Atsumu X You - Tumblr Posts

RAGHHHHH

DOUBLE TROUBLE

.ೃ࿐ feat. atsumu + osamu miya

in which: the twins have a little bet, and you’re their next target. who can make you cum the most on halloween night without anyone knowing, keep quiet virgin or you’ll get caught.

warning: 18+, college!au, fratboy!inarizaki, oblivious!reader, non+ dubcon/peer pressure, threesome, corruptive thoughts, misogyny (?), manipulation, drugs (molly), vaginal fingering, vaginal penetration, unprotected, petname: angel, oral (f!receiving + m!receiving), virginity loss, exhibitionism + voyeurism, implied orgy (with suna), sunaosa TEASE, they’re sleazy hoes. wc: 2k

ೃ࿐ ki’s note: this is fic was supposed to kickstart my kinktober series. i hope you love this as much as i do because i had the best time writing it! in my mind it’s still october 😭 divider: @cafekitsune

two devils, one angel, and fate. being a virgin sacrifice wasn’t necessarily on your halloween bucket list for this year.

— ♡︎ —

“can’t think of anyone to bring ‘samu ?” atsumu piqued, osamu is supposed to be the smart one.

the infamous twins had been thinking for some time on who to invite to their annual halloween party.

there were plenty of guests, but they needed someone special for the night.

atsumu’s fucked half of the bimbos from his fan club, meanwhile osamu was never satisfied with any of his groupies.

“well,” he starts. “i have an idea.” the light bulb in his head flickered before finally going off when he thought of the perfect girl. the dainty little college freshman whom he sees walking around campus all dolled up.

“who’s that girl that we always see with sunarin?” he ponders, in attempt to remember your name. atsumu’s eyes lit up when he realized. he knew exactly who his brother was talking about.

osamu really was a genius.

“y/n..” his tone was unsure, but curious nonetheless. osamu shot a finger gun “bingo.” indicating that his atsumu was right on the money. they paused, staring at one another as if they were reading each others minds. twin telepathy surely was a blessing. if they were both thinking correctly it seems like they’ve got a target.

*incoming facetime from; suna rintaro*

“yes suna?” you answer holding the phone above your face. “what’re you doing tomorrow?” the abrupt question never threw you off anymore, it was common for suna taking you on all kinda of spontaneous adventures on and off campus.

“ ‘m not doing anything, gonna watch horror movies and eat candy.” suna eyed you feigning disgust, what lame plans. “absolutely not..” he scoffs, “the twins invited you to their party tomorrow and you’re going.” the miya twins were mutual friends and have been known to throw some awesome ragers from time to time, how could you decline such an offer?

“i don’t have a costume???” honestly you were trying to find any excuse possible to lessen your chances of coming home wasted on halloween night. but suna had a solution to everything, even this. “wear white, i’ll sort out the rest.” he hung up after the condescending message, leaving you to piece together his surprise.

white, the colour of purity and innocence. nothing is innocent about a college party, especially because,

halloween was the one night a year a girl could dress like a total slut, and no one could say anything about it.

a firm knock was set on your dorm room door. “let’s go” his eyes fixated as you opened the door. suna mildly regrets not taking up the twins’ offer to join them on their escapade tonight, especially with the way that dress hugs your body. he quickly releases himself from the dirty thoughts.

“okay, what’s my costume? you said wear white.” suna’s hand rises from his side revealing a halo. makes sense why he told you to wear white now. it wasn’t until you took in his costume that really made you understand his choice.

he’s dressed in a red button up, except the buttons weren’t being used at all. the devil horns stuck in his hair confirmed the unoriginal costume idea. a few days back he mentioned matching costumes with the rest of his fraternity, and if you had to see the rest of them like this, than you were sure that attending this party was worth it.

the house was loud, as much as it was crowded, suna’s hand around your wrist is the only thing preventing you from getting caught in the ocean of people.

“sunarin! we’re over here.” pi kappa alpha (ΠΚΑ) was one of seven frats at your university, and was definitely the hottest. pretty, rich boys with the world at their disposal. everyone knew this but that never stopped girls from clinging onto them, after all osamu’s arms and atsumu’s abs— focus!

“ah, you made it.” osamu exclaimed opening his arms for a particularly tight hug. you hugged all of them, each cologne scent different from the last. “mind if we steal rin for a minute? won’t be long, promise.” atsumu’s tone of voice couldn’t have been more condescending, talking to you so sweet and saccharin. you nodded, shooting the quintet a small smile, before going to find a drink.

“an angel, cute.” atsumu watched your back was you walked away into a crowd of people. all that clouded his thoughts were all the things he wanted to do to you throughout the night. “get yer head intha game. what are the rules?” osamu chuckled, it was no doubt that he was having the same thoughts as his brother. that’s for sure.

“ ‘ts 10:30, whoever can make her cum the most before midnight first wins. unless you fuck her that is.. she’s a virgin so if you manage to to take her virginity you automatically win. get caught and you have to restart.” the night is young and the rules were set, but there was one question unanswered, whats the prize for a game such as this?

money of course. sex and money have been interchangeable for as long as mankind can remember, no difference here. a thousand dollars put up by each member, totalling to five thousand. winner takes all, loser gets nothing. may the best twin win.

atsumu wasted no time following you to the kitchen hearing the laughs from his friends behind. unfortunate for him bokuto caught your attention a little too quickly. he watched the two of you laugh and introduce yourselves to one another. it wouldn’t go on for much longer, not if atsumu could help it.

“bo-kun! do me a favor would’ya?” he said, slinging an arm over your shoulder. “get some more ice for the cooler, ‘ts intha basement.”

in boy world, this was a territorial interaction meaning; get the fuck out of here.

meanwhile in girl world, you didn’t think anything of it.

bokuto cheerfully agreed uttering “nice meeting you!” before sliding past the crowd of people to go fetch that ice.

“cute costume miya.” you look up to see him above your shoulder. he unhooks his arm from your side, leaning up against the counter. “not too bad yourself. you look,” he pauses for a mere few seconds. thoughts of you and how innocent you look plagued his mind, costume doesn’t help either. something in him was excited to taint that, you’d look so much prettier with your makeup smudged and begging him to make you cum, he thought.

“pretty,” he smiled, eyes shifting around your lips, and neck then back to your eyes. “you look really fucking pretty.”

“nights still young, you like games?” you tilted your head at the question. a suspicious question but how could anyone say no to him. “dependsss..” you drag out the word, tone laced with hesitation. this was all one big game, that you unfortunately didn’t know you were apart of, throwing another in the mix couldn’t hurt.

“how do ya feel about suck and blow?”

—♡︎—

suna forcefully offered up kita’s amex for the game, safe to say that he’s not happy about it.

the game rules were simple; suck and blow, on a card that is. pass the card mouth to mouth without dropping it. drop it and make out with the next person in front of everyone and spend an additional 10 minutes in an enclosed space. sounds easy right? it wasn’t a pi kappa alpha party without this tradition, they have a separate room dedicated for games such as these.

you watched intensely as the card made its rounds over and over you successfully received and passed it on. you were also standing between atsumu and bokuto, yikes! the card was making its way back around and like before it was just a matter of sucking and blowing, until you were locking lips with one of the hottest guys on campus. atsumu ‘dropped the card’ by accident, catalyzing the makeout sesh between the two of you.

it’s hot, it’s sloppy, it’s fucking miya atsumu.

you feel his smile on your lips as he slips his tongue in between yours, aiming for your bottom lip. the whooping, and whistling among the group was enough to encourage the egotism within you both to put on a nice show for everyone. your nails intertwining in his undercut, while his arms hug your waist.

“okay okay,” kita pushes, removing the two of you off of each other. “10 minutes, you know the drill.”

the frat brothers exchange a glance, one of many kita has shared with his little since atsumu started college.

the amount of girls that have survived that room, godspeed.

hearing the door close behind you was almost frightening, even after the spectacle you put on for everyone just now. it wasn’t until you took a few steps in you noticed this is a bedroom, not your average stuffy coat closet.

“suna teach you to kiss like that or what?” he teases, watching you stare at him in disbelief. “can’t believe he hasn’t fucked you yet.”

guess i’ll be the first, he thought.

suna? fucking you? confusion was an understatement really. unbeknownst to you they all thought you were sunas secret fuck buddy till he told them you were untouched.

atsumu almost forgot, and the realization ran through his blood with pure mischief. he was ready to get his hands on you and play with his toy of the night.

“let’s have some fun, yea?” he quips, walking towards you. “fun like what?” unintentionally you take a step back, the two of you flowing in a seamless b-line towards the bed as he goes forward and you go back.

“you’re a big girl right? in college now. ya know what big girls do?” his tone was informative signalling that there’s more to his mini monologue. “big college girls…kiss, and suck, and fuck boys.”

the smooth of your calves hit the sheets.

“a-atsumu i’m—” you’re a stuttering mess, and he finds it adorable.

“you’re what?” he mocks, lifting his voice up an octave to replicate you. it was only a matter of seconds before you were pushed onto the bed with his body caging yours beneath him.

it was all happening so fast, it’s not that you didn’t want to but this has never happened before. being stuck in a room with a guy especially an experienced one was never on you to-do list for today.

atsumu’s done this to many girls. he’s used to fucking bitches every week and you were no different. he never looses and he’s damn sure nothing will change that tonight.

“i’ve never done this before…” shame drowns your conscience as you confess what you thought was a secret. little did you know, he knew.

“s’okay,” his lips pecked against your jaw lightly, he could feel how tense you were but curious as well. “just wanna make you feel good, hmm?” you could feel atsumu’s hand creeping between your thighs though his eyes never leaving yours. this look on your face, the look of a virgin, never gets old for him.

the inquisitive look of “maybe it’s not so bad” staring back at him as he pulls your panties to the side running his fingers along your wet folds. you didn’t protest, or squirm, or defy, you just laid there beady eyes staring, legs spread for him awaiting his touch.

simultaneously, his fingers slide into you with ease while sharing a kiss to keep you quiet, earning a soft moan onto his lips. your body can’t help but concentrate at the foreign feeling of someone else other than yourself fingering you. “ahhh—! s-slow down ‘tsumu, too much!”

“no can do angel, got a lot ridin’ on ya.” completely dismissing your feelings, he continues to pump his fingers into your leaking cunt. “hurts..” you whine. “atsumu it hurts!”

“don’t lie ta me pretty, i can feel you clenching ‘round me.” your face flushed at his words, fluttering around his fingers. besides the slight discomfort it felt so fucking good, you really couldn’t get enough of it.

the humiliation you felt hearing the lewd squelching of his digits fingerfucking you was apparent. you watched in awe as he sped up, arm now jackhammering in and out of you at an ruthless pace. “fuckfuckfuck!” you cry, eyes brimming with tears.

atsumu traps your lips in a messy kiss, tasting a mixture alcohol on each others tongues. whines and whimpers escape fall from your lips onto his at the feeling of the coil in your stomach about to break. the euphoria that overcomes your body when your legs begin to tremble, thighs squeezing around his hand, your virgin cunny covers his fingers in sticky cum.

but his assault on your pussy doesn’t stop there, he’s still going; fucking you through your orgasm. “can’t stop there, you can give me another one baby, know you can.”

“no! c-can’t take it! i—” his hand quickly cups around your lips, muffling any sound that dares to come out of your mouth. time’s almost up and atsumu would throw more than a fit if he got caught and had to restart already.

he could feel it again, your pussy clenching around his fingers. atsumu continued at his gruelling pace, with a slick smile on his face. It was so cute seeing you like this, half an hour ago you walked into this party as an innocent little thing, and now he had you exactly where he wanted you — under him with his fingers buried inside of you, on your second orgasm.

“cumming… ‘m cumming—!” you mumble under the weight of his hand, eyes fluttering shut. “atta-fucking-girl angel.” your chest heaved and knees buckled while you creamed on the blondes fingers once more this time at full force, making you see stars before he pulled out of you.

“wasn’t so hard now was it?” he smiled sucking your slick off of his fingers. atsumu is now leading by two points and cocky was an understatement, he can feel himself growing hard watching your body go limp against the sheets. if he had the time, he’d take you right then and there but there was always an opportunity for that.

“make yourself decent before you come out.” was the last thing he said to you, chuckling while the door clicked shut behind him.

get yourself together! the sound of your own voice mentally cursing you was enough to spring you back to your feet, pulling your dress down, and fixing your hair. luckily for you, everyone continued their conversations, dancing, and games as you crept out the room exhaling heavily with relief.

a few eyes lingered, especially kita’s. he peered at you from afar, while atsumu whispered in his ear. he raised the red solo cup with an upward tilt of his head before smirking in your direction, taking a sip from the cup.

frat boys are just the equivalent to mean girls.

hell, it hasn’t even been five minutes and he’s already going around telling everyone. you couldn’t bare to see it really, causing you to relocate somewhere else in the house, the stairs.

you sat on the wooden steps, eyes glued onto your phone screen. the feeling of someone walking down was evident as the hardwood took a dip at the weight, it was osamu.

he pondered, swirling the liquid courage in his hand. how could he get you on his white linen sheets? he thought. osamu smirked at the idea that popped into his head soon after remembering the common denominator between his bed and that dress you’re wearing.

starring at your back from a few steps above, his eyes moveded to suna who was situated mere meters away from where you sat. he feigns tipping his cup, eyes pointing down to where you sat then back to the brunette.

it was genius, if he ruins that pretty little dress of yours you’ll have no choice but to take it off.

“do it.” suna mouthed covering his words with a cupped hand.

the weight of someone walking down the stairs returns after having paused, you didn’t think much of it until alcohol poured down your shoulder and into your bra from above you.

“sorry angel! that was my bad.” osamu quips, downing the rest of his cup.

“you’ve got to be kidding me..”

“relaaax,” he drawls before reassuring that “you can come change up here.”

—♡︎—

osamu scanned his closet looking for one of his old flings’ clothes murmuring, “no-no-no-too big-too small— damn i should call her..” as he looks through the assortment of clothing.

you waited on his bed partly disgusted at the fact that these clothes were equivalent to trophies.

“check that drawer ta’ your left for something.” he gestures a waving hand, pointing to the side table next to his bed.

the drawer was less then helpful, containing: condoms, an agent provocateur set (brand new, mind you), a bottle of dior sauvage, and a miniature plastic bag with two smiley face pills in it.

he has drugs just laying in his room?

“what’re these?” prodding at the drugs you ask, dangling the bag between delicate fingers.

he turns to face you, smirking when he sees what caught your curiosity. “a pretty girl named, molly.” osamu banged a girl with that name now that he thinks about it.

“you guys seriously take these?” eyes narrowing at the tiny pill analyzing it’s appearance, but wanting to know more at the same time. “are they fun?”

osamu closes the closet door, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed. his attention is focused elsewhere when you display genuine interest in the party drug.

“wanna find out?” he asks with the tilt of his head.

fuck around and find out was an understatement, getting fucked after finding out was more accurate really.

“fuuuuck ‘samu..” your manicure runs through silver hair, as he messily laps at your cunt.

every flick of his tongue making your knees buckle, the pleasure was overwhelming your lower half as he teased your clit with the tip his tongue.

you couldn’t get over how good it feels, what was the point of staying a virgin when there’s men who will pleasure you like the miya twins.

“pussy tastes s’good princess.” he mumbles onto you, sending vibrations up your spine, continuing to eat you like you’re his last meal.

he could feel now eager you were to get off, grinding yourself against his face in hopes to chase the orgasmic high that your body was so close to.

the loud noises of his mouth smothered against your pussy and broken whimpers fill up the room.

loud enough for suna to hear through the bedroom door he’s standing on the other side of. he could feel his erection growing, listening to his best friend taint his virgin girl bestie on the most sinister night of the year.

“righthererighthere! ‘m cumming— oh fuck!” the euphoric feelings of the drug in your system enhanced every last nerve running through your veins.

you’re loud, high pitched whines falling from your throat as you throw your head back, eyes shutting tight.

osamu’s face pushed into your cunt with force, nose nudging at your clit. little did the two of you know, the brunette purposely walked into the room with you on the verge of a mind blowing orgasm and osamu’s mouth quite busy.

“you cumming?” suna asks, gripping your face with slender fingers.

your eyes shoot open to see one of his hands planted on the back of osamu’s head pushing his mouth deeper into your pussy, the other holding your face, taunting from above.

“oh yea, you’re fucked.” he taunts, pushing your lips into a kissy face forcefully moving your head from side to side, observing your features.

suna’s done his fair share to know you weren’t all there, your dilated pupils, flushed face and very vulnerable state gave it away.

“don’t be shy, go on. might be ‘samu going to town on ya but your attentions on me, hmm?”

seeing you tweaked out on the verge of your third orgasm of the night really did it for him.

it was torture, watching and hearing the twins have their fun with you meanwhile he had to watch.

absolutely no fair. he’s the reason you even considered coming to the party at all it wouldn’t be all that bad if he used you as a reward for his efforts, now would it?

“rin!!” you whine, “get out! this is embarrassing!”

suna doesn’t bother listening to your protest. he’s already slid his shirt off, unbuckling his belt watching osamu make you cum.

“move it.” he chuckles, tugging at grey locks.

“hey, i had her first.” osamu scoffs at his friends audacity.

“technically atsumu had her first, but it’s my turn. so, are you gonna keep bitchin’ or get your dick sucked while i fuck her?”

the two boys spoke as of you weren’t even there, like you were just an object for them to play with. this wasn’t about the bet anymore. this was about you, and the fact that they’d never get the opportunity to see your tweaked out, legs spread, off molly ever again.

a once in a lifetime opportunity with you in a position to not protest.

suna’s shadow hovered over you, manipulating your body to fit both of them on osamu’s mattress.

hazy eyes stared into his green ones with incoherent mumbles falling from your lips. seeing you fucked out made him want it that much more.

“hang in there for us pretty.” his voice sounding so sincere, meanwhile rubbing the tip of his cock along your slit.

he pushes into you without warning, stretching your cunt around his girth.

“shit..” he hisses through his teeth. “definitely a virgin, fuck.”

“ah—!” your hand flies to his chest in attempt to get him to slow down. “s’too much..”

“none of that,” osamu coos, grabbing your wrist.

you didn’t even notice that he slid his boxers off, smearing precum on your lips like lipgloss.

“hey ‘samu where’s the—” atsumu says, swinging the door open to the lewdest live scene he’s ever seen. “holy hell.”

“are you gonna stare or join?”

sluttsumu 2023

HQ boys + Obsessed with you

when they think about you... brain go brrrrr

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Kuroo carries a portrait of you, and a Polaroid picture of the both of you together around in his wallet. He breaks it out whenever he gets the chance, and often uses it to show off during business meetings. Every intern that works at his company has been shown your picture by Kuroo during orientation.

Tsukishima has your initials engraved into his sports glasses so that you’re close to him during every game. He has them engraved on every single pair that he owns.

Atsumu won’t stop talking about you during every single one of his interviews. He always finds a way to bring the topic back to you. “What are some important rituals you perform before every game, Miya-san?” “Eat a good meal, do my stretches, and get a kiss from y/n!”

Ushijima makes sure to only accept sponsors from all of your favorite brands so that he can get you free merchandise. Don’t even bother asking him why he’s in a commercial for Potato Chips when he doesn’t look like he’s touched a bag in his life. It’s because they offered to give you limited edition flavors.

Iwaizumi loved letting you borrow his clothes, bc when you returned them, they always smelled of your perfume. Iwaizumi doesn’t admit that he sends hours inhaling your scent, avoiding washing his clothes so he could be surrounded by you. But when you stopped giving his clothes back (sigh), iwaizumi resorts to keeping a bottle of your perfume in his room, and sprays it whenever he misses you

Sakusa moved in with you after one week of dating. He literally showed up once, and then never left. He’s there when you wake up, and he’s there when you go to sleep. You haven’t spent one single night apart since making it official. Sakusa tried going on a boys trip once and literally called you to pick him up from the train station just four hours in. He’s not going anywhere.

Kageyama brings items of your clothing with him to away games. Whichever he can get his hands on — a shirt, shorts, a sweater, whatever. You nearly had a heard attack when you were helping him unpack and you found underwear. It took you a few seconds to realize it was yours.

Suna got your name tattooed on him. He may have been drunk, and it may have been on a dare, but he displays this tattoo proudly. He hates when people ask “well, what if you guys break up?” as if Suna would be dumb enough to ever let that happen.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

rbs v appreciated! <3

Atsumu has a question, and you have no idea why he's asking it

CW: swearing, talk of hypothetical drinking, hypothetical accidental cheating, texting au

Taglist: @arlerts-angel @ponderingmoonlight

Haikyuu Masterlist | Blog Navigation

Note: this is my first time writing a smau, so we'll see how this goes. let me know if you want part two!!!! also, please do not pay attention to the time stamps lol. the last one is from atsumu's pov

Public sex Ft. Inarizaki boys!

Fandom: Haikyuu!!

Pairing: Suna, Osamu, Atsumu X Fem!Reader

Genre: Smut

Format: Drabble

Warnings: NSFW! content, (semi) public sex, oral(M&F receiving), Fingering, Vaginal penetration

Word Count: 0.8K

A/n: Haven't written about them for a while so :P

↳Rintarou Suna

Suna has always been fond of the good luck quickies you offer him before the games start.

He tries to keep an eye on the door to watch if anyone comes in as you told him too, but with the way you bob your head up and down on his length?

It's hard to miss such tempting view. How can he not stare into your beautiful eyes when you take him this well?

He groans when he feels you rolling your tongue around his tip, suddenly deepening him down your throat until the tip hits the back of it. And you choke, again, but you keep going, and assure Suna that one day, you will be the death of him.

He curses under his breath after he catches a glimpse of the watch, realizing there's only five minutes left until the match starts. Removing your mouth from his member reluctantly, he sits you on his lap, adjusting you on his cock before thrusting up hungrily, earning low mewls from you. He knows he's being rough and somewhat needy, but he just can't help it; It feels too good to be inside you.

He needs to come quickly now, and tonight after the game, he will make sure to take his time, returning the favor by pleasuring you twice as hard.

↳Osamu Miya

Sex in his office has always been a treat for you two. Osamu sure enjoys the sight of your body wrapped in a nice skimpy lingerie, and black tights embracing your long legs. He smirks when he pulls the garter and sets it free, loving how you jerk your hips when it slaps against your skin.

He reminds you to keep your voice down, that you're still in his office and he doesn't want others to find out how much of a slut you actually are; but he has no right to protest, since his fingers scissoring you open are pretty much the reason why you can't help but to let out lewd sounds.

Whenever one of the workers ask for permission to come in, he pushes you under the desk, gagging you with his already throbbing member as he keeps his voice normal and acts so smooth like you have literally zero effect on him. Sometimes you want to start sucking his dick while the worker is in his office to embarrass him, but you know you'll receive a hard punishment afterwards that's not worth all the trouble.

He whispers degrading comments into your ear, delighted by how you shiver when his lips make contact with your ear. His right hand grips one of your boobs while the other one fastens its speed, provoking you to moan louder.

He bites your shoulder when you finally reach your climax, tightening his grip around you so you don't fall from his lap. He then picks you up with no effort, places you on his desk while throwing all his belongings on the ground, ready to fuck your brains out.

↳Atsumu Miya

Atsumu loves it when you wear things he's bought for you. At the restaurant, he smiles when he glances from the menu to your black high heels, admiring how it has hugged your feet perfectly. When he gives his orders to the waiter and looks down the table, he's met with the high heels alone, without your feet in them. He's confusion doesn't last for long though, because he suddenly feels something poking his crotch, and when he looks down, he's met with your painted toe nails grinding on his clothed cock.

You somehow find your way to the storage room, in such hurry that you don't even bother to lock the door. He slams you against the wall and kneels in front of you, peppering your skin with light, but hungry kisses. He starts from your ankles and comes up, fingers holding your legs tightly. A small groan escapes his lips when he finally has a taste of your wet pussy, and starts taking his frustration out on your poor little cunt. He doesn't listen when you tell him to slow down or you might not be able to hold your voice back, simply telling you that you asked for it and now you gotta face the music. He doesn't even care that his pants might be ruined when kneeling like this, because nothing matters to him, as long as he can have his way with you.

You end up sticking to the wall as he pounds into you, moaning at how your walls swallow him whole. You're so fucking tight and he doesn't even have to move, being inside you is enough to make him lose his mind. Although he's always been obsessed with how your voice gets louder when you release all over him, and he's willing to do whatever it takes to hear that pretty voice of yours, again.

Reblogs are appreciated!

Making up after an argument

Fandom: Haikyuu

Pairing: Atsumu X Fem!reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff

Format: One Shot

Warnings: None

Word Count: 0.9K

A/n: This was actually written months ago, but I totally forgot about it—

He doesn't understand this. He doesn't know why youre being so dramatic about something so silly. Its not like he did it intentionally, it was just an accident! He didn't put all the white clothes and other colored ones in the washing machine at the same time on purpose, he just wasn't paying attention to it!

And that was exactly what you were upset about.

He never payed attention to things he wasn't interested in. If the topic was not about volleyball, food or things like that, you would lose him the minute you start talking, and its annoying. Yes! You do understand that some things might not be attractive/interesting to him but still! He was your boyfriend! Couldn't he at least pretend that he was paying attention to you? Its not like you actually give a damn about his stupid volleyball career either! And that's exactly what you told him when you lost your temper and then realized you went too far,but he was gone before you could even apologize.

"Ya know what? Fuck ya and yer stupid clothes, y/n! "

He immediately left the apartment and didn't give you a chance to argue back, let alone say sorry; and that's why you ended up waiting for him being worried sick until 3AM, and then went to bed all alone, wondering if he has a place to crash at.

In the morning, you sigh in relief when you see him curled up on the couch. Sure, you would prefer to wake up next to him on the bed when his breathings gives you goosebumps, but at least he was home. You slowly walk toward him and gently shake him, until he opens his eyes, realizing its you, and goes back to sleep again, not even bothering to say anything.

"Babe" You say, while gently moving your fingers in his hair "Go sleep on the bed, you're gonna catch a cold"

"Leave me alone" He says, putting a small pout on his lips and then turns his back to you which makes you sigh, but for a different purpose this time.

You get that hes upset, but you weren't happy either. You had every right to be mad at him, but you were also aware of the fact that you pushed the wrong button, by calling his dream of being the best setter ever "stupid". Volleyball meant the world to your boyfriend and you're not clueless about it, and that is why youre going to let him get away with it.

Just this time.

Without a warning, you move him back to the position he used to be in and let your head rest on his arm while placing his hands around you. His pout becomes even wider, and starts sending daggers at your direction, which makes you chuckle a bit. "Ok, but giving me the same look you give your brother when he eats your share of food is not gonna work" "Whatever. Ain't talkin to ya anymore" He says and then looks away from you, which leads to his eyes landing on your picture on the wall, that was taken in Paris, after they won a match. You looked happy, cheering for him while he scored four points with the help of his incredible serves. Where you just pretending? Or... Are you just not into him anymore?

"Baby! Stop thinking and just talk to me!" You whine, giving him a slight peck on the lips. When you see him remaining silent for a few seconds, you decide to be the first one to talk. "Look, honey. I'm truly sorry... Its just that I've been under a lot of pressure and I need you to be around... But you're always ditching me, saying you have to practice or hang out with your friends and I've been feeling...left out" You pause, watching as his expression becomes softer and a slight bit of guilt appears in the way he looks at you. "I... Do understand that volleyball means a lot to you, and I shouldn't have said something like that. I'm really sorry and I hope you forgive me..."

Great. Now he's feeling guilty about it.

He gets it. He knows that hes been spending more time on volleyball than with you, and he knows that it's annoying. He didn't do it on purpose, but that doesn't make it less annoying. Maybe he had gone to far too, by leaving you on read when you message him during his practices, or by getting home really late, and finding you on the couch, waiting for him.

"It's fine doll... I guess that was my bad too..." He says, before leaning toward you and burying his face in the crook of your neck. You smile at his reaction, knowing that he has forgiven you already and you don't have to cry for his attention anymore. One of the things you loved about him was that he never kept you around, waiting.

All rights reserved © 2023 AshTheMadWriter. Please do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works on any platform.

BASS TREMORS 

pairing: atsumu miya x reader smut

word count: 1.6k

warnings: pre-existing relationship, drug use (molly), public sex, marking (kinda)

desc: in which your boyfriend and your date night includes a fun time with molly. youre at the club. you both just cant wait. this is part of whorehouse’s intoxicated collab, check out the masterlist here.

If you were being honest, you didn’t really like clubbing. It had just been so long. Normally the grinding of bodies on the dance floor reminded you of sweat, of lack of personal space, of overbearing heat. Normally it was too much.

But now, here, tonight the only thing you could feel was the bass, the music pumping behind your ears, the lights dancing behind your eyelids even when they were closed. And the body against you, their sweat, their heat, welcomed and comforting. But now, here, you greeted the excessiveness with open arms, and legs apparently.

You had entered the club about half an hour ago. Or had it been more. You were starting to lose track of timing. You had barely crossed the threshold of the grimy, shitty club, when Atsumu gripped your jaw. He popped a pill lightly onto the middle of his tongue, wagging his eyebrows suggestively before pulling you towards him. When your lips met, it was all business, and he pushed the small pill to the back of your mouth. You took a beat to swallow, and for him to pop one of his own into his mouth.

Keep reading

normally when you tuck yourself into bed with your lover, you expect him to snuggle into you immediately as he’s done many times.

so why was he scooting away from you instead? and why is he looking at you like he wants to fight?

you blink once and twice before looking at him quizzically. your lover is a man that is undoubtedly and obviously whipped for you, so why now is he acting like it’s the opposite?

“what are you doing?” you finally ask after multiple beats of silence. you watch him turn his head to the side and scoff, his glare intensifying at your arms.

or rather, what was nestled in it.

he narrows his eyes, “there’s an impostor here.”

you quirk an eyebrow, confused, before following his gaze down to your lap.

“why do you have that thing?” he side eyes the big plushie you’re hugging close to your chest.

oh. so that’s what this was about?

you sigh a bit dramatically, amused. “this ‘thing’ is comfortable to sleep with,” you mock his tone, gesturing to the plushie. “plus, he’s literally custom made to look like you.”

he scoffs before crossing his arms. “it’s custom made to look like me? but all it looks like is a filthy homewrecker!”

you laugh, shoulders shaking while he gapes at you (even though you can see the upward quirks of his lips as his facade threatens to break).

“this is no laughing matter, my dear wife!”

he lifts up his hand to point accusingly at the plushie that looks like his clone. “and you! why are you trying to ruin our relationship, huh?” he pokes his face repeatedly, each time putting more and more force.

“you wont take my wife, you hear me?!”

you giggle, watching the amusing interaction play out. “i can’t believe you’re seriously upset over something like this.”

he stops after processing your words. his gaze darkens a little and he reaches both his arms out to shakily grasp your shoulders. “honey, this is a serious situation! this thing is trying to ruin our lives!” he frowns, shaking you slightly.

“you’re a clown.”

“wh- hey!”

“it’s just a plushie, it can’t do anything wrong.”

“oh, so i’m the bad guy now, is that it? sorry for protecting our marriage then!”

you purse your lips to prevent anymore laughter to spill out and provoke your husband to poke the innocent plushie more. “baby, let’s just go to sleep, alright?”

his eyes soften when you reach out to pull his arm closer to you but suddenly narrows at the plushie still on your lap, his favourite pillow.

“sure, on one condition,” he states before picking the plushie up and throwing it out of the bedroom, quickly locking the door.

(you never saw that plushie again and he claims he has nothing to do with it.)

— (bllk) nagi, reo (genshin) wriothesely, kaeya, childe, kaveh, itto, ayato (i can see it a lil) (star rail) sampo, jing yuan, caelus (haikyuu) suna, atsumu, kuroo, oikawa (jjk) gojo, geto (maybe), yuji, inumaki (if he could talk properly) (kny) douma, zenitsu (om) mammon, asmo

i’ve seen A LOT of drabbles like this but im not sure if anyone did this exact thing 😭 btw sch is starting real soon so ill be on n off on this app 🫢 this isnt edited yet 🥹

@xyaehir 2024. this is my content. do not translate, copy or plagiarise my works in any way. reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated. <3

PICK A CARD -—- In recent weeks, Atsumu has become quite interested in performing card tricks for his teammates as well as a couple of ladies. The only problem is, is that he never showed you these things, but little did you know he was just using them to courage himself to ask and impress you. Things don't go his way, though.

PAIRINGS. miya atsumu x fem!reader

WARNINGS. blushy/shy Atsumu, he's such a dork | fluff | just imagine Henmi as Kushida from Classroom of the Elite | the reader is kind of a brat LOL | the end is kinda rushed bc i wanted to finish this b4 4:00, I'll proof read later

During the past few weeks, Atsumu has been fascinated with cardistry.

Each week, he performs a new card trick for a group of popular girls gossiping in the hallway or another group in the cafeteria. The volleyball fangirls that crowd around him even come to his games with a deck of cards to see what he's capable of.

The only problem is, that he never shows it to you.

It's not his obligation to show you everything; you shouldn't feel entitled merely because he does... The fact that the ace of diamonds disappeared and reappeared behind your friend Henmi's ear, a girl who appears to be smitten with him, left you feeling jealous and unwelcome.

Henmi was the type of girl who made the boy's heads turn to watch her walk to class. She wore cute pink hair clips in her bob that bounced with every spring in her stride, and she was friendly with everyone.

To be fair, you've been asked out by a few guys and had a couple of friendships, but you know you could never get matched with her.

A shade of red spreads across Henmi's pale face as she blurts out, "I think Atsumu-Kun likes me."

It was lunchtime. There was a table outside, and you, Henmi, and two of her friends sat together for lunch. A sour taste replaces the taste of chocolate in the milk you were drinking. It permeates your mouth and stops you from sucking on the straw.

Your jealousy nearly erupted. You want to tell her that you saw him perform the same trick on another cute girl later that day. You want to break her heart, but you decide against it and chew on your straw instead.

But a girl from your table speaks your mind, "sorry Henmi-Chan, but I saw him do the trick to Hosoo yesterday. He's such a player."

Possibly she spoke up out of her own jealousy, hoping for the sake of her fantasies that Henmu wouldn't become a reality.

Despite this, Henmi denies it, defending Henmu by saying, "he was really close to me. Like I thought he was about to kiss me—"

"Ah, Y/N! That's where you are, I've been looking for you everywhere," Atsumu yells from the top of the staircase, hurrying down so he could meet you at the lunch table.

There is more confusion in the girls' eyes than in yours. Why was he looking for you specifically?

Atsumu sits on the bench by your side and slides only his right leg under the table so that he may face you. An old deck of cards is pulled from the tan pockets of his school's blazer. Blush tints his cheeks, and he looks down at the cards he shuffles as he asks you, "can I show you some of the card tricks I learned?"

By removing your left leg from beneath the table, you can also face him. A giddy smile spreads across your face as you say, "I'd love to see your tricks."

Atsumu smiles, "my first trick is the classic 'pick a card, any card' trick."

The cards are split into two decks, and he hands you one to shuffle. You return them to him after you're done.

You and the girl's lunch trays and lunch boxes are scooted to the side. This is so that he can spread your deck face up and his face down in two lines on the table. He then carefully scoots the cards together and then they're shuffled together again.

"Now I'll search for your card, which is really impressive as you haven't decided what card you want."

After spreading the shuffled cards in his hand, he instructs, "pick one. It doesn't matter if it's face up or face down."

You selected the face-up king of hearts and showed it to him. He then asks for the card to be pushed back face up or face down in the spread deck of cards. You chose to place it face down.

Once again, he shuffles them, "now, all cards are either up, or down." As he places them back down and backs up like they were liable to explode, he says, "if I leave them like that, all, except one, will move to face-up."

After a minute, he spreads them slowly across the table. Your mouth dropped when you discovered most of the cards that were originally facing downwards were now facing upwards. Most.

You could see the shock on his face when three remained faced downwards.

"Um, well, shit, um..." a blush from embarrassment spreads across his face as he tries to laugh it off. "That wasn't supposed to happen."

He picks up the first card that was faced down. It was the King of spades, not your card.

He picks up the second one. It was the ace of diamonds, also not your card.

A cold sweat runs down his cheek as he picks up the final one. It was the Ace of clubs. None of these were your cards.

"Fucking shit," he cursed under his breath. The three girls that remained at the table giggle at his error, adding to his embarrassment. "I-I have another, another trick. Can I show you?"

Laughing, you replied, "You may." He was cute.

He gathers all of the cards and gulps, "it's, um, it's called the card spring. Basically, it's where all the cards fall to my other hand. See— ah shit!"

A massive gust of wind sweeps the cards in mid-performance, just as they were about to land in Atsumu's right hand. All fifty-two cards in the deck spiral westward.

At that exact moment, you could hear Atsumu's heart drop to his ass. It sounded like an anvil being dropped from twenty-five feet in the air.

"Shit," he mutters. Just as he gets up to collect them, the bell rings. When the girls return to the building, they gossip about how funny Atsumu was as they collect their trash and belongings. Henmi says goodbye to Atsumu but it passes unnoticed by him.

You stayed to help Atsumu pick up all of his cards.

The color of red was now engulfing his entire head as he spotted you picking up the Queen of Spades. "Fuck, I'm so sorry— I-I was trying to impress you and I fucked up. All the practicing I had done on some girls came to shit."

Picking up a jack and a king, you giggled, "I think many of the girls think you are interested in them. Why did you do that?"

"I dunno, maybe because they share the same qualities as you."

"And what's that?"

"That they're a girl and you're a girl," he blushed as you laughed. "I thought they could give me the courage to perform on you and ask you out. Got nervous."

Then, with his luck, it begins to rain. It began to rain on a sunny day.

The cards begin to become damp as you hurried to pick them up. Suddenly, you come across the king of hearts.

He groans, "today wasn't supposed to turn out like this. 'M sorry."

You hand him the cards and go to pick up your tray and travel to the nearest trashcan to throw out your trash. Atsumu begins to do the walk of shame as he starts to walk back to class with his head down low and his hands in his pockets.

"I'll see you tomorrow Atsumu-Kun!" You say as you pass him, reaching the building first.

"Yeah," he sighs, bummed.

Atsumu kicks himself in his mind before letting out another curse as he shuffles his cards. He's about to throw them away before he notices a smudge of blue ink on his king of hearts. It was still readable.

It reads: I'm free tomorrow! Call me if you have any trouble, or any bad luck! with a heart at the end.

  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.”

Fool me once, fool me twice

a/n: so this is very much self indulgent, and I'm hesitant at publishing it because it hits kind of close to home? Yeah it was very hard for me to push thru and finish the fic but here ya go. I hope you enjoy the ride!!

Warnings: cursing, mentions of lying, break-up, mentions of smoking, mentions of smoking, maybe?? Bullying?? Not openly but there's a hint

Genre: fluff, angst, bad ending til I write the second part, 6.8k

Part II

Synopsis: You always knew it was easy to get your heart broken, but a a sentence was all it took for you. "How do you tell someone you only dated them for a bet?"

It's at past midnight he meets your eyes for the first time in forever. 

Atsumu missed you, that's for sure. You can tell by the dark circles painting under his eyes, by the sudden hurt that surfaces in his familiar warm-brown eyes, by how his eyes widen with disbelief whether it's you who's staring back at him.

You missed him, too. Your heart takes a turn, and your breath refuses to enter your lungs for the few seconds your eyes are locked together. A lump you got too familiar with after meeting the blond starts forming in your throat, and you have to give it your everything to smile at the boy who had broken your heart like it didn't matter. It hadn't mattered, though, not until it was too late. 

Atsumu is no better, he wants to run after you, and he feels nauseous with the feeling stirring in the pit of his stomach. But he's been a coward ever since he met you, or maybe he always was the coward, but you just brought it out for him to see.

You both were afraid of getting your hearts broken, so much that you never let people get too close, not letting them in, pushing everyone away when they started pushing through the walls you had set for yourself.

You were a fool for getting your heart broken, though, a bigger fool for letting him, Atsumu Miya of all people, break your heart.

It's hard to tell how it happened, but easier to tell what happened. You, the girl who is scared of getting close to people, who people are friends with but never anything more, fell for someone you shouldn't have. 

Not close friends, not flirts, not lovers, nothing but simple friends, you guarded yourself so well all this time with well-made walls that won't let anyone push through.

There was one person who was talented enough to break your walls. You'd think it would require more than a cocky smile and a funny, though also shitty, personality, but ironically, it's Miya Atsumu who makes his way into your heart, the boy who knew of no boundaries.

So you admit defeat, that it's your fault for getting your heart broken. After all, it was you who trusted no one, trusted the boy no one else did.

How it happened is hard to explain.

Perhaps it's the idea of breaking you, being the first to shroud that cloud of mystery around you that pulled people to you so. The way you distanced yourself from people with a kind smile, each your steps proud as you walk in through the door, brings a new idea to the drunken minds, curiosity.

You could already sense the lingering eyes, the half-smiles forming on people's lips as they tried to think of a way to approach you. You make your way to your friends who watched you with half amusement, half disinterest, already used to the scene. 

You don't feel the warm-brown gaze watching you, however, as you refuse a jacket that's offered to you when a boy you don't know the name of asks you if you're cold, neither do you notice them when you finally arrive at the closed circle your friends had formed. 

The gazes start to change directions after a few more seconds, and you finally feel like you can breathe. But you still can't recognize that last pair of eyes lingering in your direction, the eyes that belonged to a certain fake blonde, Atsumu, that was sitting in the middle of the room with his twin and friends, a smile sitting on his lips as he took a sip from his drink. 

"Stop being a creep." A voice told him right after giving his head a good smack and made him refocus his interest on his brother instead. "Ow, the fuck are you hitting me?!" Atsumu rubbed his head with a frown. 

"Stop being a creep," Osamu repeated. "You don't have a chance anyway."

"Of course, I do. I have a chance with anyone." The grey-haired, more tolerable twin narrowed his eyes in annoyance, a scowl forming on his lips. 

"Not with her." Suna sighed with boredom, sipping his drink as he glanced around the room, eyes flickering your way for a second and back to the blond across from him. "I'm sure she's mentally stable." He snickered.

Aside from insulting Atsumu, all of them did believe Atsumu didn't have the chance to approach you, let alone make you fall for him, but Atsumu didn't seem to agree. A thoughtful hum left his lips as he grinned widely at his brother. "I have a chance with her. Could make her fall for me if I wanted." 

"No, you couldn't." Scoffed Osamu, Suna agreed with a mocking shake of his head.

"Yes, I could."

"No, you-"

"Shut up!" Suna rolled his eyes, successfully silencing the annoying pair, but it only took a few seconds for Atsumu to speak again. "Wanna bet?"

"Bet on what?" Osamu muttered, but he knew what the blond had in mind.

"That I could make her fall for me."

"I'm in." Suna chimed in, suddenly interested in the conversation. "I bet you can't date her more than a month." He added with an amused grin.

"I bet you can't date her at all." Atsumu scoffed at his brother when he sent him a cocky grin. 

"Challenge accepted."

Atsumu lifted off the couch, combing his fingers through his perfectly messy bleached hair, fixing a cocky grin as he made his way to you. 

You should've recognized it as your que to run, the moment you felt that warmth blooming in the pit of your stomach, when you saw him approaching you, so confident and cocky as he leaned in, laughing at just how bored you looked. 

But you didn't know any better, eyeing him with an equally cocky smile. "Oh, hey," you muttered with a smile. "Well, what made the Atsumu Miya come off from his throne to talk to us peasants?" Atsumu felt chills running down his arms at how his name rolled off your tongue as you sent a look to the couch he was sitting on, tilting your head when you noticed all his friends watching you both. They quickly averted their eyes, laughter coming from their way not too later.

"I wouldn't call you peasants." He shrugged. "Right, you called them- what was that, oh, squeling pigs?"

"Only if you're a fan." Atsumu quickly answered, making you laugh despite his dark tone. "Oh, I'm safe then."

"Ouch." He chuckled, eyes glancing over you like nothing, the mocking amusement in his warm-browns hiding his thoughts. How should he proceed? What should he say next? What did you like to do, to eat to watch? How to get you to tell that to him?

Atsumu already knew it wouldn't be easy to approach you, and he could sense the walls guarding you ever since he first saw you, which was the very reason he had never advanced you before. He knew you were the type to only settle for a relationship, the kind that revolved around love and honesty, something Atsumu couldn't and wouldn't give you.

But he couldn't help but think that maybe, it was worth it. 

A night full of strategically made choices, words chosen deliberately for a purpose on Atsumu's side, nicely timed small brushes of hand, a few glimpses, eyes that meet, and shared smiles. All that felt anything but artificial as you found yourself laughing freely at something the blonde had said, and you hadn't pulled back when the tips of his fingers brushed your face. You felt the warmth radiating from his hand right over your temple, a sly grin on his lips as he held his fingers pressed together in front of you, telling he had picked a stray eyelash. 

"Make a wish." He grinned, causing you to roll your eyes with a scoff. "What are you, three?"

"C'mon, just make a wish." He whined, grinning when you agreed. "Good grades, I guess?" You told him, making him groan loudly. "No, don't tell me! It won't come true if you do."

"Oh, thanks, now I'm truly ready for the upcoming exams." You frowned jokingly. "It's your fault, not mine." Atsumu told you, making you laugh with how serious he looked.

So you made your wishes, blowing on the lash and hoping for the best.

~

Atsumu sucks at relationships, you quickly realize, almost as bad, or probably worse, than you. But he is good at making up for it, and he is maybe a little too good at making your heart beat twice as fast in your chest. 

It's the small things that make you lower your guards down almost unconsciously, and he's always a little closer to you, to -breaking- your heart each time you see him. The texts you frequently exchange, the hugs he gives you before dropping you back at your house, a kiss pressed on your hair when he has you between his arms on a cold night, to protect you from the cold, he says.

But as he gradually gets closer to you, you never get to get closer to him. Atsumu likes keeping himself at a distance, his heart at a distance, and you think you two are more similar than you thought you were. Neither of you let anyone get closer to you than certain boundaries, taking no risks. You distanced people both physically and emotionally. And while Atsumu did so only emotionally, he still was far from everyone.

He unintentionally shows the little parts of him to you, like how he would fall sound asleep in less than five minutes if someone played with his hair. He hadn't meant to tell you, but it had happened so naturally, Atsumu found himself telling you even that small piece of information without a worry. 

"Atsumu? What are you doing here?" You sounded surprised, but the smile on your lips told him you were happy to see him.

"I thought you would be here." He shrugged. "My practice's over, too, so I thought- you know."

"Oh, I know. You missed me so much that you left practice early and came into a library?" You laughed when he gave you a crooked smile, playing along with your teasing. "I didn't think you'd even know the way." 

"I didn't." He answered, making you giggle. "But my love for you led the way~" He dramatically played out, making you chuckle, and your heart miss a beat, even though you knew he was joking. You just hoped he was partly joking.

"Well, did you come here to ask me for a tour or something?" You asked when he stood there awkwardly. "I came here to see you!" Atsumu protested, plopping himself to the vacant seat next to you, making you immediately close his mouth with your hand when he spoke too loud. 

"Well, Atsumu, since you're a foreigner, let me give you the ground rules. No shouting-" You mocked him, stilling when he laughed along. Your eyes widened when you finally noticed what you were doing, the feeling of his warm lips under your fingers sending a shiver down your spine. You immediately retracted your hand, apologizing when Atsumu caught your hand, trapping it in his bigger one and smiling cockily at you.

"What happened? You were so confident just a second ago? Tell me more about the rules, please." Atsumu whispered as he leaned in, and you were scared he would be able to feel the excessive warmth radiating off your face. 

You were saved from your awkward situation when his phone chimed with an incoming text. You hadn't thought anything of it when he checked the text, his face paling slightly as he quickly pocketed his phone. "What, side-chick drama?" You joked, not expecting him to look at you so seriously, the mood changing as soon as the words left your lips. 

"There's no one else." He frowned, almost hurt by your remark. "I know my reputation, and it's mostly true, so you might not believe me-" Atsumu muttered, and you could almost feel it in your heart that you shouldn't have believed him, but you did. He looked so sincere, so genuine as he stared into your eyes, your hand still in his hold as he gave you a crooked smile.

"Ookay." You spoke gingerly with an awkward chuckle. "Do you want to go now?"

"Don't you have things to do?" 

"Well, yeah, but I can do them later. I don't want you to get bored." You shrugged, packing your bag when he stopped you. "No, no, it's okay. I won't get bored."

"Are you sure?" You asked suspiciously. 

"Yeah, I'm tired anyway, I'll just rest here." 

"Go rest at home, idiot." You scoffed, but you were sitting back at your place, unpacking your bag. "Nah, the views much better here." Atsumu placed his sweatshirt on the table as a makeshift pillow, resting his head on it, and gave you a cocky smile. 

He quickly realized he spoke too soon, though. Atsumu was physically not able to stay still for more than five minutes, something you had noticed rather quickly. 

"Atsumu, shut up." You groaned. "The more you talk the longer I'll stay here. Just go home."

"Aren't you going to walk back home?" He muttered without raising his head from the table, eyes droopy with sleep, and he looked boyishly handsome without all his annoying confidence and teasing grins, and you found yourself smiling as you stared at him.

"Yeah, it's not far, though."

"Then no. It's already dark, and I don't want you to walk back alone. Besides," Atsumu quickly added before you could protest about him staying behind just for you, "I like spending time with you."

"Then I need you to shut the fuck up." You smiled, making him chuckle even in his half-asleep state. 

"And I need you to play with my hair."

"What?" You asked, bewildered, and you could tell he hadn't meant to say it, either. "It's not- it's nothing." He grinned. "Apparently, we gave mom a hard time when we were small, 'Samu and I. We weren't the quietest of kids, you know. She always played with our hair when she wanted us to calm down."

"Does it still work?"

You grinned when he shrugged and turned his face the other way, but you had already taken note of the blush that adorned his cheeks. "Well then," you hesitantly brought your hand closer to him, taking a lock of hair between your fingers. 

You could feel him tensing with surprise at the contact, though he quickly relaxed beneath your hand when you ran your finger through his locks, a sigh rising from his lips. His breathing was slowing as you softly patted his head of hair, laughing each time he sighed.

"Wow, I didn't think it would work this well." You teased him when he stood silent the next few minutes as you played with his golden locks, waiting for him to protest or answer in any way, but he stood silent. 

Your eyes narrowed, widening right after when you took in how his back rose and dropped regularly, breathes deeper and slower. You couldn't help but giggle, the feeling that spread to even the tip of your fingers from your chest, causing you to feel both scared and giddy.

~

Atsumu is quick to ask you out, but he seems hesitant in everything else. 

He talks a lot, but never about himself. He laughs and shouts, gets angry, and shows his emotions, but always to a certain point. You sense he never shows you the real depth of his feelings and never his thoughts.

You often find yourself wondering what he's thinking, especially when he's looking at you like that, like he wants to take everything back.

The subtle guilt is the only emotion you can catch that he can't hide, but it's almost unnoticeable that you let it slide. It's your heart telling you not to try and understand that you later find out. 

The guilt is heavy the day you kiss him. It's right before his game, a few days after you've made your relationship official, after a month and a half. Atsumu seemed nervous, but you somehow could tell it wasn't entirely because of the game. 

"Be careful, okay?" He grinned, pulling you into a hug as he almost always did whenever he saw you, and you were used to it by now. Still, the way his hands lingered on your frame a little longer than they usually did, the needy glances of his brown eyes, you could tell something was bothering him.

"Ugh, cheesy much." You teased, trying to free yourself of his grip, but he refused to let go. "I'm not going to war," you chuckled when Atsumu pulled back from hugging you to press a kiss to your hair. "If anyone's supposed to be careful, it's you!" 

He hummed as an answer, eyes trailing over your form as his grin spread even wider on his lips. "My jersey looks really nice on you," Atsumu muttered, finally letting you go. "I think I can get used to- ow!" He chuckled as you hit his arm when his voice dropped an octave, his playful grin turning into a suggestful one.

"Everything looks nice on me." You winked, making him laugh, feeling better to have disposed of his nervousness. "True."

"Tsumu!" You heard his twin call towards the two of you, and it seems even the idea of letting you go disturbed Atsumu. "Hey, I'm gonna be fine, okay?" You laughed, rising to the tip of your toes, pressing a soft kiss to his slightly agape lips. 

You had meant to pull back, but he was quick to hold your face and hold you close. "Was that supposed to be a good lucks kiss?" He whispered to your lips when he pulled back, only a millimeter away from your lips, and you can feel the way your heart skips a beat when you flutter your eyes open and meet his warm gaze, the look in his eyes making you smile with happiness. "Yeah, go win the match." You laugh and pull back, and this time, he lets you, too.

You can't tell why his twin looks so grim, though, as he watches you part.

~ 

Almost three months after you started dating, Atsumu finally started to get more comfortable. Not just him, though, since you also had your boundaries flexing little by little for him.

It doesn't feel strange when he takes his hand between his now, when he caresses your face before leaning in for a kiss, when that sweet smile appears on his lips whenever you and his warm-brown eyes meet, and when he traces the line of your lips when you snuggle closer to him during a movie.

"You're coming to the party tonight, right?" Your phone chimed with a new text, and you were unable to suppress your grin when you saw it was from Atsumu. It had been four months at most that you've known him, and the way your feelings were evolving to something more terrified you. It wasn't good news that you were so used to his presence, almost longing for it when he was away, but you quickly discarded the thought.

"You forced me to, so yeah."

"I missed you, that's why I'm forcing you >:( I'll meet you there." He texted back. You went to a few parties with him, met his friends who acted like your bodyguards, shielding you from all the curious attendees of the party that came up to you to ask about you and Atsumu. And as much as you appreciated the act, the almost fearful look they gave you whenever anyone approached you just caused your uneasiness to grow.

You were going to the party with a girl who lived in the apartment right next to yours. You didn't know the girl much, but you were in the same class, and it was better than walking back home in the middle of the might in party clothes.

"Let's leave at- 2 am, is that okay with you?" She asked when you arrived at the place where the party was. "Yeah, sure, meet me here if you can't find me inside." You told her before parting ways. 

You were used to having the eyes on you when you entered a room, but never to a whole room of people laughing at your face. And that was what you felt as you heard the room lapse into silence when you appeared in the entrance, snickers and laughter following it right after. 

It was short-lived, however, since Osamu and Suna were quick to spot you, making their ways to you, and you caught the deadly glare Suna had sent to them, making the room finally avert their eyes off from you. 

Still, even their presences went to some extent since you could still feel the glances sent your way, whispers following you, and it was the final straw when a girl came up to you, asking if it'd been a month yet, and why Atsumu still held you around.

Before you even got the chance to answer, Suna did it for you, telling her to fuck off with the coldest voice you had heard from him. You knew you should've at least had a vague idea about what was going on. But you chose to meet the eyes of your lover that was standing in the doorway, instead.

"You're finally here!" You exhaled when Atsumu's hand brushed yours, and you were so relieved, you found yourself wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him to a hug. "Missed me already?" You heard him chuckle, but you hadn't missed the worried glance he had sent you, either. 

"You're very late, you're aware, right?" You muttered as you pulled back, and Atsumu had to take in a deep breath of relief since he was afraid you would be able to hear how fast his heart was beating. You were never the one to first hug or touch him, so Atsumu couldn't help but feel excited about it, trying to suppress the goofy smile appearing on his lips.

"Did something happen?" Atsumu frowned when you still seemed a little off. "I wasn't that late, besides, it takes a while to be this handsome, you know?" You rolled your eyes when he mockingly grinned at you. 

"Don't I look handsome?" He pushed when you didn't answer, frowning even deeper when Osamu answered it for you. "Not even a little bit, you egoistic shithead!"

You were glad Osamu had interrupted since it was a quick way to take Atsumu's interest off from you and make him pick a fight with his twin instead. 

You watched the two run around the house, cursing their endless stamina after ten minutes. Atsumu finally arrives back at his spot next to you. You're out on the balcony, sitting on one of those flimsy plastic chairs and scrolling through your phone, brows knitted together. There's an ashtray on the table in front of you, half a cigarette still burning. Suna must've been there.

"What's got you looking so mad?" You hear him mutter. He's quick to plop on the seat next to you, hands wrapping around your waist and leaning his head on your shoulder. "Hm? Oh, nothing." 

"Watcha doing here, then?"

You shrug. "I wanted some fresh air, I guess. I wasn't feeling comfortable in there." He gave you an understanding hum since he already knew you didn't like it when you felt forced to tell something you didn't want to, so he decided you would explain it if you felt comfortable.

"'m tired." He muttered after sitting in silence for how long, you didn't know, and you couldn't hold in a laugh at how childish he could sometimes be. "It must be because you have been sprinting around the house for a whole ten minutes." 

He chuckled, just nuzzling his face a little closer to you, waiting for you to get the hint to play with his hair. You heard him sigh deeply. "You smell so nice."

"Don't smell me!" You blurted out, trying to push him off since you felt self-conscious (did you smell? It was kind of hot in here, or what if you smelled like sweat? "No- stop, okay, I won't smell you." He pouted without letting you go.

"You're awfully clingy today." You sighed, giving up on trying to push the blond off from you, secretly loving the attention, too. "Oh my god," you frown when he groans, "Will you just play with my hair?"

You comply, combing back the blond-locks from Atsumu's face, looking so peaceful with a smile adorning his soft lips, and you couldn't help but appreciate how handsome he was. 

Neither of you noticed the grey-haired twin that had just exited the house. Nor did you see his widened stare he sent your way, cringing at the honest smile on the liar's lips as you ran your fingers through his blond locks just like he liked it.

Osamu was surprised Atsumu had even told you he liked it when people played with his hair, let alone going as far as letting you do it. Osamu had never seen Atsumu so close to anyone, and he didn't think he was capable of smiling like that.

Like he was in love.

~

Ugh, she was drunk. 

You thought she would at least be sober enough to walk by herself, but you cursed yourself for trusting her to hold her liquor as you swung her arm over your shoulder and helped her walk. 

Call me when you get home, okay?" Atsumu had told you, concern lacing his features as he had eyed the drunk girl sitting on the floor. "Are you sure you'll be fine? Suna can come with-"

"It's okay, don't worry." You had laughed, pressing a soft kiss on his cheek before parting.

"You know, you shouldn't be falling for him." The girl slurred. "Huh?" You asked, unable to try to understand her drunken words since you were busy stabling both of you. 

"Atsumu Miya." His name, falling off her lips so effortlessly that it caused an uneasy feeling to settle in your chest. "He's an asshole."

"He can be an asshole sometimes, yeah." You chuckled, losing your balance when she shook her head too hard, losing her balance and pulling you with her. "No. He's an asshole that you shouldn't be trusting." 

You pursed your lips, biting your tongue from saying anything else. You were already aware of Atsumu's reputation, and there was no need to rub it in your face.

"I'm just saying, take it as a warning from a friend, yeah?" She finally spoke, breaking off your thoughts and dropping the issue. "Thanks." You muttered, hoping she would stay silent for the rest of the walk, your hopes dying when she suddenly stopped in the middle of the road, eyes wide, and gasped.

"What happened- are you going to throw up?" You couldn't help but let go of her with the thought, leaving a distance between you since you knew you also wouldn't be able to hold yourself if you saw her throw up.

"N-no, -shit- I forgot my phone back there!"

"Your phone? Are you sure-" Your voice trailed to nothing as you watched her clear her pockets and handbag, and there really wasn't a phone that dropped out of her bag. "I left it in the kitchen!" She groaned, sitting on the floor and burying her face in her hands when you notice she was fucking crying.

"Hey, um, it's okay. You can get it tomorrow. Nothing would happen, and-"

"No, you don't understand!" She interjected. "My brother will kill me if -when- he calls me and I don't answer! He thinks I'm at home, and I can't tell him I left it somewhere else."

You knew what you had to do, and you hadn't walked much either. The house was ten minutes away from where you two stood, but it still felt like so much work after a night of loud party and stress the people had caused you.

"Okay, okay." You groaned. "Let's go get it back."

~

"Wait here, alright?" You help her sit on the bench, sighing with relief since she was sobering up at least a little.

You didn't mean to eavesdrop.

The plan was to get in, take the phone, get out, but as you stand in front of the door, hearing your boyfriend's muffled shouts, you couldn't help but listen. 

Atsumu was a hot-headed person, and hearing him shout or get angry in general wasn't abnormal, but you had never heard him sound so grave, almost like he was terrified.

"You have to end this." Osamu sounded stern, colder than you'd ever heard him. You glanced through the slightly agape door to find your boyfriend just as you had left him, slumped on the couch with the hood of his sweatshirt pulled over his head, blond locks peeking through it. You watched him as he brought the collar of the sweatshirt to his nose, a smile appearing on his lips as he did so. You couldn't help but feel warm when you remembered the embarrassed smile Atsumu had gave you as he admitted that he liked your smell and that it comforted him when he felt stressed.

Atsumu buried himself in the hoodie, the hoodie had given you at the beginning of the night, and though it did smell like cigarettes and alcohol, too, it still had your scent on it. 

You watched him as he bit his lip, taking a few seconds to answer his brother. "Why? I didn't even win yet." He shrugged, leaning to the table and downing another shot. 

"You did, congratulations." Osamu scoffed. "End it already." You knew what you were doing was wrong, that you shouldn't listen to their conversations, even when he was your boyfriend, so you were getting ready to enter the room before you heard him speak.

"I didn't win." He protested, "the conditions were to make her fall for me and-"

You froze. 

No, it couldn't be you they were talking about, that there had to be a misunderstanding your heart tries to reassure you, but Osamu's next words are shattering.

"I fucking told you, you won!" He shouted, voice echoing in the room. "How much of an asshole do you have to be to continue after even this? She's already in love with you, and you know it, you have to tell her before it's too fucking late!"

You were suddenly shivering, teeth chattering together uncontrollably. You knew you had to leave. 

But it's only that day you come to realize how easy it is to break someone's heart. All it took was a few words for you, at the very least. 

You were standing in front of the slightly agape door, both your hands pressing on your chest as you do to a wound, trying to stop it from bleeding more, but they keep talking, and you're unable to make a sound, let alone make it stop. 

"Tell her what? How do you tell someone you only dated them for a fucking bet?"

Atsumu's words were ringing in your ear. "I never thought I would- that it would go this far." He sounded calmer this time, grieving, even. 

"What? What are you planning to do, continue this lie for the rest of your fucking life?" You had seen Osamu angry many times before, but it was never this scary. "There's something else that's stopping you from telling her, isn't there? Breaking her heart isn't the only thing stopping you."

"Like what?" Atsumu interrupted with a tone he hoped was cynical. "What're you trying to say, 'Samu?" 

"I'm not trying to say anything." Osamu hissed. "I'm telling you that you're in love with her, just as much as she is with you." Osamu had expected his twin to protest despite the obvious, but it was somehow sadder that he chose to stay quiet. 

"You're right." Atsumu shrugged after a minute or two. "And that's why I can't end it." 

"Well, it's a good thing I can." You entered the room, your face damp with tears you hadn't been able to hold back, your body shaking with the overwhelming emotions you were feeling. You watched both the twins freeze in their places with fear, Atsumu's widened eyes finding your figure, but you refused to look his way.

You quickly made your way to the kitchen, spotting the phone and whirling your way to the exit before neither of them had the chance to catch you. But Atsumu was quick on his feet, despite the hazy state alcohol was causing, how his knees were shaking, and how fast his heart was beating, he somehow managed to choke your name out, though it sounded more like a sob. 

"Wait, please!" He called once again, and you were praying to whatever god up there that he couldn't see how you're shaking.

Even when adrenaline coursing through your veins, Atsumu was faster than you, and you knew you couldn't avoid him as his hands that were cold with fear got a hold of your wrist, pulling you back to him, maybe a little too rough. "Please, j-just listen to me!" 

"Listen to you?" You repeat, voice venomous, it makes the blonde flinch. "I think I heard enough, what else is there to say?"

"No- no, just let me explain." 

"You heard him, love, no need to explain." You told him, and you watched him cringe at the way you utter the word, almost like spitting it out, and you could see how much it hurt him. You didn't care, though. "You won the bet. Congratulations on being the biggest asshole ever. How much did you win, Atsumu? Was it hard sticking around a relationship you didn't even give a shit about? Did you have fun watching me make a fool of myself to everyone?" You couldn't help it when your voice broke as you remembered the pitying looks people kept throwing at you, the laughter, the mockery.

"Just let me- please!" He cried out, frustrated, overwhelmed, and heartbroken, and it was all too much. Why did you have to learn it this way?

"I don't want to hear it!" You cried, trying to pull your wrist free from his grip, but he wouldn't let go. It felt like if he did let you go, he would never be able to hold you ever again. "Please..." You cringed at the way he begged, voice hoarse, and you couldn't help but think if he was honest at least this once.

"Okay, then." You shrugged, averting your eyes away from him. "Explain."

Now that he finally had the chance, Atsumu only then realized he had nothing to say. Nothing to make this better, nothing he could say to win you back. 

The worst part was, however, that you both had thought he did have something to say, that you let hope bloom in your chest in expectations of something, of an explanation that could ease your pain. You couldn't help but laugh when you noticed there wasn't, once again fooling yourself for his sake.

Atsumu couldn't speak, he just raised his hand to touch your face, and it felt like you slapped him when you shied away from it. It hurt, hurt so much that Atsumu lost all thought, words sprawling out of his mouth in mindless panic.

"Please-" he repeated. "It was just a joke and-"

"A joke." You repeated his words back to him. "Your joke was to watch me fall in love with you? Did you at least have fun lying to me all this time?" You couldn't hold back your voice, it came out as strained shouts, laced with fury, but you don't care.

"I know everyone else did. You know, I always knew something was off, watching people snicker to my face when they saw me. Was it that entertaining to watch as you broke my heart, too?"

"No, Y/N-"

"Are you having fun, Atsumu?" You cut him off. "Laugh all you want, then, wasn't this what you wanted? Why aren't you laughing, still?" You were screaming at this point, and it made Atsumu's blood run cold.

"I- I didn't think I'd fall in love with you, too." He whispered, and his words broke your last resistance, that you found yourself sobbing uncontrollably.

Your body was shaking with cries, and the weight pressing on your chest was so heavy, you were afraid of being crushed under it.

"No, don't lie to me anymore." You spoke, and it was the first time he heard you beg. "Please, don't lie to me, Atsumu."

"I-" you started to speak again, lost on words, gasping for air, not sure when he had pulled you to himself as you cry into his chest. The rational part of you told you to push him away, but you found solace in his warmth, as idiotic as it is.

"I trusted you."

"I showed you a part of me no one knew. I trusted you wouldn't break my heart since we were so similar, and you broke it for what? Why couldn't you just let me be, why did you have to- why did you have to make me fall in love with you?"

You couldn't hear the I'm sorry's he was whispering in your ear, I love you, please, I'm so sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I love you.

"I wish I never met you." You sobbed mindlessly, not noticing the shaky breath he took at your words, how his heart was beating faster than you could even guess, how he was trying to give his everything to stop his body from the sobs that are bubbling inside of him.

I wish I never met you.

It stung, hurt so much, something he had never experienced before. Atsumu didn't want to let you go as you pulled yourself away from him, hugging you tighter and shaking his head no, no please, don't go, but you can't- can't be here anymore. 

He couldn't even say goodbye as you turned your back to leave.

If Atsumu knew that was going to be your last day together, he would've kissed you one last time.

One last time, he sobs. I wish I could've kissed you one last time.

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.

Some writers for some reason:

This a character x fem!reader fanfic

You looked at yourself in the mirror while you put your blonde, long, straight hair up in a messy bun

You put some bracelets in your tiny itty bitty small microscopic wrists and admire how your dress compliments your fair, super pale and super soft with no imperfections porcelain skin

"Syphilia Smith come down this instant!" Your mother calls you

"I'm coming!" You yell with your soft, harmonic, melodic voice

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

Trust me. Love me. Shoot me

Atsumu Miya x female reader

Summary: Atsumu is a hot mess a/n: Howdy y'all! I hope this isn't as horrible as I think it is, but yay! I finished one of my exams and now I feel kinda free!

warning: Atsumu is hot, alcohol is mentioned, suicicde scars, implication of suicide,

Masterlist Previous//Next

What the hell was Akaashi thinking. Why did they get the room with only one bed.

"I am going to kill him. I'm going to kill him." y/n thought as she dragged Miya-san though the hotel. After jamming the "down" button and hopping into the elevator with the 6 foot man behind her, they descended to the third floor. Finding Akaashi's room was easy. It was right next to the elevators. Y/n pounded on the door which lead to room 303. Bokuto opened the door, and Y/n barged in. Anger radiating off of her.

"What the hell 'Kaashi?"

"I don't know L/n-san"

"Why is there only one bed in our room?"

"I don't know L/n-san"

Anger, or maybe frustration, rolled off of Y/n in waves. Only one bed was very inconvenient. She glared at Akaashi as Miya-san and Bokuto entered. Akaashi held her gaze with his uninterested eyes. Goddamit.

"Akaashi-san", Miya-san said, trying to break the tension.

"I honestly thought there would be two beds. We can't switch rooms either. L/n-san and Miya-san need to be as high foo the ground as possible" Akaashi explain. Bokuto was on the bed, with the head and arms hanging off the bed. "So just working something out. You're smart L/n-san" he finished with the slightest smirk, which most, including Y/n, failed to notice.

Y/n was pissed, but maybe it wouldn't be smart to kill Akaashi just yet. Dejectedly, she turned around and left the room, with Miya-san hobbling behind her.

When they reached their room, Y/n walked in, followed by Miya-san, who locked the door and locked the deadbolt.

"Miya-san, we need to establish a bed schedule and rules. We can alternate who will sleep on the bed and the couch, because I don't feel like sharing with you" Y/n said

"Ok"

"And every morning and night we each get an hour in the bathroom to change and shower"

"Ok"

"Good. We are in agreement. You can have the bed first"

Night 1:

Y/n sat outside of the bathroom, on the coach with a blanket and pillow placed next to her. Takeout boxes, which Kuroo brought to their room, sat nearby on the desk. The large glass screen, which looked into the bathroom, was covered with blinds and fog. The coach was next to the large window, giving Y/n a perfect view of the city.

Y/n was scribbling notes in her note book. Her handwriting covered the page. She wished she could write something normal, like her goals or dreams. But nope. She had never been normal. Instead, she wrote about the possible escape route incase of an attack or the location of possible allies who could help. But her notebook was also filled with detailed descriptions of her nightmares. Most days she was lucky if you could get 3 ours of sleep. But then again, that's what a caffeine addition is for.

The sound of water stopped as the shower was turned off. After a few minute, Miya-san walked out with a towel wrapped around his hips. his wet hair was slick against his forehead, and his chest and abs out on display. The glisten of the water made his muscles shine in the light, making him look just so much better. His body was deliciously ripped with toned muscle. "Wait no. Y/n do not think that. He is not good for you. But he is kinda hot."

"So Y/n do you think you could take the stiches out?" The topless man asked as he gently patted the wound dry. Y/n really didn't understand why he insisted on using the crutches. The wound had closed really well, and he honestly didn't need them.

"No need. They should have dissolved already." she replied, not looking up from her notebook. Behind her, Miya-san's jaw was unhinged. He probably didn't know that some stitches could dissolve. What a silly goose. "You also won't need the crutches so maybe just not use them" she added before walking to the bathroom with an oversized hoodie and shorts in hand.

She walked into the bathroom, and locked the door behind her. The mirror which directly faced the door, had completely fogged up, leaving Y/n blind to her own reflection. she placed her clothes on the counter and wiped a small spot on the mirror. Looking back at her, were her own eyes, which may thought were beautiful, but none of them could would see any of the terror she had seen. Of course she also got complements on her skin, even though she really didn't think her skin as that nice. Those who complemented her skin would never feel the hits or slaps or punches she had to endure. Not to mention that her nose and lips were also complimented, because apparently she was beautiful. But those ignorant fools could never understand the stench of alcohol which her father always smelt of or the number of split lips she had because her father got mad at her and decided violence could fix her. But it was ok, because they were compliments, not insults. And Y/n loved compliments. They were always better than insults.

She covered the mirror with a nearby towel. She did not want to see herself. Especially the organized scars on her arms and stomach. She dimmed the lights, just enough so she couldn't see her own body. She stepped into the shower and turned on the water until the water was scathing. She felt her muscles relax as she rinsed her hair and body.

When she was done. She turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. She grabbed another towel and dried off her body and hair. She then pulled her sweater over her head and pulled on the shorts and walked out of the bathroom.

Miya-san was sitting on the bed, wearing grey sweatpants, and watching the news.

"Police have confirmed that the house fire which left 6 people dead was not an accident. If there is any information or tips, please call the number on the screen"

On the screen was drone footage of the burned down house. Miya-san turned off the TV and stared at Y/n.

"Good night Y/n" he said while pulling the covers from the matress.

"Good night Miya-san" Y/n replied turing off the lamp which sat by her head.

"Atsumu"

"Good night Atsumu"

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Miya Atsumu

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Sorry for any errors ! Love you !

Imagine Atsumu came back from a shitty practice. He was upset, annoyed and angry. “Welcome back honey.” You welcomed him. He ignored you and went to shower.

After he showered he entered the room. You were wearing a sexy lingerie. He pounced on you. “Hi to you too daddy.” You giggled. “Gosh I’m so lucky.” He said. You whined as he turned you on all fours and spanked you. He was hard. All he wanted was to fuck you til sunrise. A soft moan left your mouth as he rubbed your clit. He chuckled on how quickly you responded to his touch. You felt how soaking wet you were. It coated his hand on how he played with your nice pussy. He groaned as you wiggled your ass like a bitch in heat. He slammed into you. You yelped, your face fell on the pillow as he pounded you. “ fuck baby..your pussy is so good f’me”. His voice was hypnotizing. You loved how he stuffed you. You felt the veins on his long and girth dick. He saw how your eyes were shut and how you drooled onto the pillow. “My cute slut.” He whispered in your ear. You nodded. He suddenly gripped your hair and yanked you upward. You let him manhandle you. He fucked you hard. You couldn’t handle it anymore. Atsumu hit your G-spot with every thrust. “ Atsumu!!” You released around his cock and squirt making a mess everywhere. A few seconds later he filled you up with his warm thick cum. He made sure not a drop spilled. “s’full daddy.” You spoke as you clenched around him. “ you were so good f’me sweetheart.” he replied with a smile. He appreciated the sex. You wanted him to release his negativity. You knew sex would make it fun and easy. You squirmed as he pulled out and left. Atsumu always makes sure you felt okay and always includes aftercare. He carried you to the bathroom. He bathed you. “Thank you…I feel way better.” he thanked you. You hummed as he scrubbed your body clean. “I love you honey.” as he heard that his eyes sparkled. “I love you too sweetheart.” you couldn’t help but giggled as he rinsed you off and dried you up. “Is it okay if I bath you?” You asked yawning. “You can’t stand and you’re sleepy baby.” You couldn’t deny that. After about an hour. He was done showering, changed, and the bed had new sheets. You two cuddled and drifted to sleep. It’s funny and cute how you both snored.