blurb: a rival manager’s secret spying mission turns into a forbidden, sugar coated romance truce when the enemy's most intuitive player decides to keep their secret. wc # 5.6k
requested ☆
you’re sitting in the highest row of the bleachers, tucked far into the corner. for extra measure, you’ve traded your karasuno track jacket (gasp the betrayal!) for a plain, oversized hoodie.
you look like any other student from the neighborhood who's wandered in to watch a powerhouse practice match – at least, that’s what you tell yourself.
resting in your lap is a notebook. it’s small, with no lines, and currently filled with messy sketches and annotations of court positions.
thump. thump. thump.
the sound of ushijima wakatoshi’s spikes hitting the floor sounds like a gunshot. every time his hand connects with the ball, you flinch, but your hand doesn't stop moving.
because most importantly, you’re tracking the boy with the red hair.
tendou satori.
on the court, he’s a nightmare. he moves with a strange, disjointed grace, his limbs long and birdlike. he doesn't follow the ball – he follows the person.
he watches the setter’s fingers, the hitter’s shoulders, the tiny glance of an eye. he’s guessing the future, and usually? he's right.
you hold your breath as tendou jumps. he’s laughing, a sharp, jagged sound that carries over the screech of shoes. he shuts down a spike from the opposing team with a sickening slap of the ball against his palms.
"baki baki ni ore, nani wo?" tendou sings out, doing a little dance as his voice echoes off the high ceilings.
he’s terrifying, you think, shivering as your pen scratches against the paper. how do we even begin to get past someone who reads minds?
you’re so focused on writing down his movements that you don't notice the gym has gone quiet – the whistle has blown to signal a water break.
you keep your head down, obscuring your face, waiting for the squeaking of shoes to resume.
but no. the silence stretches. strange.
slowly and carefully, you tilt your head up just a tiny bit. down on the court, the shiratorizawa players are huddled around their bench.
all except one.
tendou satori is standing in the middle of the court, his hands on his hips. his jersey is dark with sweat, clinging to his lanky frame. he isn't looking at his teammates. he’s staring directly up into the bleachers.
directly at the dark corner where you’re sitting.
he doesn't say anything. he just tilts his head to the left. then to the right.
then, a slow, wide grin spreads across his face – the kind of look a cat gives a mouse that thinks it’s hidden behind a single blade of grass.
your blood runs cold. you close the notebook with a soft thud.
he knows.
—
you don't wait for tendou to point you out.
you slip out of the gym through the side exit, your heart hammering frantically against your ribs. you feel like a criminal. if coach washijo finds out karasuno sent a manager to spy on scout their practice match, he’ll have coach ukai’s head.
as you reach the vending machines near the school gates, your hands shake as you search for some coins.
you need sugar. you need a distraction. you need to get on the bus and get back to miyagi before the guess monster decides to hunt you down.
you reach out to select a warm canned coffee, but before you can, a long, pale hand reaches past your shoulder and presses a different button.
chocolate ice cream.
the little plastic cup drops into the bin with a heavy clatter.
"you look like you're about to faint. coffee is too bitter for a spy, don't you think?"
you freeze. the voice is right in your ear – high pitched, melodic, and laced with a dangerous amount of amusement. you turn slowly, your back hitting the cold metal of the vending machine.
tendou is leaning over you, one hand propped against the machine, effectively trapping you. he’s still in his volleyball shorts and a t shirt, despite the chill in the air.
up close, he’s even taller. his eyes are huge, reddish brown, and fixed on you with terrifying intensity.
"i-i don't know what you're talking about," you stammer, trying to pull your hoodie strings tight. "i'm just a student. who, ah, wanted to watch your game."
"a student with very expensive taste in notebooks?" tendou reaches out, his fingers hovering just centimetres from your bag. "and a very familiar way of taking notes? i saw you at the inter high. you were sitting on the bench with the crows. the little manager who looks so serious all the time."
he reaches into the vending machine nook, retrieves the chocolate ice cream, and peels back the lid with his teeth.
"spying is forbidden, you know," he says, his voice dropping to a mock serious whisper. "coach washijo is a very, very grumpy old man. if he finds out the crows are sending spies.. poof. your team might get banned from practice matches for a long time."
you feel the color drain from your face. "please. it wasn't.. i just wanted to understand how you do it."
tendou stops licking the wooden spoon. he blinks, his expression shifting from amusement to genuine curiosity. "understand how i do what?"
"the blocking," you whisper, your voice gaining a tiny bit of courage. "everyone says it's luck or guessing. but you're too consistent. it's not a guess. it's art. i wanted to see the process."
the silence that follows is thick with tension. tendou stares at you, his eyes wide.
then, he starts to laugh. it’s not the mocking laugh from the gym – it’s something softer, more surprised.
"art?" he repeats, tasting the word. "nobody calls it art. they call it creepy."
tendou shoves the wooden spoon into the chocolate ice cream and holds it out to you, despite the fact that he's already licked it.
"eat," he says. "it's the best chocolate ice cream in sendai. consider it the price of my silence. you payed for it, after all."
you hesitate, looking at the spoon and then at him. "first of all, it's vending machine ice cream. and second of all, your silence?"
"mhm." he hums, leaning closer until your noses almost touch. you lean back instinctively. "i won't tell my coach that the cute manager from karasuno was here. i won't tell your coach you were 'studying' me. but.. you have to share this with me. and next time i'm in your neighborhood, you owe me another one."
"next time?" you ask, your heart doing a strange flip that has nothing to do with fear.
"don't sound so scared," he winks, his voice like silk. "it's a secret, right? a forbidden little truce. just between the spied and the spy."
you take the spoon, flip it so the ice cream is on the handle, and take a tiny, tentative lick. the cold chocolate that melts on your tongue is rich and dark.
you know you should walk away. you know this is a betrayal of the rivalry. but as tendou watches you, his eyes crinkling at the corners, you realise the guess monster isn't looking for a victim.
—
for the next week, you’re a ghost. every time coach ukai mentions shiratorizawa’s blocking, you feel a hot prickle of guilt at the back of your neck.
because you've been meeting up with tendou from shiratorizawa.
you have the notes – the most detailed observations anyone at karasuno has ever managed to get on tendou satori – but they stay tucked at the very bottom of your school bag, hidden under a pile of old math homework.
you can’t bring yourself to hand them over. every time you try, you taste the lingering remains of chocolate on your tongue.
"y/n-senpai? you okay? you’ve been staring at that water bottle for five minutes."
you jump. nishinoya and tanaka are hovering behind you, their faces twisted with concern.
"i- i'm fine," you say quickly, forcing a smile. "just thinking about.. player rotations."
"so dedicated!" they cry in unison, but their energy feels so far away. your mind is still in that sendai parking lot, trapped between a vending machine and a boy with eyes like embers.
the 'next time' tendou mentioned comes sooner than you expect.
it’s a tuesday evening, and a thick fog has rolled over karasuno. practice has just let out, and the air is crisp with the smell of autumn and musty rain. you’re the last one to leave the gym, having stayed behind to double check the equipment list.
the walk to the school gates is quiet.
too quiet.
as you pass the bike racks, a familiar, tuneless humming drifts through the mist.
"baki baki ni ore.."
you freeze, and your heart does an annoying double tap against your ribs.
there, sitting atop a concrete wall near the entrance, is a lanky silhouette. he’s wearing a thick, dark coat that swallows his frame, but there’s no mistaking the shock of red hair or the way he swings his legs like a restless child.
"you're late," tendou says, jumping down. he lands silently, and saunters into the circle of light cast by a flickering streetlamp. "i was beginning to think the crows had eaten you alive."
"tendou? what are you doing here?" you hiss, looking around frantically. "this is karasuno territory. if daichi sees you—"
"he won't," tendou interrupts, leaning into your space. he looks different tonight. less like the 'guess monster' and more like a boy who’s skipped class to do something he shouldn't. "he’s already buying meat buns with the rest of the murder. i watched them leave."
he reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a small, foil wrapped square. he holds it out to you.
"what’s this?" you ask, your voice barely a whisper.
"truffle," he says, his eyes gleaming. the chocolate kind not the mushroom "from the bakery near my house. they only make them on tuesdays. they're filled with sea salt and dark cocoa. better than the vending machine stuff."
you look at the chocolate, then at him, bemused. "you.. you came all the way to give me a truffle?"
tendou tilts his head, eyeing you with a mischievous grin. "is it working?"
"is what working?"
"the mystery," he says, stepping closer. you can smell the cold air on his jacket and a hint of something sweet. "i can see your brain working. you're trying to guess my motive. you're still trying to figure out if i'm a threat or a friend."
he takes your hand. his fingers are long, cold, and calloused from years of volleyball, and presses the truffle into your palm. he doesn't let go immediately. his thumb brushes over your knuckles, a slow, deliberate movement that makes your breath stumble.
"it’s a secret," tendou murmurs, his voice dropping an octave. "that’s the best part, isn't it? nobody knows i'm here. nobody knows we're talking. it’s just us."
"and the chocolate," you add quickly.
tendou smiles smugly. "and the chocolate."
you’re about to say something – you don't know what, maybe a thank you, maybe a plea for him to leave before things get complicated – when the sound of heavy footsteps suddenly echoes.
"hey! i forgot my kneepads in the gym!"
hinata’s voice.
he’s coming back, and he’s not alone; kageyama’s muffled insults are trailing right behind him.
panic flares in your chest, and you shove him away with a finger. "you have to go. now."
tendou doesn't look panicked. if anything, he looks thrilled. "oh? a chase? how exciting."
"tendou, i'm serious! if they see you with me–"
"hide me, then."
before you can protest, he’s pulling you behind the large equipment shed near the gates. the space is narrow, cramped, and smells of old wood and damp earth. he presses himself against the wall, and because the space is so small, you’re forced to stand right against him.
his chest is so, so close to yours. you can hear his heart – it’s fast, just like yours.
"shh," he whispers, his breath warm against the top of your head.
you can hear hinata and kageyama running past the shed.
"did you see that?" hinata asks, his voice fading as they get closer to the gym. "i thought i saw someone standing by the lamp."
"it's just the fog, boke. you're hallucinating. hurry up, i'm hungry."
the sound of their footsteps recedes. you stay frozen, your hands pressed against tendou’s chest to keep some semblance of distance. beneath the fabric of his coat, you can feel the steady, rhythmic beat of his heart.
when you look up, tendou is already looking down at you. the playful, jagged edge of his expression has softened into something heavy and unreadable.
his eyes trace the line of your face, lingering on your lips for a second too long before snapping back to your eyes.
"your heart is racing," he whispers. "is that fear, l/n? or something else?"
something else.
"i have to go," you breathe, but you don't move.
"i know," tendou says. but he doesn't go either.
he leans down, his lips brushing against your forehead – a ghost of a touch, so brief you almost think you imagined it. "see you in your dreams, little spy."
and with that, he strolls out, humming a soft tune like he belongs.
by the time you find the strength to step out from behind the shed, he’s gone. the only proof he was ever there is the slightest scent of chocolate in the air and the small, foil wrapped truffle clutched in your shaking hand.
you walk home in a daze, the chocolate slowly melting in your pocket.
this feeling.. it's supposed to be forbidden.
but the only thing feeling forbidden right now is the fact that you’re starting to want him to come back.
—
the official announcement of a practice match between karasuno and shiratorizawa jolts everyone wide awake.
"don't let them intimidate you!" daichi barks, though his own jaw is set tight.
you stand in the corner, clutching your clipboard so hard your knuckles turn white. your pocket feels heavy – the empty foil wrapper of the truffle is still tucked in your wallet.
it shouldn't be there. so why is it still there?
when the karasuno bus pulls up to the shiratorizawa campus, the grandeur of the school feels like a personal insult. it’s too big, too perfect, too cold.
you step off the bus, eyes glued to the ground, trying to blend into the shadows of the tall players.
"look at those gates," hinata whispers, awestruck. "it’s like a castle."
"it’s a fortress," kageyama grunts.
tsukishima snickers. "haven't you been here before from when you went to spy on ushijima?" he says slyly.
you follow them into the massive gym. the sound of slapping – palms hitting balls – echoes through the hall. and then, you hear it. the humming.
tendou is leaning against the net pole, watching your team file in. he looks bored until his eyes find you.
for a split second, his mask slips. his eyes widen, a spark of pure heat flickering in them before he pulls his face back into a mocking grin.
"the crows are here!" he chirps, his voice loud enough to make tanaka bristle. "and they brought their little managers, too. how sweet. too bad we'll eat them all."
he looks at you and winks. it’s so fast that if you weren't looking for it, you’d miss it.
—
the match is a bloodbath.
ushijima is a force of nature, but tendou is the one doing the psychological damage. he’s everywhere.
every time hinata tries a new angle, tendou’s long arms are already there, waiting. he’s dancing, singing, and terrorising the front line.
during a timeout, you’re handing out water bottles, hands trembling. you can feel tendou’s gaze on your back. he isn't even hiding it anymore. he’s standing near the center line, sipping water, his eyes tracking every move you make.
"l/n," ukai calls out, leaning over a white board. "did you get the timing on that middle blocker's jump?"
you open your notebook, the one you used to spy on him weeks ago. your notes are right there.
'tendou satori: jumps on the third beat of the setter’s breath. looks for the elbow drop.' idk wtf that means but it sounds cool
you open your mouth to tell them. this is the moment. this is what you’re here for. you are a karasuno manager. you love this team. you want them to win.
aaand then you look up, and tendou is watching you.
he isn't smiling anymore. he’s just waiting. he knows exactly what’s in that book. he knows you have the power to mess up his game.
his eyes are soft. a silent question hangs in the air between you: are you a spy, or are you mine?
"i.. i couldn't get a clear read," you lie, the words tasting vile in your mouth. "he's too unpredictable."
ukai sighs, frustrated. "damn. okay, we'll keep trying to pull him out of position."
you retreat to the bench, feeling sick. you’ve officially crossed the line. you didn't just keep a secret; you protected the enemy.
tendou watches you sit down defeatedly, an unreadable expression on his face.
—
after the match – a crushing loss for karasuno – the teams head to the bathrooms to clean up. you volunteer to take the towels to the laundry room in the back of the athletic wing, needing to be alone.
the laundry room is huge, filled with the roar of dryers and the smell of bleach, humid and dim. you lean your forehead against a cool metal locker, closing your eyes and rethinking your life decisions.
"lying is a very bad habit for a manager, l/n-chan."
you don't even jump this time. you just let out a shaky breath, murmuring against the locker. "you should be with your team, tendou. they're celebrating."
"celebrating is boring." he says, his voice coming from right behind you. he doesn't touch you, but you can feel the heat radiating from his body. he’s still wearing his sweat soaked jersey. "i wanted to see if you were going to betray me."
you turn around, your back against the lockers and smiling weakly. "i should have. my team is hurting because i didn't tell them what i saw."
tendou reaches out, pinning you between his arms. he leans in, his face inches from yours. the scent of sweat and that faint hint of chocolate from before fills your senses.
"why didn't you, then?" he whispers. his voice is low, stripped of its usual theatrics. "you could have been the hero. you could have broken my.. guesses."
"i don't know," you breathe, your eyes darting to his lips and away again.
"i think i know," he murmurs. he moves closer, the tip of his nose almost brushing against yours.
"it’s because when we’re in the fog, or in the laundry room, or at the vending machine.. there are no teams. there’s just the monster and the spy. and the spy.. likes the monster."
you gulp, and tendou's gaze flickers down to your throat.
he doesn't kiss you. not yet. he just stays there, his breath mingling with yours, torturing you with the proximity.
he’s waiting for you to close the gap.
he’s making you choose him again.
"we're going to get caught," you whisper, even as your hands reach up to grab the hem of his jersey.
"let them look," he says, his eyes darkening. "let them see, let them think what they want."
he leans down, his lips hovering a hair’s breadth from yours, when the door to the laundry room creaks open just a fraction.
"y/n? you in here? the bus is leaving!"
shit. it’s sugawara.
tendou doesn't even flinch. he just looks at the door and then back at you, a wicked, beautiful spark in his eyes. he pulls back just enough and darts behind a row of hanging shiratorizawa jerseys.
karasuno and shiratorizawa. how fitting.
"see you at the finals," he mouths, a grin playing on his lips.
sugawara peeks in, looking confused. "y/n?"
"oh, hi. yes, sorry. i- im done now." you're very sure there's a rapid blush spreading across your cheeks now.
you scramble to gather the towels, your heart thumping so hard it feels like it might burst through your chest. as you walk out of the door and past sugawara, you keep your head down, praying he doesn't see the flush on your cheeks or the way your hands are still shaking from tendou's touch.
—
the atmosphere at karasuno changes after the shiratorizawa match. it’s not just the loss - it’s the way the air feels electric whenever you walk into the room.
you’re careful. you’re meticulous. you work twice as hard to fill water bottles and doing whatever you can to help, hoping that by overcompensating, you can bury the memory of tendou’s breath against your skin.
but it's impossible to keep tendou satori a secret.
it starts with a stray comment from hinata during lunch. "hey, did anyone else think that red haired guy was acting weird? erm.. tender i think was his name? like, weirder than usual?"
"he’s always weird," kageyama grunts, stabbing at his pork curry. "and his name is tendou."
"no, but... he kept looking at our bench," hinata continues, his brow furrowed. "not at us. at our managers. i saw him wink. it was like he was trying to put a curse on us through them!"
your heart stops. you keep your eyes fixed on your bento, your chopsticks frozen.
don't react. don't react. don't rea-
"he’s a.. provocateur, hinata," suga says, though his tone is thoughtful. he glances at you, his kind eyes narrowing just a fraction. "he does things to get a reaction. it’s best to ignore him."
you feel suga’s gaze linger on you a second too long.
bonus
"question. what's a provocateur?"
"boke!"
"high and mighty king, you don't know either."
"shut up, saltyshima."
—
that night, your phone buzzes on your nightstand. you shouldn't have given him your number - you don't even remember the exact moment you did, perhaps it was scrawled on the back of that truffle wrapper - but there it is.
you don't reply. you shouldn't go. but as you close your eyes, all you see is red hair and a stupid grin.
fuck this.
—
saturday comes with a biting wind. the station is nearly empty, the lights flickering with a hum that matches the buzzing in your ears. you’re wearing a long coat and a scarf pulled up to your nose, shivering from the cold.
tendou is already there, leaning against a pillar. he’s wearing a hoodie and a beanie that covers his red hair.
when he sees you, he doesn't wave. he just pushes off the pillar and walks toward you, his stride slow and steady.
"you came," he says, his voice muffled by the wind. he's holding two cups of something, the steam curling into the chilly air.
"i'm an idiot," you mutter into your scarf.
"the best kind of idiot."
tendou leads you away from the station toward a small bridge that overlooks a frozen river. the city lights twinkle in the distance, reflecting off the dark water.
it’s the first time you’ve been together without the threat of a volleyball hitting the floor or a coach shouting in the background.
tendou stops in the middle of the bridge. he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small paper bag, the smell of cocoa and sugar immediately cutting through the cold air.
"hot chocolate," he says, handing you a cup. "and a brownie. the lady at the shop said it was dangerously fudgy. sounds like us, right?"
you take the cup, the warmth seeping into your frozen fingers and thawing you out from the inside.
when you inhale, the cold air bites at your nose.
"tendou, i.. why me? really. there are plenty of people at shiratorizawa who would.. who would be easier than this."
tendou looks out over the water. for a moment, the playful mask is gone completely. he looks tired.
"shiratorizawa is a machine," he says quietly. "everyone there has a role. i'm the monster. we’re not parts of a whole. each of us.. we are the whole. it's how washijo coaches us."
he turns to look at you, his eyes searching yours. "but you.. you were trying to take me apart and understand the pieces. you didn't look at me like a monster. you looked at me like a puzzle you were trying to solve."
tendou reaches out, his thumb catching a stray crumb at the corner of your mouth. despite the cold, his touch is warm.
"satori.."
you feel the wall around your heart crumble. you reach out, grab the front of his hoodie, and pull him down.
this time, there is no sugawara. there are no teammates. there is only the cold wind, the taste of dark chocolate, and the frantic, desperate press of his lips against yours. it’s a messy kiss, full of teeth and suppressed longing. tendou groans, hands tugging desperately at your hips.
when you finally pull apart, both of you are breathless, your puffs of air mingling in the night.
"that," tendou says, his eyes blown wide, "was definitely better than any chocolate ive ever had."
you laugh, and lean in for another kiss.
but then, your phone vibrates in your pocket. over and over.
you pull it out, and your heart drops into your stomach.
there’s a photo in the team group chat. it’s blurry, taken from a distance - likely by a passerby or a student from another school. it’s a photo of the two of you on this very bridge, silhouetted against the lights.
the caption from tanaka reads: 'guys.. tell me this isn't who i think it is.'
—
the walk back to the station is a hazy memory of terror. tendou sees your face drain of color before you even show him the screen. he leans over, his eyes scanning the photo in the group chat, and for the first time since you’ve known him, his expression isn't mischievous - it’s sharp. defensive.
"that’s.. a bad angle of my hair," he jokes, but his voice lacks its usual tease. his hand stays firmly on your shoulder.
"satori, they're going to hate me," you whisper, your thumbs hovering over the keyboard. "they won't understand. they're going to think i was feeding you secrets the whole time. they're going to think i'm the reason we.. we lost."
"let them think it," he says, his grip tightening. "their opinions don't change the stats. and the stats say you're the best manager they’ve ever had. their pride is just hurt, y/n."
but when you arrive at the karasuno gym the next morning, the heart feels like it’s being put through a blender.
the gym is silent. usually, there’s the sound of shoes squeaking, balls bouncing, and everyone yelling. today, the team is huddled in a circle in the middle of the court.
daichi is holding his phone. sugawara is looking at the floor. asahi is fiddling nervously with his fingers. tanaka and nishinoya look like they’ve been told the sun isn't going to rise. kiyoko and yachi stand off to the side, whispering to each other.
at your trembling footsteps, they all look up.
"is it true?" daichi asks. his voice isn't loud, but it carries a weight that makes you want to curl into a ball.
you don't lie. you can't. "yes. i’ve been seeing him."
"the guess monster?" tanaka explodes, stepping forward. "the guy who laughed in our faces? the guy who tried to break hinata’s spirit? you’ve been.. dating him?"
"it’s not about the game, tanaka," you say, your voice trembling but steady. "he’s not a monster, especially when he’s with me."
"it is about the game when he’s the reason we can’t get a point!" kageyama snaps, his glare fierce and fiery.
sugawara finally looks up. his expression isn't angry - it’s disappointed. "did you give him our data? the rotations? the quick attack timings?"
that hurts more than anything else. did they really think you'd do that? "no. never. i actually kept his data from you because i didn't want to choose. i chose neither of you. and in the end, i failed everyone."
the silence that follows is suffocating. you turn and walk out, leaving your clipboard on the bench. you don't wait for them to kick you out.
—
you're sitting on a bench in a small park near your house, watching the swings move in the wind, when a familiar shadow falls over you.
tendou doesn't say anything. he just sits down, much closer than he should, and hands you a small, warm paper bag. "ah- don't look at me like that. it's just a chocolate croissant this time."
"i quit the team, satori," you say, your voice cracking as you stare down at the bag.
"good. they were too loud anyway," he says, though his jaw is clenched. he looks at his hands - those long, talented fingers that have spent years blocking dreams. "my coach found out, too. he told me that if i see you again before the finals, i’m off the starting lineup."
you gasp, turning to him. "satori, no! you’ve worked so hard for this. it’s your third year. you can’t give that up for anyone."
"you're not anyone."
tendou turns to you, his eyes burning with a terrifying intensity. ""old man washijo’s been losing his mind. told me im 'distracted.' like i haven't been distracted since i saw you trying to hide a notebook behind a bag of chips. it's annoying, honestly. im supposed to be thinking about blocking, and im just thinking about what kind of chocolate you like."
he leans in, his forehead resting against yours. "i’m playing the finals. and i’m going to win. but i’m doing it as me. and after the whistle blows.. i’m walking straight to you, no matter who is watching."
your heart stutters in your chest.
—
the day of the prefecture finals is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. the air in the sendai city gymnasium is vibrating. you’re standing in the spectator stands, wearing a plain shirt, no longer part of the karasuno bench. it hurts to see them down there - they all look nervous, and hinata hums with energy.
and across the net, the white and purple wall of shiratorizawa.
tendou looks like a man possessed. he isn't singing today. he’s focused. every block is precise, every movement calculated. he plays like he has everything to prove and nothing to lose.
it’s a five set marathon.
set one. 1:0. shiratorizawa.
set two. 1:1. karasuno.
set three. 2:1. shiratorizawa.
set four. 2:2. karasuno.
and when karasuno finally scores the winning point - the ball hitting the floor with a sound like thunder - the stadium erupts.
you watch as the karasuno players collapse in joy. you see the tears on daichi’s face and you feel a pang of longing to be there, to hand them their towels, to share the victory.
but then, you look at the other side.
tendou is standing at the net. his head is bowed – his third year career is over. he’s lost his final chance at nationals, and he looks so small.
washijo is shouting, screaming, at the team, but tendou doesn't seem to hear him. he lifts his head, his eyes scanning the thousands of people in the stands. he looks past the scouts, past the parents, past the screaming fans.
he finds you.
and despite the loss, despite the sweat and the heartbreak of the game, a slow, familiar grin spreads across his face.
he doesn't wait for the formal bows. he doesn't wait for his coach's permission. he vaults over the barrier, ignoring the gasps from the crowd and the confused shouts of his teammates. he runs up the stairs, taking them three at a time, until he’s standing right in front of you.
the entire gym goes quiet. even the karasuno boys stop their celebration to look up.
tendou reaches out, his hands trembling slightly, and cups your face.
"i lost," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.
"i know," you murmur, tears blurring your vision.
"im.. officially unemployed. do you still want a broke ass man?"
you don't answer with words. you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into a kiss that the entire prefecture can see.
below, you see sugawara nudge daichi. they don't look angry anymore. they just look tired, and maybe a little bit relieved. suga gives you a small, hesitant nod - the first step toward forgiveness.
but did you ever need it in the first place?
tendou pulls back, resting his chin on your head as the cameras flash and the crowd whispers.
"y/n?"
"yeah?"
"there’s a ice cream shop not far from here that stays open late for losers," he hums, his heart beating strong against your chest. "want to go see if they have our favourite?"
you laugh, wiping your eyes with your sleeve. "only if you're buying."
"always," tendou says, taking your hand and leading you out of the gym.
because naturally, your favourite is chocolate.
writing this made me feel some appreciation for tendou baki baki ni ore nani wo
dude ion even like chocolate ice cream MAYBE TENDOU CAN CHANGE MY MIND
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@an5k2s4ny @leosxrealm
╱ 𝒘𝒄 # 8.6k
— 𝒂uthor's 𝒏ote ﹕ reader is left handed btw! i really really like this one used all my brain power. it's been in my drafts for oh so very long (january 11) and i've just been slowly working on it :) hope you enjoy hah
more in the number neighbour collection
akaashi — smau
you're bored, to say the least.
it's a seemingly normal tuesday night, your homework is staring back at you with judgmental eyes, and you've scrolled through every social media app at least twice.
at this rate, you'll be forced to do your homework! and you really don't wanna do that..
that's when you see the trend going around again when you eventually reach for your phone: message your number neighbor.
it's stupid, risky, and exactly the kind of distraction you need right now. (anything to avoid homework ig)
your phone number ends in five.
you take a breath, open a new message thread, and type in your number, but change the last digit to a six.
you better be damn grateful i didn't make that six seven
you
hey number neighbour!
hope you arent a serial killer
you put your phone face down on your bed and wait. you expect to be ignored, left on read, or maybe blocked, like majority of the people out there on the internet.
five minutes pass. ten. then, your phone vibrates. with a racing heart, you glance at it.
xxx-xxx-xxx
I'm not a serial killer, I am a student.
you snort, fingers already flying across the screen. who texts like that, apart from emailing a teacher? it's so.. stiff.
also, who just reveals that information?
okay then. you'll do the same.
you
thats exactly what a serial killer would say
im a student too
how's life on the other side of the digit?
xxx-xxx-xxx
Life is fine.
I'm currently finishing my evening meal. It's important to maintain a consistent schedule for digestion and recovery.
you
.
okay 🥹
thanks for the health tip doc
xxx-xxx-xxx
You're welcome.
you
are you always this serious
xxx-xxx-xxx
I'm told I can be quite literal. I don't really see the point in unnecessary fluff.
you
unnecessary fluff 😭
well, im bored entertain me !
tell me something interesting about yourself without giving away your secret identity
xxx-xxx-xxx
I enjoy volleyball, and I'm left handed.
you
woah two fun facts and another lefty omg
me too
xxx-xxx-xxx
Being right handed is more common, but it doesn't mean you cannot follow your interests effectively.
you stare at the screen. they sound like a textbook come to life.
you
thanks for the pep talk, i feel so much more effective now 🤞
anyway im gonna go back to avoiding my essay
xxx-xxx-xxx
Okay
you
dont kill anyone tonight neighbor
xxx-xxx-xxx
I have already stated I'm not a murderer.
Good luck with your essay. It's better to finish it now so you can sleep early.
you toss your phone aside, collapsing back on your pillows.
"what a weirdo."
you're sitting in the cafeteria, picking at your lunch, when your phone vibrates in your pocket.
xxx-xxx-xxx
Did you finish the essay?
you almost choke on your own spit.
you
hi to you too
i did
barely
stayed up till two am
xxx-xxx-xxx
That is inefficient.
Lack of sleep leads to decreased performance and physical sluggishness.
you
okay doctor
xxx-xxx-xxx
As I've stated before, if you scroll up to read our past conversation, I am not a doctor.
you
nvm
what about you
did you do your homework
xxx-xxx-xxx
I finished mine yesterday at 8pm.
you
sweat
xxx-xxx-xxx
Funny you should say, I'm actually at practice at the moment.
you
volleyball?
xxx-xxx-xxx
Yes.
My teammate is yelling because I'm on my phone during a water break.
He says I'm evolving because I'm texting a stranger.
you
LMAOO tell your teammate hes right
you ARE becoming a social butterfly
wait
stranger?? we're neighbors theres a bond there
xxx-xxx-xxx
We share a numerical sequence.
That is all.
you
ouch my heart 🥺
fine go back to your balls =3
xxx-xxx-xxx
That is a crude way to phrase it, but I will.
And what equals 3?
⤷ you hearted this message
you put your phone away, grinning. then you pull it from your pocket again, and change the contact name.
health inspector.
you're supposed to be hanging out with your friend, but they're currently hovering over your shoulder. still counts as a hangout, right?
"who are you texting?" they ask, squinting at your screen. "you've been smiling at your phone for, like, ten minutes straight."
"just my number neighbor," you say, tilting the screen away. you really need to buy a privacy screen protector.. "he's super intense. like, 'i eat for digestion' intense. well, im think they're a he."
"is he hot?"
"wha- i don't even know his name! we agreed – well, we didn't agree, but we haven't asked. it's more fun this way. no expectations."
your phone pings again, and your friend groans.
health inspector
My teammate took my phone and saw your contact name.
you
oh no
what did you set it as
health inspector
Number Neighbor.
you
BRO THATS BORING
i have you set as health inspector hah
health inspector
I don't inspect health.
Anyway, he changed your name to 'Eagle Bait'. I don't know why.
you
eagle bait 💔
tell your friend he'd better start running
health inspector
He is very fast.
I doubt you could catch him.
you
bruh i hate u
health inspector
Well, I don't hate you. I don't know you well enough to harbor such strong emotions.
you groan and bury your face in your hands. he's so frustratingly literal that it's actually.. cute?
you find yourself wondering what his voice sounds like. does he talk as formally as he texts?
you
hey neighbor?
health inspector
Yes?
you
nothing
just making sure u were still there
health inspector
I am always here.
wednesday arrives with a heavy rainstorm that swiftly cancels your outdoor plans.
with nothing else to do, you're lounging on your couch, watching a movie you've already seen (and cried to) three times, when your phone lights up.
it's a photo – a blurry, shaky shot of a red haired guy making a peace sign right in front of the camera lens. he has a wild grin on his face, eyes wide and mouth leering.
health inspector
My teammate took my phone again.
He says hello, and that he doesn't care if you see what he looks like.
His name is Tendou.
you
lol hi tendou
tell him he has very chaotic energy even through a blurry photo 🥹
health inspector
He says that it's his specialty.
you
i can imagine
health inspector
He's currently trying to read our previous messages over my shoulder.
I've placed him in a headlock to prevent this.
you choke on your microwaved, triple butter popcorn. the mental image of someone putting a hyperactive redhead in a headlock is a bit too much for you.
you
damn
rip tendou
health inspector
Oh don't worry.
He isn't dead
you
i cant with you 😭
you actually have friends?
i thought you were a robot /j
health inspector
I'm not a robot.
Tendou is my friend, although he is loud sometimes.
you
sometimes or all of the time?
health inspector
Both
He's asking if you are cute.
I told him I don't know.
you
well
what did you tell him after that
health inspector
I told him that physical appearance is subjective and that based on your texting, you seem pretty
you
aw thanks 🥺
health inspector
capable of basic communication.
Sorry, I accidently pressed send.
you
wow i knew something was off you didnt use a full stop 😔
capable of basic communication..
i should put that on my tinder bio!
health inspector
Oh.
Do you use Tinder?
you
no lol
i was joking
do you?
health inspector
No.
I don't have time.
you
you sounds like you never have fun.
do you ever just eat junk food
watch a bad movie
etc
health inspector
I eat what is necessary for my muscles.
you
okay mr buff guy
health inspector
How did you know I was male?
you
magic
ABRACADABRA
health inspector
Okay.
Occasionally, I have hayashi rice.
That is enjoyable.
you
hayashi rice is your wild side?
health inspector
Yes.
you
jeez
we need to get you out more
⤷ health inspector reacted ? to this message
the next time you get a text from Health Inspector™, you're at the shopping centre with your friends.
it's unusual because he usually only texts in the evenings after his apparently strict schedule is done.
health inspector
We won.
you
oh
a volleyball thing?
congratsss (congratakaashilations)
health inspector
Yes. It was a practice match, but we won in straight sets.
I scored 19 points.
you
19 oh wow
is that good?
idk much about volleyball
health inspector
It's a high number for a three set match. My setter was very efficient today.
you
go celebrate!
get some uh
hayashi rice or something
health inspector
We're going to a convenience store.
Tendou is buying icy poles. The blue double ones. echo reference??
you
what flavor are u getting?
health inspector
I don't like sweets very much.
I'll have water.
you
you're literally the most boring person ive ever met 😑
health inspector
But we haven't met
you
oh COME ON
get a chocolate bar
live a little
⤷ seen by health inspector
when he doesn't reply, you go back to window shopping because you're broke asf with your friends.
five minutes later, a picture comes through, a large, slightly calloused hand holding a small chocolate bar. in the corner, it has a small nibble in the corner, as though someone has taken a tentative bite.
health inspector
I bought it.
It's too sweet.
you
CRYING
i can literally feel the regret through the screen 💔💔
health inspector
My teammates are staring at me.
They think I'm possessed because I'm eating chocolate.
you
tell them your neighbor made you do it trust 😏
health inspector
Okay
Tendou is now screaming that I have a secret lover.
your heart does a weird little skip at the word lover, even though it's just a joke.. right?
you
tell tendou i said hi and that hes a visionary
health inspector
I will tell him hi, but I won't tell him the other part.
It will only encourage him.
⤷ you liked this message
you
hey
health inspector
Yes?
you
we've been talking for a while now
i still dont know your name
or what you look like
or how old you are
health inspector
I am 18.
you
okay
one mystery solved
im 17
health inspector
Haha. 😂
I'm older than you
you
please never laugh over text again.
what about a name
health inspector
I would prefer not to.
If we find out who each other are, things might change.
I like that you don't know who I am.
you pause, thumbs hovering over the screen.
he sounds like people usually treat him differently because of who he is.
orrrr maybe you're overthinking things again.
you
fair enough
i kind of like it too
you can just be my health inspector
health inspector
And you can be my Eagle Bait.
you
NOT EAGLE BAIT AGAIN
health inspector
It's what's written on my screen, I've grown used to it.
Also, I've said multiple times I'm not a health inspector.
you
touché
health inspector
I'm going to sleep now.
Goodnight, Eagle Bait.
Oh, that almost rhymes
you
night hi
get it
hi
health inspector
h.i
hello
oh youre gone
GRANDPA
delivered
it's a monday morning, so of course you're dragging yourself through the school hallways, clutching a coffee like it's the only thing keeping you sane.
your school is buzzing because the volleyball team has just won something huge, but you aren't really one for sports. you literally know nothing about the volleyball team - you just know their gym is always squeaky and smells like sweaty feet.
your phone buzzes in your pocket.
health inspector
I am tired.
you
omg
what happened to consistent schedules for recovery??
health inspector
Our coach was dissatisfied with our blocking.
We had to stay late.
I didn't get to bed until 11:30pm yesterday.
you
uh
11:30 is a normal bedtime for most people yk
also why did you have practice on a sunday..
health inspector
Not for me
My legs feel heavy.
⤷ replied to also why did you have practice on a sunday..
My coach says otherwise we will forget how to play.
you
thats stupid
do you want me to send you a virtual hug
there's a long pause, and you watch the three bubbles appear and disappear.
health inspector
I don't know what a virtual hug is.
Is it a digital sticker?
Do you want to call me?
you
LMFAO no
it's just me saying i feel bad for you
health inspector
Oh
you
but here
(づ｡◕‿‿◕｡)づ
health inspector
That is a strange collection of symbols.
It looks like a person with very long arms.
you
thats because it is a person with very long arms 😭
health inspector
I showed Tendou.
Now he's trying to recreate the face.
It's unsettling.
you burst into giggles, earning a sharp look from your teacher and bemused looks from your classmates.
"sorry," you murmur to no one in particular.
after school, your friend drags you to the gym, against your will.
"just for a bit," she pleads. "my brother is playing, and i promised i'd bring him his knee pads. the fat lump forgot them."
you groan but follow her.
you stand by the entrance, on your phone, completely disinterested in the teenagers jumping around.
you
im stuck in a gym
well, not in the gym, but close enough
the squeaking is giving me a headache
health inspector
I'm also in a gym.
The squeaking is the sound of effort.
you
yeah no.
it smells like stinky socks in here
health inspector
That is a valid description.
you
SEE
health inspector
My setter just messed up. He's angry now.
I should go.
you look up from your phone, scanning the court in front of you, but none of them seem to be checking their phones.
"ready?" your friend asks, returning from where she's just thrown the kneepads at her brother.
"yeah, let's go. this place is too loud," you say. she laughs. "and stinks."
as you turn to leave, a volleyball rockets off the court and bounces toward the door. you stop it with your foot.
"sorry," a deep voice calls out.
a tall guy with dark hair and a bit of a scowl starts jogging toward you. he looks intimidating, but his eyes are focused entirely on the ball.
you kick it back to him. he nods once - not a smile but rather a blunt acknowledgement of your existence - and heads back to his team.
you don't think twice about it.
you
heyy neighbor
guess what i ate today
health inspector
If it's not a balanced meal, I don't want to know.
you
it was an oreo with ham on it
health inspector
Why would you put meat on a sweet?
you
because it tastes good why else
you should try it
health inspector
I refuse.
you
suit yourself
health inspector
I have a question.
you
shoot
health inspector
Why do you continue to talk to me?
Most people find me difficult to converse with.
you lean back against your headboard, brow furrowing as you type your response.
you
because you arent fake
everyone else tries so hard to be cool or funny
you just tell me about your diet and your early ass bedtime
it's refreshing
health inspector
Huh.
you
plus you bought that chocolate bar because i told you to
that was nice :)
health inspector
It was very sweet.
I still have half of it in my locker.
you
HELP WHAT
are you saving it 😭
health inspector
I didn't want to waste it.
you
has anyone told you you're such a dork
health inspector
I am told that often by Tendou.
you
of course
⤷ health inspector liked this message
you
so since you wont tell me your name
can i give you a nickname
health inspector is getting old
health inspector
What did you have in mind?
you
toshi
you don't know why you picked it - it just popped into your head.
somewhere, a tall boy with dark, olive green hair freezes. his heart thumps against his ribs.
toshi.
only his family and his closest friends call him that. it's a fragment of his actual name.
health inspector
Why that name?
you
idk
it just suits you
health inspector
....
you
it's fine if not i know that was random
health inspector
Fine.
You may use it.
you
YES
( you have changed health inspector to toshi )
you
okay toshi
go do your squats or whatever it is you do
toshi
I will.
Goodbye Eagle Bait
you
bruh i dont get a new name 😔??
⤷ seen by toshi
kys
toshi
Okay I will keep myself safe
⤷ you disliked this message
tonight, your screen stays dark.
you find yourself checking your phone every ten minutes, which is annoying. you aren't supposed to care this much about a guy who thinks salt is a bold seasoning. like, seriously!
finally, a message arrives, and it isn't a 'goodnight'.
toshi
I'm at a team dinner.
Tendou is standing on a chair.
you
of course
it wouldnt be tendou if he wasnt
toshi
He's singing a song about chocolate bars and secret neighbors.
I believe he is trying to provoke me into showing him our messages again.
you
and
did you
toshi
No.
I told him that privacy is a human right.
He told me I'm whipped
your face heats up.
you
whipped? 😭
pleasee you barely like me
you just like having someone to tell about your digestion and shit
toshi
That is inaccurate.
I quite look forward to our conversations
you
wow
i think thats actually the nicest thing youve said
toshi
It's the truth.
People usually only talk to me about volleyball.
Or they are intimidated and don't talk at all.
you
damn
toshi
You just call me a dork.
you
because you ARE a dork toshi
but a cool one
in an i follow all the rules kind of way
toshi
That is nice to hear.
⤷ you liked this message
saturday morning, you're at a local cafe. you snap a photo of your overly complicated iced latte - the kind with a mountain of whipped cream.
you
[attachment]
look at this
it's the complete opposite of your water bottle 😝
toshi
That looks like a heart attack desguised as a drink.
you
it's delicious!
i wish i could send you a sip
toshi
I'd decline
you
aw man
hey if i sent you something would you eat it?
toshi
I don't give out my address to strangers, number neighbours or not.
you
no shit that would be dumb 😑
i meant like
ill leave it somewhere
toshi
That seems unnecessary.
you
fine
have it your way
⤷ seen by toshi
you put your phone down with more force than necessary, a little irritated. you weren't actually going to stalk him or anything, but his immediate rejection wasn't exactly a nice feeling.
you go back to your book, feeling a bit silly.
around an hour later, your phone buzzes.
toshi
I'm at the park near Miyagi Prefectural Library.
There's a large oak tree by the fountain.
your heart skips.
that's- not far from where you are now.
you
..and?
toshi
I'm leaving practice now.
I'll be passing that tree in twenty minutes.
If you were to leave something there, I might find it.
you're already shoving your book into your bag.
you run to the bakery next door, grab a single, high quality dark chocolate brownie (less sugar, more toshi friendly), and sprint toward the park as fast as you can.
the oak tree is huge and gnarled. you tuck the small white bakery box into a crook in the roots, hidden behind some leaves, then run again.
you hide behind a nearby gazebo, peeking through the slats.
not long after, a tall figure walks down the path.
he's wearing a tracksuit - white and purple. broad shoulders, long legs, and a walk that screams 'i own this sidewalk'. from where you're crouching, you can see he has dark, olive toned hair.
it doesn't occur to you that this is the same guy from the gym..
he looks serious, his eyes scanning the ground.
he stops at the tree, looks around, making sure no one is watching, and reaches into the roots to pulls out the white box.
he opens it.
he stares at the brownie for a long time. then, he looks around again, a tiny, almost invisible soften to his expression.
he tucks the box into his gym bag and walks away.
your phone vibrates.
toshi
I found it.
you
it's a brownie!
try it before you judge it
toshi
I'll eat it when I get home.
Thank you.
⤷ you liked this message
toshi
You were there
Weren't you?
you
guilty
⤷ seen by toshi
great.
he's much more intimidating in person than he is in a text message.
toshi
It was acceptable
you
acceptable??
thats it?
toshi
It was the best thing I've eaten that wasn't healthy.
you
HA
I KNEW IT
toshi
Perhaps.
My mother asked who gave it to me.
I told her it was a neighbor, and she seemed confused as to why our elderly neighbor, Mr. Sato, would give me a brownie.
you
LMAAOAOO 😭💔
did you tell her the truth?
toshi
No.
I find I like having this to myself.
you bite your lip, a slow blush creeping up your neck.
you
me too toshi
me too
⤷ seen by toshi
—
toshi
I'm at the doctor.
you
shit what happened??
are you okay?
did the brownie take you out?
fuck im sorry are you allergic i shouldve checked oh my gosh
toshi
No.
The brownie was fine.
you
oh
toshi
My ankle is slightly inflamed.
It's a common occurrence.
you
does it hurt?
toshi
Not really.
I have been instructed to ice it and refrain from jumping for 48 hours.
you
oh noo
forty eight hours of no jumping
how will you survive? 🥹
you can go relax and sit on a couch
toshi
I don't like sitting on a couch.
It makes me feel stagnant.
you
you are SO dramatic
just watch a movie or something
toshi
I am watching a video of our last match to analyse my footwork.
you
NO that doesnt count
watch something that doesnt involve a ball
toshi
Suggest something.
you spend the next ten minutes arguing over movies. he shoots down every romantic comedy you suggest (highly unrealistic human behaviour) and every horror movie (i dont find jumpscares logical).
finally, he decides on a documentary about deep sea creatures.
toshi
The giant squid is impressive.
you
awh do you relate to a squid
toshi
Yes
⤷ you reacted 😑 to this message
you're walking through the school courtyard during lunch when you see a group of girls whispering and giggling over a phone.
"he's so stoic," one of them sighs. "i wonder if he ever smiles."
curiosity kills the cat, so you peek over.
they're looking at an instagram post from a local sports magazine. it's a photo of a volleyball player mid air.
the caption reads: Shiratorizawa's Ace continues his dominant streak.
your heart stops.
the jersey is white and purple.
just like the tracksuit the guy in the park was wearing.
aka. your number neighbour.
aka, toshi.
you can't see his face clearly, but the build is unmistakable. the thick legs, the broad shoulders, the hair.
then it occurs to you - it's the same guy in the gym from so long ago. you just didn't recognise him without the tracksuit.
you scramble for your phone.
you
hey
quick question
toshi
What is the question?
you
do you go to shiratorizawa?
the 'typing...' bubble appears, and stays there for a long, long time.
you're holding your breath. if he says yes, the mystery is basically over. you could find him in ten minutes.
toshi
Why do you ask?
you
i saw a photo
of a player
he looked like the guy i saw in the park
another long pause.
toshi
I have told you before.
If we know too much, this changes.
you
i know
but
toshi
Are you disappointed?
you
what??
no
why would i be disappointed?
toshi
Because I'm not telling you who I am
you
toshi
ive been talking to you for a while
i know you think water is a treat and you relate to squids
you can't disappoint me
toshi
I see.
Then I won't confirm or deny.
But I will tell you this:
My ankle is feeling better because I'm distracted by this conversation.
And you.
your face turns five shades of red, and you have to put your phone face down on a concrete bench to cool off.
you're back in the gym, this time because you left your sweater on the bleachers after gym class. you'd hoped you could wear it somehow, but the gym teacher had promptly sent you away.
you spot a familiar head of bright red hair.
it's..
wait.
tendou?
he's leaning against the net, looking bored while who you guess is the coach talks to someone else.
suddenly, tendou spots you walking toward the bleachers. he narrows his eyes, then a huge, mischievous grin spreads across his face.
he points at you and then turns to the giant guy standing next to him.
the guy turns his head.
you freeze.
you're wearing your school uniform.
you look normal.
but you feel like you have 'NEIGHBOUR' written on your forehead in black sharpie.
the guy looks at you.
he doesn't wave or smile. he just stares for a second too long before the coach barks an order and he turns back to the court.
you grab your sweater and bolt.
once you're safely in the outside, your phone vibrates.
toshi
You were in the gym.
you
i was not
toshi
Tendou said, "There's the girl who smells like brownies."
you
i do NOT smell like brownies
AND HOW COULD HE EVEN SMELL THAT
toshi
You didn't say hello.
you
because you were BUSY
and INTIMIDATING
and we have a DEAL
no names
no faces
⤷ replied to no faces
we've broken that
toshi
I'm not intimidating.
I was just standing there
you
toshi
you are a 6 foot something mountain of muscle
you are the definition of intimidating
toshi
6'2
I didn't think you would be afraid of me.
you
im not afraid
im uhm
preserving the mystery
toshi
I think you were running away.
you
no i was walking fast
toshi
Tendou is laughing.
He says you looked like a startled rabbit.
you
tell tendou im gonna to put salt in his next chocolate bar.
toshi
I will relay the message.
He says he likes salt in his chocolate bar.
you
for fucks sake
toshi
And for the record..
That sweater would look nice on you.
It's a good colour.
you groan and trip over your own feet.
"fuck-!"
you can't stop thinking about what he said.
about the sweater.
because it means he was actually looking.
toshi
I have a question about the long armed person face
you
(づ｡◕‿‿◕｡)づ
this one?
what about it
toshi
If it's a hug, does that mean you are a physical person?
you
you're gonna have to give me more info than that
toshi
Tendou says some people show affection through touch, while others show it through acts of service.
you
tendou is getting deep
and idk! maybe?
i think im a bit of both
what about you?
toshi
I give them my full attention.
If I'm talking to you, it's because I believe you're worth my time.
I don't engage in idle chatter with people I don't respect.
it's so blunt – there's no 'i think you're cute' or 'i like talking to you'.
just the fact that because he's texting you, you're officially worth it.
you
wait thats actually really sweet
does that mean i have your respect sir 🫡
toshi
You have had it for a very long time now.
⤷ you reacted 🥺 to this message
it was his texts like this that had you speechless.
you just.. didn't know how to reply.
it's the night before a big game for him.
you know this because he's been texting less, which usually means he's, quote, 'in the zone'.
you
big day tomorrow?
toshi
Yes.
We're playing a team with very persistent defense.
It'll be tiring
you
you got this!
just think of the giant squid or smt
toshi
I will.
Will you be there?
you
i dunno
wouldnt that break the rules
toshi
What rules?
The gym is a public space.
I cannot stop you from entering.
you
yeah it'd be weird if you could
toshi
Besides, Tendou keeps looking for 'the brownie girl' in the stands.
It would be easier if I knew where you were so I could tell him to focus on the match.
you
oh
so u want me there for team productivity
toshi
Precisely
you
ill consider it
⤷ toshi liked this message
the stadium is packed – you've never seen so many people there for a high school game.
you're wearing a simple hoodie, your hood pulled up slightly, feeling like a spy. (cue spy music!) you find a seat way up, far enough that you're just a speck in the crowd.
the whistle blows, and the teams walk onto the court.
and there he is.
number one.
he seems.. different on the court. at the park, he was just a tall, imtimidating guy. here, he's still intimidating, but he's also a force of nature.
when he scores, he doesn't celebrate much. he just resets, expression completely blank, eyes fixed on the ball.
in one word, he's magnificent.
during a timeout, you see him take a drink from his water bottle. his eyes scan the crowd.
they move slowly, methodically, starting from the front row and working their way up.
your breath hitches. you know he can't see you – there are thousands of people here. you turn your gaze away, looking somewhere else.
your phone vibrates.
toshi
You're here.
I can feel it.
you nearly drop your phone in absolute shock.
you
how??
you're literally in the middle of a game PUT YOUR PHONE AWAY
toshi
My manager is holding it. I asked her to check for a message during the break.
My coach isn't very happy but I don't care.
you
I CARE
YOUR COACH IS SCARY ASF
whats his name again
washing board
toshi
Washijo
You're in the upper area. To the left of the scoreboard.
yes in this shiratorizawa has a manager idc
you are exactly where he said.
you
you are a freak.
FOCUS ON THE GAME
toshi
I am focused.
Watching you watch me is not a distraction.
the whistle blows again.
you watch him hand the phone to the manager and walk back onto the court.
he looks up directly toward your section and gives a single, sharp nod.
then proceeds to absolutely demolish the other team.
you slip out before they officially announce the winner, not wanting to get caught in the crowd – or by a certain redhead.
you're halfway home when the text comes through.
toshi
We won.
you
i saw! you were incredible toshi
seriously
toshi
Thank you.
I'm tired now.
My muscles are aching
you
do you want another long armed person hug?
toshi
No.
ouch.
toshi
I think, next time, I would like a real one.
you stop walking in the middle of the sidewalk, nearly walking into a mailbox, your face burning.
a real one.
the man who finds unnecessary fluff unnecessary – just asked for a real hug.
or at least, he admitted he wanted one.
you
a real one?
who are you and what have you done with the robot?
toshi
I'm the same. I'm just tired.
Fatigue makes people more honest.
you
well go to sleep then mr honest
toshi
But it's still early.
And I'm not home yet.
you
i dont care
⤷ seen by toshi
—
toshi
Tendou is asking why I'm smiling at my phone.
you
youre SMILING??
toshi
It's not a large smile
My mouth is simply less straight than usual.
you
mmm sure ill take it
so whats got u smilin
toshi
I was thinking about the way you ran away in the gym.
you
?? I TOLD YOU I WAS WALKING FAST
besides youre scary in person
you have main character energy
toshi
I don't know what that means.
It's my job to be reliable. And intimidating if necessary.
you
youre very reliable at making me nervous :/
toshi
Why are you nervous? 🤔🤔
you
BECAUSE
we've been talking for months and i still dont know your real name
i could find out rn but im respecting your privacy be grateful 😤
toshi
I am grateful.
⤷ you liked this message
toshi
If I tell you my name, will you tell me yours?
you
maybe
toshi
Then not yet.
I want to see how long we can last like this.
It's like a game.
you
youre so competitive 💔
istg is everything a game to you
toshi
Only the things that matter.
you're in your room, folding your laundry and humming a song that has been fixated in your head lately. you really need to stop doomscrolling on tiktok. no, seriously ik damn well get off
your phone is on your bed.
not so wise decision.
you reach for a sock, stumble, and your palm lands flat on the screen.
and you had only been texting a specific someone moments earlier, so the screen is still on.
the phone starts ringing.
calling.. toshi
"no, no, no!" you scramble, fingers fumbling to hang up, but your phone is glitching. great – out of all times. it freezes on the calling screen.
he picks up.
on the other end, there's silence. you hold the phone to your ear, too nervous to breathe. you're too terrified to speak.
"hello?"
his voice. it's so much deeper than you imagined.
"eagle bait?" he asks.
"hi," you whisper. your voice sounds tiny compared to his.
"you called me," he states.
"..it was an accident. i was.. folding laundry."
"i see."
there's a pause. you can hear faint chatter in the background – he's probably in the locker room.
"you sound.. like i expected."
"and how is that?"
"kind. and a bit terrified right now."
you let out a shaky laugh. "me? never."
"i have to go to practice," he says ever so softly. "but.. i liked hearing your voice."
you smile into the phone. "i liked hearing yours too.. toshi."
"i will text you tonight." before you can utter a goodbye, he hangs up.
you collapse onto your bed, staring at the ceiling.
now you aren't just texting a number anymore.
you're talking to a living, breathing person.
a person with a voice that makes your toes curl.
you're walking past the gym again – actually, lets be honest. you're taking the long way home just to catch a glimpse.
the gym doors fly open.
"BROWNIE GIRL!"
tendou is sprinting toward you, waving his arms like a windmill. behind him, he is walking out at a normal pace, looking slightly exasperated.
you freeze. you can't run this time; tendou is too fast.
"it's you! i knew it!" tendou skids to a stop in front of you, leaning down to look you square in the face. "ushijima is always staring at his screen with this look like he's trying to solve a very intense math problem, but the math problem is love!"
"satori," ushijima booms. he catches up, stepping between you and the redhead. "leave her alone. you're being intrusive."
toshi looks down at you.
"are you okay?" he asks, a genuine look of concern on his face.
"yeah," you squeak. "im fine. just.. laundry. i mean, walking home."
tendou snickers. "laundry.." he scoffs under his breath.
the other man looks at you for a long moment. you notice his eyes are a dark olive, like his hair.
"you're wearing the sweater."
"it's my favorite," you admit, fiddling with a loose thread.
he nods, a tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth. "it suits you. as i said before."
"WAKATOSHI-KUN!" tendou screams. "you're doing it! you're flirting! my eyes! they've never seen such a thing! actually.. she's shown me before.." echo reference??
toshi ignores him entirely. "ill text you later. i have to take satori away before he causes a scene."
"too late for that," you joke. "i've got to go as well."
he actually huffs a small laugh. it's a sound that blesses your ears.
"you're right. goodbye.. eagle bait."
"bye, toshi."
you walk away, feeling his gaze on your back until you turn the corner.
tendou turns to ushijima, grinning. "eagle bait? still?"
"she doesn't mind it. i think."
"you think-"
when you reach the front door, your heart is still trying to beat out of your chest through your throat.
you keep replaying it – the way he looked down at you, the way his voice dropped when he noticed your sweater, and, most importantly, the fact that he laughed.
your phone vibrates again before you even get the chance to take your shoes off.
toshi
I apologise for Tendou, he has no sense of personal boundaries.
you
lol it's fine
hes funny :)
toshi
He's a nuisance sometimes.
But.. he wasn't entirely wrong.
you stop mid step, one shoe on, one shoe off.
you
about
toshi
About the way I look at my phone.
friday evening, you're trying to study when a text comes through that isn't a text at all. it's a link to a destination on google maps.
toshi
I'm going to a park tomorrow.
Not the one with the oak tree.
This one is further away, near the river.
you
okay?
are you going to look for squids 😭
toshi
No.
I'm going for a run.
oh.
oh.
if hes asking u to run w him we cooked asf
toshi
I'll be finished at 10am, and there's a bench near the bridge.
you
waiiit
are you asking me to meet you
like for real without any distractions or people around
toshi
I would like to see if you are the same in person as you are over text without Tendou present, if that's what you mean.
you
wow. rude
justice for tendou
ill be there
toshi
Nice 👍
⤷ you reacted 🥹 to this message
toshi
?
you
nothing
toshi
Also, I brought a brownie the other day.
you
you WHAT
toshi
Yes. It was good, but not as good as the one you brought me.
you
thats because i sprinkled it with some neighbourly love otw!
toshi
Oh is that a seasoning? I'll have to try it out
you
oh gosh
⤷ toshi reacted ? to this message
you arrive at exactly 9:55am. you're wearing a fresh outfit, your hair is actually done, and you've checked your breath, like, five times.
more like fifty.
the park is quiet, the morning mist still clinging to the river. you see a figure running toward the bridge.
he's wearing a black compression shirt and shorts. he slows to a jog, then a walk, as he nears the bench. drenched in sweat, his skin glows in the morning light. he looks like a perfect sculpture come to life.
ushijima stops in front of you, breathing hard. "you came," he says. his voice is a little raspy from the run.
"i said i would," you say, trying to sound cool. you fail miserably. "uhh, nice running?"
toshi wipes his forehead with the back of his hand. "thank you."
a beat, and you stare at eachother awkwardly.
"i realised something," he says, stepping a bit closer.
"what?"
"i don't know your name."
you smile, reaching out and gently poking his arm. damn, his muscles are like rock- "it's l/n. y/n."
he repeats it, testing the weight of the syllables in his mouth. "y/n. it is a good name. better than eagle bait."
you let out an unflattering snort. "i think everything is better than eagle bait."
toshi sits down on the bench, gesturing for you to join him. you sit, and for a while, you both just watch the river flow.
he reaches into his gym bag and pulls out a small, crumpled paper bag. he hands it to you.
inside is a single, slightly squashed chocolate bar. the same one you told him to buy weeks ago.
"i bought it this morning," he says, looking at his feet. "i thought.. maybe we could share it."
you feel a lump rise in your throat.
breaking the bar in half, you hand him the bigger piece. he promptly nudges it back to you and takes the smaller piece.
"to living a little," you say.
"to being neighbors," he replies.
the chocolate is slightly warm and has a papery taste to it, but it's easily one of the best thing you've ever tasted.
you sit on that bench for an hour. you talk about things that aren't volleyball, like how he likes the smell of old books and how you're terrified shitless of spiders.
"i am not afraid of spiders," ushijima says, looking at the remainder of his chocolate. "they're helpful. they eat mosquitoes."
"spoken like a true fearless soldier," you laugh. "but if one crawls on me, i'm using you as a human shield."
he glances at you, expression softening into a lopsided half smile. "i'm a very large shield. you'll be safe."
the.. peace lasts exactly forty eight hours.
by monday lunch, the school is buzzing (gossiping). apparently, someone (tendou) saw (spied) a mystery girl (you) sitting with the ace (ushijima) at the river.
you're trying to blend into the cafeteria wall when a shadow falls over your table. you look up, and it's not toshi.
it's guy with a black bowl cut and a guy with light brown hair, in a slightly more lopsided bowl cut.
"is it you?" the first one asks, pointing a finger at you like he's accusing you of a crime. "are you the one who made ushijima-san eat a brownie?"
"i.. maybe?"
"he hasn't stopped looking at his phone during stretches," the other one says, sounding personally offended.
before you can defend yourself, a hand lands on their heads and pushes them aside.
it's.. toshi!
he looks down at his apparently teammates with a look that would wither a cactus.
"go away," he states. "you are bothering her."
"we just wanted to see if she was real!" black bowl cut squeaks. "tendou-san said she was a forest spirit that lived in an oak tree!"
"uh. clearly im not a forest spirit," you say, finally finding your voice. "im a student."
toshi looks at you, then back at his teammates. "she is y/n."
light hair shrugs. "'kay. cmon goshiki."
they leave, albeit reluctantly.
"i'm going to practice. do you want to walk with me to the gym doors?"
you feel a hundred eyes on you, and you step forward, legs a little shaky.
"sure, toshi. let's go."
toshi
Tendou has been banned from my phone.
I've changed the passcode.
you
nah what was it before 😭
0000
toshi
No
It was 1111
you
..youre so predictable
toshi
I was joking
Predictability is a sign of stability
you
in what world 🥹
toshi
Anyway
I have Friday evening free. My coach is attending a conference
you
are you asking me on a date perchance
toshi
I am proposing an evening with you.
I'd like to go to the cinema.
you
oh?
no documentaries about squids
toshi
There's a film about a man who survives in the wilderness.
It seems logical.
you
okay
it's a date
but i get to pick the popcorn seasoning‼️
toshi
Yes 👍
But no bacon flavour please.
you
DO THEY MAKE THAT
toshi
...
No.
you
ohhh they do dont they 😼
⤷ toshi disliked this message
the cinema is oh so very dark and smells of buttered popcorn. you're sitting next to him, and even though you aren't touching, you can feel the heat radiating off him.
he's sitting perfectly upright, staring at the screen.
halfway through the movie, the main character gets lost in a blizzard. ironically, you shiver – the theater is a little cold.
without a word, toshi shifts. he doesn't put his arm around you – that would be too smooth for him. instead, he reaches over, takes your hand, and simply places it on his thigh, covering it with his own massive, warm hand.
"you're cold," he whispers. "this will help."
you bite your lip to keep from giggling. he is such an awkward romantic, and you love it.
you squeeze his hand, and he squeezes back. his hand is rough with callouses from thousands of spikes, yet it's incredibly gentle.
you spend the rest of the movie not watching the screen at all, just focusing on the feeling of his thumb tracing small, absent minded circles on the back of your hand.
when the lights come up and the movie ends, he doesn't let go immediately. he looks at you, eyes thoughtful.
"the movie was.. acceptable," he says.
"was it better than the brownie?" you tease, grinning.
"no. but it is unfair to compare food and entertainment." he says, leaning in. "the company was better than the movie."
you think he might kiss you right there in the cinema, but then his phone buzzes.
yay. cockblocker
( 38 notifications from tendou )
tendou
HOW WAS THE MOVIE
DID U HOLD HANDS
I CAN FEEL THE ROMANCE FROM MY DOOM
SOOM
ROON
ROOM
TELL ME EVEYYITMG
EVERYTING
EVERYTGING
ECERTITN
fucj
EVERYTHING
USHIJIMA
WAKATOSHI
USHIWAKA
U
S
H
I
J
I
M
A
W
A
K
A
T
O
S
H
I
ANSWER MEEEEEEEE
ew are u making out
OR WORSE.. DOING THE NAUGHTY ‼️‼️
ewwwwwwwww
that's naaasty
wear protection kids 😏
toshi sighs, deep and weary. "i'm going to change my phone number."
"don't you dare," you laugh, standing up and pulling him toward the exit. "i like my number neighbor right where he is."
it turns out that when the most stoic, volleyball obsessed boy in shiratorizawa starts walking someone to class, people notice. i know! absolute shocker.
you're standing by the school lockers in the morning when you see him. he's, well, hard to miss – he towers over the crowd like a giant.
a group of first year girls is hovering near him, one of them holding a pink envelope.
ah.
"ushijima-senpai!" she chirps, her face bright red. "ive watched all your games! please, take this!"
you pause, feeling a weird, cold prickle in your chest. you've never been the jealous type, but seeing a literal fan club form around your.. you don't know what he is, but! it feels different.
ushijima doesn't take the envelope. he doesn't even look at it LMAO. he's looking over their heads, his eyes scanning the hallway until they land on you.
"i cannot take that," he says to the girl, his voice loud and clear. "it would be an inefficient use of my time, and i am already spoken for."
the hallway goes dead silent. the girl's jaw drops, and her friends giggle awkwardly.
toshi walks straight past them and stops in front of you.
"you're late," he says.
"sorry, captain," you answer, hiding a grin. "i didn't want to interrupt your, erm, fan meeting."
"it was not a meeting. it was disturbance. let us go."
and so the two of you walk off together, leaving the girl and her friends behind, her still clutching the envelope pathetically.
your phone pings during your afternoon break. it's a notification from instagram – you've been tagged in a post.
it's a photo someone took of you and ushijima at the cinema. the two of you walking out, hands briefly brushing.
and.. the comments are a war zone.
@.user1 who is she she looks so plain
@.user2 does he even like her? he looks bored asf
@.user3 ushijima kun deserves someone more athletic!
↳ @.tendersatoes definitely not you then 😂😂
a lump rises in your throat. you know you shouldn't care what strangers think, but it still hurts.
although tendou's comment does make you crack a smile. seriously, tendersatoes??
you're about to close the app when a new comment loads.
@.Ushijima_Wakatoshi Her name is Y/n. She is not plain, she is observant. And I'm not bored. I'm focused. If you have time to comment on my personal life, you have time to practice on whatever you need to do. You're lacking in discipline.
@.Ushijima_Wakatoshi Fuckers.
↳ @.tendersatoes pop off ushiwaka 🤪 CLOCKED BITCHES
↳ @.user2 whatever
you stare at the screen.
toshi just commented a whole paragraph for you.
and on top of that – fuckers.
you
toshi
did u just flame your uh FANS in the comments
toshi
I didn't flame them.
I provided an objective assessment of their behavior and their priorities.
you
yeah..
you basically told them to go touch grass
toshi
Grass is good for them.
Are you upset? I can delete the comment, but I think many people have seen it already.
you
no actually
i'm really happy
but pls dont get suspended for me
toshi
If it means I have more time to spend with you, then I welcome it.
you
TOSHI 🥹🥹
⤷ toshi liked this message
since the gym is being renovated for two days, ushijima actually has an afternoon off.
you invite him over to your house to study, which mostly consists of you trying to talk about work while he stares at your bookshelves.
"why do you have so many books about people who don't exist?" he asks, picking up one of your romance novels.
"because fiction is fun, toshi! it's about feelings and drama and shit."
he puts it down, then reaches for another one.
you gasp, jumping on his back. "not that one-!"
"drama is just a lack of communication," he says, sitting down on your rug. he's so big that your room suddenly feels half its size.
you sit next to him, leaning your head on his shoulder. he freezes for a second before he slowly relaxes, resting his head on top of yours.
"i like your house," he says softly. "it smells like you."
you laugh, the sound muffled against his arm.
ushijima suddenly shifts, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone. he opens up your contact info.
"i have changed your name again," he says.
you look at the screen.
it doesn't say 'eagle bait' anymore.
it just says,
y/n ❤️
"the red heart means affection," he says, his face turning a very unnatural shade of pink. "tendou told me it was mandatory for this stage of a relationship."
"for once," you whisper, leaning up to kiss his cheek, "i think tendou is right."
but ushijima turns his head at the last second, catching your lips with his.
"i agree," he says matter of factly once you pull away, then lifts your chin to kiss you again.
called both of my number neighbours once on a dare, one sent me to voicemail and the other was a woman with a child crying in the background. and i was reading the manga the other day and ml ushijima does not talk like a robot all the time 😭 bro fanon ushijima is scary.
genuinely really proud of myself for this one tysm for reading (new top 3 fav unlocked ?!)
tumblr, please allow more than 30 images. thank you.
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You’re standing outside the gym where the Olympics team is practicing when you see Iwaizumi walk by, hand in hand with a clumsily waddling toddler. Iwaizumi nods at you and the toddler waves a chubby arm at you. You giggle and wave back.
“Did you want to wait inside?” Iwaizumi asks.
You’re about to decline when the toddler tugs on your fingers.
“Come in?” he asks.
You agree, letting him lead you by his grip around your ring finger and pinky. Inside the gym, Iwaizumi asks you to watch his son as he finishes up with the team. The child quickly settles into your lap, his babbling trailing off as he dozes away. You’re fiddling with a loose thread in his little sweater when Wakatoshi comes up behind you, freshly showered. He greets you with a brief kiss on the head and sits quietly next to you when he sees the sleeping kid in your arms.
“Who’s this?”
“Iwaizumi’s son,” you respond distractedly.
Ushijima stares intently at you as you gently rock the small child in your arms. He continues to watch in silence as you double-knot his shoelaces, straighten the sleeves on his sweater, and swat away the drool at the corner of his open mouth. He notices when you laugh quietly at his little snores.
His eyes are still on you when you finally look up at him.
“What,” you laugh. “What are you looking at?”
Before he can answer, Iwaizumi comes to relieve you of childcare duties. He thanks you and you assure him that his son was wonderful.
“You’re in a good mood,” Ushijima states.
You only smile at him, swinging your clasped hands in wide arcs and skipping a bit.
Later that night, with your back nestled into his broad chest, he rubs a warm, large palm on your tummy. The gesture is innocent and gentle, but the circles get slowly wider.
“You like kids, huh?” As he talks, the palm slides up to cup your breasts.
“Is that what this is about?”
“What do you think,” he asks, hands not stopping. “About having kids.”
You push him onto his back and roll on top of his chest, eye to eye with him. He gazes at you lovingly and you’ll never get tired of it.
“I want a girl,” you say. “I really want to see your big muscly arms holding a pink blanket with our little daughter in it.”
He gives you a confused look, “if that’s what you want.”
He flips the two of you over, hands back on your body.
“What are you doing!” you laugh.
“Starting now,” he says simply, as his hands continue their trail down your body.
this idea randkmly popped into my head and i NEEEDDDDDD to see it
something with bsf!tsukkishima x reader where he's OBSESSED with indirect kisses and small touches and just that TENSION EEEEKKKK
love to see this, feel free to play around :D
☆ maybe i like you
જ⁀➴ in which your bestfriend tsukishima (who is secretly in love with you) confesses his feelings for you, maybe...?
content warning : cursing in some parts, reader implied to be shorter than tsukishima
tsukishima loved to be around you. i mean, of course he never wanted to admit that—but c’mon, you are his best friend. somehow though, you always felt as if there was some slight tension between the two of you. not in a “i secretly hate you!” type of tension, more like a “i’m secretly in love with you but too scared to admit it” type of tension. the thought never really crossed your mind though until these little instances occurred.
the first incident happened when you were walking home with tsukishima after a long day of practice. the night felt calm and quiet, as the moonlight defined the sharp features of his face. you both had dropped yamaguchi off and were now walking towards your house.
on nights like this where the sound of nature absorbed the night, conversation was kept to a minimum. the only things to come from tsukishima were the quiet sighs and small yawns. “awe tsuki, you tired?” you teasingly smiled. he looked down at you and rolled his eyes, “yeah, so what? i wanna see you do 3+ hours of practice while dealing with a bunch of dummies.”
you threw your hand onto his shoulder, patting it, “well i already have to deal with your bratty ass so it’s just about the same!” tsukishima clicked his teeth as he faced his head away from you. you slowly ran your hand down to his forearm, wrapping your arm around it. “oh c’mon tsuki, don’t tell me i hurt your feelings.” you could ever so slightly see it, the pinkish tint warming up his cheeks. “shut up” he muttered under his breath. you couldn’t help but laugh at his shy antics. oh, how he loved your laugh.
the second incident happened when you were at his house studying for an upcoming test. the two of you were in his room, arguing over some snacks. specifically, tsukishima’s snacks. “i told you to go get your own!”, tsukishima yelled while snatching the chip bag out of your hands. “and i told you to come with me, but you don’t want to!” you slightly shove him. “i don’t understand why you can’t just go get it by yourself.” he questioned.
you covered your face with your hands as a sign of irritation. “tsuki, this isn’t my house. i can’t just go through your pantry and take your food.” tsukishima sighed at your stubbornness. a few seconds pass until you hear a shuffle next to you. you look up and see that tsukishima is already halfway out the door. you tilt your head slightly, confused to why he left.
after a while, tsukishima comes back with a handful of snacks and two drinks. he walks over to the bed, dumping all of the items onto it. “here. now you can stop stealing all of mine.” you smiled widely, “wow tsukishima! you really brought this all for me?” there it was again, that pinkish tint that was painted over his cheeks, even more noticeable than the last time. “it was nothing.” he shyly looked away. you reach over to him, pulling him into a small hug. oh, how he loved your touch.
fast forward to the present, where it was now valentine's day. it had been another year of having no valentine so it was just another day to you. “have any valentine, y/n?” yachi asked in a teasing manner. “nope. what about you?” you sighed. yachi looked at like you were crazy. “wait what!? tsukishima hasn’t asked you yet?” you share a puzzled look with her. “what are you talking about?”
yachi then went into full blown panic mode, stuttering while she spoke, “oh no, i thought he already did it! pretend i didn’t say anything!” she rushed out of the classroom, scurrying off to who knows where. that was strange..
practice was now over and it was time to head home. you gathered your belongings and headed over to tsukshima and yamaguchi, ready for your daily routine of walking home. while you were walking, you felt that something was different. practice had ended a little earlier today, so the sun was just starting to set. but that wasn’t it… there was something in the air, as if the energy had shifted. you then noticed that yamaguchi kept looking over at tsukishima as if he were waiting for him to say something.
the three of you had soon reached yamaguchi’s house, saying your goodbyes and heading off. just as usual, neither of you had said a word. typically, the silence would’ve been comforting, but today it was awkward. you decided to break the silence, “yachi said something so weird today.”
“oh yeah? what’d she say?” he said while still facing forward. you hesitated a little before speaking, wondering if you should even say it. “well… she asked me if i had a valentine, to which i said no… but then she asked, “tsukishima hasn’t you yet?”” tsukishima stopped walking and turned, now fully facing you. “what did she mean by that tsuki?” you questioned.
tsukishima deeply signed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. you waited patiently for an answer, until he spoke. “okay, maybe i was planning on asking you to be my valentine.” he stuttered. “why me though?” you said laughing a little, a bit shocked at his honesty. “because maybe i like you” he said bluntly. you smiled softly, “ wow tsukishima, i didn’t know you could actually like people.” he chuckled at your response.
it had been a terrible day. work was hell and you'd gotten into an argument with your roommate about something stupid, so you were hiding out in a booth at onigiri miya to avoid facing them. it was past closing time, but osamu didn't mind having you around while he cleaned and counted the till. being around you felt like being warmed by the sun, and he selfishly wanted to keep that feeling to himself.
you were angrily typing away at your laptop, attempting to do damage control for the major screw up an intern made. did your bosses care that it happened an hour before you clocked out? no. they wanted the situation rectified by nine o'clock tomorrow morning.
osamu could see frustrated tears starting to form in the corners of your eyes as he sat down across from you, placing a cup of tea beside your water glass. he watched you for a moment before pushing the lid of your laptop closed, nearly catching your fingers before you pulled away.
"samu please, i have to get this done," you huffed, sniffling.
"not tonight you don't—hey, don't look at me like that. i know for a fact you're not going to request overtime for this."
he was right, of course, but right now you weren't listening to reason. the weight of the day's events were weighing heavily on your chest, and all you wanted to do was cry.
you sniffled again, swiping at the tears that were starting to fall with your sleeve. a choked sob broke free from your lips as you hung your head in your hands.
"i don't know how much more of this job i can handle."
osamu stood and moved to sit beside you, the leather creaking as his weight joined yours on the seat. he draped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest. he rubbed slow circles on your back as your last strand of control snapped and you cried into his apron.
"did i ever tell you about how i almost lost onigiri miya?"
you stilled for a moment, pulling your face out of his chest to meet his gaze, shaking your head. osamu sighed.
"it was at the four month mark. the holidays had just ended and no one wanted to spend money going out, so i wasn't getting many customers. i'd used most of my savings renovating the shop before its grand opening, and i had to seriously consider closing."
osamu paused for a moment. your tears were slowing as you listened, watching him fiddle with one of the cords of his apron.
"i thought i had hit rock bottom. i was drowning in bills and it felt like my entire world was crashing down around me." his tone had gotten softer, more contemplative. then, he smiled.
"but, then things got better. the weather started getting warmer, more people were coming in, and atsumu even managed to convince the MSBY p.r team to put out a glowing recommendation about the shop. and then i met you."
his smile got wider as he cupped your jaw in his hand, cradling your face the way you cradled his heart the past couple months.
"you were like a beacon in the middle of the ocean, and you had my heart the second you told me that i should add spicy crab to the fillings menu."
you sat up, fiddling with his free hand as he caressed your cheek.
"y/n, you are kind and funny and absolutely brilliant. you light up every room you walk into, and every day i'm with you the better the person i become, and,"
he paused, swallowing thickly as he stared into the most captivating eyes he's ever had the privilege to see.
"and i love you, y/n."
his heart beat wildly in his chest as you processed his declaration. those three words simultaneously cracked you open and sewed you back together again. this man was giving you his heart, begging you to handle it gently.
your hands moved to cup osamu's face as you pressed your forehead to his, never breaking eye contact. your voice was bearly above a whisper as you returned his avowal.
"i love you too, osamu."
osamu's face split into a wide grin as he closed the short distance between you, capturing your lips in a kiss that tasted of pure, unadulterated adoration.
and it was here, in this onigiri shop after midnight, that osamu decided he would be selfish for the rest of his life.
thinking about how lonely kageyama tobio is growing up. every after game he wins, he would see his teammates run to their family who's standing on the audience bench waiting with proud smiles. he never shows it but his chest aches with longing and yearning.
but it all changes when you and him start dating. the first time he sees your family is at his first professional game.
his eyes scan the crowds, knowing you'll be there, cheering on him like you've always been. imagine his surprise when he sees you, not alone, but with your mom, dad, and your little brother beside you.
“im so sorry, they really want to come see you.” you apologize, scared that tobio might feel uncomfortable with your family tagging along.
tobio shakes his head, “no—”
his words cut off by a sudden hug from your dad.
“im so proud of you boy, you did great out there!” tobio stunned, not familiar with the warm gesture. he awkwardly hugged your father back.
“dad, stop it please. sorry tobio, he's a little bit enthusiastic.” with that, your father released him a gentle tap on the shoulder and gave him a bright smile.
“i didnt know that my daughter's boyfriend is an amazing athlete.” your mother claims.
tobio gave her a shy smile and nodded his head, “thank you, mrs—”
“call me mom, okay?—” “mom, dont make him uncomfortable please”
“thank you, mom.”
your little brother tugged tobio's jersey, “can you teach me volleyball?”
“emm, sure—”
“oh my god let's plan the wedding!”
“mom please dont!”
for the first time, tobio's heart feels full and completed.
your electric touch, got me feeling like i might fold.
oikawa tōru x f!reader
basically just tōru being hopelessly in love with you.
the grand king of aoba johsai is a liar.
it’s a well-documented fact, really. he lies about how much milk bread he’s eaten, he lies about how much his knee hurts, and he most certainly lies about the state of his nervous system whenever you are within a five-mile radius. oikawa operates on a level of theatricality that would make a broadway lead look humble, strutting across the court with a smirk so sharp it could probably slice through the volleyball net.
but here’s the secret: his confidence is a house of cards, and you are a category 5 hurricane.
“i’m simply saying,” oikawa chirps, leaning against the gymnasium wall with a practiced, casual grace that he definitely rehearsed in his bedroom mirror for twenty minutes this morning. “that if you were to witness my jump serve from the front row today, you might actually experience a spiritual awakening. i’m in top form. i’m lethal. i’m basically a biological weapon of mass destruction.”
he’s doing the thing. the thing where he tosses his hair—which is suspiciously soft-looking—and looks at you through his lashes like he’s trying to sell you a luxury perfume you can’t afford. he’s a flirt by trade, a heartbreaker by reputation, and a complete disaster by nature.
you aren't really listening to his lecture on his own greatness. instead, you’re looking at the way his pulse is thrumming at the base of his throat. you reach out, your movements slow and nonchalant, and let your fingertips graze the sensitive skin of his inner wrist, right where his pulse point is jumping like a frantic grasshopper.
the effect is instantaneous.
the sentence ‘i am the pinnacle of athletic evolution’ dies a gruesome death in his throat. oikawa’s entire skeletal structure seems to liquefy. if he were a computer, this is the exact moment the blue screen of death would appear, accompanied by a very loud, high-pitched mechanical whirring sound.
his fingers twitch. the volleyball he was spinning on his other hand hits the floor with a pathetic thud and rolls away, forgotten.
“tōru?” you hum, your voice tilted with genuine curiosity as you trace a small, slow circle over the bone of his wrist. “you stopped talking. did the ‘biological weapon’ run out of batteries?”
oikawa’s brain is currently a soup of static and screaming. he is staring at your hand like it’s a holy relic and a live grenade at the same time. his heart is performing a drum solo against his ribs, a frantic thump-thump-thump that says ‘oh god, she touched us, abort mission, evacuate the building, tell my mother i love her.’
he swallows hard. his throat feels like he’s trying to gulp down a whole cactus.
“i—uh,” he starts. his voice cracks. not a cool, edgy crack. a ‘thirteen-year-old boy going through puberty’ crack. he clears his throat, desperately trying to grab the tattered remains of his dignity from the floor. “i was just… pausing for dramatic effect. to let the weight of my brilliance sink in.”
“you’re shaking,” you point out, your eyes dancing with warmth. you aren't trying to be mean; you just find it genuinely endearing that the boy who gets confessed to ten times a week is currently vibrating like a smartphone.
“shaking with power,” oikawa lies through his teeth. he is actively folding into himself. his knees feel like they’ve been replaced by overcooked udon noodles. he wants to pull his hand away to save face, but the lizard brain responsible for his survival is screaming ‘NO, STAY, LET HER TOUCH YOU MORE, PERHAPS IF YOU’RE LUCKY SHE’LL PAT YOUR HEAD AND YOU CAN DIE HAPPY.’
he is so deeply, pathologically gone for you that it’s actually a safety hazard. iwaizumi often tells him he looks like a kicked puppy when you leave the room, but oikawa prefers the term ‘pining aristocrat.’
in reality, he’s just a boy who has built his entire personality around being untouchable, only to find out that your touch is the only thing that makes him feel like he’s actually standing on solid ground.
“you have a smudge on your face,” you lie, stepping a fraction closer.
the proximity is the final nail in his coffin. oikawa can smell your shampoo—something sweet and soft that makes him want to bury his face in your neck and never emerge back into society. he is a man of many words, most of them annoying, but as you lean in, he becomes a man of zero words. he is a man of zero thoughts. he is a man of white noise.
you reach up, your thumb brushing his cheekbone.
oikawa’s eyes flutter shut. he’s supposed to say something witty. he’s supposed to wink. he’s supposed to tell you that he’s the one who does the flirting around here. instead, he leans into your hand with a tiny, involuntary whimper that he will later deny ever happened, even under threat of torture.
“there,” you whisper, your fingers lingering. “all gone.”
when he opens his eyes, he looks absolutely dazed, like he’s just been hit by a freight train made of marshmallows. he’s staring at you with a level of raw, unadulterated devotion that is honestly borderline embarrassing. he wants to melt into a puddle at your feet. he wants to write your name on every volleyball in the equipment shed. he wants to follow you home and sit on your porch like a gargoyle just to make sure you’re safe.
“you’re… so mean,” he breathes out, though his expression says please do that again or i will perish. “i’m mean? for helping you?”
“it’s a distraction!” he suddenly shouts, waving his arms around with the frantic energy of a man trying to put out a fire with a toothpick. “i have a practice match! i have to be a cold-blooded killer on the court! how am i supposed to serve a ball when my entire body feels like it’s been put through a blender? you’re sabotaging aoba johsai! you’re a spy! a beautiful, terrifying spy sent to ruin my life!”
you laugh, a bright, melodic sound that makes oikawa’s heart do a backflip and land in his stomach. “i think you’ll manage, tōru. you’re the grand king, remember?”
he huffs, crossing his arms and pouting in a way that is far too cute for a six-foot-tall athlete. he’s trying to look annoyed, but the faint pink dusting his ears gives him away. he is so hopelessly whipped that it’s a wonder he hasn't started barking yet.
“yeah, yeah,” he grumbles, though his eyes are soft and melting as they trace your features. “just don’t complain when i lose my focus because i’m too busy thinking about your hands. that’s on you. that’s your burden to bear.”
“i’ll take the blame,” you promise, patting his chest.
his breath hitches. his heart does a little dance. he watches you walk away toward the bleachers, and for a solid thirty seconds, he forgets how to use his legs. he just stands there, a premier setter and the pride of his school, looking like he’s just seen a vision of the afterlife.
iwaizumi walks up behind him and smacks him on the back of the head. “get a grip, loserkawa. the ball is over there.”
oikawa doesn't even complain about the physical assault. he just sighs, a dreamy, faraway look in his eyes.
“iwa,” he whispers, clutching his wrist where you touched him like it’s been plated in gold. “i think i’m going to marry that girl. i don't think i have a choice. my soul has left my body. i am an empty vessel now.”
“you’re an idiot,” iwaizumi mutters, but oikawa doesn't hear him.
he’s too busy trying to figure out how to get you to touch his other wrist.
the match starts ten minutes later, and oikawa is, predictably, a disaster for the first three points. he steps up to the service line, spins the ball, and looks at you in the stands.
you wave.
oikawa’s brain immediately short-circuits. he tosses the ball, swings, and sends it flying directly into the back of kindaichi’s head with the force of a thousand suns.
“oikawa!” the coach screams.
oikawa stands there, frozen, his face burning a shade of red that shouldn't be biologically possible. he looks at his hand, then at you, then at the floor. he’s folding. he’s folded. he is a crumpled piece of paper at the bottom of a trash can.
he flashes you a shaky, desperate thumbs-up, his smile trembling at the edges.
“all part of the plan!” he yells, his voice an octave too high. “tactical error! i’m in control!”
he is not in control. he is a man possessed by the memory of your thumb on his cheek, and as he prepares for the next serve, he knows he’s going to spend the rest of his life trying to earn that look you gave him—the one that makes him feel like the only person in the world who matters.
he’s desperate, he’s a mess, and he’s never been happier to be completely and utterly defeated.
oikawa tōru is a liar, but as he catches your eye again, the way he leans toward your presence like a flower to the sun is the most honest thing he’s ever done.
he’s going to buy you so much milk bread after this.
𓏵
the “tactical error” of hitting his own teammate in the skull is a brand new low, even for him. as the whistle blows for a timeout, oikawa practically evaporates toward it. iwaizumi is looking at him with the kind of expression usually reserved for a dog that’s just tracked mud all over a white carpet, but oikawa is too busy vibrating to care.
he reaches for his water bottle, but his fingers are still buzzing from that brief contact earlier. his hand shakes so violently that he nearly splashes water into his own eye.
“oikawa, if you don’t stop acting like a victorian maiden with the vapors, i’m going to kick you into the equipment room and lock the door,” iwaizumi hisses, looming over him.
“iwa, you don’t understand,” oikawa whispers, his voice sounding like it’s being squeezed through a straw. he looks over his shoulder, squinting toward your spot in the bleachers. “she’s looking at me. she’s doing that thing where her eyes get all crinkly at the corners and i think my soul is actually leaking out of my ears. i’m losing my structural integrity. i’m becoming a gas.” states of matter who?
“you’re becoming a nuisance. play the game.”
oikawa tries. he really, truly tries. he stands back up, rolls his shoulders, and attempts to summon the ‘grand king’ persona. he adjusts his knee supporter. he narrows his eyes. he looks like a lethal, focused predator. then, he catches a glimpse of you leaning over the railing to cheer, and he immediately trips over his own feet while walking onto the court.
he performs a graceful, slow-motion slide that ends with him face-down on the polished wood.
the gym goes silent.
oikawa stays there for a second, cheek pressed against the floor, contemplating if he can simply melt into the floorboards and live the rest of his life as a piece of gym equipment. it would be easier. floors don’t have heart palpitations.
“i’m okay!” he chirps from the ground, muffled and miserable. “just checking the wax quality! it’s superb! ten out of ten!”
he scrambles up, his face a shade of magenta. he manages to survive the rest of the set by sheer muscle memory, though every time he hears your voice call his name, his sets go about three inches higher than they’re supposed to. he’s overcompensating. he’s performing like a circus animal hoping for a treat. he is, in every sense of the word, a goner.
the moment the match ends—a victory, miraculously, mostly because iwaizumi started threatening to bury oikawa in the sand pit if he missed one more serve—oikawa is a blur of motion. he doesn’t even wait to change. he grabs his bag, splashes some water on his face to stop the literal steam from rising off his skin, and sprints toward the exit where you’re waiting.
he stops three feet away from you, chest heaving. he tries to lean coolly against a pillar, but he misjudges the distance and his elbow slips, causing him to do a little awkward jig to stay upright.
“so,” he pants, flashing a smile that is about 40% charisma and 60% pure, unadulterated panic. “did you see that? the way i strategically fell? it was a psychological tactic to make the opponents overconfident. very advanced stuff. you wouldn’t understand the complexities of my genius.”
“it was very graceful, tōru,” you say, reaching out to straighten his rumpled collar.
his heart rate hits a tempo that could rival a techno song. your knuckles graze the skin of his neck, and oikawa’s eyes go wide, his pupils dilating until his chocolate-brown irises are practically gone. he looks like a cat that’s just seen a ghost.
“you… you’re doing it again,” he squeaks.
“doing what?”
“being… like that!” he gestures vaguely at your entire existence. “existing! in my personal space! making me feel like i’m made of marshmallows!”
you laugh, and the sound is so sweet it makes his teeth ache. without thinking, you slide your hand down from his collar and take his hand in yours, interlacing your fingers.
oikawa tōru ceases to function.
his hand is large, calloused from thousands of repetitions at the net, but it feels like it’s made of lead the moment you squeeze it. he stares down at your joined hands. his brain is just playing a loop of high-pitched whistling. he’s hyper-aware of everything: the warmth of your palm, the way your thumb is idly stroking the back of his hand, the fact that he is definitely, 100%, about to pass out in front of the vending machines.
“your hand is really warm,” you comment, looking up at him with a soft, genuine smile.
oikawa makes a noise. it isn’t a word. it’s a tiny, strangled “mnh.”
he is currently undergoing a spiritual crisis. he wants to pull you into a hug and hide his face in your shoulder so nobody can see how much he’s blushing, but he’s also terrified that if he moves, he’ll break the spell. he is a man standing on the edge of a cliff, and you just gave him a gentle nudge.
“walk me to the station?” you ask.
“i—yes. station. trains. transportation. i am familiar with these concepts,” he babbles.
as you walk, he’s basically walking on air, except ‘walking on air’ involves him occasionally bumping into trash cans because he can’t stop looking at you. he’s holding your hand like it’s the most fragile, precious diamond in the world. his palm is a little sweaty—he’s mortified about it, truly, he’s screaming internally about his ‘hygiene’—but you don’t seem to care, which only makes him fall deeper into the abyss of his own devotion.
he’s thinking about the future. he’s thinking about how he’s going to have to win the nationals just so he can dedicate the trophy to you. he’s thinking about how he wants to buy you a giant stuffed bear, but then he realizes he’d be jealous of the bear because it gets to sit on your bed.
he is a terrifyingly competitive athlete, but right now, the only ‘win’ he cares about is the fact that you haven’t let go of his hand yet.
“tōru, you’re staring again,” you tease, swinging your joined hands back and forth.
“i’m not staring,” he lies, his voice full of a tenderness that betrays him completely. “i’m observing. i’m a setter, remember? it’s my job to analyze beautiful… i mean, important… things. i’m analyzing your face. for science.”
“and what does the science say?”
oikawa stops walking. the sun is setting, casting a golden-orange glow over the street, and it catches in your eyes in a way that makes his heart do a painful, soaring leap. he looks at you, and for a split second, the flirting stops. the big talk vanishes. the grand king retreats, leaving behind just a boy who is so profoundly, ridiculously in love that he doesn’t know what to do with himself.
he leans down, his face inches from yours. his breath is shaky. he smells like sports drink and adrenaline and something uniquely tōru.
“the science says,” he whispers, his voice dropping into a low, velvety register that makes your own heart skip a beat. “that i’m completely at your mercy. and it’s actually really embarrassing, so you’re not allowed to tell anyone, okay?”
you giggle and stand on your tiptoes, pressing a quick, soft kiss to his cheek.
oikawa doesn’t move. he stays frozen in that bent-over position for a full ten seconds after you pull away. his brain has finally, mercifully, completely short-circuited. there is no more oikawa. there is only a shell of a man who has been kissed by a goddess.
“tōru?”
he slowly stands up straight, his face a ghostly pale before turning a violent, neon red. he looks like he’s about to burst into tears or song, possibly both.
“i’m buying you a house,” he blurts out. “right now. i don’t have the money, but i’ll figure it out. i’ll sell my soul. i’ll sell iwa’s soul. he wasn’t using it anyway.”
“a house? we’re just going to the station, tōru.”
“it starts with a station! then a house! then a golden retriever! then a small army of children who all have your face!” he’s rambling now, his hands flying everywhere as he walks twice as fast as before, his legs suddenly working on high-octane fuel. “you can’t just do that! you can’t just kiss a man’s cheek and expect him to remain a functioning member of society! i’m a delicate flower! i’m a treasure!”
you catch up to him, laughing so hard you can barely breathe. he’s still talking, listing off all the ways you’ve ‘ruined’ him, but he hasn’t let go of your hand for even a second. in fact, he’s holding it tighter now, his thumb tracing over your knuckles with a frantic, devoted rhythm.
he’s big, he’s loud, and he talks a game that could move mountains. but as he pulls you closer to his side, shielding you from a passing cyclist with a protective arm, it’s clear that the grand king has finally found his queen—and he’s more than happy to spend the rest of his life surrendering.
n: an 8th grade classmate hits me up and tries to make conversation with me, but apparently i’m too stupid to catch on hints so i just kept shutting him down. he’s still trying though.
☾ Content: popstar f!reader much more famous than your pro volleyball player boyfriend- you finally hard launch your relationship on instagram but the public reaction isn't what you expect, so you take matters into your own hands
☾ A/N: inspired by dua lipa and callum turner and my girl sabrina
— 𝐔𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐣𝐢𝐦𝐚 𝐖𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢;
Ushijima doesn't even have an instagram, naturally. the closest thing is he's got is his team's account, curated and managed by the PR team. so when you wiggle your phone in front of him to show him the chosen piece for your account, he just gives it a cursory glance and nods. the photo is from backstage at one of your concerts earlier this month: you, glowing with joy, arm slung casually around his neck, leaning into him as you beam up at him with a smile that could light up your stadiums. he's got one arm wrapped securely around your waist, usual stoic expression softened by a warmth in his eyes as he gazes down at you- one that only you seem to be able to draw out of him.
but the reactions to your post are swift and crushing. you're beyond proud of Ushijima- proud of his quiet strength, his dedication, his raw talent. you know you shouldn’t and it shouldn’t—doesn’t—matter, but your thumb keeps scrolling through the comments. each one feels like a knife twisting deeper, a personal attack, particularly the ones suggesting he doesn't care, that he looks like he's got the emotional depth of a spoon, that this is all just a PR move somehow. watching the sweetest man you know not get the recognition he truly deserves hurts more than you want to admit.
ᯓ🏐
when Ushijima steps into your shared bedroom, shirtless, his hair still damp from a post-workout shower and sweatpants slung low on his hips, his gaze finds you sitting at your vanity. the soft light of the mirror highlights your delicate features, casting a warm glow over your pretty face.
"toshi," you greet him warmly, turning toward him with an inviting smile. he pads over to you, barefoot, and you tilt your chin up expectantly. he rests one hand on the back of your chair, the other on the edge of your desk and leans down, capturing your lips in a long, slow kiss, his head tilting to deepen it as he lifts a hand to your cheek, gently smoothing his thumb across your soft skin before drawing back, a small smile curving up on his lips when he sees the dazed look in your eyes.
"morning, love." he says simply, before walking off to the kitchen to make himself a protein shake. completely oblivious to the phone propped up against your mirror, the livestream on the screen, and the chaos that you've just unleashed within your fanbase.
readerfanatic_official joined
popicon4life
just fell to my knees screaming in the 711 parking lot
platinum_readerstan
she's dating a TREE
tinyreader777
'morning love'???...our queen is built different i would've evaporated on the spot
bipbop_23
...i get it now
readerfan2024
guess i'm into volleyball now
glitznglamfan
girl i'm scared for ur holes
— 𝐇𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐚 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐲𝐨𝐮;
it's a cute photo: the two of you on a beach at a resort, there for one of Oikawa's games. Hinata's got his head in your lap, one of your hands gently running through his messy orange hair while your other hand rests on his chest. you're gazing out at the sea, a serene smile gracing your face as you enjoy the view, while Hinata looks up at you, equally captivated by what he sees.
the comments that flood in are anything but kind. most of them poke fun at his height, with fans wondering how he managed to catch your eye when he's fighting gravity every day, others insisting that he must just be very funny. and it doesn’t bother Hinata at all, not that you can tell- he just scratches the back of his head and laughs, exclaiming that it's nothing he hasn't heard before, that he’ll just have to work twice as hard to earn your fans’ approval. ignoring your protests that he has nothing to prove.
ᯓ🏐
a few eagle-eyed fans are the first ones to notice it and not long after, screenshots of your activity start to circulate. first it's you liking an edit of Hinata lifting his shirt during ones of his games to wipe sweat off his brow. then it's a clip of him leaping into the air, showing off his energy and athleticism. a third like is a snapshot of Hinata celebrating a victory, fists clenched and knees bent, muscles in his thighs flexed as he roars with triumph.
the one that nips it in the bud is when you share a post to your story. it’s a reel- a compilation of Hinata’s spikes, his raw energy and unstoppable power lighting up the court as he slams the ball past his opponents. your fans lose it when you post a mirror selfie on the same day: you've got your back turned toward the mirror, all dolled up for an award ceremony in a gown that leaves nothing and everything to the imagination. you look good, accentuated by the man at your side who, unlike you, is facing the mirror. but Hinata isn't looking at the camera- his heated gaze is on your reflection instead. one of his arms is curved loosely around your waist, hand resting just above your ass.
the internet goes wild.
mvpmichelle8 2h 385 likes
our girl is thirsting publicly on main i respect it
robsessed247 2h 306 likes
rip to her ass cheeks
keanue_433 2h 243 likes
...what team does he play for again
stanacctreader 1h 178 likes
she got herself a short KING FR
newvolley_98 1h 85 likes
so when’s the next game where you get a front-row seat to his… spikes? 🥵
— 𝐌𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐀𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐮;
you don’t exactly share the photo yourself, but it might as well be yours. when Vogue posts the cover shot and tags you, it goes viral almost instantly. because Atsumu is seated in a luxurious chair, looking every bit like a king in his perfectly tailored suit, legs spread confidently, an air of dominance about him. you're perched on the armrest beside him, the slit of your black dress exposing the smooth curves of your body. one of your hands is loosely intertwined with his, resting on your thigh. the chemistry is palpable, electric. the sultry confidence in your posture paired with the intensity in Atsumu's gaze makes it impossible to look away. paired with the article about your relationship, this is a power couple at its finest.
or at least so you think.
the opinions of your fans are mixed, but those who disapprove don't hold back. they say that he must be cheating on you, that he looks untrustworthy, that his self-assured interview quotes only highlight how self-absorbed he is, implying he’s too consumed with himself to ever treat you right. Atsumu's ready to fight everyone questioning his devotion to you before you remind him that he can’t spend all day replying to hate comments- he has practice, and that you’ll handle it.
ᯓ🏐
you show up to the world championship that month with your entourage in tow. you visit Atsumu in his locker room to wish him good luck, ignoring the way his teammates trip over themselves gaping at you. he almost doesn’t let you leave, seizing you in a deep kiss that leaves you a little unsteady on your feet, but you plan a firm hand on his chest because you have places to be, a job to do.
when Atsumu steps up to serve and you watch as his routine unfolds, the familiar movements flowing effortlessly, your PR team is at the ready. his signature has evolved since his early days, the fist still a familiar gesture, but now his index finger uncurls at the last moment, pointing into the crowd. he doesn’t need to look; he always knows exactly where you are. but today, it’s different. you’re not in the shadows, hiding behind sunglasses or a baseball cap. today, you’re wearing his jersey, sitting front and center, in the best seat in the house. you’re clapping louder than anyone else, beaming so hard your cheeks hurt.
this time, when he finds you in the crowd, the whole world is watching.
Us Weekly: Atsumu Miya Makes History with Serve: Fans Go Wild over Major 'Couple Goals' Moment at the World Championship
Buzzfeed: Is He Pointing to Y/N? 10 Moments Atsumu Miya Was Literally Screaming 'I Love You'
Sports Illustrated: Atsumu Miya’s Serve Gets Personal: The Unspoken Gesture You Didn’t Know Was for Y/N
Kyodo News: Fans Flock to See Miya Atsumu's Relationship with Global Sensation Y/N in Full View
Cosmopolitan: Y/N and Atsumu Miya: From Music Charts to Volleyball Courts—Their Love Story (Exclusive)
— 𝐁𝐨𝐤𝐮𝐭𝐨 𝐊𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮;
what you think is a beautiful moment, your fans interpret quite differently. in the photo you post, Bokuto's strong arms are wrapped around your waist, pulling you against him as he hugs you from behind. his hands are positioned low on your abdomen, fingers spread wide and pressing down lightly, a playful gesture that has you squirming in response. the candid shot your manager took captures you in mid-laugh. you're tilting away from him, hands gripping his wrists, body twisted in a half-escape as though you're trying to dodge his ticklish touch. Bokuto's lips are pressed softly to the side of your neck, the curve of your shoulder partly obscuring his face. his expression is partially hidden, but the corner of his mischievous grin peeks out, his eyes glinting at the camera as he looks up right at that moment.
your fans tear him apart, their words dripping with criticism- accusing him of being too touchy, claiming that you don’t want him like that, that he's too obsessed, too forward. the comments flood in, one after another, each one more biting than the last. the relentless stream of negativity cuts deep, and you can see the toll it takes on Bokuto as he scrolls on his phone with a downtrodden look. you tell him to ignore it, that he has nothing to worry about, but you can tell it does little to lift his spirits.
ᯓ🏐
you show him that night just how deeply you care about him, straddling his lap and gently cupping his face in your hands. your lips meet his in a soft, reverent kiss, a silent exchange that you hope conveys volumes. you murmur against his mouth, telling him how perfect he is, watching with a quiet smile as the tips of his ears go red. but then he shifts, flipping you over on the bed, caging you in with thick arms all while still blushing so prettily. and when you feel something hard and big pressing against your inner thigh, you wonder what you've gotten yourself into.
Bokuto goes even redder the next day when he wakes up to incessant texting from his teammates and he opens social media to find a photo on your feed: it's of him shirtless, lying on his front and cradling a pillow with his cheek smooshed into it, his hair down and expression peaceful. what's not so peaceful is the view of his bare back- red streaks running down his tanned skin, unmistakably from your fingers. the white sheets thrown over his legs obscure anything from the waist down but his face flushes deeper as he takes in the rest of the intimate scene.
you've got one hand resting gently on his head, fingers woven loosely in his hair, thumb caressing his cheek mid-stroke. it's soft, casual, possessive.
fan_gurl_4 1h 403 likes
the way we thought HE was the obsessed one...how the turn tables
bobfriend_76 1h 386 likes
she's marking her territory
glamjam69 1h 207 likes
...this ain't demure or mindful at all
menin4k22 45m 146 likes
ma’am for science, p-please remove those sheets
readerfan234 14m 121 likes
the way she's touching him...i need a moment to grieve 😩
— 𝐊𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐲𝐚𝐦𝐚 𝐓𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐨;
the release party for your new album goes off without a hitch, and you score tons of cute photos with Kageyama, cuddling up to him that night to scroll through and select the best ones. your top choice is one of the more simple shots: you, with one hand resting on his chest, leaning into the arm he’s wrapped around your waist. his long fingers were hot against your skin through the delicate fabric of your dress, and you swear you can still feel the imprints of them. he's serious in the shot, his lips set in a stern line as he gazes into the camera, but you adore that look on him. especially when that same gaze shifts to you, hinting at something deeper, something darker, waiting for later.
your fans, however, don't see what you do. so you wake up to a barrage of comments, about how he looks boring, how he probably doesn't know a single one of your lyrics, how you could do so much better. naturally, Kageyama doesn't give a single shit as to what your fans think about him. just kisses you goodbye and heads off to practice, duffel bag slung over his broad shoulder. but you care.
ᯓ🏐
it takes a fair amount of convincing and a hefty dose of bribery, which somehow includes you securing an advertisement contract with one of Kageyama's favorite yogurt brands, but he finally agrees to appear in the music video for your latest hit. though, you can't help but think it had more to do with you casually hinting that your company had intended on pulling in one of the hottest actors currently on the scene, known for making girls swoon at meet-and-greets.
he plays a cop arresting you for a string of crimes you commit in the name of revenge on your cheating ex, culminating in him pushing you down in the backseat of his patrol car. it's hot, steamy, and when he shoves his knee between your legs, leaning over you with one hand pinning your wrists above your head, you won't deny that you make a mental note to recreate this scene later, without the cameras.
the music video shatters records and skyrockets to the top of the charts.
and the comments this time? well. they speak for themselves.
bops234 • 1 day ago
this awakened something in me
fando23 • 12 hours ago
i'm going to need this man's @ immediately
barkbarkbark_89 • 12 hours ago
are we sure he doesn't want to switch career paths
stanacctreader • 10 hours ago
i thought he was just a plain slice of milk bread but boy was i wrong
freedomsings145 1h • 5 hours ago
casting your real life boyfriend as the main romantic lead in your music video is such a power move, as always our queen's taste is IMPECCABLE
atsumumiya • 2 hours ago
he looks like a foot
in which you unknowingly text about your crush on atsumu miya to atsumu miya and he commits to the bit for entertainment purposes.
if someone asked, you’d say your life at inarizaki was peaceful.
not boring, no— more like predictable, in the way school days were.
academically stressful, sure.
socially chaotic, sometimes.
but overall?— peaceful.
you weren’t part of any clubs. you didn’t stay late for anything. you were the type of student who liked finishing their day and going home without unnecessary detours.
unfortunately, your best friend did not share that lifestyle philosophy.
mika thrived on detours.
she was the kind of person who filled her calendar on purpose— always volunteering for something, always signing up for something else before the first thing even ended.
so when she announced, bright-eyed and excited, that she’d become inarizaki’s volleyball team manager…
you’d known immediately your peaceful after-school routine was over.
you just hadn’t realized how thoroughly volleyball would invade your schedule too.
mika always ran late after practice— staying behind to help clean the court, reorganize equipment, log practice stats and whatever managers do.
and she eventually guilt-tripped convinced you into sitting inside the gym so you could keep her company.
"pleasepleasepleaseplease, (y/n).. coach said it was fine if you stay, and you know these volleyball knuckleheads are the worst to deal with. you know i can't do it alone,"
"as if that isn't every girl's dream ever. i guess some people die of thirst while others drown.."
and then you were inside.
sitting on the bleachers three to four afternoons a week, gossiping with your best friend while inarizaki’s volleyball team practiced.
you noticed how the gym had its own atmosphere. it was loud but rhythmic— sneakers screeching across polished floors, and volleyballs slamming into palms and echoing off high ceilings.
at first, it had all blurred together— just background chaos while you helped keep score of their scrimmages while you whispered with mika about whatever drama was floating around school that week.
but repetition does something strange to perception.
the more you stayed there…
the more the noise turned familiar.
familiar turned identifiable.
and identifiable turned into people.
honestly, you didn't notice him all at once— it was more like your attention kept getting pulled in his direction whether you meant it to or not.
atsumu was condescending, obnoxiously so. even his twin brother, osamu, calls him a habitual liar who never returns what he borrows, and never listens to others.
which, from what you’d observed on the sidelines, felt… accurate enough.
logically, he should’ve been unbearable.
and yet.
there was energy to him— restless, magnetic in a way that made it difficult not to look when he moved.
you remembered the first time you really watched him.
you’d been half-focused on your phone, only half-paying attention to the friendly game between inarizaki and some other school, when the team suddenly erupted in cheers loud enough to make you glance up.
you caught the play mid-finish— atsumu sending a backward set so clean it barely looked real, the ball landing perfectly in place like it had been guided.
aran scored instantly.
everyone reacted at once. and you found yourself staring for a second longer than necessary.
annoyingly longer.
mika, sitting beside you, taking notes of their play, nudged your arm without looking up. “he’s ridiculous, right?”
you blinked, tearing your gaze away a beat too late.
“…mhmm, yeah.”
ridiculous felt like a safe word choice— safer than impressive— safer than unfairly attractive for someone with that personality.
because really, someone that arrogant shouldn’t also be that skilled.
or that… easy to watch.
it felt like false advertising.
you told yourself it was observational interest.
boredom.
proximity bias.
definitely not a crush.
even if your eyes kept finding him first whenever practice got loud.
even if you’d memorized the way he moved without meaning to.
even if— unfortunately— being kind of an asshole didn’t make him less attractive.
if anything… it made the problem worse.
but life continued like that.
school. gym. waiting for mika. watching practice without admitting you were watching practice.
it was harmless, manageable.
until mika’s phone situation imploded.
you were sitting in the gym bleachers like usual while mika hurried around the court collecting practice sheets.
she jogged up to you mid-break, slightly out of breath. “hey— quick thing,” she said, pulling her phone from her pocket.
“what.”
“my number changed.”
you blinked.
“…changed how.”
“sim problem. long story. i had to get a new one yesterday.”
before you could respond, she was already reaching for your phone.
“lemme just put it in— don’t text the old one anymore, okay?”
you unlocked it automatically, handing it over while she typed quickly— thumbs moving faster than usual, attention clearly split between your contact page and whatever was happening on the court behind you.
someone called her name halfway through.
“coming!” she shouted back without looking up, finishing the number in a rush.
she saved it, shoved your phone back into your hands, and was already jogging away again before you could even glance at the screen properly.
“text me later so I know it works!” she called over her shoulder.
you looked down at your phone briefly. her contact sat there like normal.
same name. same emoji she always used.
the number underneath it looked fine.
you didn’t study it long enough to memorize it anyway— just locked your phone and slipped it back into your pocket as practice noise swallowed your attention again.
somewhere in the background, mika was arguing with one of the twins about hydration.
everything felt ordinary.
routine.
and if one digit sat slightly out of place in your contact list— you had no reason to notice.
you'd gotten home earlier than usual that day instead of messing around the neighborhood with mika— had to finish some dumb presentation. she'd waved you off and promised to text later. so now you were sprawled across your bed, staring at the ceiling.
being alone was usually peaceful for you.
you liked quiet— liked being able to finish homework without mika talking in your ear or gym noise echoing in your skull.
but there was a very specific kind of alone that felt dangerous, the kind where there was nothing to distract you.
no assignments due.
no shows you were currently invested in.
no new texts from any groupchats.
hell, no one was even posting on their stories.
it was just you and your thoughts.
which, unfortunately, had been heavily atsumu-themed lately.
your brain, left unsupervised, immediately opened the highlight reel.
atsumu lifting up his shirt to wipe his sweat.
atsumu's muscles flexing when he set the ball.
atsumu.
atsumu.
atsumu.
you groaned, rolling onto your stomach and burying your face in your pillow. “this is so annoying,” you muttered into the fabric.
because the thing about crushes— especially inconvenient ones— was that they got louder when you were alone.
there had been an interaction today. the thought infiltrates your mind.
it was small. technically insignificant. but psychologically? it was devastating.
practice was nearing its end.
you were lingering near the court while mika finished up her manager duties— half-helping gather stray balls, half-waiting for her to be done so you could both leave.
you weren’t paying full attention to the court anymore, your brain already clocked out for the day.
which is why you didn’t notice the ball flying right to you at damn near mach speed.
you only registered movement at the last second—
a hand wrapped around your wrist suddenly, firm but not rough, pulling you a step backward just as the ball smacked against the floor where you’d been standing.
the sound cracked loud against the gym floor.
you blinked, startled, heart jumping up your throat.
and then you looked up.
of course.
it was him.
atsumu was standing close— closer than you’d ever been to him before — his grip still loosely around your wrist like he was making sure you were steady.
“ya gotta watch where yer standin’,” he said, voice casual but edged with focus, like his brain was still half on the court.
you nodded automatically, words buffering.
“yeah— sorry. i didn’t— i wasn’t paying attention.”
“clearly.”
there was no bite in it.
just matter-of-fact.
he let go of your wrist then— but not abruptly. his fingers slid away naturally once he was sure you weren’t about to stumble.
“you good?” he asked, glancing back at you briefly.
you nodded again because speech was still under construction.
“yeah.”
he hummed once, satisfied, then tossed the ball back toward the cart without looking— it landed cleanly inside.
“tell mika she left her clipboard near the bench,” he added, already turning back toward the court.
“okay.”
you walked away faster than necessary.
you kept flexing your wrist absentmindedly the entire walk home like you were checking if the contact had actually happened.
it had.
and mika wasn’t here to absorb the spiral verbally like she usually did, which meant your emotional support hotline was temporarily digital.
you grabbed your phone, scrolling to her contact.
right.
you hadn’t actually texted the new one yet.
perfect opportunity.
you didn’t overthink it— because when you were spiraling, thinking less usually meant speaking more honestly.
your thumbs started moving before your pride could intervene.
You:
mika
its (y/n)
save my number btw
i need to talk about something serious
across town, atsumu was lying on his bed, half-scrolling his phone with one hand while watching a volleyball clip on his laptop.
his phone buzzed.
unknown number.
he almost ignored it, but the preview message caught his eye.
i need to talk about something serious.
he frowned slightly, opening it.
and before you say anything yes its about atsumu
he blinked, sitting up a little straighter before scrolling up.
no previous messages.
wrong number, obviously.
he should’ve corrected it immediately.
should’ve replied: wrong person.
should’ve ended the interaction there.
but curiosity— fatal, nosy curiosity— got him first.
because you kept typing.
i thikn im actually about to combust send 911
atsumu stared at the message for a second longer than necessary, thumb hovering over the keyboard.
he knew this wasn’t meant for him.
but he also knew exactly who it was meant for.
mika.
he texted her often enough— nothing deep, usually practice-related.
"Where’d ya put the stat sheets."
"Coach lookin’ for ya."
"Bring extra tape tomorrow."
short, practical exchanges, but frequent enough that he knew how she typed.
he knew her habit of dragging vowels when she was being dramatic, knew she spammed emojis when she was excited.
so when he typed—
Mika 🩷:
WHAT HAPPENEDDD 😭
—it didn’t feel like guessing.
it was close enough to believable and close enough that you didn’t question it for even a second.
and honestly, he told himself he’d correct you after the next message.
or the one after that.
but then you kept going.
and he found himself.. interested.
not only just because you were talking about him— but because he’d noticed you before this too.
you were hard not to notice once he realized you were always there— sitting on the bleachers during practice, usually talking to mika, sometimes pretending not to watch the court.
you never tried to talk to him.
never hovered around the team like some girls did.
you just existed nearby— quiet, observant, out of the way.
but he’d caught you watching him more than once, especially you looking away too fast when he glanced up.
and he’d thought, briefly, that you were pretty.
he’d never had a reason to talk to you though.
you were just mika’s friend, not a manager or anything. outside the team’s orbit.
so whatever curiosity existed stayed exactly that— curiosity.
unexplored.
unimportant.
until now.
until you were texting 'mika' about losing your mind over him.
and suddenly he had front row access to thoughts you’d never say out loud.
You:
so like basically
i was so zoned out while trying to pick up the stray balls right
and there was one blasting right towards my face
THEN
atsumu grabbed my wrist and pulled me out the way
i swear my heart dropped to my ass
Mika 🩷:
HELLOOOOO??
like FULL ON grab or just brushhh
You:
full grab . im so fucking unwell rn omfg
i admit it im sorry for lying to u all those times u cqaught me staring at him
yes hes lowkey hot
yes hes so
actually nvm thats between me and god
Mika 🩷:
oh my goddddd I KNEW ITTTT
finish that sentence rn i DARE u
You:
NO??
youd js bully me and id never hear the end of it from u
Mika 🩷:
DONT EVEN PLAY RN
i would neverrrrrr
You:
liar
rmb what u said to me when i told u i think he smells good
Mika 🩷:
wait u think he smells good?
You:
no i think he smells disgusting
YES I THINK HE SMELLS GOOD
why r we acting like this is shocking news
Mika 🩷:
oopsieeee brain fart
You:
u're so weird today
did ur brain get reset too when u reset ur number
but anyways that was it i js needed to get it out of my system before i exploded
night mika
you tossed your phone onto your bed after sending that last text, face still warm from the sheer amount of secondhand embarrassment you’d just inflicted on yourself.
it felt good though— getting it out of your system.
like you’d vented enough to reset your brain back to normal levels of functionality.
you rolled onto your side, pulling your blanket over your shoulder.
“okay,” you muttered to yourself. “crush over. we’re so done.”
you were lying, obviously. but sleep came easier after the spiral was out of your system.
the next day at practice, you told yourself you’d be normal again— absolutely no eye contact, professional bleacher-sitting behavior.
it worked for exactly 7 minutes.
because the moment atsumu walked into the gym, tossing a volleyball between his hands like it weighed nothing, your brain immediately shut down.
you looked away quickly, opening your notebook like you were deeply invested in algebra.
you were not.
you were hyperaware of where he was on the court at all times. unfortunately.
when the boys took a short break, you were half-focused on homework when mika nudged your knee.
“can you hand those water bottles to the court? i forgot to bring them earlier.”
you sighed but nodded, grabbing the crate beside you.
you didn’t think too hard about walking onto the court— you’d done it before for small things.
but halfway across, you realized too late that you were walking directly toward atsumu.
abort mission impossible.
you kept moving anyway, placing the crate down near the bench, already turning to leave when—
“thanks.”
you blinked, looking up automatically.
atsumu was standing closer than you expected, towel slung over his shoulder.
he nodded once toward the crate.
“mika’s been forgettin’ those lately.”
“oh— yeah,” you said, trying not to embarrass yourself infront of him. “she’s been busy.”
he hummed in agreement, wiping his hands on his towel.
you shifted your weight slightly, unsure if you were supposed to leave immediately or not.
he spoke again before you could overthink it.
“ya stayin’ for the whole practice today too?”
the question caught you off guard.
“…yeah? i usually do.”
he nodded like that answer made sense.
“figured.”
you blinked.
“…figured?”
“yer always sittin’ with mika,” he said, jerking his chin toward the manager chairs. “thought maybe ya liked volleyball or somethin’.”
you laughed awkwardly.
“i mean… i like watching.”
“watchin’ who,” he asked casually, grabbing a water bottle from the crate.
you almost choked on air.
“volleyball,” you said quickly. “just… volleyball.”
he smirked slightly— subtle, knowing. he didn’t press it.
“fair enough.”
he twisted the cap open, taking a sip, attention already drifting back toward the court like the conversation had been nothing more than a passing comment.
but for you, it lingered.
you walked back, a little too aware of your own heartbeat, pretending to read your notes while your brain replayed the exchange on loop.
'watchin’ who.'
the way he’d said it hadn’t sounded accusatory— more curious. casual. like he’d already guessed the answer and was waiting to see if you’d admit it.
you hadn’t, obviously.
self-preservation instincts had kicked in immediately.
still, the smirk he’d given you before dropping it stuck longer than it should’ve.
you told yourself it didn’t mean anything.
just atsumu being atsumu. he's observant, a little too perceptive for comfort.
practice resumed like normal after that, noise swelling back into the gym, sneakers screeching, balls slamming.
but you were hyperaware now whenever he passed near the sidelines.
not looking directly.
just… aware.
and, inconveniently, it felt like he was aware of you too.
it rained a few days later.
not light drizzle either, it was the kind of steady downpour that turned the school courtyard into reflective pavement and made everyone hesitate at the exits.
you were sitting near the gym doors waiting for mika, watching the team pack up while rain tapped loudly against the windows.
atsumu walked past you toward the exit, gym bag slung over one shoulder.
he slowed slightly when he saw you still sitting there.
“yer not headin’ home?”
“i’m waiting for the big boss,” you said, glancing up.
he looked back toward the court briefly, then at the rain outside.
“…she’ll be a while. coach kept her.”
you sighed quietly.
“mm. she's always so busy.”
he adjusted his bag strap, shifting his weight for a second like he was deciding something.
then he jerked his head toward the hallway vending machines.
“want a drink? i’m goin’ anyway.”
“you don’t have to.”
“didn’t say i had to,” he replied easily, already turning to walk.
you hesitated only a second before following. because apparently your ability to decline invitations from your crush was nonexistent.
the vending machine hummed softly in the empty hallway, fluorescent lights reflecting faintly off the glass.
he stood in front of it, scanning options like it was a tactical decision.
you hovered beside him, hands tucked into your pockets to hide from the creeping cold, listening to the rain muffled against the building.
it wasn’t awkward.
which somehow made it worse.
comfortable silence with someone you liked felt significantly more dangerous than small talk.
he tapped a button, grabbing his drink when it dropped.
glanced at you.
“pick somethin’.”
you stepped forward after he inserted the coins in for you, choosing a drink a little too carefully just to have something to focus on.
he leaned back against the wall beside the machine while you grabbed your drink, arms folded loosely.
“you always wait for her after practice?” he asked.
“yeah.”
he nodded slightly.
"how dedicated.”
you huffed softly.
“or trapped. depends on the day.”
he laughed under his breath at that. not loud or anything, just a quiet exhale through his nose.
you glanced at him instinctively when he did— and caught him already looking at you.
neither of you looked away immediately this time.
he held your gaze a second longer than usual before pushing off the wall.
“c'mon. i’ll walk ya back before she starts yellin’ at me for kidnappin’ her friend.”
your stomach did a small, traitorous flip.
kidnapping was a strong word for a vending machine trip.
but you walked beside him anyway.
time passed the way it always did during the school term— days blurred into each other through classes, homework, after-school waiting sessions in the gym.
but something subtle had shifted in your routine. because now, you and atsumu talked.
not all the time.
not long, deep conversations.
just… consistently.
it started small.
passing comments when you handed out water bottles.
quick remarks when you helped mika pack equipment.
a “see ya tomorrow” if you were still near the exit when he left.
none of it felt monumental on its own.
but repetition builds familiarity faster than you realize.
and atsumu, once he started talking to you, didn’t seem particularly interested in stopping.
you learned he was more talkative off-court— less sharp-edged than he sounded during practice or games.
still a little cocky, but looser.
easier to joke with.
one afternoon you’d been sitting on the bleachers working on homework when he dropped into the seat beside you without asking.
you’d nearly jumped out of your skin.
“relax,” he’d said, glancing at your notebook. “I ain’t gonna copy.”
“i didn’t think you were.”
he hummed, unconvinced.
“yer math looks hard.”
“it is hard.”
he nodded like that confirmed his suspicion.
“glad i don’t gotta do that anymore.”
“you literally go here. we're in the same year...?”
“mentally graduated.”
you’d laughed before you could stop yourself.
other times it was walking conversations. just short ones.
from gym to hallway.
from vending machine back to practice.
he’d ask random things like:
“what classes d’ya hate most.”
“yer always listenin’ to music— what kind.”
“why d’ya always wear white socks, don’t they get dirty.”
you’d answer despite yourself.
even tease him back sometimes.
and every time you expected the interaction to feel awkward.. it didn’t.
it felt easy.
and somewhere in that growing familiarity, the texting dynamic kept running parallel.
you still talked to 'mika' about him.
but the tone had changed without you noticing. it was less of how he was on the outside and more like—
You:
he walked me to the gate today
he saved me a drink from the vending machine.
he sat next to me again.
you were talking about how he treated you.
and atsumu— reading all of it— was realizing the shift too. (although of course you had your moments when you just had to say something about how good he looked at practice that day)
it started small.
osamu noticed it the same way he noticed most things about atsumu— against his will.
they were in their room, after school, winding down, the usual routine.
atsumu sprawled on his bed, seemingly typing on his phone.
osamu was at his desk eating onigiri, half-watching some late-night variety show.
it was normal, quiet, peaceful even.
until— atsumu snorted.
osamu’s chewing slowed. he glanced over.
atsumu was staring at his phone screen with the most unserious grin imaginable— the kind he usually only wore after winning a point off someone he hated.
osamu squinted.
“…what.”
atsumu didn’t look up.
“hmm?”
“what’re ya smilin’ at.”
“nothin’.”
immediate lie.
osamu turned fully in his chair now, narrowing his eyes like a detective who was on the brink of solving a crime.
“yer face looks punchable. that ain’t ‘nothin’.’”
atsumu huffed, still typing.
“mind yer business, 'samu.”
osamu stood, walking over slowly— making sure to look casual on the outside. he leaned slightly, trying to peek.
atsumu tilted his phone away instantly.
too fast. definitely guilty.
osamu’s eyes sharpened.
“…why’d ya hide it.”
“didn’t.”
“ya did.”
“did not.”
"quit lying."
"oh my god m'sexting my fuckin' girlfriend, leave me alone," (lie again)
osamu moved quicker this time— years of reflexes from fighting with atsumu kicking in— grabbing atsumu’s wrist and yanking the phone into view for half a second.
just enough to see the chat.
just enough to read:
(y/n):
no u dont get like he'd never date me like he has 129287319 fangirls he'd prob date one of them instead
one more his type
osamu blinked, then slowly turned his head toward atsumu.
“…is that who I think it is.”
atsumu tried to snatch his phone back.
too late.
osamu held it higher, scrolling up
he blinked again.
there was long texts, and crush talk.
his expression went from curious to confused to deeply unimpressed and he lowered the phone slowly.
then smacked atsumu upside the head with it.
“yer a dickhead.”
atsumu grabbed his phone back, scowling.
“the hell was that for?!”
“yer pretendin’ to be her friend??”
“keep yer voice down!”
“she’s pourin’ her heart out thinkin’ yer her best friend!”
“i didn’t start it on purpose!”
osamu crossed his arms, unimpressed.
“ya still kept it goin’.”
atsumu opened his mouth.
closed it.
because yeah.
he did.
“that’s low even for you.”
“i was gonna tell her eventually!”
“when?? after she sends ya her social security number too??”
atsumu scowled deeper.
“it ain’t like that.”
osamu raised a brow.
“oh yeah? then what’s it like.”
atsumu hesitated, glancing at his phone. his expression shifted slightly— less smug now, more thoughtful. “…she’s funny.”
“what.”
“she’s funny,” atsumu repeated, quieter. “an’ she’s honest when she thinks it’s safe.”
osamu stared at him.
then groaned, dragging a hand down his face.
“oh my god yer catchin’ feelings while catfishin’ her?? yer sick.”
“i am not catfishin’!”
“yer textin’ like this—” osamu grabbed his phone again, reading dramatically:
“‘OMG that’s sooo real😭💗’ — SINCE WHEN DO YA TYPE LIKE A 13-YEAR-OLD GIRL.”
atsumu flushed.
“shut up! i’m commitin’ to the role!”
osamu looked at him like he’d lost his mind.
“commitin’ to the role,” he repeated flatly. “yer such a loser.”
atsumu kicked his leg lightly.
“yer just mad no one’s sendin’ you selfies.”
“I DON’T WANT SELFIES FROM GIRLS WHO THINK I’M THEIR BEST FRIEND.”
“liar.”
osamu rubbed his temples.
“tell her.”
“not yet.”
“TSUMU.”
“not yet.”
osamu studied his face carefully now, not teasing anymore.
“…ya like her atleast?”
"no shit. if i didn't i wouldn't be replying to her, would i?"
osamu clicked his tongue, shaking his head as he walked back to his side of the room. “messed up.”
osamu did not confront atsumu again immediately. which honestly?—was scarier.
atsumu knew that look— the quiet one, where osamu stored ammunition for later use.
so the next few days were tense— not visibly, but atsumu noticed the way osamu would glance at his phone when it buzzed.
noticed the way he’d hum like he knew something.
it was psychological warfare.
and then the blackmail finally dropped.
they were in the kitchen after school— atsumu grabbing water, osamu heating leftovers.
normal.
until osamu spoke without looking up.
“clean the bathroom tonight.”
atsumu blinked.
“…why.”
osamu took a bite of food calmly.
“or i tell her.”
atsumu choked on air.
“tell her WHAT.”
osamu looked at him blankly. “don’t play dumb now. we both know yer big head ass has our birthday as your phone password.”
atsumu slammed the fridge shut.
“you wouldn't..”
“course i would.”
“yer sick.”
“bathroom. tonight.”
atsumu glared.
osamu took another bite, unbothered.
“…also buy me pudding on the way home tomorrow.”
“go to hell.”
“better lock that phone real good, 'tsumu.”
“…yer so evil.”
“bathroom,” osamu repeated, smiling slightly.
and just like that, atsumu miya— top setter, nationally ranked menace — was domesticated via blackmail.
it had been building for days.
weeks, technically— but worse recently.
because atsumu wasn’t just your eye-candy crush anymore. you've already realized that but now, the realization of the realization was really settling in.
like background noise you couldn’t turn off no matter how hard you tried to distract yourself.
you noticed it most when you were around him.
how hard it had become to act normal.
how your thoughts tripped over themselves mid-conversation because you were too busy being aware of him standing there.
the way your chest tightened whenever he leaned too close to look at something you were holding.
how your heart started beating faster anytime he said your name — casual, effortless, like it didn’t affect you at all when it very much did.
it was exhausting.
not in a bad way, just overwhelming to carry around silently.
and the worst part was knowing it probably wouldn’t go anywhere.
atsumu flirted casually with girls sometimes— playful, unserious— but never in a way that meant anything.
you’d never seen him look at you like that.
never seen anything that suggested he liked you back.
so the feelings just… sat there.
unresolved.
and the longer they stayed, the heavier they felt.
you rolled onto your side, staring at your phone where it lay on your pillow beside you.
your chat with mika open out of habit.
you stared at the screen for a long second before typing.
You:
do u think i should just confess
the typing bubble appeared almost immediately.
on the other side of the screen, atsumu’s phone buzzed where it rested on his desk, pulling his attention away from the homework he’d been half-doing.
he opened the message— brows lifting slightly as he read it.
Mika 🩷:
CONFESS???
you exhaled slowly through your nose, staring up at your ceiling again as you typed.
You:
yeah
like just get it over with
he sat up a little straighter now, interest sharpening.
You:
i literally CANNOT hold it in anymore
being around him feels like im going to combust
he swallowed quietly, rereading the message once before replying.
Mika 🩷:
but what if he likes u backkkkk
you laughed once under your breath— humorless.
You:
sighhh
a girl could only dream
but we need to be serious
Mika 🩷:
i mean u never know right
i dont think u should think so negativelyy
You:
i’m not confessing because i think he’ll like me back
i’m confessing because i need closure
like i js want him to reject me so i can move on
he leaned back in his chair slowly, eyes still on the screen.
You:
rip the bandaid off
and hopeuflly die quickly 💔
atsumu stared at your chat long after the typing bubble disappeared.
confess.
soon.
he exhaled slowly, phone still in his hand, because what had started as curiosity… was now turning into something a lot more complicated.
then, it was late.
too late for atsumu to still be awake.
but he was sitting at the kitchen counter anyway, phone face-down in front of him.
your messages from earlier were still burned into his brain.
because at first? yeah— it was funny.
wrong number.
secret crush confession hotline.
front row seat to your thoughts.
he’d kept it going for entertainment.
curiosity.
maybe a little ego boost.
but somewhere between— everything— it stopped being a joke.
osamu walked past the hallway to get to the bathroom and immediately sensed the weird energy.
atsumu sitting quietly is an unnatural phenomenon. meant nothing good was ever happening.
he walked towards atsumu and grabbed a drink, leaning against the counter.
“…what now.”
atsumu didn’t answer at first.
which already had osamu bracing himself.
then, “…she’s gonna confess.”
osamu took a sip calmly.
“okay.”
atsumu frowned.
“‘okay’ what.”
“so reject her or don’t.”
atsumu scowled.
“i don’t wanna reject her.”
osamu slowly lowered his drink.
“…and why is that”
atsumu hesitated, scratching the back of his neck.
“…i like her.”
osamu stared at him like he was the dumbest person on the planet.
“…ya what? say that again?”
"goddamnit, 'samu, go get your ears checked." atsumu whisper-yelled, not wanting to wake anyone up. "i like her!"
osamu let out a long breath through his nose.
“exactly. yer so stupid.”
atsumu scowled instantly.
“how does that make me stupid??”
osamu set his drink down slowly— the way someone does before delivering devastating news.
“lemme get this straight.” he started counting on his fingers.
“she likes you.”
“yeah.”
“you like her.”
“…yeah.”
“she’s literally plannin’ to confess to you.”
“…yeah.”
osamu stared at him flatly.
“…and yer stressed about what exactly.”
atsumu opened his mouth.
closed it.
because when you said it like that…
“…it ain’t that simple.”
osamu groaned, dragging a hand down his face.
“it IS that simple.”
“no it ain’t! i catfished her, 'samu!”
osamu nearly laughed.
“…you finally admitted it.”
“i didn’t mean to! she texted first!”
“and ya kept it goin’.”
“…yeah.”
osamu stared at him for a long second, then shook his head slowly. “yer dumber than i thought.”
“HOW.”
“because the answer’s obvious.”
atsumu threw his hands up.
“then tell me the answer!”
osamu pointed at him like he was explaining math to a toddler.
“stop pretendin’. tell her the truth. then date her.”
atsumu blinked.
“…that’s it?”
“that’s it.”
“she’s gonna hate me!”
“maybe for five minutes.”
“five minutes??”
osamu shrugged.
“she already likes ya. that don’t disappear overnight.”
it was safe to say atsumu did not sleep well that night.
which— for him— was saying something, because usually he slept like someone who had never made a bad decision in his life.
but now?
every time he thought about you walking up to him to confess— nervous, bracing for rejection— his stomach twisted.
because he knew two things now.
one, he liked you back.
two, if you confessed first, you’d be humiliated for no reason.
he didn’t want to be the reason you were embarrassed.
when morning came, he was quieter than usual— which osamu noticed immediately while tying his shoes.
“…yer thinkin’ too loud.”
“shut up.”
“listen.”
atsumu glanced over reluctantly while osamu crossed his arms.
“she said she’s gonna confess soon, yeah?”
“…yeah.”
“then you confess first.”
“…what.”
“confess first. saves her the embarrassment.”
atsumu frowned.
“how’s that save her embarrassment?”
“because if ya confess first, she ain’t riskin’ rejection.”
that one landed and atsumu’s expression shifted slightly.
“she’s stressin’ thinkin’ you don’t like her back.” osamu continued. “so fix it before she spirals more.”
atsumu looked down at the floor, thinking.
it made sense.
logically.
emotionally.
all of it.
but then—
“…what about the texting thing.”
osamu winced.
“yeahh.. that part’s still psychotic.”
“real helpful.”
“relax. just tell her after you confess.”
atsumu’s head snapped up.
“AFTER??”
“yeah.”
“she’s gonna kill me!”
“not if ya do it right.”
atsumu stared at him.
“…define ‘right.’”
osamu shrugged.
“don’t make it a big dramatic confession of guilt.”
“then,” osamu continued, “ease into the texting thing. laugh about it. don’t act like ya committed a felony.”
“it feels like a felony.”
“only if ya make it one.”
“confess first. so she knows you like her.”
“then tell her about the thing.”
“then apologize.”
“and then,” osamu added, smirking slightly, “brace for impact.”
atsumu huffed.
“…she might never talk to me again.”
osamu tilted his head.
“you don’t know that.”
“i do.”
atsumu frowned.
“how.”
asamu shrugged casually.
“just don’t be too serious when ya tell her.”
atsumu blinked.
“…why.”
“because if ya sit her down all intense like ‘I have a confession’ she’s gonna think she’s about to get expelled or somethin’.”
atsumu snorted slightly despite the nerves.
but you— you hadn’t been able to think straight all day.
it wasn’t dramatic enough to stop you from functioning— you still went to class, still nodded along in conversations, still followed practice from the bleachers like usual— but everything felt slightly muffled around the edges.
like your mind was focused on something happening later rather than anything happening now.
because you’d decided.
after weeks of spiraling, weeks of carrying feelings that felt heavier the longer you kept them to yourself, you’d finally reached a breaking point the night before.
you were going to confess.
not because you expected anything good to come from it— if anything, you’d prepared yourself for rejection more than success— but because you couldn’t hold it in anymore.
being around atsumu lately felt like trying to act normal while standing too close to an open flame.
you were constantly aware of him.
his voice, his proximity, the way your name sounded when he said it casually like it didn’t do anything to you when it absolutely did.
you just needed closure.
and the time practice rolled around, your nerves had escalated from background noise to something sharper.
you couldn’t focus on homework.
couldn’t focus on whatever mika was talking about.
because every time you looked at him, your chest tightened because you knew what you were planning to say later.
so, you slipped out toward the vending machines near the end of practice just to breathe, just to think without the gym noise amplifying your stress.
you stood in front of the vending machine longer than necessary, staring at the drink options without actually seeing them, arms were folded loosely, your expression tense enough that anyone passing by would’ve assumed you’d just received bad news.
thoughts were too loud to notice anything else.
you were mentally rehearsing confession lines again— none of them sounding right.
too blunt.
too awkward.
too embarrassing.
you didn’t hear footsteps approaching, didn’t hear your name the first time either.
atsumu had spotted you from across the hallway almost immediately.
he’d been looking for you anyway.
osamu’s advice from the night before still sat fresh in his mind. "confess first. saves her the embarrassment."
he’d planned to find you after practice ended.
but seeing you alone now— clearly spiraling about something— felt like the right moment presenting itself.
he walked over casually, stopping beside you.
he said your name once.
no reaction.
he tried again, a little louder.
still nothing.
he frowned faintly, leaning closer.
“oi.”
you startled slightly at the proximity, snapping out of your thoughts abruptly, turning your head and freezing when you realized who was standing beside you.
“oh— hi.” your voice came out quieter than intended.
he studied your face for a second, brows knitting faintly.
you looked like you were preparing for impact.
“ya stressed or somethin'?”
"i'm not stressed," you answered too quickly, because apparently your mouth wanted you dead. "i just have a really intense thinking face. i inherited it from my mom. she used to do taxes like this."
he leaned one shoulder against the vending machine beside you, watching you a little more carefully now, a small snort escaping his lips
“damn. those taxes must've been somethin', huh.” he teased. “look like someone just murdered yer family.”
you huffed despite yourself, tension easing slightly at the absurdity. “that’s dramatic.”
“so’s yer face right now.”
you rolled your eyes, but the small humor helped steady your breathing.
then his gaze shifted slightly, he noticed the details now that he was closer.
your hair was sitting neater.
your uniform sharper than usual.
it was subtle, but noticeable.
“you look nice today,” he said after a second.
you blinked, caught off guard.
“…huh?”
he shrugged casually, like the observation hadn’t required thought.
“just sayin’.”
heat rose to your face instantly.
You looked back at the vending machine buttons quickly, suddenly hyperaware of your appearance in a way you hadn’t been before.
“thanks.”
then, silence settled between you— a little awkward and charged in a quiet way.
he straightened slightly from the machine after a moment.
he knew this was his chance.
better now than letting you confess first expecting rejection.
“can i say somethin’?”
you glanced at him again, nerves spiking slightly.
“…yeah.”
he rubbed the back of his neck— a rare tell that he was thinking more carefully than usual.
then he spoke.
“i like ya.”
the words landed simply.
no buildup.
no dramatics.
and yet they hit harder than anything rehearsed ever could.
you froze where you stood, your brain struggling to process what you’d just heard.
he continued when you didn’t respond. “i’ve liked ya for a bit now. didn’t say anythin’ ‘cause i didn’t know if it’d make things weird.”
your heart was pounding so loudly you could barely hear him over it.
“but i figured i should say it before ya stressed yerself out thinkin’ i don’t feel the same.”
your head lifted slightly at that.
“pause— what?”
he glanced at you, faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“i know yer plannin’ to confess.”
your stomach dropped.
“how.”
he shook his head lightly. “don’t worry ‘bout that part right now.”
he held your gaze steadily, expression softer than you’d ever seen it during practice.
“i just didn’t want ya doin’ it expectin’ rejection when that ain’t what’d happen.”
the words settled slowly.
you’d spent all day preparing for heartbreak.
you hadn’t prepared for this.
“you… like me?”
“yeah.”
no hesitation.
no teasing.
just certainty.
your knees felt weaker for a second— not enough to stumble, just enough that you had to steady yourself mentally.
he noticed your stunned expression, smirking faintly again.
“so relax,” he added lightly. “no need t’confess lookin’ like yer goin’ to war.”
your face burned instantly.
“you could tell i was planning it?”
“er— ..somethin' like that.”
you covered your face immediately, mortified. “oh my god.”
he laughed softly, reaching out to pull your hands down before you could fully hide.
“don’t die of embarrassment yet,” he murmured. “i still gotta take ya out first.”
and just like that— the confession you’d spent days preparing… wasn’t yours to make anymore.
“…there’s one more thing though.”
you blinked, pulled from your thoughts. “what.”
he scratched the back of his neck slightly— the same nervous tell you’d noticed earlier. “a confession after the confession.”
your stomach dipped slightly. “that sounds ominous.”
he huffed a quiet laugh in response. “relax. It ain’t bad. i think”
you immediately did not relax.
“why would you say relax like that.”
he glanced at you, clearly debating how to phrase whatever he was about to say, then exhaled slowly.
“ya know how you’ve been textin’ yer best friend about me.”
your entire body stilled. “…how do you know that.”
he winced faintly.
“wrong number.”
you blinked.
“…what.”
“been me.”
the, there was silence.
not the short silence either— like full processing silence.
your brain tried to load the information and simply buffered.
“you.”
“yeah.”
“YOU???”
“yeah.”
“THE WHOLE TIME??”
“…yeah.”
you stared at him, horror dawning in slow motion, then your hands flew to your face instantly. “oh okay— oh my god.”
He was already laughing softly now — not cruel, just unable to help himself at your reaction.
“i didn’t mean for it t’start like that—”
“you let me text to you about YOU.”
he leaned slightly closer, voice lowering just a fraction. “didn’t hate hearin’ it though.”
you froze, looked up slowly and he was smiling— not teasing this time— okay, maybe a little— but it was warm. real.
and the next morning, you found mika, with a singular mission. dropping your bag beside her desk dramatically. “we need to talk.”
she glanced at you slowly. “…good morning to you too?”
you crossed your arms. “when were you gonna tell me.”
her brows furrowed instantly.
“tell you what.”
“that I WASN’T TEXTING YOU.”
silence.
she stared at you.
you stared back.
“huh?”
“your new number.”
“yeah?”
“WHY DID YOU NEVER QUESTION THAT I WASN’T TEXTING YOU.”
she sat up straighter now, confused. “'CAUSE WE SEE EACH OTHER EVERY DAY?”
you were about to respond but then, the realization clicked in her head, hand slapping over her mouth. “who were you texting.”
you covered your face, voice muffled. “atsumu.”
her jaw dropped so fast it was audible.
“you were WHAT.”
bro i wrotr this at like 1 am
anyways im back after like a week cuz i FINALLY FINALLY have a holiday from school ughhhhh
honestly im not too sure what atsumu is actually like cuz im rewatchng haikyuu rn and ive just gotten to the inarizaki match in s4, i was writing him based off his vibes lowkey LMAO
— synopsis: tsukishima has always struggled wrapping the stupid bandages on his fingers. the new manager seemed to know how, but his pride was too stuck up for him to ask help. luckily, you knew him too well.
— warnings: swearing, blood
🏐 —
The ball slams onto the squeaky floor, the synthetic leader creasing as it meets the shined court. Tsukishima smirks at his opponents’ quick glance at the rolling ball.
“Was that your best, King?”
“Shut up,” Kageyama sneers. Hinata forbearingly chases after the ball. The blonde smirks, adjusting his glasses.
His legs ache, though he didn't have the care to complain nor request to take a break. Testing his endurance was good—he still had limits to test, he still had so much energy to drain. He wasn't going to waste his time tending for the ache.
Something that he wouldn't mind wasting his time on though, was fixing the bandages around his ring and index finger. They were loosening up, untucked from one another. So he looked at Daichi, motioned to his fingers, and his senior's approving nod permits his body to exit the court and onto the bleachers.
"When was the last time you changed those, bruh?" Tanaka blurts. He rubs his hand on his shaved head, his sweat dripping off his temples. "That shit's dirty."
"Just this morning. I'm not unhygienic." Tsukishima bluntly replies. "It got dirty from the ball. Have you seen that thing? When was the last time you changed those balls?"
Sugawara sits beside him, his towel being patted on his forehead. "Two years ago, probably."
Tsukishima fiddles with the thin straps of his bandages, tucking it underneath the wrapped gauze, but it irritates him when it refuses to stick. So he tries and he tries again; from the court to the bleachers, he thinks. A person could only do so much trying.
"Hey, (l/n)!"
His head snaps towards your direction, seeing you enter with a bag full of refilled water bottles. He'd politely take the bag off your shoulders, showing chivalry to remove the image of his isouciant demeanor. But Daichi had already beaten him, as well as carrying the other two bags brought by Yachi and Shimizu.
His fingers absentmindedly twirl and twirl as he stares from afar. His heart pounds uncremeniously against hist chest, like the sound of continuous free spiking against the court floor. He dislikes the feeling of sudden emotions.
But when you were the end of those emotions, he'd bear his hatred.
And Tsukishima had been staring for too long that he hasn't noticed you approaching him with that kind, everloving smile. He doesn't return it.
"Kei," you softly greet. His first name, never given verbal privilege to say but somehow it just felt right for you to say it. "Struggling with that?"
"Hm? O-oh. Yes," his back straightens, forearm on his knee. You sit down beside him but not beside him. He feels like whining. "Can't get the stupid thing wrapped properly."
"I can help—" you offer.
"I got it," Tsukishima tucks his arm against his chest like it was something you'd steal from him. You laugh through your nose. "Not my first time doing it."
"Just let me help," you wrap your hand on his wrist and yank it towards you, the bandage seamlessly falling off his calloused palm onto your lap. Tsukishima feels heat rising to his ears— feels the obnoxious stares of his teammates smiling teasingly as they bounce the balls from their hands to the floor.
And so your soft fingers caress against his, your thumb in the apex of his palm as you hold his hand firmly. Tsukishima puts the weight of his hand on yours, watching your eyes meticulously follow the movement of your fingers wrapping the dirty bandage around his ring and pinkie finger.
"Your scar looks cool," you say. "Where'd you get that?"
"From, uh, Ushijima's spike during our match against Shiratorizawa." His voice falters with embarrassment. "He was strong. An idiot though," he adds the last remark to aid his ego.
"Wow, Kei complimenting Ushijima."
"Followed by an insult," he looks up at you through his eyelashes and feels like he could collapse on the spot. Suddenly the ache on his legs didn't bother him anymore, like they'd been healed by your essence.
You tuck the bandage in. "He may be strong, but he can't block like you," you take his hand in yours and lightly tap it with the other one before standing up. You pick up a waterbottle from your bag and offer it to him. "Drink up. Can't have you dehydrated."
Tsukishima takes the bottle from you. You smile at him, and the edges of his lips quirk up to give you a half-smile, like some sort of gratitude. And you walk away from him.
He could've done a lot more than just speak like he wasn't thankful for your assistance. Instead he watched you walk away, wistfully.
🏐 —
Stupid fucking fingers.
There's blood dripping on the asphalt ground. Tsukishima hisses, Hinata gasps and covers his mouth.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" He had bowed so much his back could break. Tsukishima didn't care, he only wanted to shove his entire fist up Kageyama's laughing ass.
Blocking balls was one thing. Blocking Hinata's spike, however...
"Idiot," he says lowly, though loud enough to enlighten Hinata of his disdain. "Shit, could you be careful next time, Shoyo?"
"What's going on?" You exit the gym, locking it behind you. "Is that blood?"
"Yes! Because this Pipsqueak thought we were on some real match. Spiked it at me when we're only three feet apart!"
"Calm down, Kei."
And then he did. He did calm down. His chest went back to it's steady pace as he clutched his hand, the blood's flow weak. You walk towards him and take his hand in yours, then you drag him to the locker room.
"Please don't tell me your scar opened."
He could laugh at that sentence, then again not everyone knows everything. He shakes his head and rubs his nose. "Just a wound from one of my fingers."
"Okay, sit here." He sits on a chair as you reach for the first aid kit.
Tsukishima likes you.
Straight to the point, he admits it to himself that he likes you, and he's proud of that. He could never admit that to anyone else though. Maybe it's because you were nice, and he couldn't bring himself to be mean to you and if he ever was, you put him in his place. Maybe he likes you because you're beautiful. Not just pretty, but beautiful. And you were skillfull at bandaging his fingers. That hit a special spot in his heart.
You sit on the desk in front of him and he offers his hand willingly, placing it on your thigh. You dabbed the antiseptic covered cotton on his bleeding wound. Tsukishima barely hisses from the pinching pain. Instead, he looks at you from the scratched lens of his glasses.
You look at him, laugh a little, and push his glasses up his nose.
Tsukishima blushes.
"Be careful next time, Kei," you advice, placing the cotton aside and start bandaging up his wound. "You're the smart one in the group. They could all go to shit if you get injured."
"Eh, I have you to heal me," his words slip past his lips before he could think about what he would say. His eyes widen a little. And his blush, could it be from embarrassment as you noticed his reaction, or could it be from the way you smile at him and massage the lines in his palm as a retort.
"You're cute," you raise a brow, tucking the bandage in.
"You wrap my bandages all the time." He puts his hands on his lap. And you still sit there, in front of him, on the desk. "You're my little healer."
"Is "little" an insult or?"
Tsukishima laughs. He laughs. Then he takes your hand and plays with your fingers, his fingertips tracing every ridge, every bump of your hand. You watch him as he does so, feeling yourself smile bigger and bigger at every second.
So he takes that chance to lace your hands together. You both blush, looking away from one another.
"Take it as an insult," he finally says. "Healer? Don't take it as an insult. I'll be calling you that from now on, though."
You roll your eyes, jumping off the desk. "Okay, Kei."
You both leave the locker room, hands still together, and his bandage still intact.
note: remember to read the tags! + i do not own any of these works
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atsumu
neon lights (in a world gray)
triple trouble
drunk mind sober heart
green with envy
a commemoration of firsts
till one of us caves
long black
anyways, don't be a stranger
kageyama
fate
when one door closes
stolen kisses
miscommunication
him?!
haunt me
volleyball on the brain
you can hear it in the silence
sakusa
soft and wet
public transit
miscarry
it's still love
drawing our moments
bed
this victory is mine, and yours
touch starved
oikawa
babygirl
pinch
two stories
settle
always
perfect
pain split
here's to the sixth time
ushijima
request
trust fall
atlas
bitter / sweet
soft, but for you only
in time
page 304
bokuto
inferior
an accidental heroine
as loud as you like
lucid
swept up in the moment
heart attack
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