#miya atsumu reader insert
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DEAR FUTURE HUSBAND .ᐟ
oh future husband, better love me right!
premise. the nhk gives it’s viewers a peak into the love lives of the jnt’s lineup, interviewing the future wives of the jnt to crack the secret to a happy relationship ❤︎
content. haikyu!! jnt / f!reader. (atsumu miya, rintarou suna, wakatoshi ushijima & shoyo hinata). fluff. somewhat decent relationship advice. downbad fiancés. healthy relationships(!!). suggestive moments. petnames.
soundtrack. dear future husband : meghan trainor.
part two can be read here.
dear future husband m.list. // hq. masterlist.
ATSUMU MIYA.
“after every fight, just apologize.”
“Relationship advice?” You repeat, sitting across from the NHK interviewer, mic strapped to your shirt as a camera filmed your living room. She nods, smiling while holding a microphone of her own.
“Yes! Tell us, what is the secret to a healthy relationship?”
You tilt your head, “Well, I guess I have some advice to give.” Your fingers drum against the armrest of your couch as you sit in thought, contemplating on what to tell the reporter, “hmm..”
Atsumu sitting beside you laughs, his arm slung comfortably over your shoulder, “I have some advice I’d like to give as well.”
You turn to him with a grimace. “I don’t want any young viewers following whatever is about to come out of your mouth, ‘Tsumu.”
He looks at you offended; reeling his arm back to his side, shock spelled out all over his face. “Excuse me, I’m great at romance. I romanced you, didn’t I?”
“Unfortunately,” you jest, with Atsumu exclaiming in protest, “But this isn’t just about romancing someone, ‘Tsumu. They’re asking what makes a relationship a healthy one.”
“So?” He shrugs, “A healthy relationship is one that’s full of romance.”
“I apologize for him,” you playfully tell the interviewer, ignoring the look Atsumu gives you in response, “He’s not the best at this sorta stuff.”
She merely giggles, “No worries, the players are allowed to give their own opinions as well.” Atsumu puffs his chest out, “See, babe? She said I can talk too.”
“Yeah well, just make sure to cut out whatever he says in the final broadcast,” She lets out a snort at your jab, hiding the smile that creeps onto her face behind her microphone while Atsumu shoves your shoulder in despair.
“Awe, c’mon! I’m not that bad with relationship advice!” He pouts at you, looking like a kicked puppy when he does so, “What makes you think I’m so bad at this, do you actually want to marry me, babe?”
Your eyes soften at his saddened tone, feeling slightly guilty you link your fingers with his, eyes full of love when he smiles down at your intertwined hands.
“Of course I do, ‘Tsumu.”
The camera crew awes as you turn back to face the cameras, still holding Atsumu’s hand firmly in your own, running your thumb over the smooth cut diamond ring studded band he wears on his ring finger.
“The advice I have to give viewers is; Apologize when you are wrong,” you tell the interviewer, “No matter your pride, no amount will replace your relationship. It’s never worth sacrificing your loved one just for the sake of winning an argument.”
“Uh huh, you’re one to talk about that, babe,” Atsumu rolls his neck, “You never apologize first, it’s always me who has to for you to talk to me again.”
“What are you talking about?” You look at him confused, “I’m the one who initiates the apology conversations, you’re the stubborn one out of us.”
“Nuh-uh.”
You groan, “Exactly.”
Atsumu pulls his hand out of yours, placing it on your thigh instead before facing the cameras. “But, she is right. Do not ever choose a winning an argument over your partner. It ends badly.”
“You would know,” you snort, “You give me the longest silent treatments until I coax you out of it with kisses.”
“Can we cut that out of the broadcast, please?”
You purse your lips to hide the oncoming smile until Atsumu leans forward, a handsome grin on his face as he looks directly into the rolling cameras with a newfound confidence.
“But, y’know. I do always apologize in the end, ‘cause my girl’s never wrong.”
RINTAROU SUNA.
“make time for her.”
“You see this girl?” Suna jabs a thumb in your direction from across the kitchen, leaning against the marble island lazily as the camera team nods. “Yeah, she gets constipated if I don’t give her enough attention.”
Your head perks up immediately as you shoot him a halfhearted glare, “Do not.”
“See, she’s doing it right now.” He ignores, drinking from his glass of water before setting it down on the counter, ignoring the little gasp you let out at his actions.
Rolling your eyes, you smack his arm before sliding a coaster under his drink, “Don’t scratch the marble, Rinnie. I just bought this island.”
The camera team silently giggles at the short interactions between you two, with Suna sticking his tongue out at you and in response you give him a middle finger before he turns back to face them, “Can you believe her?”
Scoffing, you enter the camera frame beside him, “Don’t bring them into this, Rinnie.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
“I’m your fiancée.”
Suna opens his mouth to argue before shutting it promptly, “Good point.”
One of the crew members holds a sign from behind the cameras, indicating to get the interview back on topic. “Why would you ever ask her for relationship advice?” Suna chuckles, “I was the one who made the first move.”
“The interview is for the fiancée’s of the JNT, Mr. Suna,” the interviewer reminds him, “But the players are welcome to voice their own opinions as well.”
Suna stretches his arm behind his back with a yawn, a sliver of his abdomen peeking out from underneath his home shirt before disappearing quickly, “Well in that case, allow me to voice this opinion—”
You slap a hand over his mouth before he can begin, “Nope, didn’t you hear them? This is my interview, Rinnie.”
“Buhf dey shaid I can shpeak too, affhole." Suna glares from behind your hand, removing it from his mouth with a groan. “Did you even wash your hand? Tastes gross.”
“Why did you lick my hand?”
“We’ve done freakier things than that and that’s what you’re worried about?”
Your words get lodged in your throat, sputtering out hurriedly, “This is going on T.V, Rinnie!”
He looks to you with a smug smile, “Yeah, and I can’t wait to rewatch this interview and see your reaction again later.”
Your fists clench momentarily before taking a deep breath, relaxing yourself and facing the cameras with a smile. “Anyways, some relationship advice I’d give to anyone watching; make time for your spouse.”
Suna nods along to your words, “Mhm, I think that’s the most important thing in a relationship.”
“Shut up, Rinnie.”
“Ouch,” he fakes a stab through his heart, monotonous eyes but a playful grin on his lips. “I talk for two seconds and you tell your dear fiancé to shut up?”
You shake your head towards him jokingly, continuing to talk to the interviewer, “A healthy relationship means you spend time with your loved ones, and your spouse should be the most loved person in your life.”
The reporter nods, “I see, I see, what do you suggest to our viewers the best ways to spend quality time with their lover?”
“In bed.” Suna chimes in immediately, earning another smack on the shoulder from you. “What?” He looks at you with a knowing grin, “Oh, you— I didn’t mean like that, oh my god you’re sooo dirty minded.”
He chuckles, “I meant like cuddling, laying in bed together, watching movies. Y’know, wholesome things.”
“Nothing is wholesome with you,” you exasperate, speaking from personal experience. “But yes, those are great ways to spend times with your lover. They’re good times to bond with them, or just relax and unwind after a long day.”
“Yeah, after a gruelling day of practice, it’s nice to come home and lay in her arms,” Suna motions to you before leaning his head on your shoulder, his grin now replaced with a small but gentle smile. “She’s all I want to see after practice.”
“Wow,” you tease, leaning your head atop his, “and where did you learn to be so smooth, hm? Are you just playing it up for the cameras, Rinnie?”
Suna snickers, hands crossed over his chest relaxed, “I would never,” he says before mumbling close to your ear.
“I just, really like to spend time with you.”
WAKATOSHI USHIJIMA.
“treat her like a lady.”
“My fiancé is out right now at the gym,” you inform the NHK station crew, their camera men follow you inside your house for the opening shots of the broadcast. “Make yourselves comfortable while you wait.”
The interviewer settles himself on a seat at your dining table as you reach for the vase of flowers atop, moving into the kitchen to pour the old water out of their vase, careful to not spill any over your kitchen counter as you refill the container with fresh water from your tap.
Refreshing the water, you carefully place the flowers back into their vase before rearranging them neatly, coming back out of the kitchen to place them back on your table and adjusting them accordingly as the interviewer watches amazed.
“Those flowers are very lovely,” he notes softly, almost as if any louder of a volume would disturb the plants, “Did you fiancé happen to get them for you?”
You smile, “yes, he did,” recalling the first time he got you a bouquet, on your first date many years ago.
“‘Toshi knows I love flowers.”
The soft click of the lock to your house causes you to perk your head up in familiarity, the frame of your fiancé’s figure coming into view as you see him placing his shoes down beside your door before coming inside.
“Welcome home, dear,” you call out to him from the kitchen, one of the camera crew’s members break off to film your fiancé as he enters the home. He drops his gym bag to the floor beside your couch, removing his jacket and hanging it on your coatrack before passing through the halls of your shared home to get to you.
Ushijima shuffles his way into the kitchen, passing by the camera crew and approaching you from behind, hugging you as his hands are wrap around your stomach, head dropping into the crook of your shoulder.
You lean into his touch, his freshly showered hair smells of the shampoo the two of you use.
“Are you showing them the flowers I got you?” He asks, eying the pretty arrangement of flowers on the table. The cameras zoom in to take a closer shot at the flowers, noting the vibrancy of the colours and the lack of thorns adorning the stems.
You and the reporter nod, Ushijima lets a small smile settle on his face. “She told me they were her favourites,” he tells the reporter.
“Hm,” he hums before turning to you, microphone extending outwards. “is that your relationship advice for the viewers then? Giving your loved one gifts?”
You shake your head quickly, “Oh, no! No, that’s not my advice— Of course, do get your partner gifts if you know they’ll enjoy them.” Ushijima straightens up, hands snaking around your waist to stand beside you as the cameras pan out to record the both of you in the same shot.
“‘Toshi just really likes to get me little things,” you smile, reminicing on all the times your eyes barely glazed over something in a store front before he was scrambling inside the shop to buy it for you, despite your pleas.
“But gifts do not have to be expensive,” You reassure the viewers again, “just little trinkets that remind you of your partner will be enough.”
Ushijima nods before lifting your hand up to the camera, showing off the engagement ring with a large diamond displayed proudly atop it. “Yes, but I do like to splurge when it comes to her.”
You retract your hand quickly, warily eying your fiancé, “‘Toshi! Don’t make the viewers think they need to buy people’s happiness with expensive gifts!”
His head tilts unsurely, “My love, do you not like the ring I got you?”
“I-I do! When did I ever say I didn’t?”
His eyes crinkle slightly in concern, “Then why are you hiding our engagement ring from the viewers?”
“Because,” you sigh, “I don’t want young, inexperienced lovers to think they need something like a huge, flashy engagement ring to be loved by someone.”
“But you deserve the best,” he rebuffs, “There is nothing I wouldn’t buy for you if you asked.”
“‘Toshi.. this isn’t really helping our case…”
The reporter turns to Ushijima, “Even though this is a special for the JNT fiancées, the players are allowed to give their own insight.” He informs your soon-to-be husband, “Do you have anything else to add for our viewers?”
Ushijima thinks for a moment, silent in thought as you look to your fiancé, and the sight of his matching engagement ring twinkling under the bright studio lights filling your home catches your eye all too quickly.
“Do you have anything you want to say, ‘Toshi?” You nudge his shoulder slightly when he continues to remain quiet, an encouraging smile on your lips.
He nods, bringing the hand with your ring on it before giving the intricately cut diamond a kiss, his piercing eyes gazing deep into yours, causing your face to heat up fervently at his wolfish grin.
“Treat your partner the best that you can, like the lady she is and deserves to be treated as.”
SHOYO HINATA.
“don’t forget your anniversaries!”
Shoyo’s leg bounces feverishly as the reporter speaks to you casually, unable to contain his excitement at being asked to join you for this broadcasted interview special.
His grin is wide, beaming whenever you sneak small glances at him whenever the reporter looks down at their cue cards of start up questions to ease into the conversation, before the real topic is brought up.
“Do you have any relationship advice for our viewers?”
You’re about to speak until Shoyo interrupts you, quite literally flying out of his seat while brightly smiling as his hand grasps yours with a tight grip, “I do, I do!”
The reporter chortles, smiling at his tactics, “Thank you, Mr. Hinata. But this interview is specifically for your fiancée.” Shoyo’s face sullens lightly until he speaks again, “But you’re allowed to give your own thoughts when she’s done.”
Shoyo slumps back into his seat dejectedly as you rub his back comfortingly, “Sorry, Sho. But just let me speak first, okay?” His pout is replaced instantaneously at your words with the usual smile he holds when around you, “Alright, baby!”
You look towards the reporter, hand still clasped in Shoyo’s securely. “Here is my advice for a healthy relationship; Don’t forget your anniversaries.”
Your fiancé’s mouth hangs open in shock at your words, head whipping to face you with a hearty laugh, “That’s what I was going to say!”
The look of shock that spreads across your face amuses him, staring at you expectantly for a few moments before you too erupt into laughter, shoulders shaking in surprise as the two of you cling to each other for support, with Shoyo nearly falling off the couch with how hard he cackles.
He clings onto your shoulder to stop himself from tumbling, which in turn causes you to laugh harder as you try to pull him back up as Shoyo calls out for you to ‘save him’.
“Baby, I’m falling!” Shoyo shrieks while howling with laughter, “Grab my hand!”
“You’re already grabbing my hand, Sho!”
Cameras stationed around your living room pan to zoom in on Shoyo’s joyful face when he fools around with you, the grip he still holds on your hand as clear as day as you jokingly attempt to rescue his bumbling self.
The out of frame reporter looks to the two of you happily, the fact that you both seem so absorbed in each other and have forgotten about the interview portion of the broadcast is surprisingly heartwarming for both the crew and the viewers watching the broadcast.
Once the two of you manage to calm down, you shyly look back to the NHK crew with a timid smile.
“Sorry,” you apologize to your interviewer, coughing as you try to hold back another bout of laughter when you catch Shoyo smiling at you again, attempting to contain his giggles. “We got a little- uhm, carried away.”
“It’s no problem,” the reporter chuckles, “I can see the two of you are very much in love, so is that the advice you wish to tell our viewers on how your relationship with each other is so healthy?”
You and Shoyo nod simultaneously, “Yeah, don’t you ever forget your partner’s anniversaries!!” Shoyo sternly but playfully warns the viewers, “I’m serious, guys! Anniversaries are important!”
“What anniversaries should our viewers be aware of when it comes to their lovers?”
This time you speak up, “Well, the major and most well known ones of course,” you begin, listing off the ones you can recall at the moment.
“For example; first month together, first year spent as a couple, birthdays could also count I suppose—”
“Did you know I proposed to her on our fifth anniversary?” Shoyo interrupts excitedly, the same happy and bright smile on his face shining when he proudly pulls up his hand to show off the ring on his finger, “I was so caught up in the moment, I forgot to put the ring on her finger after she accepted!”
Recalling that memory brings warmth to your cheeks, “Yeah, he literally forgot about the ring in the box until I asked him about it later.”
“But in any case,” you circle back to original topic at hand, noticing the way Shoyo’s smile dampens a little when you switch back so quickly as you shoot him an apologetic smile, you don’t want to waste the reporter’s and NHK crew’s time any longer.
“Don’t forget your anniversaries, people! They’re a big deal for a ton of lovers!”
“Th-that’s right!” Shoyo piggybacks off your response, “And if you do forget, you better apologize a lot!”
The reporter nods, turning their attention to your fiancé. “And do you have any final thoughts for our viewers on how you maintain a healthy relationship with your fiancée, Mr. Hinata?”
Shoyo smiles deviously at the open ended question he’s been dying to answer this whole time; his hand creeping teasingly up your thigh to the small of your back as he leans in real close to you with a knowing wink, the flushed expression displayed on your face at his actions encourages him even more to continue.
His eyes glint with amusement, the mischievous grin on his lips is firm even in front of several strangers and cameras rolling in real time, footage of his behaviour being broadcasted to the entirety of Japan this very second.
And without shame or guilt, Shoyo smirks.
“Make your anniversary nights real special for her, trust me on that one.”
reblogs are appreciated .ᐟ ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა
© property of shoyostar / thomae 2023. all rights reserved.
#hinata x reader#shoyo hinata#shoyo hinata x reader#shoyo fluff#hinata fluff#atsumu x reader#atsumu fluff#suna x reader#suna fluff#ushijima x reader#ushijima fluff#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu scenarios#haikyuu imagines#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu!!#haikyuu#atsumu miya#suna rintaro#ushijima wakatoshi#haikyuu fic#haikyu fluff#haikyuu x y/n#haikyuu x you#haikyuu x imagines#haikyuu x self insert#haikyuu headcanons#haikyu x reader#‧₊˚⋅ ࣪ ִֶָ☾. — constellations .ᐟ
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I need more of loser suna or any other hq character pleasee ur writing is amazing😩❤️
Loser! atsumu who is secretly a pervert :(( He stares under your skirts in class when you bend down to pick something up and gets hard at the sight. He thinks about pinning you against a wall and fucking you until the only word you know is his name. So when you tutor him after school, he can’t help but keep looking at the valley of your breasts, imagining his cock between it. And he gets hard and he’s so so embarrassed about it and when you point it out, you yell at him telling him how ‘You’re a fucking pervert, you nasty fuck.’ ‘You’re so fucking pathetic.’ And he remembers those words because later on he fists his cock to the thought of it.
Loser! bokuto who is not really a loser but people call him that cause he’s such a himbo. He’s such an airhead so it’s so easy to just use him :(( He thinks you’re with him because he’s actually a pretty decent guy but you’re only with him because the sex is so fucking good. He babbles into your neck as his cock fucks into your pussy. Moaning into your cunt as he eats you out like it’s his last meal, and he always ends up cumming in his pants :\\ And it’s like he’s a little puppy, always following you around not letting you go anywhere by yourself. And when you try to break up multiple times with him, he’s on the brink of crying but then he tries to make it up to you by having the most toe curling sex. Whining and crying for you not to leave him, babbling on about how he needs you.
Loser! kuroo who is such a huge virgin. He’s pretty sure everyone knew that. He’s the nerd of campus and everyone comes to him for help so their work or they just either bribe him with something so he can do it all. Kuroo knew who you were, you were the girl everyone wanted around campus. He will admit, you were so fucking pretty, so when you come up to him, the most known girl in campus asking him to help you with a project and in return you’ll take his virginity, he doesn’t decline it. Even though he would’ve done it for you anyways. And when the time does come, he cums alot and he can’t stop whining when you bounce up and down on his cock. Calling him such mean, degrading, names which has his cock bucking into your pussy.
#the pathetic trio !#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu smut#bokuto kotaro smut#bokuto smut#bokuto kotaro x reader#bokuto x reader#kuroo testuro smut#kuroo smut#kuroo x reader#kuroo testsuro x reader#atsumu miya smut#atsumu miya x reader#atsumu x reader#atsumu smut#hq x reader#hq x self insert#hq smut#haikyuu blurbs#haikyu x reader#haikyu smut
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Praise (Atsumu x reader one shot)
Summary: Atsumu won’t stop complimenting you, always telling you how beautiful you are. You think he’s full of crap.
Pairing: Miya Atsumu x reader
Word Count: 1,829
Warnings: Fluff, Suggestive language, swearing
A/N: Okay, first Atsumu one shot, finally. Hopefully yall like it!
Your short huffs and the click, click, click of your heels were the only sounds on the concrete of the parking lot as you made your way to your car. The night air was particularly still today, causing you to build up a sweat within minutes of being outside. You fumbled with your tiny purse to pull out your keys, settling into the driver’s seat before sighing and letting your shoulders slump. You closed your eyes and leaned your head back against the seat, feeling your lips turn into a frown.
This did not go how you thought it would.
Your date was nice enough. He was kind and asked all the right questions. He hummed in all the right places and told you enough about himself and his life to get you intrigued. You were feeling very happy with how the night was progressing. You were sure, positive, that there would be a second date. How could there not? You both were vibing like crazy.
It seems you had completely misread him though.
Right outside the restaurant, just as you were about to suggest you two go for a little walk and continue talking, he had raised a sheepish hand to rub the back of his neck, apologizing that you just weren’t his type. He thought he was being subtle when he looked you up and down as he said it, but you knew what he meant immediately.
He didn’t find you attractive.
If this had been a few years ago, you would’ve been crushed at the thought. But you were no longer the timid girl from high school anymore. You were a grown woman with a good career. Things like this didn’t faze you much now. You were more annoyed than anything else at having wasted your one free night on something like this. Dating wasn’t something you were particularly interested in at this point in your life, not when you had finally started settling in at your job. And the thought that tomorrow at work a certain blond setter would ride your ass until you told him how the date went made you scowl even harder.
Sometimes you wondered if Atsumu had ever heard the word ‘professionalism’ in his life. He sure as hell didn’t show it. Especially when it came to you.
You had joined MSBY as their brand new manager seven months ago. You had been slightly timid at first, and way in over your head, having to manage a V1 Volleyball team right off the bat. Combine that with how hyper some of the members could be, and you had the perfect recipe for chaos. At that time, you hadn’t anticipated that these boys would become some of your closest friends. And you couldn’t have ever dreamed that Miya Atsumu of all people would be the one you’re most fond of.
Atsumu loved to claim that you had caught his eye as soon as he saw you, boasting that he had seen your potential and that you would be sticking with them for a long time. He had been right, of course. MSBY was notorious for going through managers like they were candy. No one stuck around after the first month. Except you, and Atsumu liked to think it was because of him.
True to his nature, he had flirted with you endlessly since you joined the team. If it wasn’t corny one-liners that showed you just how much of a dork he was, it was stupid and sleazy innuendos that made Sakusa groan and glare at him in distaste every time. Nothing deterred Atsumu though. He was hell bent on reminding you that you were the ‘prettiest manager we ever had’. And he thinks it’s because he made you feel so welcome (his words not yours), that you had stuck around for so long.
You didn’t have the heart to tell him that his incessant flirting had actually made things much more difficult for a while.
It was Atsumu who had hyped up the prospect of you going on a date. He had ranted and raved that your date was a ‘lucky son of a bitch’ and how you would blow him away the minute he saw you. He had gone on and on until you were red in the face and scolding him to stop and get back on the court to practice.
You blamed him for your current predicament actually. No matter how much you ignored him or shot him down, his constant compliments had gotten to you. How could they not? You were still human, and Atsumu was, by your own admission, an attractive guy. Him telling you that you look beautiful more or less every day had given you this false confidence in yourself and that’s why you had agreed to go on a date in the first place.
(You knew your reasoning was a stretch. But blaming Atsumu felt good so you went with it.)
Your phone pinged, shaking you from your thoughts. You narrowed your eyes at the phone screen. Speak of the devil.
Miya: How’s it goin’? Ya gettin laid tonite? ;)
You rolled your eyes at the text. Thumbs typing a reply quickly.
You: Make me something to eat. Preferably ramen.
Miya: Aw no :( That bad?
You didn’t reply, putting the car in gear and heading over to your new destination.
……………………………..
A steaming bowl of beef noodles waited for you at the Miya residence, which you slurped down even though you had dinner not even an hour ago. Atsumu puttered around in the kitchen behind you as you half-focused on whatever volleyball game he was going through on the TV. You had hiked your dress up to your hips, Atsumu’s gray sweatpants covering your legs. Your hair was pulled into a messy knot on top of your head to keep it off your sweaty neck.
He finally sat down next to you with his own bowl, and the sounds of slurping and gulping overtook the thumps and cheers coming from the screen in front of you. For a minute, you two basked in the silence.
“So what happened?” He asked with a full mouth, voice slightly muffled. His eyes were still focused on the screen before him.
You sighed and chewed. “He said I wasn’t his type.”
Atsumu rolled his eyes at that and made a face. “‘Course yer not. Yer way too much for him ta handle.”
You gave him an offended look. “Huh?”
Atsumu nodded. “I mean, look at ya.” He gestured vaguely with his chopsticks. “And in that dress? Phew.”
You rolled your eyes. “You always do this, Miya. You always say all this mushy crap. This is all your fault.”
That made him pause, wide brown eyes looking at you. “Ha? How is it ma fault? What did I do?”
You glared down at your bowl as you thought of your next words. “You always talk about how beautiful I am,” you cringed. “Saying all these things to make me feel confident. Then I talk to an actual guy and realize you had built me up for nothing.”
Silence filled the space between you two as you stuffed another generous helping of noodles into your mouth, glaring at the TV and trying to ignore Atsumu’s stare on the side of your head as he set his bowl down on the coffee table.
“Okay, first of all, what do ya mean by ‘actual guy’?” He pouted in indignation, crossing his arms. You nearly snorted at the image. “Second, I never lied to ya! Not once! Well-” he stopped abruptly and pursed his lips in thought. “That dress ya wore for Bokuto’s birthday last month was fuckin’ hideous but-”
“Hey!”
“But that’s the dress’s fault, not yers!” He finished loudly. “I mean, ya still looked fuckin’ gorgeous-”
“Stop-” You held a hand up, placing your bowl next to Atsumu’s before frowning at him. “That’s what I’m talking about. Why do you keep doing that?”
He let out a frustrated huff. “Ya think I’m lyin’? Ya think yer not pretty?”
You shrugged. “I mean, I’m okay.”
Atsumu was already shaking his head at you, still scowling, his arms crossed. You trailed off and stared at him. It felt like you were being scolded like a child.
“I wouldn’ lie to ya, Y/N.” He said quietly. “Ya gotta be one of the prettiest girls I’ve ever seen. Like for real.” He ruffled his hair a bit, sighing. “That jerk made ya get all insecure ‘bout yerself. I gotta fix this.”
You could feel your neck heat up at his words, looking back at the TV when the sight of him became too much. This is exactly what annoyed you about Atsumu. He was too blasé about saying this stuff. He came off as so intimate at times, his words crossed so many boundaries. He didn’t even realize how much you were affected by his bold remarks, especially when he was sitting right there before you, in a black tee that stretched just right over his chest, and shorts that showed off his gorgeous thighs-
You closed your eyes and breathed deep and thinking about his words. How the hell was he going to “fix” this?
You nearly yelped out loud when you felt something soft make contact with your lips, eyes popping open to comprehend that Atsumu, your annoying, volleyball-playing, smirking, rowdy, smoking hot coworker was kissing you, placing a hand behind your head so you wouldn’t pull away, moving his lips over yours so deliciously it made your breath stutter and your eyelids flutter shut, until you were giving in and kissing him back. Your heart was beating a mile a minute, feeling yourself melt when Atsumu thumbed at the corner of your jaw, tilting your head so his mouth fit against you better. Your hands remained frozen in your lap, unable to move in case it broke the spell over you two. You let him guide the kiss, reveling in how soft his lips felt and how good he smelled so up close.
It felt like it was over too soon when you separated with a last, loud smooching sound that made your cheeks flush. Your breaths mingled, Atsumu not pulling away more than a few inches. You looked into his wide brown eyes, saw how his pupils dilated, the red that was creeping up from his neck to his ears.
“Ya believe me now?” He muttered, staring directly at your lips with a look so heated that it made your insides squirm. You hummed.
“I think,” you sighed. “I think I’m going to need a lot more convincing.”
He smirked at that, a teasing glint entering his eyes as his lips met yours again, harder this time, more sure, pushing forward until you were falling back into the plush cushion beneath you and his massive frame was hovering over you, the sounds of the TV completely ignored in the background.
…………………………….
Let me know what you think! Request are open x
#haikyuu#haikyuu fanfiction#miya atsumu x reader#miya atsumu one shot#atsumu x reader#miya atsumu fanfiction#miya atsumu fic#miya atsumu imagine#miya atsumu fluff#atsumu one shot#haikyuu one shot#haikyuu reader insert#reader insert#haikyuu x reader
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𝐇𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐑𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ✯ 𝐀.𝐌𝐢𝐲𝐚
"𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙣 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙗𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙪𝙨 𝙖𝙨 𝙢𝙪𝙘𝙝 𝙖𝙨 𝙞𝙩 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙠 𝙪𝙨."
PAIRING. Ex-Husband!Miya Atsumu x f!Reader
CONTENT. Angst!!, Sexual Content, Vaginal sex, Protected sex, Adultery, swearing, oral sex (f. receiving), usage of the nickname ‘Baby’, nickname, Vanilla,
Y/N grapples with an anguishing cycle of reuniting and parting ways with her ex-husband, Atsumu. Despite divorcing and attempting to move on, their magnetic pull keeps drawing them back into each other's arms. Y/N's struggle to break free from this toxic pattern intensifies until she faces a gut-wrenching truth: the cycle may never end.
WC. 4.9k
A/N. Inspired by Lorelai and Christopher from Gilmore Girls. One scene inspired by Little Women. Changed my theme. Haven't written a smut in a hot minute, hope you enjoyed. Not proofread
WARNING. Minors DNI
The golden rays of the morning sun filter through the sheer curtains, casting a warm glow across your bedroom. As you stretch and yawn, a tinge of anticipation tingles within you. It's a new beginning, a fresh chapter, a chance to finally leave behind the turbulent past that has held you captive for far too long. But as much as you try to convince yourself that today is different, a persistent whisper of doubt lingers at the edges of your thoughts.
The scent of freshly bloomed roses filled the air as you opened a window to greet the sun. Your heart, however, was anything but calm. The wedding was mere days away, and doubts gnawed at your thoughts like a persistent whisper. The man by your side, gentle and understanding, seemed to be the epitome of everything you ever wanted. But why did your heart continue to waver?
As you looked at his smiling face on your phone, you couldn't help but recall the tumultuous journey that brought you here. Atsumu, your ex-husband, still lingered in the corners of your mind. The father of your child and the keeper of countless memories, he was a force you thought you'd escaped. Yet, like the tides that return to the shore, he kept coming back into your life.
The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over everything around you. Your thoughts wandered, tracing back to those moments with Atsumu. The magnetic pull between you two was undeniable, even after the bitterness of divorce. The way his lips touched yours, as if every kiss was a bittersweet promise of what once was. It was a dance you couldn't escape, no matter how hard you tried.
But you swore to yourself that you would not fall back into his arms. The cycle had to end. The pattern of coming together and then falling apart was a poison that had seeped into your veins for far too long. You had a new chance at happiness, a fresh beginning with a man who adored you. You had a child to think of, to protect from the storm of your past mistakes.
Despite your best intentions, the pattern persisted—new men would come into your life, each one kind, attentive, and eager to show you the love you deserved. They would sweep you off your feet with their affection, their promises of a brighter future, and their genuine efforts to mend the pieces of your wounded heart. You would let yourself believe, if only for a moment, that this time it could be different.
But the echo of Atsumu's touch lingered in your memory, and each time you gave in to the lure of someone new, you found yourself inevitably drawn back into his orbit. It was a dance of desire and despair, a tug-of-war between your longing for what once was and your determination to move forward.
No matter who or what, heated passionate nights were spent with Atsumu. In those moments, it felt like you were defying the past, proving that you were capable of experiencing love and intimacy once again. But as dawn broke, reality would seep in, leaving you alone in the tangled sheets, the remnants of a whispered promise hanging in the air.
Morning after morning, you would awaken to find his side of the bed vacant, a hollow emptiness that mirrored the recurring ache in your heart. He had a way of slipping away without a trace, leaving you with unanswered questions and a sense of abandonment that cut deep. It was as if he was a mirage, a figment of your imagination, haunting you until the next time he would reappear.
The aftermath of those stolen nights left you raw and vulnerable. It was a cycle you couldn't escape, a cycle that played out like a broken record, each refrain a reminder of your unhealed wounds. You would retreat into yourself, nursing your heartache, vowing that this would be the last time. But when he inevitably reappeared, all your resolve would crumble in the face of his familiar presence.
The constant push and pull between you two had become a toxic addiction, one you knew you needed to break free from. You had tasted the sweetness of a new beginning, felt the warmth of someone else's arms around you, but the pull of your shared history was an anchor you couldn't seem to release. It was as if the gravity of your past was too strong to resist, and no matter how hard you tried, you found yourself falling back into the same patterns
The divorce came with its fair share of heartache and tears, but you shared something that could never truly be severed – your daughter. The piece of your love that remained intact, a beacon of hope that someday you both could find happiness beyond the wreckage of your marriage.
But as the years passed, you found yourself caught in a web of emotions that you couldn't escape. Every attempt to move on ultimately led you back to Atsumu. It was as if a magnetic force drew you together, your bodies intertwining with a familiarity that bordered on painful. The pull was stronger than your will, a constant battle between your heart and your mind.
Then, when you least expected it, another man entered your life. His name was Futakuchi Kenji, and he brought with him a sense of joy and stability that you had been craving for years. His love was patient, his laughter infectious, and his presence brought a sense of calm to the chaos within you. With him, you thought you had finally found the solace you needed, a love that could mend the broken pieces of your heart.
Yet, the excitement that had once consumed you was now mingled with uncertainty. The dress fits perfectly, the flowers are exquisite, but an invisible cloud hangs over you. Are you truly ready to say goodbye to the echoes of yesterday, to the tumultuous love that has both lifted you and shattered you?
You stand before the mirror, your reflection a mixture of hope and apprehension. Your fingers brush over the delicate lace of your dress, and you wonder if you're making the right choice. Your daughter’s laughter echoes in your ears, a reminder of the little girl who deserves a happy family. You close your eyes, willing yourself to find the strength to move forward, to embrace the happiness that is within reach.
You had fought against the tide of doubt and uncertainty, working to convince yourself that this new beginning was what you truly desired. The doubts had quieted, your heart finding solace in the tender moments you shared with your soon-to-be husband. Yet, the memories of Atsumu remained, woven into the fabric of your history like an indelible thread.
It was on a night when the stars were hidden behind a blanket of clouds that you heard a soft knock on your door. The hour was late, the world outside enveloped in a gentle darkness. Your heart quickened as you approached the door, your senses tingling with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.
As the door swung open, there he stood. Atsumu. His silhouette was framed by the faint glow of streetlights, his gaze meeting yours with a mix of vulnerability and longing. Time seemed to stretch, the years between you collapsing into a single heartbeat.
"Atsumu," you breathed, your voice betraying a surge of emotions you had worked so hard to bury.
His lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but no words came forth. Instead, he took a hesitant step closer, the tension between you palpable in the air.
"I... I needed to see you," he finally managed to say, his voice a mere whisper that carried the weight of years of history.
Your heart raced, conflicted emotions swirling within you. The memories of passion and pain warred within your mind, a reminder of the intricate dance you had shared with him. You opened your mouth to speak, to demand an explanation for his sudden appearance, but the words caught in your throat.
He seemed to sense the turmoil within you, his gaze growing more intense as if he were trying to read the very depths of your soul. The silence between you was a canvas upon which all the unsaid words of your past could be painted.
"I know I've hurt you," he finally said, his voice trembling. "I know I've left you alone, time and time again. But I couldn't stay away any longer."
The vulnerability in his eyes struck a chord within you, resonating with the parts of your heart that had never fully let go. You felt the walls you had built over the years begin to crack, the defenses you had erected threatening to crumble.
"You can't keep doing this, Atsumu," you whispered, your voice laden with a mixture of longing and resignation. "We've been down this road before. It's not fair to me, to us."
He nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving yours. "I'm not asking for forgiveness. I just... I needed you to know that I've regretted everything. The pain I've caused you, the choices I've made. And now, seeing you on the brink of a new chapter, it's like a knife twisting in my chest."
Tears welled in your eyes as you looked at him, torn between the memories that tied you together and the desire to finally break free from the cycle of heartache. The weight of his presence was overwhelming, a reminder of the past that had never truly let go.
"I can't keep living in the shadow of our history," you said, your voice wavering with emotion. "I deserve a chance at happiness, Atsumu.
He took a step closer, his hand reaching out as if to touch your cheek, but he stopped himself before making contact. The distance between you felt both vast and minuscule, a reflection of the complex emotions that had defined your relationship.
The world outside was still and quiet, as if it, too, was holding its breath, waiting for the next chapter of your story to unfold. The weight of your shared history, the moments of passion and pain, seemed to hang in the air like an unspoken secret.
And then, as if the universe itself had conspired to intervene, the words slipped from Atsumu's lips, a fragile plea that shattered the fragile equilibrium you had forged.
"Don't marry him," he said, his voice a hushed whisper that reverberated through the room, carrying with it a mixture of desperation and sincerity.
You pulled away slightly, your gaze meeting his, the raw vulnerability in his eyes cutting through the layers you had built around your heart. The words hung in the air, a delicate thread connecting you both, threatening to unravel the careful tapestry of your new beginning.
"Why?" you questioned, your voice barely more than a breath as you sought to understand the depths of his plea.
His eyes bore into yours, a storm of conflicting emotions brewing within them. "You know why."
The answer lay in the unspoken truths that had always lingered between you, the wounds that had never fully healed. But facing those truths meant confronting the painful memories and the reasons you had let go in the first place.
"No, no, stop it," you said, your voice shaking as you fought against the pull of his words. "Atsumu, you're being mean. Stop it, stop it."
His gaze held yours, unrelenting and intense. "I'm not trying to be mean, Y/N. I'm trying to be honest. For once."
His words struck a chord deep within you, resonating with the fears and uncertainties you had been grappling with. It was as if he had stripped away the layers of pretense, laying bare the complicated emotions that had always been at the core of your connection.
Tears welled in your eyes as you looked at him, your heart a tangled mess of conflicting desires. The years of pain and longing had etched themselves onto your soul, and Atsumu's presence brought them all rushing back to the surface.
"You can't just appear like this and disrupt everything," you said, your voice trembling with a mixture of anger and sadness. "You can't ask me to question everything I've built."
His expression softened, the intensity in his gaze giving way to a tenderness that mirrored the Atsumu you had once known. "I'm not asking you to question everything. I'm asking you to question whether you're truly happy, whether this is what you want."
The words seemed to hang in the air, a suspended moment pregnant with the weight of your decisions. The room was a cocoon, shielding you both from the outside world, as if time itself had frozen, allowing you to confront the emotions that had been bubbling beneath the surface for years.
You looked at him, your eyes tracing the contours of his face—the familiar lines, the small imperfections, the memories etched into his features. His gaze held yours, patient and understanding, as if he recognized the turmoil within you and was willing to bear the weight of it alongside you.
"I don't even know anymore," you admitted, your voice a fragile thread woven from a tapestry of doubts and longings. "I thought I did, but now... everything feels muddled all because you're still here, Atsumu. But i've made my choice"
Atsumu's gaze was unwavering, his eyes a canvas that painted a portrait of his longing and regret. In that moment, you saw the depths of his soul laid bare, the vulnerability he had always hidden beneath a façade of bravado. The years seemed to melt away, leaving only the two of you suspended in a timeless embrace.
As you met his gaze, a mixture of uncertainty and desire swirled within you. The memories of the past were like a tide, pulling you back into a dance you had known too well. But this moment was different—it was a crossroads, a pivotal point that could lead to either heartache or redemption.
His hand reached out, his fingers brushing against yours, a touch that sent a shiver through your entire being. Slowly, his thumb traced a path along your skin, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. His touch was a whisper, a wordless declaration of the emotions that flowed between you.
And then, as if following an invisible script written by fate, Atsumu's lips met yours—a tender caress that held all the weight of years gone by. The kiss was a delicate dance, a symphony of past and present, a melody that spoke of pain and longing, hope and redemption.
His lips were a promise, a promise of a love that had never truly left, a love that had always been woven into the fabric of your existence. The kiss was a testament to the unspoken words that had always lingered between you, the emotions that had been too complex to articulate.
As his lips moved against yours, the sensations were both familiar and new, a reminder of the passion that had once consumed you both. It was a kiss that spoke of unspoken apologies and silent forgiveness, a kiss that held the weight of all the times you had come close and then pulled away.
In that moment, you felt a rush of emotions—the ache of the past, the uncertainty of the present, and the possibility of a future rewritten. The kiss was a bridge, connecting all the fragments of your shared history, reminding you of the love that had been both your salvation and your downfall.
As the kiss deepened, the world around you seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the sensation of Atsumu's lips against yours, the heat of his touch searing into your very soul.
When the kiss finally broke, you were left breathless, your heart pounding in your chest like a captive bird. Atsumu's gaze held yours, a mixture of vulnerability and hope shining within them. It was a gaze that laid bare his heart, his desires, and his willingness to confront the demons of your shared history.
The silence that followed was a canvas upon which all the unspoken words of the years could be painted. The room was pregnant with possibility, a testament to the choices that lay ahead. And as you looked at Atsumu, the man who had once held your heart, you realized that this moment was a turning point—a point where the past and the future converged, where old wounds could finally find their healing.
With a soft exhale, you closed the distance between you, your lips meeting his once again.
How can you resist him, when he makes you feel so good? When he’s giving you butterflies?
How can you resist him, when he’s kissing you like you and him are the only people in the world right now.
How can you resist him, when he always knows your sweet spots? When he always knows how to make you moan his name?
How can you resist him, when you’re still always drawing back to him?
Atsumu let out a soft groan, he pushed his hands up your shirt. But before he continued he asked., “Where’s our daughter?”
“She's at my mom’s house.” You looked up at him. He forms a big jerk smile on his lips as he continues his actions. He smashed his lips onto you as he moved up the stairs, pressing kisses along your exposed neck and shoulders. He opened the door and rested you on the bed. This has become such a cycle that he didn't even need directions to the master bedroom. He leaned down to turn on the lights and threw off his jacket. You kicked off your slippers and got on your knees to crawl to the edge of the bed.
You reached for the hem of his black shirt and pulled it up, “Your body still hasn't changed.” You said, staring at the familiar body you always seemed to end up under.
He kissed you again, now rushed and sloppy, gripping the skin of your ass. He laid you back down on the bed, hovering over you. He let go slowly biting your swollen lips before he kissed down your neck, sucking and leaving bruises along your collarbone and the top of your chest. He reveled in the soft moans he managed to get out of you, sounding so angelic.
He lifted your nightgown off you leaving you with only your panties, staring at your bare chest. He brushed over your nipple with the pads of his thumb, squeezing it before putting it in his mouth, sucking and licking on it while his hand groped the other one. you squirmed around letting out soft moans of pleasure.
"You always liked getting your tits played with," he smirked. You bite your lips and nod your head. Of course he knew, he knew everything about you.
Through your panties, he pressed his thumb on your clit drawing out small whimpers from you. He moved his fingers down your clothed slit, cocky smirk on his face “Baby you are soaked." he chuckled. "Tsumu please." you whimpered. "Please what? tell me what you want" he continued rubbing you through your panties. "Please make me feel good." you whispered, embarrassed. He hooked his fingers through the lace, pulling it down and throwing it on the bedroom floor.
He got down between your legs, throwing your legs over his shoulders. Lining kisses down your thigh and stopping just before your entrance, sucking on your thighs leaving marks. He always loved to leave bite marks. He looked up at you.
“Let me make you feel good, to remind you that no man knows your body like I do.” He moved his head back down and started sucking and licking your clit like he hadn't eaten in days, he was sloppy with it.
Noises filled the air and you felt dirty. You wanted to feel bad for fucking your ex husband days before your wedding yet the only thing on your mind was Atsumu.
“Atsumu!” you cried out, closing your eyes and gripping on his blonde hair. “Look at me baby, please" he said, stopping his action. You followed his instructions but the eye contact and the stimulation was sending you over the edge.
"fuck Tsumu im so close!" you whined. He just continued working his tongue over you while you pulled on his platinum blonde hair. You felt the familiar sensation in your lower body.
Atsumu licked up every last drop from your cunt. "You ready for more baby?" he asked, pushing his middle and ring finger past your folds, reaching further than yours ever could. "S-so good" you said trying to push the words out of yourself. He curled them inside you, rubbing against your walls, hitting the perfect spots inside you.
He leaned down and kissed you, tongue immediately in your mouth. “I think you're prepared enough.” he eased his boxers down off his hips and dick sprung out from the waistband. He got off the bed to grab and get his pants. Atsumu fumbled with the pocket, rushing to grab his wallet, in it was a picture of your daughter and you. He got out a condom packet and went back to his previous action.
He ripped the wrapper open and pushed the condom down his length and hovered on top of you, your arms finding their place around his neck bringing him closer. “Atsumu.” He lined his tip up with your hole and gently pushed himself inside you. He was stretching you out so good, the pain mixed with the pleasure was driving you crazy. This was the familiar feeling, the one your body knew all too well.
He was taking his time but you needed more, he knew that. He spread your legs further, pushing himself deeper inside you. He moved at a faster pace, hands squeezing tightly around your hips. "God y/n your body feels so good" he whimpered. His dick hit your g spot so right you weren't sure how much longer you would last. when he put his hand on your tit, squeezing and tugging at your nipple your chest arched into his hand.
he moved his thumb to your sensitive clit, rubbing slow circles over it, making you jump. "oh my god!" you wailed. "No one knows how to make you feel like this. No one can fuck you the way i do. No one knows your body the way I do." he said with a cocky grin on his face.
"Who do you belong to?" he asked, increasing the speed on your clit while he dug his hips into you. You could only whine and whimper in response. "Answer my question. I want to hear you" Your mind was clouded and all you could feel and think about was him.
"Atsumu fuck i'm gonna cum, i'm so fucking close.”
"Go ahead baby" was all he said and for the second time that time you came, face hot and chest heaving.
"I love you so much Y/N" he leaned down to kiss your forehead before he felt himself close too.
“I l-love you too Atsumu.” You weren't just saying this from the euphoria you were experiencing, you really meant it. No matter what man entered your life, he was always in the back of your head. He continued pumping inside you, until he whimpered and groaned, not breaking eye contact with you as he came too.
He flopped down in the bed next to you with a grin on his face. He reached a hand out to your cheek bringing you in for a gentle kiss. your legs entangled each other's and his arms wrapped around you bringing you closer as if to completely morph into you. "You okay?" he asked, rubbing a thumb over your cheek.
"yeah I'm okay" you smiled.
His embrace was a promise, a silent commitment that spoke volumes without a single word. As the hours melted away, you lay intertwined, the rhythmic rise and fall of your breaths creating a symphony of shared hopes. His warmth against your skin felt like a shield against the doubts that had haunted you for so long.
"Stay," you murmured against his chest, the words a whispered plea that hung in the air like a fragile confession. "Promise me you won't leave."
His fingers brushed against the back of your hair, his touch tender as he held you closer. "I won't leave, Y/N. I promise."
The words were a melody that echoed within your soul, a promise that resonated with the deepest corners of your heart. As the night deepened, you drifted into sleep cocooned in his arms, his steady heartbeat a lullaby that chased away the ghosts of your past.
The night had been a fragile dance of vulnerability and longing, a tapestry woven with shared confessions and whispered promises. In the cocoon of darkness, you found solace within each other's arms, holding onto the belief that this time could be different, that the echoes of the past could finally be silenced. As the room embraced the hushed murmurs of your hearts, you held Atsumu close, his presence a lifeline that seemed to anchor you to a future you both yearned for.
Morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow that painted the room in shades of dawn. You stirred, the remnants of dreams fading as you gradually returned to consciousness. But as your hand reached out, seeking the warmth of his embrace, you were met with emptiness—a void that seemed to echo with the hollowness in your chest.
Panic surged within you, and your eyes shot open, scanning the room for any trace of him. The sheets were rumpled, the indentation where he had slept a stark reminder of the promises that had been made.
Your heart raced as you sat up, the weight of disappointment settling over you like a heavy shroud. And then, your gaze fell upon a folded piece of paper on the nightstand. Your fingers trembled as you reached for it, unfolding the note with a mixture of dread and hope.
"I'm sorry," the note read, the words etched onto the page like a painful truth. "I wish things could be different, but I can't stay. It's better this way." The handwriting was a cruel testament to the fleeting nature of his presence in your life.
The room was a prison of memories, each corner echoing with the promises he had made, the moments you had shared. But those moments were like fragile glass, shattered by his absence and your own naivety. The room felt like it was closing in on you with each breath you took.
The pain was a vice around your heart, squeezing out every ounce of hope that had dared to take root. The cycle had not been broken—it had merely paused, and the emptiness left in its wake was a gaping wound that seemed to bleed into every crevice of your being.
With a heavy sigh, you crumpled the note in your trembling hands, a symbol of the shattered fragments of your heart. The room held the ghosts of a love that had always slipped through your grasp, a love that had only ever brought you pain.
Tears welled in your eyes, blurring the words before you. The promise, the vulnerability, the hope—it all seemed to crumble in the face of his absence. The room was a silent witness to your heartbreak, the walls seemingly closing in around you.
The echoes of his presence seemed to linger, mocking the moments you had shared, the words you had exchanged. The morning sun, once a symbol of hope, now seemed to cast a harsh light on the reality that he was gone.
As you sat there, the room an empty canvas of broken promises, you realized that the cycle was far from broken. The pain was as raw as it had ever been, and the ache in your heart was a testament to the futility of hoping for change.
With a heavy sigh, you folded the note and placed it back on the nightstand. The room held the remnants of your shared night, a night that had held the promise of a different future. But as the sun continued its ascent, you understood that promises were fragile, easily broken by the weight of history and the pull of old habits.
As you rose from the bed, the room seemed to echo with the echoes of your footsteps. The cycle had repeated itself once again, and all you were left with were memories of a night that had briefly held the allure of a new beginning.
Each step down the hallway was a testament to the weight of your heartache, a reminder that the cycle was an inescapable prison that had ensnared you both. The echoes of his absence followed you like a haunting melody, the anguished chorus of a story that had never been yours to control.
As you stepped out into the cold reality of a world that had once again robbed you of the happiness you so desperately craved, you carried with you the scars of a love that had always been a double-edged sword—a love that had promised salvation but had only ever delivered despair.
©Minarixx 2023 - please don't copy, repost or translate without my knowledge credit or permission.
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THE FIVE NONSENSES
[ SOULMATE!AU ]
Pairing: Miya Osamu x Fem!Reader x Miya Atsumu
Summary: Like most people, you do not meet the Miya twins so much as they are thrust upon you. Unlike most people, you are thrust upon them as well.
read on ao3 | read on quotev
CHAPTER THREE: SMELL
Word Count: 8,205 words
Warnings: Swearing
“Hey, you! Join the photography club!”
You narrowly dodge the flyer thrust in front of your face, knocking back into someone in the process. Flustered, you move in the opposite direction, only to knock shoulders with another student walking the other way. Both of your apologies get lost in the noise.
“Join the basketball team! Winter Cup finalists two years in a row!”
“Improve your focus in calligraphy club!”
“Join kyudo club!”
“Join marching band!”
With a small huff, you grab the strap of Osamu’s schoolbag and squeeze through the crowd. Osamu looks over his shoulder at you, and you meet his raised eyebrow with a grimace; not long after, a hand presses between your shoulder blades to usher you forward.
“Dammit,” Atsumu grumbles, digging his phone out of his pocket. “Where’s the volleyball club?”
“Hell if I know,” Osamu says. “Call Aran.”
“’S what I’m doin’, dumbass.” Punching a few buttons, the other boy presses his phone against his ear with visible impatience. “Aran!” Your cheeks burn with embarrassment as Atsumu’s voice carries high over the clamor surrounding you, causing several students to swivel their heads. “Where the hell’s the volleyball club? … Class 1-7? Seriously?”
Hanging up without so much as a thank-you, Atsumu quickens his stride down the congested hallway. Osamu follows suit, and you end up seizing the back of his blazer as the three of you head to Class 1-7, evading arms and signs and flyers the entire way.
Having visited the school before to watch Ojiro play, you had known that Inarizaki High School is big; navigating it as a student on the first day of school, however, is a whole different animal. You hadn’t realized it was this big. Or this crowded. After a year of being large fish in a small pond, you now find yourselves in an ocean.
At least you have the twins to rough it with.
(It should be noted that your thankfulness varies wildly from hour to hour.)
Near the entrance to Class 1-7, you spot Ojiro wielding a bright sign advertising the volleyball club. He easily stands head and shoulders above most of the other students, and the sight of a familiar face helps you relax – even though you’d just seen him at graduation a few weeks ago, he somehow looks older here, comfortable and self-assured in the raucous halls of Inarizaki.
“Yo! Aran!” Osamu and Atsumu call out, running up to the second-year. You, still holding onto Osamu’s blazer, are unceremoniously yanked along.
Ojiro perks up and grins widely when you all reach him, freeing one hand to bump fists with the twins. “’Bout time you guys showed up. Thought ya chickened out or somethin’,” he exclaims, then nods at you with a grin. “Good to see you here too, [L/n]-chan.”
You smile back. “Hi, Ojiro-senpai.”
(Of all the people the twins consider friends, which have always been rather scant in number, you like Ojiro Aran the best.)
“Chickened out?” Atsumu scoffs. “No way. You scrubs are gonna need us if ya wanna win nationals this year.”
A laugh bursts out of Ojiro’s chest. “Don’t ya think you’re gettin’ a little ahead of yerself?”
“Yeah, well, what’s new?” Osamu pipes up. He elbows his brother’s side, jabbing a thumb at the doorway when the latter chokes up and glares. “Hurry yer ass up, ‘Tsumu, we haven’t even signed up yet.”
You cough. Ojiro laughs again, leading the three of you into the classroom.
There’s a ton of students already inside when you enter. In one corner of the room is the girls’ volleyball club, and in the other is the boys’, though many are mingling and wandering around to chat. A few are upperclassmen wearing the Inarizaki volleyball team’s jacket – the rest, you assume, are first-years hoping for a chance to join.
It’s not surprising for a school that’s gone to the Spring Tournament almost thirty times. Most of these applicants will be benched for their entire high school career.
Following Ojiro to the desk for the boys’ volleyball club, you encounter the two people sitting behind it.
“Arata-senpai, Kobayashi-senpai,” Ojiro announces, clapping one hand on Osamu’s shoulder and the other on Atsumu’s, “got a package deal for ya.”
The first thing you notice about Arata is how tall he is when he’s sitting down. Then he slowly stands up, and your eyes widen as he keeps going and going, finally stopping about half a head taller than Ojiro.
Arata breathes in, vulpine eyes narrowing, before he slams his hands down on the desk with a loud thwap.
“If it ain’t the Miya twins!” he chirps, voice much peppier than expected, and you choke back a surprised laugh. “I watched yer match last year at nationals. You two think ya have what it takes to be part of a powerhouse?”
“Why talk big when we can just show ya, senpai?” Atsumu says, as if he hadn’t been gassing himself up to Ojiro moments before. He pulls out his signup sheet, already filled out in his usual large, messy print, and slides it over to the captain, leaning over the desk with one hand on his hip. “Got yers, ’Samu?”
“Yup.” Osamu slides his over as well, handwriting slightly neater.
Arata takes the sheets happily. Your gaze falls upon his hands by chance, and then it remains there, taking stock of the scribbles of purple and red decorating his skin.
Ojiro whistles. “Looks like yer soulmate’s havin’ fun with some gel pens,” he comments, pointing at Arata’s hands.
“Hm?” The other boy blinks and takes a moment to inspect the words curving below his knuckles. His brow furrows, and he squints before finally breaking out into a goofy smile. “Ah,” he says, and his voice takes on a distinctly fonder, dreamier tone, “guess they are. They’ve been practicin’ hiragana a lot lately. See? Pretty good, eh?” Arata stretches his hands out face-down, showing them off.
(You can barely read the characters.)
“Neat,” Atsumu says, though his tone has flattened just slightly.
“Right?” Arata doesn’t seem to notice. “We’re gonna finally see each other in person next summer after I graduate. They’re graduating high school this June in Spain …”
“He’s really excited,” Ojiro mutters to the three of you, “in case ya couldn’t tell.”
The volleyball captain’s cheeks turn an endearing shade of pink. “What’s wrong with that, huh, Ojiro? I’m gonna spend the rest of my life with them, so it’s a good sign I’m lookin’ forward to it.”
Next to you, Osamu shifts and shoves his hands into the pockets of his pants. You feel his elbow brush against your arm, bare skin separated by layers of fabric.
The rest of your life.
A strange feeling forms in the pit of your stomach. It’s the same kind you get whenever your parents ask about Osamu, and whenever you see couples wearing matching outfits at the mall – a feeling a little less than longing, and a little more than guilt. Like you ought to be doing more, saying more, expressing more. Feeling more.
You wonder what it is like to be Arata, infatuated, proudly flaunting the colors on his hands.
The girl sitting at the desk finally speaks up.
“I thought we were talkin’ about volleyball, not yer love life, Arata.”
Your gaze moves away from Arata’s wrists and onto the girl.
Still sitting, she and the captain paint a picture of a mouse and an elephant, her tiny form complemented by large, expressionless eyes and a small nose. The maroon jacket hanging off her shoulders looks one size too big.
And yet, when her gaze flicks over and meets yours, you’re overtaken by a sudden chill.
Scary.
Arata jumps and glances down at her. “O-Oh, right! Sorry, Kobayashi-chan, I guess I got carried away.”
“It’s fine.” Kobayashi continues to stare at you, and you start to feel slightly uncomfortable. “’S why I’m here.”
“Yeah!” Coughing, Arata rubs the back of his neck and turns his attention back to the twins. “Gettin’ back on track … if it isn’t obvious already, Kobayashi-chan is our manager. She’s real good. Real detailed.”
“But I’m also in my third year, which means we’re currently lookin’ for a new manager for next year,” Kobayashi supplies. “So if ya happen to know any first-years who’re qualified and willing to apply for the right reasons, please let me know.”
Your brow furrows at that.
“Whaddaya mean, ‘the right reasons’?” Osamu asks.
A sheepish laugh escapes Arata’s throat. “Well … the volleyball team’s pretty popular, so we get a lot of folks wantin’ to be manager just to get closer to the team and see if one of the members is their soulmate.” He sighs. “It’s not that I wanna keep any soulmates apart, but those kinds of applicants slow down the search, and obviously, we want a manager who actually wants to manage.”
Ah. Already, some of your peers already seem like they’re on a time crunch to find their person. Soulmates are getting to be a bigger and bigger deal as you get older, and with that comes certain expectations. It’s not hard to figure out why some would hope to have someone popular and athletic.
“Sorry, don’t know anybody like that,” Atsumu replies at the same time Ojiro says your name.
You look at your senior, surprised.
He directs a finger upwards. “Ya know volleyball pretty well,” he points out. “Wanna apply? You already manage the twins, after all.”
“Oi, what’s that s’posed to mean –”
Arata seems to finally notice you, eyebrows raising. “Oh! Sorry, didn’t see ya there,” he exclaims. “What’s yer name?”
Reluctantly, you step up next to Osamu and introduce yourself.
“[L/n]-chan. So ya know the twins?”
“I’ve lived on the same street as them since elementary school.”
“Really! Ya must know them well, then.”
“More than well,” says Kobayashi.
She points down at your hand. Arata follows her finger, and you resist the urge to curl your pinkie when his mouth drops.
“Oh, damn, you’re soulmates with – er, uh –”
Osamu and Atsumu just stand there, watching the captain flounder. After a few seconds, you reach up and tug Osamu’s earlobe sharply.
“Osamu,” you say, both as an answer and as a scolding, ignoring the muttered ‘ow’ coming from your right.
Clapping his hands, Arata nods. “You’re soulmates with Osamu-kun! Wow, that’s amazing. And you’ve been together since elementary school? He’d think and play better with you just bein’ there.”
You smile, embarrassed.
“That doesn’t make her the right candidate, Arata,” says Kobayashi. “Even if she really wants to manage the team, she might still prioritize Osamu-kun over everybody else. The last thing I want is a manager who picks favorites.”
She says it so bluntly, so seriously. Your smile weakens as her words hit a sore spot you didn’t know you even had.
There must be a good way to disagree. The two truths of the matter are that being a good manager would mean risking being a bad soulmate, and that being a good manager is a risk you can afford. Osamu isn’t the type of person who needs to be worried about. He gets scraped up, but he doesn’t mind it, and he knows his limits. If a player got hurt right as Osamu called you for something, you know you’d check on the other player first. Even if the other player was Atsumu. (Maybe.)
Osamu simply does not need you to take care of him. You don’t know how to express this without seeming like you don’t care as much as you should.
Atsumu cuts in before you can organize your thoughts into words.
“She wouldn’t,” he says, “unless it’s me. But ’Samu and I are soulmates, so we’re already at our best when we’re on the court.”
The upperclassmen before you tilt their heads simultaneously.
“… Wait,” Arata says after a while, slowly. “You’re tellin’ me that Osamu-kun has two soulmates?”
Osamu glances at you, eyes half-lidded, and you can only meet his eyes for a few seconds before you have to look at the ground.
“Guess I’m favored,” Osamu replies.
“Wow.” Huffing out a laugh, Arata crosses his arms. “Two soulmates … huh. I wonder how that works …” Kobayashi grunts and he clears his throat. “S-Sorry. Anyway, [L/n]-chan, if you’re interested in the manager position, just fill this out and give it to Kobayashi-chan. We’re taking applications until July first or until we find someone, whichever comes first.”
He hands you a sheet of paper, and you take it tentatively.
“My phone number’s at the top in case you have any questions,” Kobayashi adds. Her voice lowers, but its monotony remains. “And if ya end up applying, know that I won’t show any favoritism just because of yer soulmate.”
You take in a breath through your nose, fingers curling into the application in your hands. “Yeah, of course.”
She nods once, then leans back in her seat. The set of her mouth relaxes just slightly, and she crosses her arms, morphing from a cutthroat manager to a tired senpai.
“See ya after school. Good luck,” she says. Her eyes bore into yours. “To all of ya.”
There’s a moment of silent surprise between you, Osamu, and Atsumu. Then all three of you bow as Ojiro and Arata chuckle.
“Thank you!”
—
The twins, predictably, become one of three first-year regulars on Inarizaki’s boys’ volleyball team. You place your manager application in the top drawer of your desk, which you pull out frequently over the next three weeks just to stare at the blank form, unsure about the whole thing.
Saturday afternoon rolls around, and you’ve taken the paper out of your binder and set it on top of your desk at home when your phone buzzes.
Osamu: you home
You: yeah
Osamu: ok
And that’s it. You stare at your screen for a few seconds, unblinking, before you shoot up from your seat and scramble to your dresser to get changed.
Five minutes and a bit of haphazard cleaning later, there’s a few firm knocks on the front door, followed by incessant banging. You stalk over to open the door before it’s knocked off its hinges.
“I could hear you,” you tell Atsumu, unimpressed, as the two enter and shuck off their shoes.
“I know.”
He deftly dodges the kick you aim at his ankle. This usually happens nowadays, unfortunately, but it doesn’t stop you from trying.
“’S just you here?” Osamu asks, shuffling into some slippers and walking further into the house. His gym bag hangs from his shoulder, big and bulky, and you look at it curiously.
“… Yeah?”
“Fer someone left home alone all the time, you’re duller than a rock,” Atsumu says. “Folks’re gone and ya don’t even throw a party? Geez.”
You narrow your eyes as he grins. “Maybe I just want peace and quiet after havin’ to sit in class with you all week, Atsumu. Anyways, why are you guys here?”
You receive no answer. After eyeing the kitchen, Osamu turns and heads down the hallway, prompting you to follow. You’re further confused when he enters the bathroom and sets his bag on the countertop.
As he unzips it, Atsumu squeezes past you and reaches into the bag, pulling out a –
A shower cap.
“… Is the shower at yer place broken or something?”
“No,” Osamu says, and he pulls something else out. “Ma’s home.”
You stare at the box in his hands. Then you look back up at the twins.
“She’s gonna kill you.”
—
Watching Osamu and Atsumu bleach each other’s hair is like watching a train wreck in slow motion.
Their dark T-shirts have speckles of orange on them, there are bits of foil littering the sink and the bathroom floor, and the acrid stench of bleach filling the bathroom is starting to creep down the hallway. You can only hope it doesn’t linger past Sunday night when you go back to the dorms.
“If you screw this up, I’m shaving yer giant head in yer sleep.”
“I’m doin’ it better than you did, ya scrub!”
You stand outside, shirt collar pulled up and over your nose, as Atsumu finishes combing through the top part of Osamu’s hair. It’s an incredible thing to witness: Osamu sitting on the shower seat, hunched over and holding a sheet of foil over his undercut while Atsumu hangs over him, wearing one of the shower caps to keep his own hair out of the way. It’s also a disaster.
You lift your phone up to snap a quick picture.
“Oi! What’re ya doin’?”
“Making a present for Ojiro.” Upon viewing the photographic evidence, you realize something. “You’re not gonna tell Auntie that you dyed yer hair at my house, right?”
“Don’t worry about that,” Osamu assures, letting Atsumu hold onto the foil while he pulls on a shower cap. He sets a timer, and the two of them hurry out of the bathroom to escape the fumes. “She won’t be thinkin’ about the details when she finds out.”
“Like she’d ever blame ya, anyway.” Atsumu scoffs. “You’re the favorite and you ain’t even her kid.”
“Well, I don’t wanna take my chances.” You recall the countless number of times the twins had received a whooping for something stupid they did, and the countless number of times you had just barely managed to slip under the radar by keeping your mouth shut. “Y’know, she might make ya dye it black again if the school doesn’t like it.”
“Please. If anything, they’ll thank us fer givin’ them an easy way to tell us apart.”
“Is that why you’re dyein’ yer hair? You’re already in different classes.”
“It ain’t fer class,” Osamu says. “It’s fer volleyball.”
Atsumu presses his back against the wall and slides down to the floor, pulling up a game on his phone. “Some of the scrubs still can’t tell us apart on court,” he sniffs. “’M tired of it.”
That, you think, makes a lot more sense.
Osamu and Atsumu have always taken full advantage of being identical twins. You’ve seen them pull just about every stunt in the book – switching the way they part their hair on random days, pretending to be the other when one of them gets in trouble, making money off classmates who bet on knowing who’s who (and lying on more than one occasion). Looking alike isn’t usually a point of contention between them.
When it does bother them, volleyball is usually involved. They don’t always wear different shirts or numbered jerseys at practice, and you’ve been to enough of them to know that this can cause issues at the beginning of the year. The coach calls out the wrong name, a teammate calls for Osamu when they mean Atsumu, things like that.
They get especially miffed when one gets praised for something the other did. Atsumu, in particular, hates that the most.
“Ya have anythin’ to eat?”
Head snapping up, you look at Osamu and nod halfway through absorbing what he’s just asked. “There’s leftover onigiri in the fridge and snacks in the cupboard,” you reply, stepping over Atsumu’s outstretched legs to lead his brother towards the kitchen.
(“Heat up an onigiri fer me,” Atsumu calls out.)
(“Get it yerself, lazy-ass,” Osamu shoots back.)
In the kitchen, you fish out the last two onigiri the twins’ mom had given you yesterday and present them to Osamu.
“Here. You and Atsumu can each have one.”
“These the ones with salted salmon?”
You nod.
Osamu thinks for a moment. His lips purse, his eyelids droop, and even though he kind of looks like a lunch lady with that shower cap on, it’s cute.
“I’ll make ochazuke and yaki onigiri,” he decides. “What do ya want?”
“I’ll just have some chips or something. I just ate lunch, so I’m not that hungry.”
He stares at you, then accepts the onigiri from your hands. “Okay.”
Putting the rice balls on the counter next to the stove, Osamu retrieves a small plate, a bowl, and a mug from the cupboard. He finds most of everything else pretty quickly – the cast iron skillet under the oven, the spatula in the drawer right next to the fridge, and the soy sauce and oil in the lower corner cabinet. The only thing he asks for you to locate is the green tea, which you get from the depths of the second shelf in the pantry.
While he works, you grab a bag of your favorite chips and pop it open, leaning against the unused counter on the other side of the stove to watch.
You like it whenever Osamu cooks. The click of the stovetop turning on, the curve of oil being poured into the skillet, and you’re rocking gently in a small boat, curled up in an overstuffed chair on a rainy day.
(It’s an extension of how he feels, you’ve learned – for as much as Miya Osamu loves volleyball, he loves food just a teeny bit more.)
When the oil is hot enough, he unwraps one of the onigiri and places it in.
You turn the opening of your chip bag towards him as he wipes his hands on a towel. “Here,” you offer once he notices.
“Thanks.”
Atsumu’s onigiri sizzles in the skillet while the water for Osamu’s tea continues to heat up. Osamu mirrors your posture on his side of the stove, messily crunching down on several chips, and the two of you wait.
“Didja apply for the manager position yet?”
You swallow too early, rough shards of chips cutting down your throat. Fighting the urge to cough, you shake your head and reach for the water you’d left on the table this morning. “No. Still thinkin’ about it.” He hums. “You guys haven’t found one yet?”
“Kobayashi-senpai’s real picky.” He flips the onigiri over with one sharp push of the spatula, brushing soy sauce over the freshly grilled side. The water boiler beeps right after, and he seamlessly transitions over to pour the hot water over the teabag in his mug. “Most of the applicants we saw were annoyin’, anyway.”
“Oh.”
You recall the last practice you’d attended, watching from the balcony with your homework as the team ran laps around the court. The applicant on trial that day had watched them go by a few times, still and proper, before suddenly turning to Kobayashi and excusing themselves from the gym. They never came back.
On the walk back to the dorms that evening, Atsumu explained that the student had a counter for how many times their soulmate would pass by them.
(“Waste of time n’ space,” he’d complained. “Who’d wanna be with someone that desperate?”)
“Ya wouldn’t be half bad at it.”
“… Yeah …”
“If ya don’t wanna apply, just say so.”
“It’s not that. I just don’t know if I’ll wanna do it for the next three years.”
“Whaddaya want to do, then?”
“I dunno.” With a sigh, you set your bag of chips down. “I mean, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to apply.”
Osamu shrugs. “If ya are,” he says, turning off the stove top, “don’t do it just ’cause of me.”
Your teeth sink into your lower lip, sharp and knowing as he flips the yaki onigiri onto the plate he’d pulled out earlier.
After calling Atsumu, who had migrated to the living room couch while he had been waiting, the twins scarf down their afternoon snack in no time at all and raid your cupboard for the complimentary snacks your parents usually bring back from their trips.
Halfway into his fourth wafer, Atsumu’s timer goes off.
“Oh, shit.” Shoving the rest of the wafer into his mouth and silencing the alarm, Atsumu gets up and eagerly makes a beeline to the bathroom.
“… Do ya think it worked?” you mutter as you and Osamu stand up more slowly.
“I dunno.”
A loud swear explodes from the bathroom.
You look at each other sharply. Wiping the crumbs from your lips, the two of you run over to investigate.
As you get closer, you hear the sink running, then Atsumu muttering underneath his breath.
When you peek into the bathroom, your eyebrows shoot up into your hairline.
Holy shit.
“Holy shit,” Osamu says, leaning past you to get a better look. “’Tsumu, ya look like a carrot.”
“Shaddup, ’Samu,” Atsumu moans, rinsing his hair angrily. “I know. Fuck.”
Hair bleach on dark hair, as you find out, works similarly to hair bleach on dark fabric. Contrary to the sandy blond the older twin had desired, the result he had gotten is instead a bright, burnt yellow-orange matching the stains on his T-shirt. Not carrot, necessarily, but definitely not blond.
“Ugh.” Nose and forehead wrinkling, Atsumu leans toward the mirror, pinching a section of hair between his fingers. “It … it ain’t that bad, right?” His pitch rises with the slightest hint of denial. “I’m pullin’ it off.”
“It’s that bad,” Osamu says.
“’Samu!”
“Maybe you can bleach it again?” you suggest.
“And then his hair falls out? Bad idea.”
“Dye it, then, like you are.”
“We don’t have money left to buy a different color.” With a sigh, Osamu puts his hands on his hips. “Damn. Sorry, ’Tsumu.”
Atsumu groans and thunks his forehead against the mirror, dripping water all the way down its surface onto the counter. His frustration is so palpable that you can feel it prickling your skin.
If he hadn’t been so excited before, you’d probably poke fun. You should poke fun, but the disappointed twist of his lips and the droopiness of his sopping wet hair just makes you feel bad. He looks like a wet puppy.
Dammit.
You take your phone out.
Osamu tracks the movement. “Whatcha doin’?”
“Lookin’ something up.” You press on the first link you see, skim the webpage quickly, and put your phone back into your pocket. “I’m headin’ out fer a bit. Stay here.”
“… ’Kay.”
“Whatever,” Atsumu grumbles.
After grabbing your wallet and checking its contents, you head outside to drag your bike out from underneath the vacant carport. And as you hop onto the seat, pedaling down towards the nearest drugstore, you tell yourself that Atsumu better thank you on his hands and knees once you get back.
—
“Blue shampoo?” Atsumu’s tone is suspicious as he slathers the back of Osamu’s hair in grey dye.
“It’s supposed to cancel out the orange.” Turning the bottle to face you, you read the description beneath the brand name. “‘Eliminates brassy, orange undertones.’ See?”
“It ain’t gonna fuck up my hair even more?”
“’Course not,” you retort, all hopes of veneration quickly fading away. “I ain’t an asshole, Atsumu.”
His eyebrow twitches, hands slowing. You take the opportunity to place the bottle sideways in the crook of his neck, forcing him to tilt his head to hold it in place.
“Oi –”
“Go try it. I’ll finish Osamu’s hair.”
“Yer so bossy,” Atsumu grumbles, but he lets you nudge him out the way, peeling his gloves off and grabbing the shampoo.
You snap some gloves on in turn, keeping one eye on Osamu’s hair and the other on Atsumu as he ducks his head beneath the sink faucet. They’d pretty much finished up applying the dye for Osamu, at least from what you can tell, so you start combing through the locks with your fingers to make sure everything is covered.
Miya hair is very thick. Soft, too. You hope all this bleaching and dyeing won’t ruin it too much.
“Hm,” Osamu hums abruptly.
You stop. “What?”
“Nothin’.” You furrow your brow but resume, only to just barely hear him mumble, “… Feels nice.”
Oh.
A smile crawls onto your lips without warning, the space behind your ribcage suddenly cozy and soft.
“Alright, I’m doin’ it,” Atsumu announces. You look up just in time to see him squeeze a dollop of shampoo into his hand. “Euch! It’s so blue!”
“Why do ya sound so surprised?!”
“Shaddup, I just wasn’t expectin’ it to be so dark! … Smells okay, though …”
While the shampoo does its work on Atsumu’s hair, you take a little extra time combing Osamu’s. He remains quiet and still, thumbs tapping idly on the dark screen on his phone. You wait for him to make more snide remarks at Atsumu’s expense or complain about the smell of the dye, but he doesn’t.
You eventually finish up while the water still runs blue and sudsy into the bowl of the sink. Osamu mutters a thank you and ambles off after eyeing his brother for a few seconds. You linger for a while longer.
(God, you hope it works. If not for Atsumu’s sake, then for your pride and your wallet.)
After what seems like forever, he rinses out the last of the shampoo, wrings his hair out a bit, and straightens up to look in the mirror.
You examine his reflection as well. It’s less orange, yes, but still not as light as he had wanted, more gold than sand. Not necessarily good, but certainly less bad.
Atsumu fixates on the more muted shade of his hair for a minute or two. His lips press downwards at the corners, and then they part to say your name.
You blink.
“What?”
“Why’d ya buy the shampoo?”
He sounds almost accusatory, but not quite; there’s an undertone that you very, very rarely hear in his voice. He meets your eyes in the mirror, hair a dripping, tangled mess.
“… ’Cause I felt bad fer ya,” you admit unwillingly. Atsumu makes a face, and you sharpen your tongue, because that is what feels comfortable with him. Normal. “And I didn’t want to hear ya mopin’ and complainin’ about it all week.”
“It wasn’t that bad,” he persists. “I coulda pulled it off.”
You scoff. “Just ’cause you’re taller than most of the school doesn’t mean they wouldn’t’a noticed. And anyways, it’s better now, ain’t it?”
“I didn’t ask ya to buy it.”
“Ya didn’t even know what it was until I told you.”
“An’ if I did, I still wouldn’t’ve asked!”
“Yeah, ’cause yer prideful ass would rather die than ask fer help!” you snap, jabbing his bicep with your finger. “God! I knew ya wouldn’t even say thank you!”
“Well, if ya knew I was gonna be a dick about it, why’d ya waste yer money?!”
“I felt bad fer ya!” you screech. “My mistake!”
“Yeah, yer mistake!” Atsumu shouts back.
Chest heaving for breath, you glare at him. He glares in return. Temper pinks his face and the tips of his ears, flares his nostrils and curls his lip in that fierce and familiar way. In the back of your mind, you know you are doing the same.
Asshole.
You’re angry, yes. And offended, and exasperated, and and and –
And hurt.
“It’s so hard,” you say, your voice deciding to crack at the worst time possible, “to be nice to you sometimes, Atsumu.”
When the words leave your throat, his face grows blank in that way you’ve always hated, his mouth pressing into a fine line.
“So?” he replies.
You roll your eyes. “Forget it.”
Casting one last glance at the bottle of shampoo next to the sink, you clench your fists and turn to leave. What a waste of money. This is the last time you’re ever going to feel bad for him.
A hand wraps around your elbow upon your first step outside the bathroom.
“… Are ya cryin’?”
“No,” you bite, wishing he hadn’t asked because now you do feel like crying, just a little bit.
Atsumu pauses for an excruciating moment. You can practically feel his distaste for whatever words he’s about to say.
“I’ll pay ya back,” he mutters. “Fer the shampoo.”
“No.”
“Whaddaya mean, no?”
“I don’t want yer money.”
“Well, what do ya want, ’cause I ain’t owin’ ya anything.”
“I want a thank you.”
“… Can’t I just –”
“No.”
Atsumu throws his hands up. “Fine!” he says. “Thanks fer buyin’ somethin’ I didn’t ask fer! There, ya happy now?”
“I want ya to mean it,” you say quietly.
“I did mean it.”
You cross your arms.
He groans. Glancing around as if checking for hidden cameras, Atsumu slowly pushes his bangs away from his face and wipes his nose, sniffing.
“… Fine,” he eventually grumbles at the floor tiles. Cheeks puffed, he looks up at you from the corner of his eye and scratches the back of his head. “The shampoo fixed it a little bit,” the words struggle their way out of his mouth, “so … thanks … fer gettin’ it fer me. Ya didn’t have to.”
He looks like he’s just eaten soap, his ears still red, and that’s how you know he’s being sincere. Your shoulders relax a little bit.
“You’re welcome,” you say.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Atsumu’s expression, almost doleful for just that moment, blooms into something more sarcastic once you accept his gratitude. He gestures at the doorway behind you. “Can I go now?”
“Dry the mirror and the counter first.”
“But I said thank you.”
You throw a towel at his face and walk away, more satisfied than not.
—
“How’s Osamu-kun doing?”
You prop your phone up against the wall behind your desk, tilting your pen between your fingers. “He’s fine, Ma.”
“Did ya tell him how good his curry is? He makes it better than me.”
“Yeah, he says he’s glad you guys like it.”
After resolving the blue shampoo issue with Atsumu on Saturday, you’d gone back to the kitchen and found Osamu chopping vegetables and tofu next to the sink. At first, you figured he was hungry again, but upon your questioning, he’d only denied it.
(“’S fer you.”
“… Fer me? No, you don’t have to –”
“Yeah, I know. Ya don’t like the curry at the cafeteria, so bring mine back to the dorm and save it in the fridge fer later. If ya don’t want it, leave it fer yer folks to eat when they get back.”)
He didn’t leave much room for debate. And since he was using your family’s food to make it anyway, you accepted, a bit perplexed but happy nonetheless. You hadn’t expected him to remember your complaint about the cafeteria’s bland curry.
The amount he made was enough to fill two Tupperware containers, one of which you left for your parents when they returned two days later. Needless to say, they were delighted.
“What a thoughtful boy. He’s so good to you, honey.”
You smile, walking back to your desk. “Yeah.”
(“Ya like dark chocolate in it, right?”)
Your mom sighs. It’s a familiar sigh, and you click your pen, knowing what she is about to say before she even takes a breath.
“I just don’t know why he hasn’t asked ya out yet.”
You can hear your dad speak up between chews in the background. “It ain’t like how it was back when we were young, dear. Soulmates these days don’t like makin’ things so formal and official.”
“Oh, I know, but wouldn’t it be sweet? I was so happy when we went on our first official date.”
“The one at the konbini ’cause I couldn’t afford anythin’ nicer?”
“Yes. I loved it.”
“I know. You were smilin’ the whole time.”
“Glad you’re still in love,” you say dryly when they giggle over the phone, your nose wrinkling when your dad comes into view to give your mom a loud smooch. During these moments, you wish you’d called instead. “I’m still here.”
“Oh, I know, I know. Honey, you should bring Osamu-kun somethin’ fer his next game! A snack fer afterwards. He’ll like that.”
“Okay.” You’ve done that before. The first time you gave him an orange in your first year of junior high, he and Atsumu squabbled over dividing it for five minutes. Now you get double portions whenever you have the compulsion to bring something after games, just to keep the peace.
“Speaking of games …”
Here we go.
“… Have ya applied to be the manager for the volleyball team yet?”
“Um.” Glancing at the wall to your right, you click your pen some more, taking your time to answer. “I filled the form out …”
“[Y/n]! If ya dawdle, someone else’ll snatch it up. When’s it due?”
“July first or until they find someone.”
“Turn it in tomorrow!”
“Okay, okay.”
Your mom sighs again, and she places a bowl down onto the table. “… Otherwise, are ya okay? I’m sorry we missed ya at home.”
“It’s fine. I hung out with Kokomi and the twins. How was yer anniversary?”
“We’ll make sure we’re home next time you’re on weekend leave. And it was lovely! Oh, honey, ya should’ve seen the fish yer pa caught …”
You talk with your parents until they finish their dinner, hanging up once they’ve started cleaning up. As soon as the video cuts out, you release a breath and turn your phone face-down.
You don’t know why you’re so nervous about applying for the manager position. It’s the natural thing to do, because it’s natural to want to be involved with something Osamu is interested in, his own opinion on the matter notwithstanding. You think you might like being a manager. It’s not like you want to do something else more.
Getting rejected by Kobayashi would be horrible, though.
Maybe you’ll wait a little longer to turn your application in. Polish it up some more, and such.
—
After volleyball practice ends, and after everyone who had lingered behind to practice some more is ready to call it a night, Atsumu tells you and Osamu that he’s staying a little longer to practice his jump float serves.
“Are ya sure? Cafeteria’s servin’ all-you-can-eat pasta for dinner.”
“I’ll be done before it closes.”
Osamu doesn’t look convinced. To be fair, neither are you; Atsumu often loses track of time when he stays behind, resulting in an extra hungry, extra irritable Atsumu.
“Atsumu,” you say.
He huffs at you. “Seriously, I will!” he insists, before turning to walk back to the end line. You, Osamu, Ginjima, Akagi, and Ojiro all look on helplessly as he throws a volleyball into the air and gives himself a running start.
“Don’t worry,” Kobayashi says, grabbing your attention just as he jumps. She holds up the key to the gymnasium. “I’ll kick him out before he misses dinner.”
Ojiro, ever the responsible one, lets out a noise of protest. “Senpai, I can lock up. You should go.”
“No, it’s fine.” Though her tone is impassive, she makes it clear that her mind is set as she waves him off. “I’m goin’ out to eat with my boyfriend later, anyway.”
You blink.
Though Ojiro is visibly reluctant, he acquiesces. “… Okay. Thank you, Kobayashi-senpai.”
“Mmhm,” Kobayashi hums, and her gaze falls upon you. “Make sure they get to the cafeteria in one piece, [L/n]-chan.”
“I will, senpai.”
You wait outside while the guys change out of their gym clothes and gather their things. Once they exit the building, you join them, listening idly to their chatter about today’s practice as the five of you trek towards the cafeteria.
“Hey, Ojiro-senpai, Akagi-senpai,” Ginjima speaks up during a lull in the conversation. “What Kobayashi-senpai said earlier …”
Attention piqued, you look at your upperclassmen for their reactions to Ginjima’s question. Next to you, Osamu does little to hide his curiosity as well.
Ojiro and Akagi, in turn, share a glance, and Ojiro raises an eyebrow at Ginjima.
“Yeah?” Ojiro replies.
“Well, y’know …” Ginjima presses expectantly, “when she said that she has a boyfriend, did she mean …?”
“That’s somethin’ you can ask Kobayashi-senpai about, ain’t it?”
You imagine doing just that and cringe.
Ginjima’s eyes widen, and he clears his throat. “Well –!” he replies, a bit too loudly. “I would, but I don’t want her to think I’m bein’ judgmental or somethin’. Plus, I’m just a first-year …”
“Aw, I think it’s fine if they know, Aran. It ain’t like she’s hidin’ it or anythin’,” Akagi says. Ojiro looks up for a moment in thought, then shrugs tentatively, and Akagi smiles at you and the two boys. “Kobayashi-senpai’s not datin’ her soulmate. They’re pretty serious, too.”
Ojiro rests his hands behind his head. “He’s a nice guy. Comes to games sometimes.”
“Oh, I see …”
You nod slowly, absorbing this new piece of information. Kobayashi has a boyfriend. A boyfriend that she goes on dates with, one she really likes. You wonder how long they’ve been together.
You wonder if Kobayashi’s met her soulmate yet.
“E-Excuse me! Hello!”
The quick patter of footsteps interrupts your train of thought. Glancing behind you, you stop short when you see one of your classmates running up to your group, waving one hand and holding a camera in the other. The golden orange of the sky burnishes her red hair.
“Naruko-san,” you and Ginjima greet at the same time. Ginjima laughs.
“Sorry to bother ya!” Naruko bows and quickly straightens, holding her camera up and smiling nervously. “I-I was just takin’ some pictures for photography club, and I was wonderin’ if you guys would mind me takin’ a picture?”
“How long’s it gonna take?” Osamu asks.
“Not too long. Five minutes? U-Unless y’all are in a hurry to get somewhere …”
“Not too much of a hurry. Just wanna make it to dinner.” Ojiro smiles, patting Osamu and Akagi’s backs. “Where do ya want us?”
Naruko brightens, her cheeks going red. “J-Just keep walkin’! The lighting’s perfect right now, and I wanna take a picture of yer backs with yer volleyball jackets on.” She glances at you, and her expression grows more nervous. “Er …”
You lock eyes with her for a few seconds before catching on. Nodding, you take a step towards Naruko to join her.
Osamu’s hand grasps your shoulder.
His hold is loose, but you bite back the urge to slump over at the sudden warmth of it, pausing instead to look back at him.
“Where’re ya goin’?”
You answer tentatively. “I don’t have a team jacket.”
“That’s fine. You’re walkin’ with us too.”
“Yeah, but …” You wet your lips. “Like, visually, it’ll look weird if one person doesn’t have one on …”
The corner of Osamu’s mouth twitches, and he frowns. You watch as his gaze moves past your shoulder. A sudden, brief twinge of irritation, not belonging to you, zings through your ribcage.
“Why’s that matter?”
“Yeah. C’mon, it’ll be fine,” Ojiro says.
“It’s okay!” Naruko suddenly blurts, and you jolt slightly, looking back at her. She bounces on her feet, voice even higher pitched. “I can do a more candid shot, now that I think about it! A-Actually, Miya-san, could ya give [L/n]-san yer jacket? And Ginjima-san, you can keep yers around yer waist …”
Her sudden change in idea perplexes you a bit. But Osamu seems to be satisfied, and he shrugs his jacket off, placing it over your shoulders.
After a bit of hesitation, you slide your arms through the sleeves.
(It’s just as warm.)
“Ooh, [L/n]-chan’s wearin’ Osamu’s jacket,” Ginjima teases behind his hand, and your face heats up.
“Okay.” Behind you, Naruko lets out a wistful-sounding sigh. “I’m ready. Y’all can start walkin’ now, just like ya were before.”
With only a bit of self-consciousness, the five of you follow her instructions. There are only a few clicks of the camera before Naruko calls out her thanks and goes off without another word, leaving you and the boys to speculate whether you’ll ever see the results.
“How cute,” Akagi comments. “She looked like she was gonna throw up, though.”
“I hope those were conflicting statements.”
“Okay, Aran, I wasn’t implying …”
While the two upperclassmen start to banter, you move to take Osamu’s jacket off, only for him to stop you.
“’S fine,” he says. “You can wear it if ya want.”
“Oh. Okay.”
And so you do.
—
The boys’ first practice game in July is brutal.
Many of your peers have come to watch. It’s a favorite after-school pastime of Inarizaki’s student populace, you’ve quickly discovered, to hop from one athletic club to the other simply to spectate and speculate. People pack the balcony and peek around the doorway, catching the scent of blood and sweat.
Between the crowd’s cheering and jeering, the squeak of sneakers on the gym floor, and the sound of palms ramming into volleyballs, the atmosphere is sharp, almost electric – something that you feel tingling on your skin as you stand on the sidelines, Kobayashi right by your side.
Atsumu delivers another devastating service ace. It ricochets off the corner of the other side of the court with a thunderous boom.
“Did you catch that, [L/n]-chan?” Kobayashi asks, arms crossed. “That was one of his better ones.”
“Ah, sorry, I didn’t.”
“Hm.”
You watch the slow, satisfied stretch of Atsumu’s smile, and wait patiently. “It’s okay. He ain’t done yet.”
Indeed, Atsumu is just getting started. You spare an amused glance at Osamu in front of the net, his hands locked protectively behind his head, before turning back to Atsumu as the volleyball is thrown back to him.
Raising your camera, you adjust the focus, finger ready on the shutter button.
Toss. Run. Jump.
Click.
On your other side, a girl pumps her fists and cheers.
“Wow! Another one!” she gushes.
You smile behind your lens. “Ya always sound so impressed, Tsubaki-chan.”
“I’m just excited! We’re crushin’ them in the last set!”
“’Course we are,” says Kobayashi. “Our offense is that much better. I’m a little disappointed.”
As your upperclassman patiently points out each player’s strengths and weaknesses, you keep an eye on the team and crouch low. You’ve got plenty of photos now that the game’s nearing its end – lots of sets, a few spikes and digs, some flashy jump serves. Hopefully, some of them have turned out halfway decent. Even though you’d widened the aperture to make up for the gym’s crappy lighting and adjusted the shutter speed for blurring, you still worry about your timing.
By the time Inarizaki scores the winning point, you’ve moved to the opposite end of the court and have to race back to capture their reactions.
One thing you like about the volleyball team is how expressive they are. Joy, passion, pride – off the high of a victory, they bare everything, whether it’s through their expressions or the way they move or both.
Tsubaki says your name excitedly as soon as the teams have finished thanking each other, tugging on your arm. “Can I see the action shots, [Y/n]-chan?” she requests.
“Ah, sure.”
You turn the camera towards her, and she leans in as you scroll through the photos, her grin widening.
“Wow! Yer timin’s amazin’. They look so cool!”
The praise brings summer to your cheeks. “Thanks,” you reply genuinely. After a moment of hesitation, you lift the camera again. “Smile, Manager-san?”
Tsubaki doesn’t hesitate to broaden her already present grin, throwing up a peace sign for good measure. Kobayashi looks your way as well, and you take one shot, knowing it will be kept.
“Cute!” Tsubaki exclaims.
Two shadows loom over your shoulders as the girl bestows you with another compliment. When you turn your head to the right, your nose nearly brushes Osamu’s cheek.
“Ya got any good shots of us, [Y/n]?” Atsumu asks expectantly.
“Yes, actually, I did,” you reply, going back through the camera roll with a particular image in mind. You’re only vaguely aware of the warmth they exude as they budge into your personal space, the smell of sweat lingering on their skin. “Here.”
You’re particularly proud of this one. It had been a split second of pure luck, standing on the sidelines when a window of opportunity opened for a fast-tempo set. You had felt it – you knew Atsumu would set to Osamu, and as Osamu jumped, arm reared back as Atsumu sent the ball to him, you had captured it.
Somehow, you always get the timing right with them.
“Cool,” the twins approve proudly.
“Email that one to us, will ya?” Atsumu says. “I ain’t lettin’ you photography nerds hoard it away.”
“She’s sendin’ all these to Arata-senpai, ya dolt.”
“Hey, I wanna see!” Gintama breaks into your little group, trying to sneak a peek in. “Did ya get one of my spikes?”
“Yeah, how about my jump serve?”
“That super cool block me and Ren did in the second set!”
“Didja get one of Coach?”
One by one, the team gathers around you, eager for a glimpse of their successes. The crowding is uncomfortable, but you try your best to show them what you can anyway, feeling a rare sense of pride about your own accomplishments.
You’re happy with your choice.
Tsubaki will be a great manager. Even when you first met her, you knew she had everything she'd need for the job – a passion for the sport, a desire to help others succeed, and an endless amount of perseverance. Inarizaki couldn’t ask for a better person to replace Kobayashi next year. She’ll do well in what she’s decided to do.
And so will you.
—
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#haikyuu#hq#miya atsumu x reader#miya osamu x reader#miya atsumu#miya osamu#miya atsumu x reader x miya osamu#haikyuu fanfiction#reader insert#fem!reader#soulmate au#yeah i got carried away LOL#the miya twins giving themselves terrible dye jobs lives rent free in my head#atsumu's especially. i KNOW they screwed up with his#that color looks way too close to a bleach gone wrong on black hair and he just made it his brand for the rest of high school#this is spiraling i am spiraling#kobayashi i'll miss you i loved thinking you up#the five nonsenses
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silly questions
atsumu x reader, mention of hanahaki (but not actually using the trope LOL), fluff!!, a lil banter, osamu makes an apperance :-)
"if i had hanahaki... would you love me back?" you ask atsumu, eyes curious as you take in his expression.
he had turned to you, almost mortified. you could see it in the way his eyes widened, his nose scrunched, and his lips pulled back in disgust. "if ya what would i what?" he repeats.
you almost laugh. "i sssaaaaiiid: if i had hanahaki, would you love me back!"
this time atsumu's more obviously offended. "are ya dumb?!" he exclaims.
you laugh and duck to dodge the couch pillow atsumu throws across the living room at you. you're lucky you two are seated on different couches, him on the three-seater while you were on the opposite side on the loveseat. had you two also not been in his family home, he just might have wrestled you.
"what?!" you laugh, getting up from your seat to grab onto a pillow. you get into a ready stance, grinning at atsumu who is still hung up on your question—or that you even asked him that in the first place. "it's just a question, silly."
"it's a silly question," he scoffs, throwing yet another pillow that you hit like a baseball. it flops onto the ground and you kick it to the side. "why'dja even ask that."
you only give him a shrug, and then a smile when your gaze meets his once again. you don't understand why he's so irked; you thought it'd be a fun conversation to have since talking about unrealistic hypotheticals was always so fun with atsumu. it seems as though this one isn't all that fun, however.
when atsumu sighs, he turns away from you. he motions you to come towards him to his place on the couch like an old man and you laugh. still, you play along and eventually plop yourself right by his side.
"yes, tsum?" you say, batting your lashes which gets a soft giggle out of him, "you don't like that question, huh?"
he shakes his head. "no, i don't. in fact, i hate it."
you laugh. "well, that's dramatic. mind telling me why? m'not sure it's worth almost knocking me out with a pillow."
atsumu gawks at your words, but eventually laughs with you. "hah?! yer dramatic! that barely would'a stung! i wasn't tryin' ta knock yer head off anyway."
your cheeky smile makes atsumu sigh and shake his head. he gives you visual disapproval before he brushes the topic aside to instead focus on your presence right by him. he scooches away from you only to be able to lay his head on your lap. naturally, your hands find a home on his face, one on his cheek and the other gently pushing his hair back.
for a moment, you two bask in a comfortable silence. he falls in love yet again with your touch, and you fall in love with just how gentle and warm your infamously-known-as-big-and-bad boyfriend is.
"y/n," he eventually speaks up, placing a hand over yours that holds his cheek. his eyes close when you hum, carressing his cheek gently. "don't ask me silly questions like that. there'll never be a time or a universe that i won't love ya."
you swoon. "atsu--"
"can you two get a fucking room?!" osamu yells from the kitchen, not too far from the living room. in fact, he heard the entirety of your silly conversation with his twin brother.
you and the blond immediately burst into laughter.
"yer the grossest couple i fucking know!"
#haikyuu x reader#hq x reader#haikyuu x y/n#hq x y/n#haikyuu one shot#hq one shot#haikyuu imagine#hq imagine#haikyuu fluff#hq fluff#haikyuu headcanons#hq headcanons#haikyuu reader insert#hq reader insert#haikyuu drabble#hq drabble#atsumu#miya atsumu#atsumu x reader#miya atsumu x reader#miya atsumu x y/n#atsumu x y/n#atsumu fluff#miya atsumu fluff#miya atsumu headcanons#atsumu headcanons#atsumu reader insert#miya atsumu reader insert#atsumu drabble#miya atsumu drabble
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argumentative, antithetical dream boy
(inspired by the song Hits different, by Taylor Swift)
Atsumu Miya x Reader
Atsumu enters the Onigiri Miya restaurant with a bounce on his step and a smile on his face. A smile that he knows, will make anyone in his close proximity melt like chocolate candies in the sun. He knows, of course he knows. But just to make sure, he lowers his sunglasses, looks straight into the eyes of a girl sitting on a table to his right, and winks.
She blushes. The guy she's with fumes.
Mission accomplished.
He can tackle the main quest just fine.
"Who wears sunglasses inside?" Osamu shoots at him as soon as he sees him "Take them off, you idiot"
Not a good start. And certainly not the welcoming Atsumu was expecting, but he won't let this minor inconvenience stop him.
"Did you hear what I just said?" Osamu tries again, while he finishes wiping his hands on a towel. "Oi, Atsumu!"
His only answer is a scorching glare from his older brother as he reaches the back of the restaurant, finally coming to stand in front of the bar where you, working with your back to him, are busy rearranging the bottles.
Hopefully, you didn't heard his brother's quips either, and he can still make a nice entrance for himself.
"Hi, Atsumu. I'm busy today, so I can't talk much"
Or not.
Still without turning around, you wave your hand at him in greeting and keep moving bottles to one side to another. Atsumu leans down against the bar and taps his fingers on the recently polished wood. He thinks it's oak, but he's not really sure. You aren't either. He remembers that time he asked you and you laughed and told him you weren't a tree expert.
Laughter.
That's right. He can catch your attention by making you laugh.
"Oh come on. Can't you spare like, five minutes?" he pouts, his head coming to rest on one of his hands "Is a bottle of whiskey really better to look at than me?"
That makes you pause. And you don't quite laugh, but you're smiling when you finally turn around and face him, and that's a small victory he will take with his arms wide open.
"What kind of drink are you going to want today?"
"Ouch, straight to business, huh?"
"Well" you say, and this time you do laugh. An airy laugh that he remembers very well from that time you were underneath him in bed, and he tickled you and you...
He clears his throat and pushes that train of thought aside, because you're still talking, because he's in public, and because his jeans are very tight.
"... so yeah, it's kind of my work" you finish, and he's vaguely aware that you basically just told him that he should order something, and so he does, and watches intently as you get to work in whatever his mouth decided it was a good choice of beverage, while his brain was busy conjuring images of you in his bed.
"How's the night goin'?"
"Not so bad"
"But you just said ..."
"I'm busy because we had a new shipment today, so I have to rearrange everything around" you explain, shaking your head while you turn the blender on "But this is an onigiri restaurant. Almost no one comes for the bar" then you pause, waiting for the blender to finish before continuing "Well, except for you that is"
"I don't come for the bar, I come for you"
"Are you saying my drinks are shitty, by any chance?"
Ah, your good old friend, deflection. Atsumu knows her quite well.
You finish everything and hand him what appears to be a Margarita, and the look of surprise on his face only makes you laugh more than before, and offer him a complimentary umbrella. He wants to reach for your hand but instead he takes a sip of the cold, fruity liquid, mindful of not poking himself in the eye in front of the girl he's been trying to date for two months.
For two entire months.
"I have to go to the back now and bring another box of supplies, so I guess I'll see you later?"
"You and me, Saturday"
Honestly at this point, he has tried to ask you out so many times that he doesn't even know how to phrase the invitation anymore. And right on cue, you once again roll your eyes at him and shake your head, pieces of your hair falling messily against your neck in a way that seriously puts Atsumu to the test.
"You know the answer to that"
"Yes?"
"No" you deadpan "Atsumu, I'm not going to go out with you"
"But can you please tell me why?" he gets desperate easily, and that's also pretty common. He's been desperate since day one, imagine now that it's been two months of this sweet, sweet torture. "We had great, amazing sex" he says, and waits for your response. When you just stare at him, he feels one of his eyebrows begin to twitch "Right?"
You bite your lip and it's so ridiculously unfair that Atsumu feels that he could scream, throw his baseball cap to the ground and stomp on it, even fight that smug Kageyama if the bastard was around. It's unfair, because he should be the one doing the biting.
He's fine if you do it too, of course. He will let you do anything to him.
"Yes, the sex was great Atsumu"
"Both times"
"It should have been just one night"
"But it was two and both of them were great"
"Yes, they were"
He grunts, straightening his back and pushing back his sunglasses over the bridge of his nose, Margarita long forgotten on the table.
"Then why do you keep saying no? Why are we havin' this conversation when we could be doin' somethin' much more fun like, I don't know, makingl' some good use of the employees only area?"
You sigh, and you look mildly annoyed and kind of tired, but your pink cheeks and you lip still between your lips gives Atsumu enough confidence to try and reach for your arm over the counter.
He grasps the same damn space that you've been putting between the two of you since the last time you were in his bedroom.
"I'm not going to go out with you, Atsumu" you tell him quietly "And there's more to dating than sex, by the way"
"Look, that's not ..."
"Also" you add, quickly turning back to your usual cheery, kind of snarky self and pointing at his face "You really shouldn't be wearing sunglasses indoor"
"That's exactly what I told him before he came to bother you" Osamu's voice says from behind him, and Atsumu can't just turn around and scowl at his brother, because he's busy watching you disappear through the back door, taking with you all his hopes for the night.
...
To be fair, it's not like anyone can blame Atsumu for not knowing what to do. He has never played the role of the heartbroken, unable to move on lover before. And he has a cementery of ghosted lovers to prove his claim. What is he meant to do when the tables turn on him?
A warning would have been nice.
"But I did warn you" Kita reminds him, a couple of days after the first time you two sleep together. Atsumu's complaining about something Kiyoomi said, something that made him so mad because it actually reminded him of you (and he has this epiphany while talking with his former Capitan over the phone about how yes, he hasn't stopped thinking about you at all), and then all just goes down hill from there.
"What do you mean you warned me? No you didn't!"
"Yes, I did" Kita remains unfazed under the damn of emotions Atsumu seems to have become "I told you not to sleep with one of your brother's employees"
"That's not a fuckin' warnin'. That's a challenge!" Atsumu stands up from the sofa to frantically pace around the living room, and settles for glaring at the wall, since Kita is on the other side of the country "A warnin' would have been: Hey! Don't mess around with this girl or she's gonna trap you forever"
"That's..." Kita pauses, and Atsumu can hear him standing up as well "Actually the most romantic thing I've ever heard you say"
...
It was supposed to be just one night. You were cute and funny and he was slightly annoyed at the fact that you didn't immediately gushed about his volleyball career when you two first met, wich only served to fuel his interest on you.
It was supposed to be just one single night of fun, because you had casually bumped into each other in a bar and hey, you were even cuter when you were away from the bar and all those liquor bottles.
It was supposed to be just one night... but then it was two, and now Atsumu's sitting at the back of that same bar, completely mistified by how you dance and laugh and say something to a guy that's too close to you.
He takes an aggresive sip of his beer.
"Are you okay?" Hinata yells at him, trying to make himself heard over the music. When Atsumu doesn't even acknowledges him, the Spiker turns to Adrian for help. "Is he okay?"
Atsumu ignores the exchange, wich gets interrumpted by something Kiyoomi says but it's impossible to hear due to the music and his mask, tightly secured over his lips. But Atsumu doesn't cares. He instead slides closer to the edge of his seat, grabbing onto his beer bottle for dear life.
"Wait, you're spying her?" Hinata yells again, and Atsumu finally looks at him "That's why we're here?"
"Who are you even talkin' about?"
"You'd have to be stupid to not know. Everyone can see that you've been obsessively fixated on the same person since we arrived" Kiyoomi says, even tho Atsumu can only catch some words "Anyway, I'm leaving"
Kiyoomi stands and so does the rest of the group, Atsumu included. But in his case, to move straight to the dance floor and not to the nearest exit. He's vaguely aware of Bokuto telling him something, but he's too busy trying to avoid bumping into other people as he makes a beeline towards you.
You look less surprised than what you should.
"Hey! Are you following me?" you ask, smiling at him. The mascara on your right eye is a bit smudged and your hair is a mess but he still thinks you look so gorgeous he could cry.
Or maybe he's already crying, because you stop dancing and give him a worried look.
"Are you okay?"
"Not really, no"
"Hey love, is this guy bothering you?" the guy you were dancing with suddenly asks, and Atsumu would swell with pride at the simple fact that not only he's taller but also much more handsome, but standing up and practically running to the dance floor has only served to suddenly and painstakingly remind him that he's had twelve beers, so he only manages to feel a slight twinge of drunken happiness.
"We've talked about this, Kai" you say, and he's so grateful for the fact that you to take a step towards him, away from this Kai, that he could, once again, start weeping for real this time. He can faintly hear his brother's voice in the back of his head, telling someone else that Atsumu's actually a very big, blonde crybaby "Don't call me love, or any of that. It makes me uncomfortable"
"Yeah, Kai" Atsumu adds, thinking he's shaking his head to clear his thoughts, when in reality he's moving his entire body, and spilling the beer he dragged with him all over "Don't fuckin' call her that"
"Or what?"
There's a split of a second in wich Atsumu thinks this random guy is actually going to fight him, and he gets into what he feels is an adequate fight stance, never mind the frantic voice of Hinata coming from somewhere behind him, or the fact that his PR team tends to become an actual nightmare every time he does something that can remotely compromise his brand.
Fuck it all. It's been two months and if he has to fight a guy to defend your honor and get you to look at him (actually look at him, like you did that night where he kissed every inch of your body), then so be it.
But then the guy called Kai takes one big step towards him, then a smaller one, and then his face changes from angry to surprised and then to childish glee.
"Oh my god, dude!" he yells, making Atsumu blink out of his stupor "You're Atsumu Miya! From the MSBY Black Jackals!"
"What?" Atsumu asks, and then someone is tugging him from behind, and he sees you moving out of the corner of his eye and tries to reach you, but only manages to grab your jacket, spilling the rest of his beer on the fabric as well.
"I think I'm in love with you, you know?" he slurs, and your eyes widen in surprise. He's not sure if it's because of his confession, or because of the drink all over your jacket, so he tries to salvage the situation by letting go of your clothes and smiling a little "It's alright. I have a lot of money, I can send it to clean for you"
"Here! Sign here!" his newfound fan insists, pulling up his shirt to reveal an MSBY Jackals t-shirt "Oh man. This is amazing! I'm such a big fan! I don't go anywhere without my MSBY Black Jackals t-shirt!"
But it's not like Atsumu would have signed anything anyway. Even if he hadn't passed out at that exact same moment.
...
"You threw up on him" Hinata is explaining to him as he enters his brother's restaurant, sunglasses off this time "Twice. And then you also threw up on the taxi we put you on. The driver called us from your phone and told us. We had to pay him"
"I'll pay you all back" Atsumu says, lingering by the door. He soon has to make some space for a couple to come inside, and so he ends up standing on one side, nervously scanning the room "It's not that big of a deal anyway. This things just happen"
"Sakusa says that you're dead to him"
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever" he sees his brother coming out of the kitchen and clears his throat, debating if talking to him first, but then quickly deciding that it's better if he just stops being such a coward and goes straight to where he knows you are "I'll talk to Omi later"
"He doesn't wants to talk to you"
... Except that you're not there. The bar is empty and the blender is not even where you always put it. He leans over the counter and doesn't see any glasses, and all the bottles on the wall seem to be half empty, and there's not enough of them to give a proper service.
Osamu arrives by his side at the same time that dread starts to slowly consume him.
"She doesn't work here anymore, so you can just stop pesterin' me around here"
"What?"
"Are you deaf? I said she doesn't work here anymore"
Atsumu whips around in a flash to glare at his brother, standing by his side, and very much unimpressed by his reaction.
"Why? What happened?"
Osamu shrugs. He takes a quick look at the bar and then at the towel in his hands "She found another job. It's goin' to be hard without her, not gonna lie. She was very good. And responsable"
"She was the damn best!" Atsumu yells, and after getting a couple of surprised looks, switches to aggresive whispering "Why did you let her go?"
"What did you even wanted me to do? Tell her that she had to stay to keep dealin' with my dumb brother?"
Atsumu feels as if he's letting all the air he has in his body go with the sigh he gives after his brother's question. He's tired and hangover and worst of all, very much kind of in love with a woman he slept with two times. Two months ago.
He racks his brain for answers as his brother turns around to leave him to his missery. The easy answer to his feelings could be the sex, but it's been two months and you haven't been together again.
And somehow, that would be totally fine, if he could at least spent more time with you.
Because you're funny, and you crack the best jokes when you're busy polishing glasses that don't really need to be polished. And you're pretty, and your eyes shine in a way that does serious stuffs to the way he perceives the world.
You're also hot, of course, and he would snicker to himself if the wet smack of his brother's towel against his face wouldn't have him spluttering.
"The hell was that for?" he asks, confused, and now smelling like a wet rice ball.
"Do you want her number?"
...
He would have liked to rehears something, but his life is a chaotic mess since you're around, and he might as well start to deal with that fact. So when you (miraculously) agree to meet and actually invite him to your house, he's so excited and nervous at the same time that he starts talking as soon as you open the door, and doesn't stops even when you move to let him pass and he doesn't bulges, rooted to his place and focused on his unrehearsed apology.
"And I wasn't followin' you! I've just bein' goin' to that bar every weekend for a while now. We met there, so I've been goin' to drink and hang with the guys"
"Because we met there?" you ask, expression unreadable, and Atsumu has to use every amount of strength he has inside him to resist the urge to slam his head against the open door.
"Yes but also because it's a nice bar. I wasn't goin' there only because it's the place where we..." he tries to sigh and take some air at the same time, so he only manages to get himself in a coughing fit "Look" he speaks again, now teary eyed and with a sore throat "I'm really sorry, alright? I'll get out of your hair and just leave you alone. I just... well... you don't have to quit your job"
At that you laugh, and you start small but suddenly you're laughing out loud and Atsumu thinks that you would probably bent down holding your stomach and cackling like a mad woman if you hadn't caught sight of his horrified and confused look.
"I didn't quit Onigiri's Miya because of you, Atsumu" you say once you're calmer, but still having to wipe some wetness around your eyes "I've been saving money to open my own coffee shop for a while, and now I can finally do it. I want to be a barista, not a bartender"
Oh.
Oh well, that's nice. At least he didn't drive you out of your own job. That's a half win.
"That's... great for you"
"It's not a millionaire contract that would allow me to clean my jacket of any spilled drink" you teasingly add, wiggling your eyebrows in a way that shouldn't be considered as sexy as Atsumu actually thinks it looks "But it's a start. A small place of my own. A place where I can chase my own dream. Your brother started small as well, and look at him now"
"You know, I actually love coffee" Atsumu says, immediately forgetting his previous words "I drink coffee a lot. I could be like, your first client"
"Oh, really? I thought you were going to get out of my hair"
"Yeah... well..."
You laugh again, and the way you stand up on your tiptoes and leave a kiss on his cheek feels almost surreal.
Because it's been two months of poorly disguised and one sided longing.
Or at least that's what Atsumu thought.
"I wasn't going to date you while working for your brother, you idiot" you tell him, playfully smacking him on the chest "It's bad enough that I slept with you"
"Twice" he feels the need to add, just to say something that makes him feel like this is actually happening, and it's not just his still intoxicated brain playing tricks on him.
"Yeah, twice"
"So you were just..." he starts, has to stop to process everything right and then speak again, a mix of emotions (and beer from the night before) making him a bit light headed "Did you actually liked me back all this time and didn't said anythin'?"
"I'm a professional" you say, trying to look serious, but completely failing "And you also have kind of a reputation. I had to make sure..."
"Who told you that?"
"Osamu" you admit, and take a step back as he takes one forward, finally moving away from the door "And the magazines. Everyone knows you're a heartbreaker"
"Oh, yeah? Well..." Atsumu licks his lips, pausing for a moment to quickly locate what he thinks is the open door to your bedroom. He can carry you there no problem. Then he closes the entrance door with his left foot "I'm gonna show you exactly what I am"
The answer is yours. But you made him wait two months. Maybe this time, he will be the one holding himself back.
(He tells you the next morning)
This work belongs to my Midnights: Sleepless stories 🕰️ collection, a series of reader insert fics based on the album Midnight, by Taylor Swift, with characters from Haikyuu, Tokyo Revengers and Blue Lock. ✨
You can still send an ask if there's any character you would like to see in any particular song ✨
Next one on the collection - are we falling like snow on the beach?
#atsumu miya#atsumu miya x reader#atsumu x female reader#atsumu x y/n#hq atsumu#atsumu fanfic#haikyuu!!#haikyuu fanfiction#haikyuu reader insert#based on a taylor swift song#midnights the album#midnights taylor swift#haikyuu taylor swift#kiyoomi sakusa#hinata shoyo#osamu miya#miya twins
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up on tokio hill (msby bj)
masterlist, ch 1: the newbie is our new housemaid! (not)
upon arriving in tokio hill, a misunderstanding occurs the moment you show up. your new housemates seem like a lot to deal with– and a lot more handsome than you expected. but things will work out, will it not?
5488 words
“I swear I’ll call security on ya if ya don’t leave right now!” The blonde man before you shook his phone in the air, ready to fulfil his threat. His orbs were flaming with the fury of a thousand suns and his face was pulled back to a snarl– he looked like he was ready to drop-kick you out of the house itself.
“I’m sure this is a misunderstanding. I don’t even know what’s going on!” You held up your hands defensively and stood firmly (as much as you could without shaking).
The urge to take flight in the face of a livid, insanely handsome dude was so strong that you may just leave the country altogether. This was definitely not the way you imagined your first day at the share-house would go.
“Everyone calm down!” Another man begged. Behind the silver haired man is an oven with smoke leaking out of. His hands were held up as well, like the scene in Jurassic World and the raptors.
For the love of the gods, Uncle Tai, what have I gotten myself into…?
(A few hours ago…)
Tokio Hill was a quiet suburb in the outskirts of the city. It wasn’t exactly what it sounded when Uncle Tai had introduced it– you’d imagine it was a bumpy piece of land with tall grass and mice scurrying about. According to Google, it was home to plenty of rich folks, celebrities and some of Japan’s biggest sensations. It used to be a paparazzi hotspot until the local authorities decided to protect the inhabitants by conducting regular security checks. There were even a couple of police outposts in the area.
It was a wonder how a normal person could afford living in such a high end place. If it weren’t for your ‘niece discount’, you would never have moved into the area. Uncle Tai barely told you about the other tenants, but they must have been loaded. With that said…
“How on earth did Uncle Tai bag this place?” You wondered aloud as you stood outside a gated property, a pet carrier in one hand and a luggage bag in another.
This house was unlike the (extravagant) others down the road. An off white coat of paint with a deep, navy blue roof. It had a number of floors, you guessed three altogether. The fence had barely any gaps between them, preventing you from peeking through. It did a splendid job obscuring the ground floor from public view, but the other floors were visible.
A meow came from the carrier. You peered inside; a stubby Sphynx sat comfortably inside, whiskers twitching curiously. You slipped your fingers through the gaps to rub its hairless head.
“Oh Meru, I guess our new life starts today,” you whispered. Its bright blue eyes twinkled with (what you assumed was) curiosity. Your pet mewed back as you returned your focus to the house.
It all starts here. A fresh start. You inhaled deeply then exhaled. It’ll work out– it has to.
You approached a smaller gate that was off to the side of the entrance. A silver intercom was built into the gate. You pressed the biggest button, probably the doorbell. It didn’t take long before you got a response.
Static buzzed from the intercom. A man’s voice crackled, “...Ello? Hey, hello?”
You straightened up, “Hi! I’m new here. Today’s my first day, and–“
“Oh, I know you! Yeah, come on in,” The man interrupted. The crackling stopped and you the gate clunked. Gingerly, you pushed it open and entered the estate.
The front yard was huge, accommodating two shiny cars and a front yard. Concrete seemed to extend around the area, tall enough that you doubted you’d be able to see the other side without a ladder. Lining the walls were hedges; green and freshly trimmed. Off to a corner was a grassy area with an outdoor swing and bird fountain. A fish carved from stone spewed a steady stream of water into the pool.
Your eyes wandered around as you moved towards the main door. Footsteps thudded inside the house before the door swung open. A giant loomed over you and Meru. Your pet cat and you simultaneously tilted your heads up to look at him– a man with silver hair, peppered with grey tips. He was all smiles in a frilly apron.
This guy must be almost two metres tall! Both your cat and you stared in awe. You stared holes at the super girly apron. A magical girl was printed on the front. M-Moe gap…
“I was expecting you! Come on in,” he patted his hands on the apron, “I’m in the middle of something, so you can just do the second floor first.”
“Okay. Wait, what-?”
An alarm sounded inside the house. The man whipped his head towards the source before turning back to you. “Uh oh, we gotta hurry! Come on in already,” Without hesitation, he grabbed your hand and pulled you into the house.
You clambered in, luggage and all, and Meru screeched from its rocking carrier. Full of apologies, you tried to console your pet whilst he shut the door. He noticed Meru, who stood on its haunches at the salt and pepper haired man.
“You can leave your things here first,” He gestured where you stood. When you set Meru on top of the shoe cabinet at the entrance, he reached out to you. His larger hand enveloped your wrist effortlessly and he began pulling you along. His hold was gentle enough so as to not bruise, but secure enough to make sure you couldn’t run. The unwarranted warmth on your wrist gave you goosebumps.
What on earth was going on? This was some sort of misunderstanding, right? Before you could process that thought, he stopped at the end of the hallway, where a closet awaited. He rummaged through it and produced a few items.
“Here’s what you’ll need. This, this– oh, this too…” Without looking, he handed you cleaning tools: bleach, sprays, gloves and more.
As he progressively piled more into your arms, the alarm continued beeping in the background. You practically cradled the load, “Umm, mister, I don’t think I’m who you think I am. I’m actually-”
The man ran off to the kitchen, where a cloud of grey began seeping from an oven. He screeched incoherently and began fussing over whatever it was inside. As he began murmuring to himself, you sighed. There was no way of getting through to him. At least, not now.
You took in the living room slowly. In the corner of the house was a flight of stairs. The rest of the place was split into three areas: the lounge, dining area and kitchen. The lounge was furnished with a massive flat screen television and a long couch. In-between was a paper strewn coffee table and magazines haphazardly stacked. Meanwhile, the kitchen was occupied by none other than the silver haired man, who stood by marble countertops. There was an island table as well, though it seemed counterintuitive when there was a dining table present.
The layout of the place was exactly like the photos Uncle Tai had sent you. And the place was big. As expected of a private estate in a posh area. Again, how did your good for nothing uncle score this place…?
You looked at your cleaning supplies. He said just the second floor, right? Maybe he’d listen to you afterwards. You waved goodbye to Meru and began your way up the flight of stairs, tools in hand.
When you reached the second floor, you peered around the corners to view the hallway. There were three rooms available, two on either side. One of the doors had a little sign that read ‘bath and laundry’. You peeked inside: there was a common area with a sink and mirror that stretched across one wall. Laundry machines and baskets were on the other end, with one of the baskets piled up with off-white sheets. You walked deeper in and into the connected shower room, which had a huge bathtub. On the shelves built into the walls were a mess of different bottles of miscellaneous hygiene items.
There was a lot to be done, you realised as you walked out of the shower room. You approached the laundry and realised there were jars of different powders on the shelves hanging above the laundry machines. There was even a note, a handwritten one with a few annotations. You scrutinised it with a squint.
“For every extra bedsheet, use a third of a cup of detergent. Only use this brand of fabric softener for the sheets. I will come after you if they are not properly washed,” You read aloud. A giggle escaped you, “What the heck? They sound like a troublesome person.”
You eyed the baskets– you could start with this one. The instructions written by the troublesome person could guide you for your first task. The counters and shelves could do some wiping and reorganising as well.
“Guess I better get started,” You left to return downstairs, “I better set these things down first before I drop them.”
While you laid out your cleaning appliances, a man entered the laundry-cum-wash room. The man pulled his shirt over his head, ruffling his blonde hair. It fell to the floor, along with the sweatpants he had shimmied out of. He swooped up his clothes and hung them over one of the baskets. Quietly, he closed the bathroom door behind him, forgoing the decision to lock it. After a shower, he stepped into the bathtub for a soak. With a long arm draped over one side, he closed his eyes and began dozing off. Unbeknownst to him, on the other side of the door, you had begun to do the laundry.
The tumbling of laundry filled the room. You watched the sheets toss and turn inside the machines as you squatted, hands on your knees. Thanks to the meticulously written notes, it was easy to figure out the buttons and amount of detergent to use. While they were washing, you wiped down the counters and surfaces. Your cleaning rags were coiled up in the bottom of the pail beside you.
While cleaning, you came to the conclusion that the guy in the kitchen had mistaken you for a cleaner. Uncle Tai must have told the tenants that you’d be here, right? There’s no way that bozo would forget to inform them… right?
“Knowing him, maybe it’s not out of the picture,” you sighed and rested your face in your hands.
You heard footsteps from the hallway and your face lit up. Was he finally free to speak? You turned expectantly but came face to face with another stranger. A half-naked man wrapped in a towel around his torso stood at the doorway of the shower. His hands tried to hide his exposed chest and his face was…
Oh– This isn’t good.
He let out an ear-piercing scream.
. . .
Oh right, so that’s what had led up to this situation.
You blinked at the blonde who droned on about the cops and trespassing. This guy was a broken record, nothing was going through him. His shoulders heaved up and down aggressively. Was it from anxiety or anger? It was hard to tell.
“Tsum-tsum, you gotta chill out! It’s the new maid Taichii hired, remember? He told us about it last week!” the silver haired man clarified. He still adorned the frilly apron with the magical girl.
“The new maid’s only supposed to be here when we ain’t around, ya moron!” The blonde man said, eyes wide. “I can’t believe ya let a stalker into the house, Bo-kun! Besides, it looks like she’s moving in, not cleaning for the day!”
He jabbed a finger in the direction of your luggage. Meru, who had been anxious throughout, flinched. It hissed in the direction of a frowning ‘Tsum-Tsum’.
You blocked his line of sight to Meru, “Woah there, you’ve really got the wrong idea. I’m not your stalker because firstly, I swear to the gods that I don’t even know who you are. And secondly, I’m your new housemate– I have the contract and texts to prove it!”
The blonde raised his brows before returning to his scowl. He seemed to ponder it over.
“Huh? So you aren’t our new housemaid?” The man named ‘Bo-kun’ blinked incessantly.
“Or a stalker?” The blonde folded his arms crossly.
Before you could retort, the main door clicked open.
“I’m home!” You heard a voice call out. Footsteps thumped in the hallway before another man appeared in the scene. This person carried a bag of groceries in one hand, and a cap in another. His bright ginger hair contrasted against the cream walls of the living room.
“I saw another pair of shoes at the entrance. Is (l/n)-san finally-“ He made eye contact with you and the others, “–What’s going on?”
“Hinata! Help–” Apron guy cried as the ginger hurried over. “Tsum-tsum thinks our new maid is a stalker-!”
“For the love of– How many times must I tell you guys that I’m neither!” You threw up your hands in desperation.
The ginger blinked once at you before looking at the others, “Did you guys forget? Taichii-san’s niece is joining us here starting today. Isn’t this (l/n)-san?”
The three men turned their heads to you. A long sigh escaped you. It seemed like they would finally listen. Thank the gods for this man named Hinata.
Meru roamed freely in the living room, sniffing the kitchen counters. It approached the oven, which was half-open. A tray of burnt cookies sat inside, and your cat ran off after a tentative sniff. Meanwhile, you stared at the men sitting across from you. They had introduced themselves briefly, and the three men across from you were known as Atsumu, Hinata and Bokuto.
Uncle Tai forgot to mention that I’ll be living with a bunch of dudes, you side-eyed your sphynx. As if it could hear your thoughts, the hairless cat mewed back.
“I’m so sorry, (l/n)-san,” Bokuto blushed. He sat across you at the dinner table, his forehead practically squished against the surface as he bowed apologetically. His form was shrunken with embarrassment, his broad shoulders drawn in.
Atsumu sipped on his mug of coffee. He appeared indignant over the situation, as much as someone could be after accusing an innocent person of a crime. He would send not so inconspicuous gazes your way too. As you stared pointedly, your eyes met and he averted his gaze. An irk mark formed on your head.
This guy hates to swallow his pride, huh? What an asshole.
Whilst sparks flew between the two of you, Hinata scratched his cheek. He sat in between the others awkwardly. “This vibe makes me feel like I should apologise too…”
“It’s been a while since I heard of the news and I… completely forgot… and mixed up the housecleaning visit with your moving in. I’m terribly sorry for making you clean the place up–!” Bokuto added, still grovelling.
You held up your mug of coffee, “It’s fine now, Bokuto-san. And please, there’s no need for you to do this. It’s okay.”
He lifted his head cautiously and you reassured him with a nod. You took a tentative sip.
“How can we make it up to you?” Hinata spoke up, to which you rubbed your chin.
Meru mewed at the foot of the table. You lit up and turned to the trio, “Oh, I know. How about you show me around the house?”
It didn’t take much convincing for a house tour. Although, a certain blonde had slipped away during the tour, refusing to entertain your questions. The remaining duo properly showed you around the house, including the backyard. They shared that sometimes, they would have barbecues with friends, though rarely. You learned that Atsumu and Bokuto stayed on the second floor, which probably explained how the former had entered the bathroom without you knowing, due to it being right across his room. Meanwhile, Hinata, another tenant and you stayed on the third floor. As for the toilets…
When you enquired about it, the guys exchanged a look before Hinata sheepishly said, “Taichii-san had specifically requested that you use the third floor’s bathroom only… Um, he mentioned that it wouldn’t be right for a lady to share a bathroom with men she had no familial relation with.”
“Oh, I’m sorry if I’m being a bother,” Your eyes widened.
“It’s totes fine. We’re not at home much... Besides, we only have toilet fights when Tsum-tsum’s in the kitchen. Which is rare-” Bokuto rambled before Hinata slapped a hand over his mouth. The man with salt and pepper hair blinked in confusion.
“Don’t worry about it!” The ginger grinned. You raised a brow. That wasn’t reassuring one bit.
They led you to your room and the duo retreated downstairs. You watched them leave with Meru in your arms. You stood outside a room, the only one with a sign hanging on the door. It was your name arranged in hiragana with wooden blocks. A flower was even glued to the end.
Does Uncle Tai think I’m still in preschool? You tried to take it down only to realise it was superglued to the door. An irk mark formed on your head. A certain bozo was about to hear it from me later on the phone…
You closed the door behind you and set Meru down. Its tail trembled curiously as it inspected the floor. Gazing around the room, you noted the stacks of cardboard boxes in a corner. Huh, Uncle Tai really wasn’t lying when he said this place was bigger. You sat down on the bed. The naked mattress was soft yet firm, awaiting to be clothed in sheets. The evaporated stains of cleaning liquid on surfaces notified you of its recent cleaning. And much to your pleasure, the room was modestly furnished the way you had requested it to be. Just a table, wardrobe and cabinet.
Suddenly, you were reminded of your luggage at the door. You had forgotten about it during the chaos. It was the least of your worries when you were dealing with the probability of being arrested. You opened your door and peeked out of the room. Unexpectedly, your luggage bag was waiting outside. You glanced around the hall and at the stairs.
Someone has helped you out! You watched for any movement at the stairs but neither saw nor heard anything. With gratitude, you muttered thanks and wheeled it in.
You spent the rest of your time unboxing and decorating your room. Meru helped by laying on the bed and its new sheets. It dozed off in the warmth that filtered through your windows. You made quick work of unpacking clothes and arranging your decorations and merchandise. As you finished setting up your monitors, you pondered over the earlier argument.
Why did the blonde guy react so explosively earlier? Was he a celebrity of sorts? You were certain that you were up to date with pop culture, but neither his face nor name rang a bell. Though you wouldn’t doubt if he wasn’t famous. He was as prickly as a sea-urchin but undeniably a handsome man. You rummaged through your pop culture schemas but produced nothing.
A thump outside your room broke your train of thought. You peeked past your door to investigate and found yet another giant in the hallway. What did the tenants of this house eat…? This man was dressed in a stylish turtleneck and coat, and he stood across you, fiddling with the keys to his room.
Suddenly, Meru mewed. The man in the coat spun around, keys in hand. Your cat yawned and nuzzled the bed. You met his obsidian eyes nervously.
“Umm, hello…” You started. He stared back.
Despite wearing a mask, he was also quite the looker. Why was this house full of good looking dudes? Was he a celebrity of sorts too? The man had a mop of curly dark hair atop his head and two moles above an eyebrow. Wait, two moles? Your eyes widened in recognition, “Sakusa Kiyoomi!?””
Sakusa knitted his brows together. His mask twitched as he spoke, “Do I know you?”
“Are you for real? We attended class together in highschool . Remember, with your cousin Komori-kun. I was with you for all three years!” You gestured at yourself. He stared hard, as if considering what you had just said.
Heavy footsteps filled the stairway and Bokuto reappeared, “Oh! I see you guys have met already. That’s awesome,” He grinned and gestured over his shoulder, “C’mon, we’re heading out for dinner!”
“Huh? But I just got back,” Sakusa rubbed his temples with a sigh.
Bokuto simply placed his hands on his hips, “It won’t be good if you miss out, Yoomi! Besides, we’re having a welcome party!”
By the time you set foot, it was already evening. The restaurant they intended to visit was within walking distance, on the outskirts of the city that edged towards the suburbs. Rows of shops were situated on one side of a river, where cherry trees lined along. With spring fleeing from Japan’s grasp, the trees had already lost most of their blossoms. That didn’t stop you from catching a lone fluttering blossom as you stood outside a restaurant. Warm light filtered through the paper screen doors as the sign above read Onigiri Miya.
The guys opened the doors and a windchime rang in the doorway. You peeked past their broad shoulders to take in the place. The interior was a modest mixture of Japanese and modern design, with cream walls and wooden floorboards. Customers dined at the counter that looped around the kitchen or on the floors, at the low tables. The clamour of conversation and oil crackling was almost homely, like the izakayas in back home. As your eyes scanned the place, a waiter with freckles practically bounded towards your group.
“It’s been a while since I last saw you guys!” The boy said. He must have been in high school with his doe-like gaze.
“Sup,” Atsumu grinned. He was surprisingly cheery despite the earlier situation, “Is Samu here?”
“He left earlier for a catering event. The boss has been busy lately!” He noticed you and quickly added, “Oh, who’s this?”
“She’s our new housemate. Taichii’s niece,” Hinata added, gesturing at you with a smile. You nodded shyly and the waiter beamed.
“Arighty! My name is Yuuma and I’ll be your waiter for the day!” He swooped up a few menus and gestured, “Please follow me!”
Yuuma led everyone to the back of the restaurant. This area was partitioned off with screen doors, and it was far quieter here. These rooms must be reserved for special customers. You entered the room last and everyone took their seats, leaving the only open spot next to Atsumu. It wasn’t your intention to sit beside him, so you made it clear by respectfully scooting an inch away from him. After inspecting the menu, and with thoughtful insight from the guys, you decided on a warm bowl of curry udon, with a side of a speciality onigiri.
An awkward silence fell in the room the moment Yuuma left to place the orders. You half-heartedly scratched the fabric of your clothes when Hinata spoke up.
“We haven’t had a proper opportunity to introduce ourselves, so let me start,” the ginger smiled. His amber eyes held a homely warmth that could melt the barriers of anybody’s heart. He gestured at himself, “I’m Hinata Shouyou. It’s a pleasure to meet you!”
“I’m (l/n) (y/n). The pleasure is mine,” You bowed your head. Mirroring Hinata’s smile, you added, “Uncle Tai and I share the same family name, so feel free to call me (y/n), if you’d like.”
“Can I call you (y/n)-chan? That’s such a pretty name!” Bokuto straightened up and thumbed at his chest, “Ah– And I’m Koutarou Bokuto! It’s real nice to meet ‘cha!”
Bokuto’s gaze arrowed at the blonde beside you. The former seemed to be staring expectantly for him to introduce himself. Maybe because of the awkward incident from earlier. Ah… this awkward introduction gave the vibe of adolescents during a mixer, or something.
“Miya Atsumu,” the blonde practically exhaled. He looked at you from the corner of his eyes. He thumped an elbow on the table and rested his chin on it, “Nice to meet ‘cha, I suppose.”
“Y-Yeah, it’s nice to meet you, Miya-san,” Your smile wavered. Even if he mistook you for a stalker.
“Atsumu will do just fine.”
A half hearted sigh escaped you internally. Then there was Sakusa, who seemed disinterested in the conversation from the start. He had his gaze fixated on the wall behind you this whole time. Your eyes met for a brief second.
He spoke up softly, “Sakusa Kiyoomi. But you seem to already know that.”
“I’m surprised you don’t remember me. I was the class president in all our years in high school,” You leaned forward a little. Would that be enough to jog his memory?
Sakusa looked up at the ceiling, seemingly disinterested. You sighed with a dejected smile. Figures. It had been a number of years after graduation. So this reaction wasn’t much of a surprise. Your shoulders drooped in defeat.
“Sooo… does that mean you attended Itachiyama Institute?” Hinata spoke up. “What was Sakusa-san like?”
“I’ve attended since middle school all the way to high school. I may be wrong, but Sakusa-san transferred at the start of his first year of high school,” You lit up. Grinning, you cheekily added, “Girls were all over him for the next three years. It was never a boring day.”
“It was annoying,” Sakusa admitted. His focus remained on anything but you, but he indulged in a half-smile. “The only good memories I had were on the court.”
“Somebody’s shy,” the blonde beside you sniggered, “I’m surprised he had chicks when he’s this much of an asshole– Ow!”
Something thumped under the table. You could only assume Sakusa had kicked Atsumu under. A nervous smile creeped up on your face. Beneath his mask of calm he must have been riled up a little by that comment. Who knew he’d grown to be so petty.
Meanwhile, Atsumu grinded his teeth, “Fall over and shrivel up!”
The waiter returned with trays in hand. In a sing-song voice, he said, “Atsumu-san, please keep it down.”
Atsumu rolled his eyes and pouted. What was he, five? While Atsumu hyper-fixated on a dent in the floor, Bokuto helped Yuuma place the dishes on the table while Hinata began distributing cutlery. You took a pair of chopsticks and pulled your meal closer to you. The five of you shared a quiet meal, as much as one could when a blonde was seething beside you.
After some time had passed, you asked, “So are you all from the Kansai region? Except for Atsumu-san, the rest of you don’t sound like it.”
“Yoomi and I are from the capital, but Hinata’s from Miyagi.” Bokuto responded with a mouth full of ebifry. He took a swig of beer before exclaiming, “Woo! This stuff is great!”
Sakusa leaned away from Bokuto, a disgusted expression on his features. He shifted his meal away from the guy, who dropped a shrimp tail from his mouth. Meanwhile, Atsumu nagged at the guy to eat less sloppily.
Hinata chuckled before turning to you, “Yup, I’m from the more rural side of the prefecture. What about (l/n)-san?”
“I also lived in the countryside up until grade school. That’s when I moved to Tokyo,” you took a bite of a potato. It was soft and tender, like the rest of the veggies in the curry.
“I totally get it,” Hinata grinned. I can imagine it was a big change!”
“And now you moved from Tokyo to Osaka.” Bokuto prodded with half another ebifry sticking out from his lips. “Why’s that?”
You stopped mid bite. You raised your head to meet Bokuto’s eyes. The others were preoccupied with their food, but that didn’t mean that they weren’t listening. Like wisps of steam on a hot day, your appetite dissolved. Suddenly your curry udon and speciality onigiri didn’t smell so appetising anymore. With a far off look in your eyes, you managed a timid smile.
“I… guess I needed a change of pace.”
. . .
“And then she said to me… ‘Who do you think you are, asshole?!... And- Oh, I don’t feel sho gud…’” Gurgled Bokuto, who remained limp in Hinata and Sakusa’s grasps. They were practically dragging him at this rate, with how in and out of consciousness he was.
“He’s a goner,” Sakusa announced. He jabbed a finger into Bokuto’s face before clicking his tongue, “I even told him to hold back a little.”
Hinata chuckled. The tips of his ears were dusted pink but not as saturated as Bokuto’s. “He’s the life of a party. You’d know by now that Bokuto-san can’t stop once he starts.”
“I’m well aware of my teammate’s awful drinking habits, but we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow. He’s going to whine about his hangover during practice…” Sakusa trailed off.
Night had long fallen upon Osaka, and the way back was arduous with a passed out drunk in your party. You laughed light heartedly as the trio in front of you stumbled over a pebble. A flurry of insults at the unconscious man in the group spewed from Sakusa. Poor Hinata tried to defuse the situation on behalf of a man who was too drunk to care. Frankly, it was hilarious.
“What’s so funny?” Atsumu mumbled beside you. He was also tipsy, but not as bad as Bokuto. The two of you trailed behind the others.
Your smile fell, “Umm, it’s nothing.” You didn’t want him to misunderstand, so you quickly added, “I haven’t had this much fun in a while. I’m really happy.”
He hummed, seemingly in thought. A few moments of silence passed, and just when you figured that was the end, he muttered.
“Hey, about earlier.”
“Earlier…?”
“You know what I’m talking about,” the blonde said quickly, jamming his fists into the pocket of his hoodie. The warm light emanating from the street lamps cast a gentle glow on the contours of his handsome face. His brows furrowed, “I’ll be honest with ya, I jumped to conclusions and said some pretty awful things, my bad.”
He must not have been used to this– he was chewing on his bottom lip. It looked like it took everything in him to apologise, if you could consider this an apology.
The corners of your lips tilted up, “It’s okay. I would’ve been pretty spooked if some stranger appeared in my bathroom too. I may have done the same.”
“Oh, I mean. It’s not like ya did something wrong. Something like this happened before… sorta.”
This had happened before? Your surprised gaze was missed by Atsumu, who fixated on the path ahead. His eyes were downcast, and you frowned. With a face like his, it wouldn’t be out of the question to have obsessive fans. But stalkers were a different thing, no?
“I think I misjudged you,” you commented. “You seem like an okay guy, Atsumu-san.”
He gave you the side eye, “Hey, just because I apologised doesn’t mean you can make fun of me.”
“You call that an apology?” You chuckled when Hinata called out suddenly.
“(l/n)-san, Atsumu-san! Can you help buy us some painkillers? We ran out and need some for Bokuto-san tomorrow!” He gestured at the FamilyMart nearby.
Atsumu groaned. He flashed an okay-sign to the guys before looking at you. “Boy, yer going to witness an ugly sight tomorrow. We’re going to buy five different types of painkillers only for Bokuto to refuse to eat any.”
He entered the store first. Staring at his back, you looked behind your shoulder at Hinata, Sakura and Bokuto. They were fussing over the guy in the middle whose eyes were barely open.
A smile crept up your face. Who knows? Maybe living with these guys is going to be alright.
“(y/n)-san,” Atsumu called. He stood at the doorway, arms crossed.
“Be there in a second!” You hurried over, shoes clacking on the pavement.
With the trio waiting outside, Atsumu and you searched the aisles for medicine. You took a handful which Atsumu dumped into a basket. As the two of you waited in line, your phone– which you had left behind on your desk– buzzed with notifications.
#haikyuu#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu fem reader insert#haikyuu x fem reader#haikyuu msby bj#msby bj x reader#msbj bj x fem reader#hinata shouyou#hinata x you#hinata shouyou x you#miya atsumu#atsumu x you#miya atsumu x you#bokuto koutarou#bokuto koutarou x you#bokuto x you#sakusa kiyoomi#sakusa x you#sakusa kiyoomi x you#suna rintarou#suna x you#suna rintarou x you#haikyuu up on tokio hill#haikyuu fanfic up on tokio hill#up on tokio hill#haikyuu fanfic series
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Random Haikyuu Dating Headcanons In No Particular Order:
Featuring: Akaashi, Kuroo, Bokuto, Oikawa, Hinata, Kageyama, Atsumu, Osamu, Suna, Daichi, Tsukishima
Dating Akaashi means practically adopting Bokuto because they’re best friends, and Bo will always be a part of Akaashi’s life.
The same goes for Kuroo and Kenma.
Kageyama will call you after a particularly bad fight with Hinata because the poor boy is absolutely horrible at apologizing.
If you date either of the Miya Twins, congratulations, you’re now a referee for their fights.
If you date Suna, be prepared for a constant stream of his blackmail pictures and videos. He sends them to you to make you laugh.
Oikawa will keep you up to date on all the gossip he knows. Even if you say you aren’t interested, he still goes on tangents talking about it.
Hinata will sometimes jump on top of things you’re standing near just to kiss you.
Bokuto loves to carry you. If you look tired, he’ll let you climb on his back. He loves listening to your sleepy chatter as you try to stay awake.
Daichi is responsible and protective. He loves you and will do whatever he can to make you feel safe and loved.
Tsukishima is a textbook tsundere. This bitch loves making fun of people. He’ll pick on you in public and act disinterested, but once you’re alone, he turns into the softest marshmallow of a man as he pulls you into a hug and reminds you that he loves you.
#haikyuu#haikyuu!!#reader#haikyuu imagine#reader insert#gender neutral reader#fluff#tsukishima kei x reader#daichi sawamura x reader#oikawa toru x reader#suna rintaro x reader#miya atsumu x reader#miya osamu x reader#bokuto koutaro x reader#akaashi keji x reader#kageyama tobio x reader#kuroo tetsurou x reader#hinata shoyo x reader#haikyuu headcanons#hq headcanons#haikyuu x reader#hq x reader
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Bf atsumu that likes to cage you in his arms, that likes to hug you from behind and engulf you in his embrace, probably comparing your hand sizes at some point, because he's so tall and buff and likes to tease you about it. He also probably enjoys putting all of his weight on you while lying in bed, mostly to play, not indulging in it for too long, just enough for you to promise him to give him more attention and kisses.
#miya atsumu#haikyuu!!#haikyuu sfw#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu#hq#hq!!#hq sfw#hq fluff#miya atsumu x reader#miya atsumu x you#bf atsumu#hq headcanons#haikyuu headcanons#self insert#'tsumu brainrot
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S1. VACATION BIBLE SCHOOL — HQ SMAU SERIES ( 18 + )
[ 🖇️ ] EPISODE 1. TAKE NOTES FOR ME, MAN.
PREMISE. FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS INARI 5! / F!READER
DIRECTORS FILMOGRAPHY. (HQ. MASTERLIST)
SERIES MASTERLIST // NEXT EPISODE // PREVIOUS EPISODE
SERIES SUMMARY.
cardinal rule number one of university; don't fuck your classmates. unless they happen to have something you want.
DIRECTOR NOTES.
kuroo and reader have an especially close bond in the friendgroup, it dates back to childhood.
reader will never be referred to as y/n. petnames, nicknames etc will be used in place.
this season starts relatively early in the semester. despite being in japan, the series follows an american school year.
timestamps do matter somewhat, they’re usually just used to establish the setting / time.
reblogs are appreciated .ᐟ ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა
© property of shoyostar / thomae 2023. all rights reserved.
#[ 𐚁 ] 𝒱𝒶𝒸𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝐵𝒾𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝒮𝒸𝒽𝑜𝑜𝓁 ꒱ྀི#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu smau#haikyuu smau series#hq smau#haikyuu!!#suna smut#atsumu smut#osamu smut#aran smut#kita smut#suna x reader#atsumu x reader#osamu x reader#kita x reader#aran x reader#shinsuke kita#rintaro suna#aran ojiro#atsumu miya#osamu miya#haikyuu x y/n#haikyuu scenarios#haikyuu imagines#haikyuu smut#hq imagines#haikyuu x you#haikyuu x self insert#꒰ ܴೈ ꒱ — champagne party .ᐟ#‧₊˚⋅ ࣪ ִֶָ☾. — constellations .ᐟ
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Take Your Time 🌙 *ੈ✩‧₊˚
notes: requested, reader has insomnia. listened to this cover of stuck with you while writing this <3 imagine being sickly in love hah!!
[ fem!reader x ] : atsumu, oikawa, akaashi
❖ Atsumu *ੈ✩‧₊˚
He would wake from the empty bed
worry takes over his sleepy eyes
already knows the reason as he walks around the house to search for you
Large arms engulf you from behind after you'd just taken a sip of cool water. The glass leaves a wet ring on the kitchen counter. Usually, Atsumu would slip a coaster beneath the cup, but his focus was on you at the moment.
"Sorry," you murmur as he places a kiss on your shoulder.
"Didn't I said ya didn't have to apologize? Ever." Tsumu recounts the first time you apologized for waking him up. He made a promise to himself to chase all your nightmares away.
"Oh. Sor-" you stop yourself, catching on to what you were about to say. Tsumu chuckles before placing another kiss on your cheek. His hands grip your waist, turning you around to face him.
That's when you notice his lazy, yet charming smile that you fell for. His auburn eyes flicker from your lips to your own shimmering orbs. "Wanna watch a movie or somethin'?" he whispers.
Laying in his lap while watching a random film on netflix was always effective in getting you back to sleep. But this time, you were okay with just being in his arms.
"We can just go back to bed, babe." You reach up to kiss his lips.
"Ya sure, angel?" His arms are still wrapped around you, eyebrows scrunching with concern. You give him a reassuring smile and nod, not realizing the effect of your smile on this lovesick athlete.
Atsumu leans in to press a deeper kiss to you. He presses his palm on the back of your neck to urge you closer. You let out a satisfied sigh before he pulls away, leaning his forehead against yours. "Alright, then. Shall we?"
A small giggle escapes you when he swiftly picks you up bridal-style and makes your way into the bedroom. Your nightmares long gone as your thoughts are only filled with him. <3
❖ Oikawa *ੈ✩‧₊˚
Notices immediately when you’re awake
Because you must’ve moved away from his arms as you tried to find a comfortable position to sleep in
He'll start a conversation with you
stays up with you
"Having some trouble, babe?" You were hoping that Oikawa wouldn't be stirred awake from your constant tossing and turning.
"Mhm," you admit guiltily. Though, you had no reason to be guilty. If it weren't for the nightmare, you'd be sound asleep right now.
"Wanna talk about it?" The professional setter’s voice is laced with sleep and his lids are heavy but he’s ready to listen to anything you’ll say. Your troubles were his.
You hesitate for a moment. “It’s alright.”
Not wanting to push you, he nods before reaching his arms to you. “Okay then, come back here. I miss you already.” He says with a more cheerful tone, despite speaking in a low whisper due to just waking up.
You giggle as he tickles your neck with an absurd amount of kisses. “I got you, pretty girl.” He murmurs on your skin.
After a few minutes, Oikawa breaks the comforting silence. “Still awake?” It amazes you how much he could read you like a book. While wondering what gave you away, he brushes a bunch of your hair away from your face, revealing your blushing cheeks and fluttering lashes. Features of you that never fails to make his heart clench.
“I can’t sleep,” you admit, biting your lip. Oikawa slides his thumb against your bottom lip, pulling it from your teeth.
“It’s okay, baby. Take your time. We can stay up until you feel comfortable enough to sleep.” You feel his thumb lift to your cheeks, rubbing along the skin. A smirk appears on his lips. “How about we talk about how well I did yesterday? Mind repeating your words?” He recalls the last game where he landed countless power serves and controlled sets. Right after, you had jumped on him, telling him how ‘cool and sexy’ he looked on court. You couldn’t believe the talented setter was your boyfriend.
“Hmm. ‘Sexy’? Was it? And ‘cool’?” Oikawa grins. “Mind elaborating on that, pretty?”
“And annoying,” you add with a tongue poking against your cheek. He rolls his eyes, still grinning. “I still love you, Tooru.”
He pulls you in tighter. “Ahh, y/n…I love you. So fckn much.” He spends the next few moments pouring out his heart and love for you, reminiscent of the day he first confessed to you. It took him a couple minutes to realize that you’re already dozing off and he’s been talking to himself.
The one time he doesn’t catch on. A look of adoration fills his expression before he nuzzles his chin above your head and falling into a deep slumber himself.
❖ Akaashi *ੈ✩‧₊˚
so incredibly doting!! it's sick!!
rubbing your skin soothingly
holding you in his lap
soft headpats
“Those dreams again, huh?” Akaashi had been awake, working on his writing. He noticed you mumbling in your sleep, fingers and nose twitching in discomfort. A habit you picked up since you started having nightmares.
Before he could get a chance to gently shake you awake, your eyes flutter open, brows furrowed. Hearing his voice, you peer up at Akaashi with his back leaning against the bed frame. The only thing filling the silence that follows is the ongoing rain drops of rain pattering against the glass window.
After tearing off his glasses, he places his laptop aside, maneuvering himself to your side and laying his head against the soft pillow. You could almost read each other’s mind through facial expressions as you face each other.
“Don’t worry. I’m here, baby.” he says when he sees the pained look on your face. “Relax.” A kiss is pressed on top of your head as a sign of reassurance. You feel his hands rubbing along your back and then massaging at your waist.
You definitely calmed down a little from his intimate actions. It’s like his fingers were imbued with magical healing powers. Sometimes you wonder if he was a guardian angel sent from the heavens to make your life easier.
“Want water or anything?” Akaashi checks the temperature on your forehead just in case.
Phew, no fever. Akaashi thinks.
“Sure, I think that’ll help.” The urge to sleep slowly seeps away from your body as you sit up, ready to leave the bed, but your boyfriend stops you.
“It’s okay, love. I got it for you.” Before you could protest, he hops off the mattress and leaves the room. It doesn’t take a while for him to enter again with a glass. You mutter a ‘thank you’ before downing the drink and leaving the empty glass on the nightstand.
“Let me know what else you need. I’ll be here. Okay?” He returns to his original seat on the bed, pulling you into his lap this time.
One side of your cheek squishes against his fabric-covered thigh as you respond “Okay.” With a light-hearted chuckle, he presses a kiss onto your exposed cheek, moving all the strands of hair in the way.
From the way he looks at you, one can tell that this man would move mountains for you. (He would) And if getting rid of your nightmares is his duty, he will do his best to fulfill it.
#🍙—reader inserts#🥪—requests#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu imagines#haikyuu hcs#haikyuu headcanons#oikawa x reader#atsumu x reader#akaashi x reader#miya atsumu x reader#oikawa tooru x reader#akaashi keiji x reader#oikawa tooru fluff#oikawa fluff#atsumu fluff#akaashi fluff#akaashi keiji fluff#miya atsumu fluff
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𝙆𝙄𝙉𝙆𝙏𝙊𝘽𝙀𝙍 '𝟮𝟮 ; 𝙒𝙄𝙏𝙃 𝘼𝙏𝙎𝙐𝙈𝙐 [SEMI-PUBLIC + CLOTHED SEX]
jealous atsumu when someone won’t take no for a answer for yous lot tbh i rushe dthis o balls
warnings ;; possible mild language, jealousy, jealous sex, semi-public sex, clothed sex (sort of), humiliation and slight degradation, rough-ish sex, atsumu is vulgar in this i apologize etc
by qtipcottonbuds 2022. do not repost.
𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗨𝗠𝗨 𝗫 𝗚𝗡!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥;
“C’mon, answer it. Wouldn’t wanna keep him waitin,’ sweetheart, would ya?”
The mobile phone continues to buzz atop the bedside table, vibrating against the wood; and it’s irritating, grating at his ears, but more than anything, the bright screen flashing intermittently with both the number, and their name, is what gets Atsumu the most. Always ringing near enough to every hour of everyday - you were too soft, too sweet, brushing them off gently - you didn’t want any confrontation. But, Atsumu knew, he knew first hand their intentions.
It was far from innocent.
Keening into his hand, muffling your whines, you insistently shake your head back at him - maybe if he was in your position, Atsumu would consider responding in the same manner you just had. Resisting initially, and attempting to shrug his palm firmly situated across your lips off to stop him; it was adorable, the eagerness of your will to fight back, to push him off. Yet, only to relax in the said hold, complacent and pliable with each roll of his hips, slow and methodical, sinking deeper, kissing your insides. A perverse pacifier.
(People aren’t kind, and Atsumu is far from kind).
“Well, if you ain’t gonna do it, I’ll do it for ya.”
Leaning downwards and grasping onto the mobile, Atsumu swipes across the call button allowing it to connect; a smile, plastered with ill-intent, on his lips. His gaze is heavy, holding your own, and he can tell you hate it. The helplessness, the fear - a restrained pleading to stop - if anything, it was fueling the fire further.
“So, yer the so-called colleague, yeah? Workin’ with them on that project,'' a hum, masked with civility, “What’s with the confusion, m’sure ya know who I am, right? Most people do, when they listen. Are ya any good at listenin?’ Takin’ in information?”
Easing his grasp across your mouth, patting the side of your cheek affectionately, Atsumu rolls his hips yet again, languidly, the fat glans of his cock angling in such a way you abruptly arch up into the touch, your thighs parting wider, almost eagerly.
“Good, good. I like t’hear that. Love it when people listen, ya’know, makes ya feel heard. Seen. Anyway; I know all about ya. My sweetheart, pretty thing, too nice, too soft - just can’t be mean - but, I can. They told me everythin’. Askin’ ‘em for a date, not leavin’ ‘em alone, even when they said no. That they’ve got a boyfriend. Ya’know what no means, don’t ya?”
Sliding in with an audible squelch, he continues, tutting at the whine you let out.
“Y’wanna know why they were takin’ so long to respond, why they weren’t pickin’ up? ‘Cause we were fuckin,’” the audible spluttering on the other end of the receiver has Atsumu questioning how long he can maintain this facade, playing civil, when he’d rather lay them flat out cold, “I bet, you’ve thought about fuckin’ em too. Haven’t you? Creamin’ yourself over the thought of it, doing sappy shit. I can’t blame ya, I’m the same; but the difference is, I’m the one actually doing it - ya wanna hear it? A little ASMR for ya.”
Thumbing across the circular icon of the ‘speaker’ button, he repositions the mobile directly above the base of his cock, coated in a creamy ring, before dragging his cock back out, resting at the fat slit with a squelch!
Atsumu goes to respond, a petty remark on his lips, but the dial tone that cuts through the line confirms everything.
“I fuckin’ thought as much. Now, where were we, sweetheart?”
#kinktober#kinktober 2022#kinktober with qtipcottonbuds#haikyuu!!#haikyuu#msby jackals#atsumu miya#atsumu smut#gender neutral character#gender neutral reader#gender neutral y/n#gender neutral insert#atsumu x gender neutral reader#atsumu x reader#atsumu x male reader#atsumu x female reader
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Atsumu "My Girlfriend Of Five Years Keeps Friendzoning Me And I'm At My Limit" Miya
pairing: atsumu miya x f!reader
cw: implied sexual content - not explicit
word count: 1.2k
He notices it the first time it happens. You're perched on his lap, legs bracketing his hips as his thighs support your weight. It's a clumsy round of kissing, a teasing lower lip bite, some tongue, your hands sliding down the frontside of his shirt, then you say the words: "God, I'm so glad you're my best friend."
Any will Atsumu has to continue this, to take this moment into the next step where you're sprawled out under him with the sheets bunched in your fists and toes curling into the mattress is gone. Its nonexistence leaves him feeling hollow, the thought isn't even hot to him anymore.
"What the fuck," he says, "what the fuck? Huh? Friend?"
You have the audacity to sleepily crack open your eyes and brush your fingertips against the jut of his cheekbone. "Best friend."
He's now facing a mortal quandary where he's questioning his reason for being. Why is he here? What were the last five years for? He stares down at you, speechless.
Then there's the second instance.
You and Osamu are making a tray of egg custards in his kitchen. Atsumu's lounging on the couch, because fuck no he's not going to tempt the possibility of burning his fingers. His fingers that are the single most important part of his body. His fingers that are the deciding factor of the momentum for every game.
"These are coming out so good, Osamu," you say.
Atsumu sneaks a furtive peek over his shoulder. He sees you leaning against the island countertop, eyes alight with a youthful kind of joy which makes him want to puke but because it's stupidly adorable. Osamu seems to think the same, because he's making that affectionately funny face.
"Glad ya think so," he says, "they could be better, though. Definitely added one too many eggs."
"More protein," you say, no teasing lilt in your voice. Genuinely, it appears as if you were proud of royally fucking up the recipe. Atsumu rolls his eyes. Five years he's had to deal with your infectiously positive attitude towards everything.
"Yup, somethin' you need more of. Is your best friend still inhalin' the food off your plate when I'm not around?"
What—"'Samu!" Atsumu cries out as his attention is yanked fully from the television screen. "You're doin' it, too!?"
Both you and Osamu don't pay him any mind.
"Mhm, my best friend is always stealing morsels from me. It's alright, though. I'm always cooking extra in order to adhere to his huge caloric intake. The professional volleyball player diet and all that."
Osamu clicks his tongue, shakes his head, and slots one hand against his hip. "I'll be sure to send ya off with some ingredients I don't need anymore. For yer best friend."
"Gosh, I'd really appreciate that," you say.
The two of you share a laugh, leaving Atsumu groping for any semblance of sanity. He's losing it. He's fallen into an alternate timeline.
It happens again, a third, fourth, fifth, sixth time.
A scene: Atsumu letting you take the last seat on the train as he grips one of the handles. Or as he likes to call it—The oh-shit handle. Because any turbulence, any abrupt halt has him clinging onto it for dear life as you're sitting there, one leg crossed over the other, fucking snoozing.
"Are ya really gonna sleep while I'm the one who's sufferin' here on yer behalf?" he says.
It wakes you up, and you mumble something incoherent as you rub your eyes. "You can sit in my lap, Atsumu. I don't mind."
"I think I'll fuckin' flattin' ya like a pancake." He rolls his eyes. "But thanks."
You shake your head and pout. "No, no. I insist. What are friends for?"
Atsumu's high-pitched whine of frustration is drowned by the train once again screeching to an ear-deafening halt.
Another scene: Atsumu is watching you roll around on the bed, burrito-fying yourself with the blankets as you wear his old Inarizaki sweatshirt. His hands cradle a game controller, but he's hit the pause button a full three minutes ago. Which is three minutes too long. He hates the sickly sweet things you make him feel. It's five years and still the way you paw at the sheets in mid-sleep and drool on the pillow—Which by the way, absolutely disgusting, has him weak.
And because he's an asshole, he doesn't let things that make him feel weak last long. He stretches over and pokes at your cheek.
"Yer an ugly sleeper," he says when you crack open an eye.
"I'm more beautiful than you," is what you say around the dryness of your tongue.
Atsumu rubs his thumb across the small streak of spit on the side of your mouth. You groan and thwack his hand away.
"Gross," you say, finally giving in and blushing, "don't do that."
"What were you sayin' about bein' more beautiful than me? You're the one who's droolin' like a baby in her sleep."
"And I'll drool all over your sweatshirt, too."
He shrugs. He couldn't give less of a shit if he tried. It doesn't fit him anymore. "Go ahead. I'll even buy ya an Inarizaki bib since yer also a messy eater as you are a sleeper."
You try to flip him off but he grabs your wrist and kisses your knuckles.
"Gross," you say again, "best friends shouldn't kiss each other."
"I'll do more than that," he says, finally pushing himself over you and caging you under him. "I'll show you how good of a 'best friend' I can be."
You crack a fond smile, and do that stomach-clenching thing where you brush his bangs aside and trace circles against his collarbone with your thumb.
"Alright," you say, "show me."
Final scene:
The two of you are a pile of limbs. Atsumu's still panting, overexertion gnawing on his muscles. You’re an anchoring weight against his chest, splayed out over him, one side of your face smushed against the base of his neck.
"You're cute," you say.
"Cute? That's a shitty compliment." He's a fucking liar. He's knee-weak for you. It's a disease rotting him inside-out.
"You're cute," you say again, this time blowing in his ear. He shivers. "My cute little—"
"If you say best friend I will push you off the bed," he says.
"—My cute little boyfriend."
He grits his teeth and squeezes you tight. "I hate you."
"You love me more than you hate me," you say.
"Yeah and I hate myself for loving you more than I hate you."
You press a hand against his cheek. It's shaking because you're suppressing your laughter. "I'll love you more than you hate yourself for loving me more than you hate me."
He can't muster the three cells in his brain to fire their synapses in response. The only thing he can do is latch onto you, feeling you laugh against him and the noise being the one thing to guide him into a deep, comfortable sleep.
by wobbles
#atsumu miya#osamu miya#haikyuu headcanons#hq!!#haikyuu reader insert#haikyuu!!#haikyuu drabbles#haikyuu oneshots#haikyuu fluff#hq x reader#hq osamu#hq atsumu#atsumu x you#atsumu drabble#osamu drabble#atsumu headcanons#osamu headcanons#atsumu fluff#haikyuu x reader#hq headcanons#reader insert#haikyuu x you#haikyuu x yn#haikyuu imagines#haikyuu hcs#atsumu x y/n#atsumu x reader#atsumu x self insert#wobbles
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𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 ✯ 𝐀.𝐌𝐢𝐲𝐚
"𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚'𝙨 𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙠𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚, 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙮 𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢 𝙚𝙣𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝"
PAIRING. Miya Atsumu x f!Reader
CONTENT. Angst, ADULTERY, unrequited love, childhood friends to NOT lovers.
A complex and emotionally charged story that revolves around the intertwined lives of Y/N and Atsumu and their affair
WC. 4.3k
A/N. Okay I'm going to put it straight. Y/N is dependant on Atsumu which makes it why she appears so 'weak' or wtv. Atsumu doesn't love Y/N, kind of explained in the story which is why this one is super long. This is probably one of my deep deep one shots and there's reasons for their actions. Not defending cheating and I've said it before, this is going to be a deep one. Also its heavily inspired by Takumi and Reira's relationship.
Masterlink - Songs Unwritten
The soft rays of the morning sun bathed the small coastal town where Y/N and Atsumu grew up together. The sound of crashing waves served as the backdrop to the story of two childhood friends who shared an unbreakable bond that even fate couldn't sever.
Y/N and Atsumu had been inseparable since they were little, finding solace in each other's company. Atsumu's childhood was marked by tragedy when he lost his mother at a tender age. Grief weighed heavy on his young heart, and he faced a rough path ahead. But amid the darkness, Y/N stood like a beacon of light, guiding him through the shadows.
When the news first broke of his mother, she found him sitting alone on the beach they had spent countless hours playing as children. The usually lively and energetic boy seemed like a mere shadow of himself, lost in the depths of grief. Y/N approached him quietly, her heart aching at the sight of her dear friend in pain.
"Atsumu," she whispered, her voice filled with gentle concern.
Atsumu looked up, his tear-streaked face meeting her worried gaze. He didn't say anything, but the unspoken anguish in his eyes told Y/N everything she needed to know.
Without a word, she sat down beside him, wrapping her arms around him in a comforting embrace. She didn't try to offer empty words of consolation; she knew that nothing she said could take away the pain he felt. Instead, she simply held him close, allowing him to lean on her for support.
As the waves crashed against the shore, Y/N stayed by his side, offering him the solace he desperately needed. Time seemed to lose its meaning as they sat there, the world around them fading into insignificance. Y/N understood the power of silent companionship, and she was determined to be there for him in his darkest hour.
"It hurts so much, Y/N," Atsumu finally choked out, his voice breaking with emotion.
"I know," Y/N replied, her voice equally choked with emotion. "I can't take away your pain, Atsumu, but I promise you won't have to face it alone."
Atsumu looked at her, gratitude mingling with sorrow in his eyes. "Thank you, Y/N. I don't know what I'd do without you."
"You don't have to worry about that," Y/N said, her voice firm with conviction. "I'll be here for you, no matter what. We've always been there for each other, right?"
Atsumu nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Yeah, we have."
In the days that followed, Y/N kept true to her word. She stayed by Atsumu's side, offering him a shoulder to lean on and a listening ear whenever he needed it. She helped him make funeral arrangements and stood with him as he bid his final farewell to his mother.
Through it all, Y/N remained a pillar of strength for Atsumu, guiding him through the storm of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. She reminded him of the happy memories they had shared, and together, they found solace in the knowledge that his mother's love would always be with him.
As time passed, Atsumu's wounds began to heal, but the memory of his mother remained etched in his heart. And through it all, Y/N continued to be his rock, the one constant presence in his life, just as she had been since their childhood.
Their bond grew even stronger, cemented by the trials they had faced together. Atsumu knew that he could always count on Y/N, and she knew that her place in his life was irreplaceable.
From their earliest memories, Y/N had been the pure entity in Atsumu's life. She possessed a quiet strength that calmed the storm in his heart. The two of them spent countless hours playing on the beach, building sandcastles and chasing seagulls. But as they grew older, Atsumu's shared passion for volleyball became the center of their universe.
Atsumu discovered his love for the sport during his elementary school years, and Y/N became his muse and inspiration. Because of that, Atsumu soared to new heights, earning a spot in the national team and eventually securing a place in the pro Olympic team.
Throughout their journey in the world of volleyball, Y/N stood by Atsumu's side, managing every aspect of his career. Her unwavering support and dedication were unparalleled. She managed his schedules, arranged training sessions, and took care of all the logistical details, allowing Atsumu to focus solely on his game.
As the years passed, Y/N’s admiration for Atsumu grew deeper, but in the pursuit of their dreams, the world presented them with a harsh reality when Atsumu’s one night stand, Emi, was pregnant.
Atsumu's heart felt like an impenetrable fortress as he delivered the news to Y/N. He revealed Emi's pregnancy with a cold detachment that left Y/N reeling. She had always hoped for a different outcome, but the reality was far from her dreams.
"Y/N, I wanted you to know that Emi is pregnant," Atsumu said flatly, his gaze avoiding her eyes.
Y/N's heart sank, and she struggled to keep her composure. "Oh, I see."
Atsumu continued, his voice void of emotion. "We've decided to get married to avoid any potential scandal. It's the right thing to do."
She tried to hide her hurt, burying her feelings deep within. "I understand, Atsumu. It's important to consider what's best for everyone involved."
But her heart was breaking, knowing that Atsumu didn't care for her the way she cared for him. He saw their night together as a mere blip in the grand scheme of things, while she held onto it like a precious memory she couldn't let go of.
As the days passed, Y/N watched Atsumu prepare for his impending marriage with a heavy heart. She couldn't help but feel a sense of betrayal, knowing that he was marrying someone he didn't truly love, while her love for him remained unrequited.
One evening, as the sun set over the horizon, Y/N found herself seeking solace in their favorite spot on the beach. Atsumu found her there, his face expressionless as he approached.
"Y/N, are you okay?" he asked, his voice tinged with a hint of concern.
She forced a smile, masking her true emotions. "I'm fine, Atsumu. Just thinking about everything."
Atsumu sat down beside her, the distance between them feeling vast and insurmountable. "I know this isn't easy for you, and I'm sorry for that."
Her heart clenched at his words, knowing that he was apologizing out of obligation rather than genuine concern. "It's not your fault, Atsumu. You have to do what's right for you and your family."
Atsumu looked away, seemingly unable to confront the reality of their situation. "I hope you'll still be there for me, Y/N. You've always been my rock."
Y/N fought back tears, her voice soft but resolute. "Of course, Atsumu. I'll always be here for you, no matter what happens."
And in that moment, she knew that her love for him would never waver, even if his heart belonged to another. Y/N understood that she couldn't force him to feel something he didn't, but she also couldn't abandon the one person who had always been there for her.
As the waves crashed against the shore, Y/N found strength in knowing that she would continue to be Atsumu's source of comfort, even if he could never return her love.
He couldn't abandon Y/N, not after all she had done for him. His conscience struggled with the guilt of leaving her behind. Still, he couldn't deny the responsibility he held for Emi and the child growing inside her. The weight of responsibility bore down on him, and he decided to marry Emi, promising to care for her and their child.
Y/N, though heartbroken, put on a brave face and continued to support Atsumu as his friend. She knew he needed her now more than ever, and she refused to abandon him, just as he refused to abandon her. But deep inside, she couldn't help but hope that someday, he would see her as more than a friend and manager.
Y/N understood the complexity of their relationship. She knew Atsumu used her presence and affection to fill the void in his heart, but she couldn't bring herself to deny him. She loved him unconditionally, even if it meant being the second choice in his life.
One day, as Y/N was going through Atsumu's schedule and emails, she noticed a particular message that caught her eye. It was an invitation to Atsumu's wedding. Her heart sank as she read the words on the screen, and a mix of emotions overwhelmed her.
For a moment, she felt a wave of jealousy and heartbreak, knowing that the man she loved was about to marry someone else. But beneath those emotions, she also felt happiness for him, knowing that he had found love and a family of his own.
Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes as she closed the email. She couldn't bear to think of a life without Atsumu by her side, but she had always known that this day might come. He deserved happiness, even if it wasn't with her.
With a heavy heart, Y/N decided to confront Atsumu. She found him at the training facility, sweating and focused as he prepared for his next game. She took a deep breath, steadying herself for the conversation ahead.
"Atsumu," she called out, her voice tinged with both sadness and resolve.
He turned to her, a warm smile lighting up his face. "Hey, Y/N. What's up?"
Y/N tried to smile back, but the weight of her emotions made it difficult. "I saw the email," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Congratulations on your wedding."
Atsumu's expression softened, and he approached her, sensing the heaviness in her words. "Thank you, Y/N. I wanted to talk to you about it."
Y/N shook her head gently, not wanting to burden him with her feelings. "It's okay, Atsumu. I understand. You deserve to be happy."
His brow furrowed with concern, Atsumu reached out to cup her cheek. "Y/N, you mean the world to me. You know that, right? You've always been there for me, and I'll never forget that."
A single tear escaped Y/N's eye, and she leaned into his touch, savoring the comfort it brought. "I know, Atsumu. And I'll always be here for you, no matter what happens."
He pulled her into a warm embrace, holding her close. "You're my rock, Y/N. I couldn't have achieved any of this without you."
As much as Y/N wanted to confess her feelings at that moment, she held back, not wanting to put any burden on Atsumu before his big day. She cherished the closeness they shared, even if it was tinged with a bittersweet ache.
The day of the wedding arrived, and Y/N stood at the back of the venue, watching as Atsumu and his bride exchanged vows. Her heart swelled with both joy and heartache as she witnessed the love between them. She couldn't help but wonder if she would ever find a love like that for herself.
Amid the celebrations, Y/N found herself stealing glances at Atsumu, his happiness radiating from him. He caught her eye at one point, and a soft smile played on his lips, as if he could sense her turmoil. It only deepened the ache in her heart.
The aftermath of Atsumu's wedding was a tumultuous time for Y/N. She tried to suppress her feelings for him, burying them deep within her heart while continuing to be the dedicated friend he relied on.
As time went by, Atsumu found it increasingly difficult to keep Y/N at a distance. She had been his sanctuary, his escape from the harsh realities of his troubled childhood. She was the one thing that made life bearable, the pure and soothing melody amidst the cacophony of his past.
But as he matured, he realized that he couldn't keep clinging to the illusion of Y/N as his saving grace. She was a person with her own desires, dreams, and emotions, not just a figure in his life to bring him comfort. He wanted her to be happy, but he struggled to face the reality that maybe he couldn't be the one to give her that happiness.
Atsumu tried to find his own path, embracing his passion for volleyball, pursuing a career as an Olympic athlete and now a married man. He discovered a purpose beyond just relying on Y/N, but deep down, he knew that her feelings for him hadn't disappeared.
Yet Y/N couldn't help but yearn for more from Atsumu. As they grew older, she wanted to be seen not just as his source of comfort but as a woman with her own identity. She wanted to share a genuine connection with him, beyond their childhood bond. Her love for him only intensified as she saw him flourish and succeed, but she also knew that she couldn't sacrifice her own desires and happiness for his sake.
One evening, as the sun set over the beach, Y/N and Atsumu sat side by side, the waves gently lapping at their feet. The atmosphere was calm, and the air was filled with a comfortable silence.
Y/N spoke softly, her eyes fixed on the horizon. "I'm happy for you, Atsumu. I really am. Emi is a wonderful woman, and I know she loves you deeply."
Atsumu smiled, his hand reaching out to pat her on her head, stroking it. "Thank you, Y/N. Your support means everything to me."
Y/N's voice was tinged with vulnerability as she finally mustered the courage to address the unspoken tension between them. "Atsumu, I need to talk to you about something important."
Atsumu's face remained impassive, his guard firmly in place. "Go ahead, Y/N."
Her heart sank but she pressed on, determined to bring their feelings to light. "I’ve been in love with you for so many years now. I don't think I can see you with another woman and live the life I wanted with you!"
Atsumu's eyes flickered, a distant look in his gaze. "Y/N, you're important to me, but you're overthinking things. We're friends, that's it."
Her heart shattered, but she refused to show weakness. "Friends... is that all you see me as, Atsumu?"
He sighed, as if her emotions were a burden he'd rather not carry. "I don't want to deal with this right now. Can we just drop it?"
Y/N bit her lip, holding back tears as she nodded. "Sure, Atsumu. We can drop it."
The silence that followed felt suffocating, filled with unspoken words and shattered dreams. Atsumu's distance was like a cold wall between them, and Y/N felt herself retreating further into her own world of unrequited love.
As the days passed, Atsumu remained aloof, avoiding any conversations that delved into their emotions. Y/N tried to maintain their friendship, but the pain of his indifference was becoming too much to bear.
One evening, as they found themselves alone after a volleyball game, Y/N couldn't contain her emotions any longer. "Atsumu, I can't keep pretending that everything's okay. You're so distant, and it hurts."
Atsumu glanced at her, his expression unchanged. "I have a lot on my plate right now. I can't deal with this emotional drama."
Her voice trembled, her pain slipping through her defenses. "It's not just drama, Atsumu. These are my feelings, and they matter."
He sighed, frustration creeping into his tone. "Look, Y/N, I don't know what you want me to say. I don't feel the same way, and I can't force myself to."
The weight of his words hung in the air, a painful admission of their mismatched feelings. Y/N felt like an intruder in her own heart, unwelcome and rejected.
As the distance between them grew, Y/N felt like she was losing the one person who had always been her anchor. She couldn't bear the coldness that had replaced the warmth of their friendship, but she didn't know how to bridge the gap between them.
In the depths of his heart, Atsumu knew that Y/N had fallen deeply in love with him. Her unwavering support and the sacrifices she made for him were undeniable signs of her feelings. He was aware that she longed for him to see her as more than just a friend, to acknowledge her as a woman, and to reciprocate the love she held for him.
Atsumu was no stranger to the fact that he was the reason for Y/N's dependence on him. He couldn't forget how she had been his haven during their tumultuous childhood, the one person who had believed in him when nobody else did. She had been his comfort, his refuge, and his muse for volleyball, unknowingly becoming the foundation upon which his life was built.
Guilt gnawed at him as he realized that he owed so much to Y/N. He felt an obligation that he couldn't just abandon her even after all the times she had been his guiding light. However, in his conflicted heart, he couldn't find the same depth of emotion for her that she had for him.
Every encounter with Y/N was tinged with a bittersweet sense of duty. He wanted to give her the experience of being seen as a woman, to make her feel desired and cherished, even if it was just for those stolen moments. But deep down, Atsumu couldn't deny that his heart belonged elsewhere, to a woman he was legally bound to and the child they were about to have.
He knew he couldn't deny the truth any longer – Y/N needed to be seen, loved, and cherished as the woman she was. The walls he had built around his heart began to crumble as he saw the pain in her eyes, and he knew that he couldn't keep her caged in the role he had assigned to her.
One night, after a particularly emotional game, Atsumu sought solace in Y/N's presence. They were alone in his hotel room, and he sat on the edge of the bed, exhaustion etched on his face.
Y/N approached him, concerned in her eyes. "Are you okay, Atsumu?"
He looked up at her, his guard lowered, and vulnerability shining through. "I'm just... tired, Y/N. Tired of pretending that I'm happy when I'm not."
Y/N sat beside him, offering her shoulder to lean on. "You don't have to pretend with me, Atsumu. I'm here for you, always."
Atsumu turned to her, his gaze intense. "You're the only one who truly understands me, Y/N. You're my comfort, my refuge."
Y/N's heart skipped a beat, but she swallowed the lump in her throat, not daring to reveal her own feelings just yet. "You mean a lot to me too, Atsumu. You always will."
The tension in the room was palpable, and for a moment, it seemed as though they might bridge the gap between friendship and something more.
Their guard slipped, and the boundaries between friendship and desire blurred. The passion that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long erupted, and they found solace in each other's arms.
In the heat of the moment, they forgot about the world outside, the consequences of their actions, and the pain that would inevitably follow. For a brief time, they shared an intimate connection, but it was far from what Y/N had hoped for. She yearned for more than a fleeting encounter; she longed for Atsumu's love and devotion.
Their affair was a complex dance of emotions, built on a foundation of dependence, gratitude, and unrequited love. Atsumu's actions were driven by a sense of indebtedness, while Y/N's heart was entangled in the love she couldn't help but feel for the man who had become her everything. The affair was born out of a desperate desire to give Y/N what she wanted, even if he couldn't offer her the love she deserved. Atsumu knew that he could provide her with fleeting moments of passion and physical closeness, even if it wouldn't heal the wounds of her unrequited love.
With the weight of their emotions pressing upon them, they gave in to temptation, having an affair that only heightened the complexity of their relationship. Atsumu grappled with guilt and confusion, knowing that he couldn't offer Y/N the love she deserved. Their connection was intense, but it lacked the depth she craved.
When Y/N finally woke up fully, she found herself alone in the hotel room. Atsumu was gone, leaving behind only the faint traces of their fleeting intimacy. The reality of the situation hit her like a tidal wave, and the weight of her unrequited love settled heavily upon her heart.
Tears welled up in her eyes as she realized that nothing had changed between them. Their night together had been a momentary escape, but it hadn't altered Atsumu's feelings for her. He had sought comfort in her arms, but it wasn't love that brought him there; it was his need for solace and a temporary escape from his responsibilities.
The realization crushed Y/N. She had allowed herself to believe, if only for a brief moment, that their connection had deepened into something more. But the truth was evident now – Atsumu's heart belonged to another, and she would forever be relegated to the role of a friend, a manager, and nothing more.
With trembling hands, Y/N wiped away her tears, determined to regain her composure.
For Y/N, it was both a bittersweet moment of passion and a heart-wrenching realization that her love for Atsumu might always be unrequited. She felt like a songbird trapped in a cage of her own making, unable to spread her wings and be her own person.
Y/N struggled to find her own identity outside of Atsumu's shadow. She knew that she deserved more than being a source of comfort whenever he needed solace. She yearned to break free from the cage she had willingly entered and find her own happiness, even if it meant letting go of the one person who had defined so much of her life.
The pain of unrequited love weighed heavily on her shoulders, she found herself unable to let go of Atsumu. The affair they had embarked upon only intensified the conflict within her, as it became a bitter reminder of his emotional unavailability.
Despite the heartache and knowledge that Atsumu didn't truly love her, Y/N couldn't resist the allure of their stolen moments together. She craved his touch, his presence, and the temporary illusion of being loved, even though deep down, she knew it wasn't real.
In the stillness of the night, after each encounter with Atsumu, she would find herself crying, her tears mingling with the tumultuous emotions within. She knew she was just a placeholder, a fleeting escape from the reality. But she was powerless to resist, chained to her love for him like a captive to her captor.
The affair had turned into a double-edged sword, providing moments of ecstasy intertwined with the bitter taste of her unrequited love. Atsumu's distance outside of their encounters became more pronounced, leaving her feeling isolated and alone even in his presence.
Each time she saw him with his wife, Emi, or heard him talk about their future together, it was a painful reminder of where she stood in his life – a secret, a guilty pleasure. The disparity between her feelings and his indifference was a chasm that seemed impossible to bridge.
Y/N knew she was losing herself in this affair, but the love she felt for Atsumu was a relentless force, pulling her back into his arms time and time again. The brief moments of passion only served to amplify her heartache, leaving her feeling more broken than ever.
And yet, she couldn't find the strength to break free. The fear of losing the one connection she had with him, no matter how flawed and unfulfilling, was too great. She clung to their encounters like a lifeline, even as it dragged her deeper into the abyss of unrequited love.
In the quiet solitude of her own space, she would cry silent tears, mourning the love she could never have while convincing herself that this was better than nothing. Her heart may have been shattered, but her love for Atsumu burned bright, a painful flame she couldn't extinguish.
Navigating the complexities of love and heartbreak, clinging to a love that seemed destined to remain one-sided. She found herself entangled in a web of emotions, torn between holding onto Atsumu and finding the strength to let go. But in the depths of her heart, she knew that her love for him was a double-edged sword, both her salvation and her torment.
Trapped in a web of love and dependence. She clung to the stolen moments with Atsumu, even though she knew they weren’t out of intimacy or love. Her heart ached for his love, but she couldn't bear to let him go, not when he was the very reason for her existence.
In the quiet moments after their encounters, when the passion had faded and reality crept back in, Y/N would find herself crying tears of both joy and despair. She cherished the memories of their moments together, yet she couldn't escape the pain of knowing that Atsumu's heart belonged elsewhere.
The bittersweet truth was that Y/N knew that she would forever remain the other woman, a melody destined to play in the background of Atsumu's life, never to take center stage in his heart.
©Minarixx 2023 - please don't copy, repost or translate without my knowledge credit or permission.
#haikyuu#haikyuu angst#haikyuu one shot#haikyuu x reader#hq oneshot#haikyuu x female reader#haikyuu x self insert#Atsumu#miya atsumu#atsumu x reader#hq atsumu#msby atsumu#atsumu x you#atsumu x y/n#atsumu angst#atsumu miya x reader#atsumu miya x you#atsumu miya imagine#atsumu miya#miya atsumu x reader#miya atsumu x you#miya atsumu angst
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THE FIVE NONSENSES
[ SOULMATE!AU ]
Pairing: Miya Osamu x Fem!Reader x Miya Atsumu
Summary: Like most people, you do not meet the Miya twins so much as they are thrust upon you. Unlike most people, you are thrust upon them as well.
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CHAPTER TWO: SOUND
Word Count: 3,725 words
Warnings: Mild swearing
Two months after you turn twelve, you watch your first horror movie.
“What a wimp,” Atsumu sneers, looking down from his nose at you. “Twelve and ya haven’t seen a horror movie yet? Me and ’Samu have already watched loads of ’em.”
“They’re not that scary,” Osamu adds through a full mouth. He’s already chipping away at the cheddar and caramel popcorn, fingers sticky and cheeks puffed full of salty and sweet. “You can see how fake they are.”
Fake, indeed. You glance at the TV. With all the lights shut off and all the blinds closed, the sun having set hours ago, the Miya’s old television set is your sole source of light. The DVD menu flickers before your eyes, a white, windowless room with a single mirror in the middle. Muffled static creeps out from the speakers and into your ears.
You shift discreetly in your seat, then look back at the twins. The cold light from the screen paints their faces ghostly pale.
You clench your fists and shrug impassively.
“Then let’s just watch it already.”
Osamu grunts in agreement. On his other side, Atsumu scowls.
“Don’t know why we gotta babysit ya on movie night,” Atsumu grumbles, reaching for the remote and selecting the Play Movie button. “Not like ya can’t be at home by yerself.”
Perhaps you should thank him for his rudeness this time, since it disrupts the tension enough for you to kick his ankle underneath the kotatsu.
Over the years, you’ve come to terms with the fact that Atsumu does not like you. This is compounded by the fact that Osamu does; of the few ways that you can tell the twins apart, nothing stands out more than their reactions upon seeing you, one turning towards you, the other turning away.
It’s funny how they balance each other out so completely. Osamu may be your soulmate, but Atsumu knows exactly how to get on your nerves.
“You’re the one who needs to be babysat!”
“Says the one who –”
“Can ya both shut up? It’s starting.”
You stop short at the dull prickle of annoyance from Osamu. From the way Atsumu screws up his face, halting his preparation to rear back and slam his feet into yours, he feels it too. The two of you glare poisonously at each other before settling in and letting the title sequence play without interruption.
I won’t get scared, you tell yourself as you reach out to grab a handful of popcorn. You toss a few into your mouth and the crunch of them between your teeth softens the uneasy sound of rolling waves coming from the TV. It’s all fake. Osamu said it’s not that bad, so it’ll be okay.
—
You should’ve known better.
Your room is completely silent as you look up into the void where the ceiling should be, muscles stiff and eyes wide and unblinking. The blankets are pulled up to your nose. It had taken a long time for the bed to warm up to your body, the only thing providing you with some semblance of safety, but it had taken only a matter of minutes before you found yourself agonizingly uncomfortable and sweaty.
You wish you’d kept the door open, but leaving isn’t an option. If you expose so much as a toe, the long-haired woman from the movie might crawl out of the darkness in the corner, stare down at you with a demonic eye and kill you on the spot.
(Telling yourself it’s not real doesn’t work. Because what if – what if –)
In the midst of trying to keep your breaths as quiet as possible, thoughts thundering around behind your eyes, the doorknob turns with a soft click.
“Oi.”
You jolt as if electrocuted.
The yellow beam of a flashlight shines upon your bed. It takes a moment to process everything, but once you do, relief floods your lungs.
“What?” you whisper back, peeking over the covers and squinting through the light.
Osamu and Atsumu crowd your doorway, shoulder to shoulder. Their bodies are nothing but shadowy figures until Osamu turns the flashlight to shine it at his hand, which is raised to show you a deck of cards.
“Wanna play Babanuki?” Osamu asks.
Your mouth parts.
Yes, is what you yell in your head. Anything is better than being all alone in the dark.
“Okay,” is what you say out loud, and the boys shuffle into your room.
You crawl out of bed. Atsumu closes the door behind him, and it is then that you notice the blanket underneath his arm. The three of you settle on the floor in a circle and he tosses the blanket over your heads.
Ah. It’s so the light doesn’t shine underneath the door and get you all in trouble for still being up.
“How’d ya know I was awake?” you ask while Osamu shuffles the cards on your right.
Osamu pauses to glance at his brother, and they seem to communicate something before he shrugs and answers you.
“Just knew.”
“Knew you’d be too scared to go to sleep,” Atsumu taunts quietly.
Your face heats up. “I wasn’t! ’S … ’s just too hot.”
“Liar,” both drone simultaneously.
You wither, lips protruding in a pout.
Osamu begins to pass the cards out. He’s steady and unhurried, three messy piles of cards building up as he goes around and around.
“… How come you guys are still up, then?” you finally mutter, drawing your knees up to your chest.
“Didn’t feel like sleepin’.” Atsumu picks up his pile and sorts through it. “’S too boring after watching a movie.”
Liar. The thought pops into your head unbidden, and you’re surprised at the certainty of it. The twins had jumped and screamed a few times during the movie, sure, but they get over things quick enough as a general rule and had seemed fine by the time the end credits rolled by. The image of them lying awake, terrified in their bunk beds like you had been in your own, is quite the odd thing.
But you do not voice that aloud.
(Babanuki doesn’t need three players.)
Osamu’s knee nudges your own. You look up to meet his eyes, and he holds his cards out towards you, face down.
“Choose one,” he says, and you do.
—
“[L/n]-chan, I have a question.”
“Mmhm,” you acknowledge distractedly, scribbling in the answers for today’s English homework. It’s less than ten minutes before lunch ends, and you had completely missed the other side of the worksheet. (Panicked, barely legible answers are better than none at all.)
Miki watches you carefully, fidgeting in her seat. “Is it true that you and Osamu-san aren’t really soulmates?”
You don’t even pause to think.
Even four years later, you’re faced with this same question from your peers. You fault Atsumu for this, who, despite having stopped outright denying the red string connecting you and Osamu, does nothing to clear the confusion except to say that he’ll always know his brother better than anybody else. Osamu doesn’t seem to give much of a crap, either. You’re the one left explaining things over and over again for some reason, and it gets tiring.
“No, we are.”
“Are ya sure? Even though Osamu-san has Atsumu-san?”
“Yeah,” you say. “We don’t really talk about it.”
More people are trailing into the classroom, including the twins, who had gone off earlier to intrude on Ojiro-senpai’s lunchtime. Despite your efforts to signal that it’s not the best time, Miki scoots closer to you. She’s silent for a few moments and then speaks once more, whispering now.
“Do … do you and Osamu-san actually like each other, [L/n]-chan?” she asks.
This time, you do stop.
It’s easy to feel sorry for Miki. Her name often comes up when your classmates are discussing soulmates – she had met hers during the first week of school, a popular senpai on the baseball team. Their timers went off at the same time in the cafeteria line during lunch.
According to the rumors, Matsuda-senpai told her off. He was graduating this year and didn’t have time for a soulmate two years below him, or something like that. Miki had cried in front of the whole cafeteria.
You do feel bad for her in that regard. Osamu and you may not be best friends, but at least you are on good terms. And despite Atsumu’s antagonizing behavior, he really is just a pest at worst.
“I like him,” you reply. “He’s easy to get along with.”
“But he’s already soulmates with Atsumu-san, and they’re twins. A-And ya don’t eat lunch together every day, even though ya always walk together n’ all,” she presses. “Are ya really okay with that?”
“Yes,” you reply shortly.
Miki doesn’t seem to like your answer. But it is the one you have, and you have to finish this stupid worksheet before the bell rings, so you turn away slightly and scratch at your paper. You hear her finally retreat back to her own desk.
When you glance up towards the front of the classroom, you catch Osamu shooting a rubber band at Atsumu. Atsumu yelps and scrambles to retaliate, and you hear a snap as his attack backfires and hits him in the face.
You cross your ankles underneath your desk and fill out the last blank on your worksheet. There aren’t any mistakes when it comes to soulmates. But each time someone comes up to you and asks that question, you wonder anyways.
—
On the walk home from school, Osamu and Atsumu talk about volleyball.
This is nothing new. There are many things that the twins enjoy, but volleyball is usually at the top of the list, and they always have something to say about it – about drills, their teammates, upcoming games. Most of the time, though, it is about themselves.
You don’t know how the conversation came to it, but they are arguing within a matter of minutes, which is also nothing new. No two siblings are more competitive than the Miya twins. It’s both entertaining and annoying, and you take Osamu’s side every time.
“I’m just sayin’ that you’re sloppier, ’Tsumu.”
“Sloppier?! Yer sets were off, like, half the time today!”
“No, they weren’t.”
“Yuh-huh!”
“Nuh-uh!”
“See ya tomorrow, [Y/n]-chan,” Kokomi tells you as you arrive at her house, and you nod, stopping just briefly to wave goodbye. She doesn’t bother bidding goodbye to the twins, who are too engrossed in their bickering to even notice. “Our packet for math is double-sided, so don’t forget.”
“… I won’t,” you mumble sheepishly.
She waves once more, then saunters down the pathway to her front door.
Turning to see that Osamu and Atsumu are now further away, having left you behind, you frown and jog slightly to catch up.
“If ya really are the better setter,” Atsumu is saying once you’re within earshot, his voice rising, “then prove it! Vertical sets, last man standing wins.”
“We only got one volleyball at home, moron,” Osamu retorts. Then he tilts his head, and you nearly miss a step, surprised, when he suddenly turns around to look at you. “You have one, don’t you, [Y/n]?”
Even after four years, you’re not quite used to him using your first name without an honorific. “Yeah,” you reply, attempting to keep your tone from sounding too flustered.
Your dad had gotten you one after the twins mentioned their interest in volleyball during an awkward joint family dinner not long after you’d met them. It’s important to support your soulmate’s hobbies, he’d told you, and it wouldn’t hurt for you to be a bit more athletic, anyway.
You like volleyball just fine. It’s one the more enjoyable sports to play during gym, but it hasn’t got a hold of you quite like it has on Osamu and Atsumu. Still, the volleyball remains in your room, pumped up and ready to be played around with when you feel like it.
“We’ll just borrow it for a bit,” Osamu says. “Wanna judge?”
“Aw, c’mon, ’Samu,” Atsumu complains. “We don’t need a judge. Why’s she gotta be there?”
The sharp reply in your throat is cut off by Osamu.
“’Cause we’re using her volleyball, and I want her there.”
You blink.
A bitter expression crosses Atsumu’s face. Then he knocks his head back and groans. “Ugh,” he says loudly, but for some reason, he does not push it further.
The three of you part ways when you reach your house. You head inside, text your mom to tell her that you’re going to the Miyas’ for a little while, drop your school things off in your room and grab your volleyball, and head back out.
Miya-san tells you that the boys are already in the backyard when she lets you in. Sure enough, when you walk out into the small strip of land behind their house, Osamu and Atsumu are waiting there, already disputing their previous setting records.
“Here,” you announce, tossing your volleyball to Osamu.
He catches it easily and meets Atsumu’s eyes, narrowing his own.
“Standing vertical sets, no stopping,” Atsumu says as the two of them move further apart.
“Loser gets first dibs on the PlayStation for the next two months,” Osamu adds.
“Deal.”
Your eyes track your volleyball as Osamu raises it over his head, perching it onto his fingers with a kind of firm delicacy that makes the ball look perfectly at home.
And without words, without even looking at each other, the two boys begin at the exact same time.
You sit on the chair next to the potted plant and watch them idly.
They really are mirror images of each other. The same concentration wrinkles their brows, their jaws set. You’ve heard from members of both the girls’ and boys’ volleyball teams that Osamu is the better player by a slim margin, but here, with them facing each other and the volleyballs’ soft tap tap taps hitting your ears in a syncopated rhythm, you admit that it’s very hard to tell.
Really, you do not need to be here – Atsumu’s right for once, because the twins have a scary awareness of their surroundings when it comes to volleyball, and one will certainly catch the other if he fumbles.
The competition goes on for a long, long time.
“Gettin’ tired, ’Samu?” After what seems to be hours, Atsumu breaks the silence, shaking you out of your daze.
Osamu scoffs. “You wish, ’Tsumu.” Though his voice is steady, you notice that he’s breathing a little harder, and his sets are getting higher.
Your own wrists are starting to cramp. How long have they been doing this now?
A few more minutes plod by.
Then – finally – the volleyball lands off-kilter on Atsumu’s fingers. You sit up, eyes widening as it bounces off to the side.
A curse flies out of Atsumu’s mouth as he dives after it, but to no avail. It lands on the grass and quickly rolls to a stop. He’s lost.
“You lose,” you say, because you feel like being petty.
“Shaddup!”
“Guess I’m still the better setter.” On your left, Osamu continues setting the ball. There’s a grin on his face now, and you know that he’s doing this purely to tick Atsumu off. “Bet I can break my record.”
“Whatever,” Atsumu gripes, picking up their volleyball and standing up. “Stop showin’ off!”
Osamu ignores him.
What happens next would’ve been impressive if it wasn’t so horrible.
Fuming, Atsumu tosses the volleyball up. It ascends in a perfectly straight line, and as it falls back down, he winds his other arm back and spikes the ball straight at Osamu.
Instead of hitting Osamu, however, it slams straight into your volleyball right as it’s descending. Thud.
All of you watch, frozen, as your volleyball flies up and over the wall into the neighbor’s yard.
None of you say a word for a good five seconds.
You leap at Atsumu, fully intending to throttle him. “Ya idiot!”
“I didn’t mean to!” he shouts back, struggling to escape your grip. His hand presses flat against your face and you have half a mind to bite it off. “Let go!”
“Stupid ‘Tsumu,” Osamu hisses. “That’s Akiyama-san’s yard!”
Upon hearing the name, the two of you still.
Everyone on your street knows Akiyama-san. He’s old and crochety, and he walks with a cane that he lifts high above his head whenever he’s shouting at any of you because he hates kids. Everything your parents have hammered into your head about greeting your elders sails right out whenever you spot him walking down the street. Nobody says it, but you’re all afraid of him. Even the Miya twins.
The worst thing about Akiyama-san, at least at this very moment, is that he has a dog – a big, mean one, even meaner than its owner. A dog who, as you, Atsumu, and Osamu find when you peek over the wall, is thankfully nowhere in sight at the moment.
You bite the inside of your cheek. “Do we ask Akiyama-san to get it for us?” you whisper, eyes glued on your volleyball nestled in one of the bushes.
“Are ya dumb? If he doesn’t kill us, he’ll just feed the ball to his dog,” Atsumu shoots back.
“Atsumu,” Osamu says, and you look over to see him staring ahead with his chin resting on top of the wall. There’s a serious tilt to his mouth. “Go get it.”
“… Hah?!”
“It’s yer fault,” you argue.
“Well – well”—Atsumu glares at you, then at his brother—“’Samu’s the one who was settin’ it!”
“Still yer fault,” mutters Osamu. “I ain’t riskin’ my life.”
“So you’re riskin’ mine?!”
You shift uncomfortably, their quarreling fading away as you consider the options. Your volleyball is a nice one. Not cheap at all. Your dad would be quite upset if he found out you sacrificed it to Akiyama-san’s yard, and he’d probably make you go apologize and ask for it by yourself.
Swallowing, you hoist yourself up.
“I’ll get it.”
The noise the twins make is nothing short of a hushed squawk as you clamber over the wall.
Your shoes land softly on the grass. Scanning the yard, you nod to assure yourself that it’s empty, then glance at the dog door built into the back door. It doesn’t budge. You look up at the windows. All the blinds are shut.
Further emboldened, you move your gaze to your volleyball, tiptoeing towards it and picking it up gently.
Success.
Smiling, you face the twins.
Their faces have gone pale.
Your smile fades as a soft growl pierces the evening air. Looking over your shoulder, you lock eyes with Akiyama-san’s monster dog.
Drool drips from its jowls, teeth large and sharp and yellow, eyes beady and black. You’ve no idea what breed it is. All you know is that it is there, and it is huge and angry.
It probably dreams of eating kids, you think, blood draining from your face. You’d be a full course meal with the volleyball as dessert.
Osamu whispers your name.
You turn again, sweat dripping down your forehead, and see him perched on top of the wall, knees bent and arms outstretched towards you as if he were in a volleyball match. The red string on his pinkie drifts in the breeze.
Throw it, he mouths.
You inhale. Tighten your hold on your volleyball. Then you launch it towards Osamu and sprint towards him.
The dog lets out a thundering bark, running after you. You can hear the tags on its collar clanking against each other. Its giant paws flatten the grass beneath it.
Osamu catches the volleyball and tosses it at Atsumu.
You jump, and you swear you feel jaws snap at your heels.
“Osamu!��
He grabs you by your wrists and throws his weight backwards. Your legs scrape against the concrete wall as the boy hauls you up and over it, sending both of you tumbling headlong into their yard.
When you come to, your mind feels fuzzy, body shaking with adrenaline. Beneath you, Osamu groans. You hastily roll off him to lie on the grass.
“Thank you,” you pant.
Osamu gulps for breath. “’S nothin’.”
Behind the wall, the dog continues barking.
“What the hell!” Atsumu cries, and you crack your eyes open to see his face pop into your field of vision. “Do ya have a death wish or somethin’?”
For the first time, Miya Atsumu actually looks concerned for you.
“No.” You prop yourself up onto your elbows, wincing at the ache in your shoulder and the stinging on your knees. You glance at them. Yikes. They’re all scraped up. But despite all of it, you feel a grin spreading across your face. “I just ain’t a wimp like you.”
He gawks, then sputters.
“Nice receive, ’Tsumu,” Osamu says. He gets up with a grunt, then helps you up. His arm slides underneath yours and across your shoulders. “You can walk fine, right?” he asks you plainly.
“Yeah. Kinda.” You’re still a bit trembly.
He nods. His hand remains steady on your shoulder.
As the two of you start ambling towards the house, Atsumu says your name.
Guilt twists his features in an unfamiliar way when you look at him. He lowers his head slightly, eyes averted.
“… Sorry,” he mumbles, looking for all the world like he’d rather wrestle Akiyama-san’s dog right now.
You regard him. “’S fine,” you say, slowly.
(In the back of your mind, you realize that it really is. All your anger must’ve fizzled out with the run.)
The boy’s expression doesn’t change, but his shoulders slump a little, as if relieved.
“Let’s get the bandages from bathroom,” Osamu mutters while Atsumu slides the door open. “But we gotta be quick, ’cause if Ma –”
“If I what?”
For the third time that day, you all freeze in place. It’s an interesting sight – you and Osamu with your arms around each other’s shoulders, Atsumu with both volleyballs in his arms. The shadow of the twins’ mother, falling over the three of you.
Ah, crap.
Miya-san’s gaze flickers downward at your scratched-up legs. Her face goes through more emotions than you can count, and then it stills.
She takes a deep breath, but the twins beat her to it.
“It wasn’t me!”
—
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#haikyuu#hq#miya atsumu x reader#miya osamu x reader#miya atsumu#miya osamu#miya atsumu x reader x miya osamu#haikyuu fanfiction#reader insert#fem!reader#soulmate au#i watched ringu for this chapter only for me to barely reference it at all rip. it's rlly good though and not as scary as i thought#shoutout to fanfics for making me try new things#babanuki is old maid#the five nonsenses
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