arrangement.” Y/n said slyly. “I will even give you sometime to consider it. It is so much more beneficial to return him than to just kill him. Don’t you think?” She finished, leaving the room, with the boys, close behind her.

After about 10 minutes, both Nekomata and Yamiji stepped out of their office. Everyone in the warehouse, even the wasted men in the corner, stood up, as a sign of respect. Y/n had a more friendly relationship with the two men, and all parties were much more informal with each other.

“Y/n, we will let you go. Make sure that you trade him off in 3 weeks or else we will kill him.” Said Yamiji. “But, it is under the conditioned that the hotel he doesn’t get injured. We will send him off unharmed.” He finished, still staring at Atsumu.

After Yamiji’s speech, the warehouse burst into talk and gossip. “Can you believe the Ferocious Five have another assignment?” Or even “Why are the Ferocious Five getting such an easy assignment? They just have to make sure the dude doesn’t get hurt”. The group walked quickly to the store room. Inside there was the wall of guns and a separate wall for knifes. The drawers under the display of other weapon are held devises which were only common in spy movies. Y/n took multiple knife and hid them on her body. Two for each boot, one in each sleeve, and another on her ankle. She also took a tube of lipstick and a small jar of pills. Y/n loved the lipstick. If it got into your blood stream, it would kill you in a few hours. It would start to seep your energy within minutes, and then it would kill you. She also went to the hidden closet and grab different clothes. She grabbed a formal dress and a cute little picnic dress. She also grabbed a long coat, glasses, a collared shirt, dress pants, jeans and multiple pairs of shoes. But of course she also threw in a pair of loose fitting sweat pants and a sweatshirt. She grabbed a duffle bag and placed the clothes in the bag. She also found a few different purses and bags which she added to her bag.

After she had packed everything she needed, she regrouped with the boys. Kenma was fiddling with 6 cell phones and his bag rested on his feet. Akaashi was nearby, calling the hotel to book the rooms (He seemed very tense when he was talking on the phone). Bokuto and Kuroo were busy stuffing a bag full of food. Atsumu was staring at the ground, daydreaming about something. Y/n paced towards him, pick up a Polaroid camera on the way. She fisted her hand and punched him in the face. Hard.  As her fit collided with his cheek, he groaned at the contact. A bruise was starting to for on his right cheek in a red mark formed on his face. Atsumu looked at her with a look disbelief while she shook out her fist.

“What the hell was that for? Ya crazy bitch, ya just said that A would be unharmed?” He yelled, while Akaashi in the corner was trying convince the hotel employee that nothing was happening.

“I just needed you to form a bruise, besides you’ll be fine. Now sit down so I can cover it with some makeup” Y/n ordered.

Compliantly, Atsumu sat down, while Y/n grabbed a foundation, concealer and a pallet of nude eyeshadows to help hide the redness of his cheek, and a blush. Carefully, she applied foundation across his face. After blending it, she applied concealer under both of his eyes and on his cheek. The concealer hid the red cheek while giving his skin a flawless sort of look. Next, with a small brush, Y/n altered the colour of the bruise, holding her face uncomfortably close to his. As she move from each product, she became more aware of the closeness. She could feel his breath on her hands as she fixed little parts of his face. As he looked more alive and functional, the more she realized his beauty. His dark eyes focused on hers as she scanned his face for any flaws in the makeup. She had covered his scar on his face, to make him look like any normal person. His skin looked clear and hydrated, and his cheeks were slightly blushed. Perfect. He was perfect and ready to go.

Together they stood up, Atsumu a little slower and more clumsy, and walked towards the door. Kenma handed everyone a cell phone, each person's number already entered in. Akaashi grabbed his bag and a bag of medical supplies and placed them in the car. Bokuto then took the rest of the bags and left them in the car (He was upset that Akaashi wouldn’t let him grab his bag too).

Once the group was in the car, Akaashi assigned the room to people. He explained that each room will have two bed. They were all on the different floors, but he would need to check them in.

“Bokuto-san and I will be in room 303, Kenma-san and Kuroo-san will be in room 204, and L/n-san and Miya-san will stay in room 405. Also, we will not be able to switch rooms. I was able to get the last three rooms for the next 3 weeks.” Akaashi explain as he drove the minivan.

The car ride was short then that mornings, once the fields turned to buildings, Bokuto got excited. He knew that the car ride was almost over (He was like a small child after an hour car ride). After another half hour. Akaashi pulled into the parking lot of a large hotel. After grabbing the bags, which Bokuto insisted on doing, the group walked into the hotel, and was greeted by the sitting room. It was a beautiful room. There were exquisite decorations along the walls. On the ceiling there was a beautifully complex chandelier. There were many people in the sitting room, drinking water or talking to each other. Akaashi, confidently walked up to the counter. The group was sitting on a large couch when Akaashi returned. He handed each person a key card for their room.

The group piled into an elevator and slowly got off at their floor. First Kenma and Kuroo got off, then Akaashi and Bokuto. Finally, there was just Y/n and Atsumu. The 30 seconds of the elevator going up were excruciatingly awkward. Neither said a thing, but a few glances were stolen when the other wasn’t looking.

When they got off the elevator, Y/n held both people’s bags as the looked for the door which read 405. When they found the door, Y/n slide the key card into the reader, after shifting all the bags onto one hand. They opened the door, they were met with long windows and a flat screen TV. There was a closet to the right of the door and the bathroom door to the left. There was a small desk against the door and a large glass panel separating the bathroom from the bedroom. In the bedroom, the bed was decorated in white sheets and many throw pillows. But there was a problem in the room. There was only one kind sized bed

Taglist: Please request to be added to taglist!

@kayleighbeccaa @jojowantstocry  @m1lfluv3r

Hq setters as single dads and how they try to get the attention of their child’s teacher/childminder, A lot of people forget to add kogane 🥺 so pls pls add him.

𝗣𝗿𝗲𝘁𝘁𝘆 𝘀𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝘁𝗿𝘆 𝘁𝗼 𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗱𝘀 𝘁𝗲𝗮𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗿 <𝟯

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs ➪ none <3

ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ➪ ᴛɪᴍᴇsᴋɪᴘ!ᴏɪᴋᴀᴡᴀ, ᴀᴋᴀᴀsʜɪ, sᴜɢᴀᴡᴀʀᴀ, ᴋᴇɴᴍᴀ, sᴇᴍɪ, sʜɪʀᴀʙᴜ, ᴀᴛsᴜᴍᴜ, ᴋᴏɢᴀɴᴇɢᴀᴡᴀ, ᴋᴀɢᴇʏᴀᴍᴀ

ᴀ/ɴ ➪ ʜᴀɪᴋʏᴜᴜ ᴅᴀᴅ sᴜᴘʀᴇᴍᴀᴄʏ <33

Shows up a little later than all the other parents—secretly loves how you playfully scold them about being on time ➪

Oikawa, Kenma, Atsumu, Koganegawa

Makes a note to ask their child what you like and coincidentally shows up the next day with it as a gift ➪

Akaashi, Semi, Oikawa, Kenma, Sugawara

The bold ones that literally come up to you when they notice how much their child takes a liking to you and begins to ask a series of personal questions ➪

Atsumu, Kenma, Shirabu, Kageyama

The sly ones that compliment you because seeing your flustered makes their day ➪

Sugawara, Akaashi, Oikawa, Atsumu, Semi

The ones that think they’re slick and get their child to hype them so they look ‘cool’ ➪

Oikawa, Kenma (please like I really feel like he would get his child to just subtly but not só subtly drop into their conversation that he is a CEO and world famous YouTuber-)

The ones that fumble on all their words trying to ask you out to coffee ‘to discuss their child’s progress’ ➪

Kageyama, Koganegawa, Shirabu

180 personality change.

Ships: suna × f!reader x miya twins

Summery: just y/n being annoying but them finding her cute.

Words: 669

Type: fluff || funny || sfw

≛ ، . ‹ ִֶָ . ָ࣪ ‹ ャ ִֶָ ≛ ، . ‹࿔ৡ⃪꫶⃗၇͜ᩘ🦋͜ᩘ၇⃪⃖ৡ࿔ ‹ ャ ִֶָ ≛ ، . ‹ ִֶָ . ָ࣪ ‹ ャ ִֶָ

"Go away, you're annoying" suna muttered pushing y/n away who was annoying the hell out of him.

"Aw but I know you love me!" The female teen tease with a smirk on her face as she came closer.

"I know you simp for me" she tiptoe to be closer to his ear "I know you dream of me too and I know what kinda dream is it too- Da'k!"

She whispered into his ear but in the end of the sentence suna put his hand on her mouth shutting her up.

"I swear to God if you say one more thing.. I will choke you to dead" he gave her a death glared but as soon he let go of her mouth..

"Oh yeah?" Y/n stated as her smirk got bigger. Suna knew the next word that's gonna come out of your mouth is gonna be something annoying.

"Choke me like you hate me but you love me~" she sang running around him in a circle, Not caring if others saw it.

And if it weren't already enough before, now everyone was looking at them which was making suna wanted to dig a hole and bury the teen girl alive..

In the corner was the tiwns watching them, Atsumu put his hands on his hip and said "at first I thought she was the cute, shy and innocent type.."

Osamu hemmed in response, both remembering the first time they saw her.

Osamu, Atsumu and suna were on their way to gym but someone bump into Osamu making all the page fall everywhere.

"A-ah.." they all looked down and saw a [h/c] haired girl on the floor picking up the page in a hurry.

"I'm s-sorry" she mumbled not looking at them then she stood up and bow before running away. All of them thought she was quite the shy one... well that was until they get to know her.

Looking at her now it's like her personality did a 180 switch or something.

"She did change a lot" kita said as he joined the twins, Both twins nodded agreeing with him.

"She's quite wild" Osamu said looking at the first year girl who was laughing and annoying his friend.

Atsumu quickly looked at his twin with wide eyes "oi samu! You're simping?" He asked his twin and Osamu's eyes widened as his face turned red from embarrassment?? Orr..

"No!" He defended himself "I didn't want to call her flirty or a pervert so I.." he tiled off, looking away.

"Bro.." Atsumu said with a unreadable face. "Don't give me that look!, You, yourself simp for her!" Osamu Whisper yelled so the others wouldn't hear.

"No I don't-" Atsumu was about to defend himself but got cut off "suree, as your twin I can read you like a book you know?" Now it was This time to go red.

"Okay okay. Don't fight" kita stopped them as both were about to get in to a fight.

"Yo" y/n popped out of nowhere giving all the three of them a jumpscare but Atsumu was the only one who show it.

"HA!" Y/n hold her stomach as she bust out laughing and so did Osamu.

"DON'T LAUGH! BOTH OF YOU!" Atsumu yelled but it didn't effect both of them one bit..

"Wait what happened to your forehead y/n?" Kita changed the subject as he saw her a red mark on her forehead.

Now all the attention was on y/n forehead. She covered it up with her hand as she puff out her cheeks "suna bonk me" she sulked "he's such a meanie!"

"I can hear you" suna said not really looking at her. "THATS BECAUSE I WANT YOU TO. SO YOU CAN FEEL GUILTY FOR HITTING A CUTE GIRL LIKE ME" she yelled as she put her hand on her hips.

Suna ignored her but in the end all of them smiled at her childish behavior "it is cute" they all thought.

Buy me ko-fi please?

Papa Atsumu x T/N

Menciona: amor, embarazo, tio osamu, fiesta de cumpleaños

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Tomo solicitudes en inglés o español

lo siento por cualquier error

“ No estás sola. Estoy aquí.” Atsumu  dijo frotándote la espalda. Tu ex te dejó hace 1 mes cuando tenías 4 meses de embarazo. Te dejó a ti y al bebé. Atsumu, tu vecino/mejor amigo ha estado cuidándote. “tengo miedo Atsumu… ¿cómo le voy hacer?” empezaste a llorar. Atsumu siempre ha estado enamorado de ti desde la infancia. Lo conociste cuando ambos tenían 4 años. Te mudaste al vecindario para comenzar un nuevo comienzo con tus padres y hermanos. La forma en que lo conociste fue divertida. Su perro cavó un pozo en la cerca y corrió detrás de ti, solo queriendo el conejito de peluche que sosteníans. Atsumu gritó "¡Detente, perrito!"

Finalmente, el perro los persiguió a ambos y ustedes se cayeron. El perro les dio besos a ambos. Después de ese día tú y los gemelos eran inseparables. 

Cuando nació el bebé, tú y Atsumu estaban saliendo y enamorados, por lo que ambos eligieron llamarla Ayleen Miya. Pasó un año y te casaste con Atsumu. Todos estaban muy felices de que te hayas casado con él y hayas conseguido la vida feliz que siempre has querido y merecidas. 

“Feliz cumpleaños pequeña. Mami y yo te queremos mucho. Vamos a cambiarte para que podamos combinar con mami.” Astumu dijo felizmente. Ayleen dejó escapar un lindo arrullo y pateó al mismo tiempo. Atsumu sacó su teléfono y la grabó. Estaba feliz y llena de energía. Entraste a la habitación y te acercaste. "Atsumu, tenemos que cambiarla. Todos están abajo esperándola". Él le puso su traje lavanda con brillo brillante. Después de que estuvo lista, la llevaste abajo. Atsumu siguió sosteniendo tu cintura. Su tío Osamu la mimó muchísimo y por eso tiene un montón de ropa y juguetes. Él le compró una bonita y elegante casa de muñecas que no podrá usar hasta que probablemente tenga 4 o 5 años.

La noche llegó a su fin y ya estabais todos duchados, cambiados y listos para ir a dormir. La estabas dando ayleen su leche y de pie. Atsumu estaba detrás de ti y te dio un beso en el hombro. "Soy el hombre más afortunado del mundo. Tuve la oportunidad de ser amado por la mujer que amo. Tuve la suerte de estar casado contigo y tener una pequeña hija maravillosa y saludable". Dijo Atsumu. "Tengo suerte de que tu perro me persiguiera y solo quisiera a mi conejito de peluche. No te habría conocido. Bueno, te conocería, pero en realidad no crearía una amistad ni un amor fuerte". Dijiste. "Estoy enamorado de ti t/n. Eres todo lo que he querido y lo tengo ahora". "Estoy enamorado de ti Miya Atsumu. Si quieres podemos tener otro bebé... ¿tal vez 3 más?" dijiste finalmente poniendo a Ayleen a dormir. Atsumu te ayudó a acostar a Ayleen en su cuna. "Sí, eso es perfecto. Quién sabe, tal vez al final terminemos con 5". Dijo Atsumu. Te reíste, apagaste las luces y encendiste la cámara y el audio del bebé. "Vamos a dormir, podemos hablar de tener un bebé en la mañana". dijiste caminando hacia tu habitación con atsumu lista para dormir después de un largo día.

Warnings: dry humping, post-timeskip Atsumu

Synopsis: you boldly take the initial stride, enlisting the help of Atsumu to satiate your desires 

Author: @doumadono

A/N: hi, folks, here we go again! This marks my second foray into the Kinktober '23 Collaboration, and guess what? It's my debut in the world of Haikyuu! Brace yourselves, 'cause I'm about to knock it out of the park – hope you're ready to enjoy the ride! 🙌😏 Today's prompt: dry humping

🏐Masterlist🏐

You adored weekends. It was that special time of the week when Atsumu was mostly at home, except for the occasional matches or training sessions. During these weekends together, you both enjoyed indulging in various activities, not necessarily something overly engaging. Sometimes, it was as simple as a quiet book reading session. Atsumu with his favorite book and you with yours, cuddled together on the couch, sipping on warm beverages.

That day had begun innocently enough, both of you enjoying a rare lazy day at home, free from Atsumu's usual training commitments. As you lounged together, engrossed in your books, you nonchalantly threw your legs over his lap. 

Atsumu's hand found its place on your thigh, just above your knee, his thumb caressing the soft fabric of your cotton leggings in a mesmerizing rhythm. While he continued to delve into the dense criminal book before him, you found it increasingly challenging to concentrate on your psychological thriller while you felt the warmth of his hand on you. Oh, your boyfriend had an effect on you, there was no doubt.

The decision to take your relationship slow had seemed logical at the time, but now, with the seemingly innocent touch sending electrifying sensations through your spine and directly to your core, you couldn't recall the rationale behind it. Yet, you started to realize that you yearned for Atsumu and his touch. The desperation had grown to the point where you were on the verge of breaking your own rules.

You resisted for a few minutes before impulsively taking the book from his hands. Straddling him, you cupped his handsome face with your palms, initiating a slow, deep kiss that ignited a passionate blaze between you. Atsumu's hands traveled to your hips, and his touch traced the length of your spine through the soft shirt you wore. The electric current that had begun with the touch of his thumb on your thigh now surged between you, filling the air with palpable desire as your kisses grew increasingly fervent.

His grip on your hips urging you both closer until you could practically feel the heat radiating from each other's centers made you gasp deeply. He moaned into the kiss and pulled your lip between his bottom teeth, sucking on it.

Gently tugging at the short, dark hair at the nape of his neck, you exposed his throat and began a series of open-mouthed kisses along it, leaving a small mark where you could feel his pulse quickening. Your fingers moved stealthily, sliding up to pull his t-shirt up, allowing your hands to explore the soft skin of his torso. It was a mutual decision to shift positions during this intimate encounter, and as you gazed into his large, brown eyes, you couldn't help but grin. You adjusted your hips so that his crotch was nestled between your legs, and when you rolled your pelvis experimentally, both of you couldn't contain your moans.

Your breaths were becoming increasingly ragged, and you were acutely aware of his fascinated gaze as you moved together. "Oh, Atsumu, you’re so good to me, baby...."

Atsumu didn't stop you; in fact, he supported himself with one foot on the floor, giving you a more stable surface to grind against. Leaning in so close that his nose was buried in your hair and his lips brushed against your ear. He ran the ip of his tongue on his bottom lip, and  whispered, "Will you cum for me, Y/N?"

A needy whine escaped your lips, and you nodded vigorously, arching your body to press even closer to him, craving more of the delicious friction between your thighs. "Y-yeah, yes, I'll, oh God..."

Atsumu maintained his firm stance, propped up on his elbow while skillfully keeping your hands at bay. The tantalizing friction of his rock-hard cock against your clit sent waves of pleasure rippling through you, even through the thin layers of clothing that separated your bodies. Your impending climax simmered powerfully and achingly low between your thighs. Lost in the rhythm of your movements against him, it took you a moment to realize you had been moaning his name, desperately entreating him for release. "Oh, Atsumu, baby, yes, yes, you feel so good….”

His wicked chuckle, delivered right against your ear, caused your core to spasm and throb around emptiness, your orgasm tantalizingly close. "Oh, babygirl, holy hell, you’re hot.”

As you let out a soft, almost incoherent whimper, his fingers traced a tantalizing path along the curve of your hip, slipping into the dip at your waist and then up over your ribs to gently cup your breast. His thumb grazed your nipple through your shirt ever so delicately, and a shiver of pleasure coursed through you. He continued to caress the pebbled nub with a rhythmic motion, lifting his head from your neck to gaze at you intently. His lips brushed yours in a fleeting kiss, more like a whisper, as he murmured, "Cum for me, babygirl, I know you can."

In response, a moan escaped your lips, a sound that even to your own ears, sounded raw and desperate. You nodded fervently, your body writhing against his, your hands finding their way to his hair and face as he finally released them. "I'm cumming, I'm cumming!"

Atsumu had leaned back slightly to observe your expressions, and the look of wonder in his eyes filled you with gratitude as your orgasm washed over you, forcing your eyes shut as you quivered against him.

He held you tenderly as you rode out the waves of pleasure, only shifting to cuddle you when your breathing steadied, and your eyes fluttered open. 

You could feel his presence against your pussy still but he was only half-hard now, the bulge in his sweatpants barely visible. "I love you, Atsumu," you whined, nuzzling him.

“And I love you too, my wild babygirl.”

Time skip characters!! NSFW/ bestf! To lovers, atsumu Miya x reader , pussy eating, pussy sniffing LMAO

I can just imagine your attempting to bake and it just keeps going wrong. You go to grab the salt for the bread recipe and it just slips out of your hand falling to the floor and spilling everywhere. Causing you to bend down kneeling sitting on your heels, your legs spread and all you here from in front of you is atsumu “Jesus is that your fucking pussy?” And you just go bright red as you look him the eyes, the fucking audacity on this man. “Excuse me?” You manage out looking at your 6’1 best friend.

“I can smell your pussy from over here” and your just denying it cause my god you’ve never been so embarrassed in your whole life. You and atsumu have been friends since you were kids, stuck to each other’s sides 24/7 your parents are so tired of all the trouble you two cause. You’ve had a crush on atsumu since you could remember getting your period for the first time. He’s never shown any signs that mirror yours, always flirting with girls at the party that HE dragged you to, saying ew anytime someone would ask if you guys where dating, bringing girls home to your shared apartment.

He was staring at you from across the room, now talking big steps crossing you’re spacious shared apartment. “It’s probably your horny man imagination, always thinking about sex “ you rolled your eyes picking up the remains of the salt and walking passed him to throw it in the trash.

“If I was that horny I’d already be fucking something y/n” your ears where burning this was not a usual topic for you two ,sure you’ve talked about his experiences with woman but never about yourself. “Can you just shut up and get out of my kitchen” you let out a frustrated sigh grabbing at his forearm to pull him out and away from you and your horrible baking skills. You hoped he wasn’t able to hear your heart beating in your goddamn throat from how nervous you were.

Then your seeing the room spin and then your pinned to the dining table. He holds you still with one hand pushed on your chest and the other spreading your legs. He brings his face down directly in front of your pussy closes his eyes and smells. “That’s your fucking pussy y/n” he growls flicking his eyes back up to yours and if you were blushing before you probably look like your about to explode and fuck Jesus you hope he can’t smell the slick that’s now coaxing your bottom folds, you scurry to push his head away and your breathings gone shagged

“tsumu, your being so werid get off” even with all your thrashing it’s not enough to throw the pro athlete off of you. He holds you still, holds eye contact and then he’s looking at your pussy again no shorts on just his oversized tea and your pink panties. “I can smell your arousal, and it’s making me fucking hard” he groans, pushing your shirt up with both his hands letting his grip on you go he grabs the bottom of your left thigh lifting it up to spread you better and you let a whimper slip when he blows on your clothed slit. “So fucking pretty for me gonna let your best fiend eat you out aren’t ya?” And then he’s kissing your thighs

“Always wanted to eat ya out baby, make you fucking mine, walking around with those emo boys when ya have all ya need right here” he kisses your clothed slit and your knees are giving out but your arms catch you “tsumu please, always wanted you ,make me yours ya?” Your hands are fisted in his dyed hair pushing him forward into your cunny and he’s letting out the prettiest groan

“You were always fucking mine princess, from the beginning ,You’ve been mine” he pulls your panties off “ think guys didn’t talk to ya cause you were ugly? Nah I told them not to touch you, or I’d kill them” he looks you dead in the eyes as he licks a strip up your pussy and you can’t even be upset with him because fuck you love him and fuck his tongue feels fucking good so all you manage out with your moans is a tiny “fuck you tsumu” and all he does is let out a deep chuckle as he eats your pussy.

“ oh ,you will tonight”

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NOT PROOF READ