You’re sitting on the cold river bank, the smell of sunscreen clinging to your warm skin. Cicadas hum lazily in the background, mixing with the sound of rushing water and loud, overlapping voices.
You watch the boys splash around in the river, shoving each other like kids, yelling all kinds of nonsense, all laughing so hard they can barely stay afloat.
You can’t help the smile that settles on your lips, soft and warm, like the sun kissing everyone’s skin.
“Y/N!” Makki suddenly yells, making you flinch hard, “Get in here!”
You roll your eyes immediately, “Is it still cold?”
Issei snorts before anyone else can answer, “Y’know, I’m beginning to think you can’t swim”, small smirk on his lips.
Your head snaps toward him instantly, “I can swim!” you defend, frowning.
You open your mouth.. Pause. Then close it again, “…I don’t wanna”
A chorus of BOOs immediately follows.
Iwa swims over, brushing water from his face as he reaches where you’re comfortably settled. He rolls his eyes at them before looking up at you, smiling softly.
“Ignore them,” he says, a little breathless, “Are you having fun?”
You crinkle your nose and glance back at the others now splashing water at each other, “yeah, I’m glad I came”
He plops down next to you, gently bumping your shoulder with his own, “I’m glad you did too”
And the admission has you both pink in the face, goofy smiles in place.
“Awwww,” Oikawa’s voice cuts through the moment instantly, “Are you guys gonna kiss now?”
Before either of you can react, cold river water comes flying at full speed.
You gasp so loud it startles even yourself, scrambling to stand.
“Toru!” you hiss, “It’s freezing!”
“Your body will adjust”, he rolls his eyes dramatically, “once you get in!”
Iwa snorts, rolling his eyes as the brunette swims away laughing, “…Wanna ride on my back?”
You raise an eyebrow, “You think I can’t swim?”
“Just offering”, comes the cool, casual reply
Your eyes linger on him for a second too long.
Water rolling down his neck.
Hair pushed back.
Broad shoulders already tanning under the sun.
Your mind wanders to his strong back, toned muscles…
And your stomach twists at the thought.
You look away immediately, cheeks already warming, “No thanks”
He laughs, the sound loud and easy, then he flashes you an annoyingly pretty grin, “Better hurry up then, I think they’re plotting to throw you in” he says, teasing tilt in his voice.
It’s then that you realize how oddly quiet it’s gotten.
Your eyes slowly lift, only to see them huddled up in a group, smirking at you.
“Don’t you fucking dare” you snap at the group, scrambling into the water toward Iwa.
The cold hits instantly and you hiss, grabbing onto his bicep for balance and immediately regretting it.
His arm flexes under your hand and you can’t help but let your mind wander.
Iwa looks down at where you’re holding him, smirking, “Cold?”
You squint at him, “Freak”
His eyebrows shoot up in surprise before he starts laughing, “What’d I do?!”
“Quit flexing!”
He quirks an eyebrow, toothy little grin on his face now, “You noticed that?”
Before you can respond, Issei’s swimming over, smiling real smooth, “Awww, lemme warm you up” he offers
You feel your heart stutter for a second, “You’re a freak too” you mutter, swimming off toward Oikawa and Makki.
Behind you, Issei lets out a loud laugh.
But you miss the way Iwa’s smile disappears for a second, the way he frowns at the other brunette.
Issei catches it instantly, sending him the most obnoxious grin imaginable.
Iwa clicks his tongue, “Lemme warm you up”, he mocks in an ugly little voice, “Shut the hell up”
Issei just grins wider, “If you’re not gonna make your move, it’s fair game”, he says before smirking and swimming off towards you.
Iwa scoffs, but his eyes drift back to you anyway.
You’re laughing now, the sound warm and light.
Issei starts swimming over and Iwa watches for exactly two seconds before following.
Before you know it, they’re both there.
You blink as Issei appears on one side of you and suddenly Iwa’s on the other.
You glance up to find Iwa frowning at Issei, while he grins back, your eyebrows furrowing.
“You guys good?” you ask.
Oikawa raises an eyebrow immediately, glancing at Makki.
Makki just rolls his eyes.
Idiots.
Iwa looks at you for a second before stepping closer, arm brushing yours in a way that definitely doesn’t feel accidental.
“Yeah,” he mutters, eyes still on Issei, “He’s just being annoying”
Issei gasps dramatically, then shoots him a shit eating grin.
A second later Iwa splashes him right in the face, a loud gasp escaping him.
Issei bursts out laughing, “Oh, so we’re playing dirty now?”
synopsis. satoru is a bonafide genius. he’s got the perfect transcript and ten-year plan to prove it. he knows how to keep his head down and avoid the chaos his twin thrives in. so when the unofficial frat princess sets her sights on him, he knows there’s a catch. he just doesn’t figure out what it is until he’s already fallen for her
pairing. nerd! satoru gojo x popular! fem! reader. ✶ contents. sfw! fluff. eventual angst. college + gojo twins au ⇢ fratjo’s called souta. takes place during junior year. brief mentions of ex bf! toji. loosely inspired by ‘how to lose a guy in ten days’ and very romcom-esque with a lot of drama. reader is very flawed and lowkey insufferable + the bet is hella dumb ˖ ࣪ . ࿐
day zero ✶ day one ✶ day two ✶ day three ✶ day four ✶ day five
day six ✶ day seven ✶ day eight ✶ day nine ✶ day ten ✶ weekend
+ more days to come
synopsis. satoru is a bonafide genius. he’s got the perfect transcript and ten-year plan to prove it. he knows how to keep his head down and avoid the chaos his twin thrives in. so when the unofficial frat princess sets her sights on him, he knows there’s a catch. he just doesn’t figure out what it is until he’s already fallen for her
pairing. nerd! satoru gojo x popular! fem! reader. ✶ contents. sfw! college + gojo twins au ⇢ fratjo’s called souta. cw. alcohol consumption , i mean it’s a frat party. mentions of ex bf! toji + reader’s colorful dating history + therapy. charas may be a little ooc. sexual entitlement as college guys suck ˖ ࣪ . ࿐
you’ve never been in love. you’re thoroughly aware of the concept – how it makes people feel, how it shapes the universe in its hands and weaves strings of fate together – but you’ve never experienced it. not really.
not in the way people describe it in rom coms, ballads, and new york times best sellers. you’ve felt affection, certainly, in friendships and the bond that ties you to your parents despite their many flaws, in fleeting attraction that makes your heart beat a little faster. but true love ? the notion of it has never crossed your path. rather, it seems to hesitate, look both ways and dejectedly retreat to toeing the sidewalk.
you’ve watched your friends fall in love time and time again. you’ve dated people – your high school prom date, who tasted like spearmint and entitlement and tried to feel you up in the back of his dad’s bentley, summer flings that fizzled out and faded into nothing – but you’ve never been in love.
you keep people at arm’s length. you gravitate towards guys like toji who are just as emotionally unavailable as you are. who don’t actually care about you. who only see you when it’s convenient for them, when they think their persistence might finally tear your walls down.
they always, eventually, give up. they grow tired of playing the cat and mouse game, and toji is no exception. he was the most patient – you’ll give him that – he’s lasted longer than the others. but even his patience has its expiry date.
you tell yourself it’s because men are shallow and they only want one thing – a notion you’re positive has been scientifically proven – but a quieter, insidious part of you wonders if there’s something wrong with you. if there’s something missing that prevents you from connecting with people in that way. if you’re so scared of being used that you’ve forgotten how to let yourself be wanted.
tonight, the little voice in the back of your mind is not-so-little. not-so-quiet. you can hear it over the music blaring from the speakers – despite it being loud enough to rattle the oak floorboards and absorb the laughter erupting from every corner of the frat house.
souta’s fraternity throws the best parties on campus. that isn’t even up for debate, psi bau’s been famous for its ragers since the beginning of time. or at least that’s what the super seniors swear by.
if a party’s happening on a friday night, it’s here.
where bodies press together beneath flashing lights. the scents of cologne, fruit punch, and beer linger in the air. and red solo cups litter every flat surface. a psi bau party ™ is exactly what you need after toji fushiguro dumped you, very publicly, for a sorority girl.
the aftermath of your split tastes like cheap vodka and dregs of regret. sour and acrid on your tongue.
psi bau has enough alcohol to numb the prickle in your spine from the people staring at you. but it doesn’t have enough liquor to dull the subtle ache in your chest.
it’s an ache that persists despite the fact that you’re not even remotely heartbroken. you’re never invested enough for that. you weren’t in love with toji. not even close. what you’re feeling is something else entirely.
irritation. you’re irritated. irritated at the way eyes follow you with morbid curiosity, waiting for you to shatter. irritated by the whispers trailing after you from the kitchen to the living room. irritated, because your time’s been wasted. again.
“did you hear ? he already took someone else upstairs. poor thing”
‘poor thing ??’ please. you lean against the beer pong table and stare the girl down. she quickly pretends to be very interested in the contents of her solo cup.
you adjust the hem of your top and let your face settle into something more indifferent. across the room, toji emerges with the brunette in greek letters tucked under his arm like an accessory. she giggles, looking extremely pleased with herself. how cute.
“ignore them” shoko says, brows furrowing as she follows your line of sight, “he’s not worth it, and she certainly isn’t either”
you turn away, the sight of toji and his new plaything is less painful than the concern etched across shoko’s features. you don’t want her concern, you want another drink.
“sugu can you make me another dirty shirley ?” you sigh, fingers brushing against his as you hand him your empty solo cup, “please. and make it strong , i can’t deal with this sober”
“anything for our ‘unofficial frat princess’” he grins, disappearing off into the kitchen before you can throw anything at him
utahime shifts closer to you, her shoulder bumping yours “so what exactly happened with toji earlier ?”
you swallow. you could tell them about the argument you had in his car. about him calling you a prick tease because you still wouldn’t have sex with him – in your defense, you didn’t have to, and you certainly wouldn’t be getting it on in psi bau’s parking lot – or you could avoid another pity party. you choose the latter, “it’s really nothing, he wanted me to rush his sister sorority”
shoko lets out a snort, “you ? join a sorority ?”
“exactly” you scoff, “he wanted me to fully commit to being his plus-one at all the boring philanthropy events. he wasn’t very thrilled when i told him i’d rather shit in my hands and clap”
“that’s not grounds for a break up. . what are we ?twelve ?” shoko sneers, “i knew his ego was fragile but holy shit that’s pathetic”
“it wasn’t just about frats and sororities though” you add, weaving a half-truth into the lie “the fight started because he has some bizarre issue with my friendship with suguru”
“what a hypocrite” utahime says dryly, “he hangs out with his exes too and he was hooking up with half the girls in that stupid sorority every time you two were ‘on a break’”
you nod, “he was, but i couldn’t care less, it was never that deep”
shoko watches you over the rim of her solo cup “it’s never ‘that deep’ with you”
you frown slightly. “that’s not true”
“for someone who’s got history with like half the guys in this frat—”
“it was all casual” you interject sharply
“—suguru, souta, toji, and what was it . .? like three athletes ?”
“it was two actually” you correct, your jaw tight
she waves her hand dismissively, “have you ever been in healthy, fully-committed relationship ? ”
you open your mouth, a protest ready on your lips, and close it just as quickly. you have nothing tangible to say.
utahime presses, her voice softer “have you ever allowed anyone to be in love with you ?”
the music seems to recede, the thumping bass replaced by the erratic thudding of your heart. suguru hands you your dirty shirley. you thank him absentmindedly.
“well ?” shoko prompts, arms crossed over her chest
“well, stop interrogating me” you retort, taking a drawn out sip from your crimson solo cup. rum and sickly sweet grenadine seep over your tongue. “i could make anyone at this party fall in love with me if i actually wanted them to”
utahime nearly chokes on her drink “righttt. . . ”
“wanna bet?” you grit your teeth, “i could have anyone wrapped around my finger in like . . ten days”
silence falls around your little circle. shoko and utahime exchange a look that’s a mix of disbelief and intrigue.
“aren’t we too old for stupid bets ?” suguru splutters
“i’m not too old for anything” you scowl, “because i’m quite sick of you guys acting like i’m hard to love”
“are you serious. . .” shoko says, it’s more of statement than a question
“oh, i’m dead serious” you reply, a smile playing on your lips “ten days. . or less. i’ll have someone head-over-heels in love with me before you can say six-seven”
“you’ll get bored by day three and start looking for an out that doesn’t involve hurting their feelings, which will obviously hurt their feelings even more” utahime murmurs
“i’m not the one who gets bored” you scoff
“regardless, it’s a terrible idea” suguru groans, dragging a hand through his dark hair, “it might be your worst one yet, and that’s saying something.”
“if i win” you continue, eyes gleaming as you look at each of them in turn, “i get to use suguru’s car for a month. and you” you point at suguru, “are going to campaign for me. i want to be psi bau’s princess”
suguru looks physically ill. “my car ?! you drive like you have nine lives. . and you hate greek life ! isn’t that the reason why you and toji–”
“semantics” you cut him off, “imagine the look on toji’s face when he has to attend a meeting about me”
“i thought you didn’t care about toji” shoko raises a brow
“i don’t, but i love being petty” you say, “if i don’t get someone to fall in love with me then i’ll just stay away from guys for a bit. happy ? ”
shoko shakes her head, “you’re gonna stay away from guys for the rest of the year”
you groan, dragging a hand down your face, “that’s insane i’m only using the car for a month”
“three months then” suguru counters, “no dating and absolutely no stupid situationships”
“fine” you agree, perhaps a little too quickly, “but if i have to be a chud, i want your car for three months too, not just one and i’m not paying for your gas”
“fine” he groans, “but for the love of everything holy don’t crash my baby”
“oh, and no flirting with anyone if you lose” shoko adds, “if you’re looking at a guy for more than ten seconds, it counts”
you sigh, glancing back across the room. toji’s disappeared with the brunette again. “fine”
“okay” shoko says, leaning against the sticky beer pong table. her expression is solemn, like this is a board meeting rather than a frat party, “glad we’re all on the same page. pick your next victim”
you roll your eyes but you let your gaze sweep across the room. your vision swims throughout the sea of jocks, frat boys, and stoners.
“shiu ?” utahime suggests, “he’s not that bad”
“toji’s best friend ? absolutely fucking not.” shoko shoots that down immediately, “they’re practically the same person”
“not nanami” you murmur, spotting the tall blond man near the staircase, “we’ve got too many mutual friends,”
“ryomen ?” utahime offers, nodding towards the left side of the living room
sukuna is leaning against the wall, looking like he’s allergic to joy. you wrinkle your nose, “hard pass. he’s literally unc and he hates everything and everyone,”
“choso ?”
“absolutely not” you laugh, “yuki would never speak to me again”
“higuruma ?”
you shake your head, “he’s pre-law, he’d figure it out almost immediately, and we have so many classes together. it’s not worth it”
“been there, also been there. plus souta hates me”
“see ?” utahime says, gesturing vaguely at the collegiate crowd “everyone here knows you and your track record. you’ve already lost the bet”
your lips part, ready to argue but then you see him. and the words die on your tongue
across the room souta weaves through the crowd like he owns the place. his toned arm is slung over someone who looks like a carbon-copy of him. same snow-white hair. same bright blue eyes. same looming height. but where souta is all loose shoulders, cocky smiles, and chaos, this guy is . . . the exact opposite. his jaw is clenched and he looks like he’d rather be anywhere else. cute
“toru c’mon” souta’s laughter carries over the music, “just one shot ! you’ve been doomscrolling that stupid interview script for hours”
“it’s not stupid” his twin snaps, adjusting his glasses with an irritated flick as they slide down his nose. “i have to prepare, the first round is tomorrow and i don’t want to smell like tequila during the selection process”
“you’re basically already dead inside, what’s a little liver damage ? ” souta groans, “live a little !”
“i’d rather live responsibly. unlike you”
“i’m plenty responsible” souta mumbles, but he finally gives up, throwing his hands in the air before slinking off to the kitchen. his twin retreats to the wall right across the beer pong table, completely out of place. he pulls out his phone, the screen’s blue glare reflects off his lenses.
“i didn’t know souta had a twin” you muse, setting your solo cup down on the edge of the beer pong table. a drop of your dirty shirley trickles down your knuckle. you absentmindedly lick it away. your friends follow your gaze across the room.
“uhh you had a thing with souta freshman year” shoko sighs, “how the hell don’t you know ?”
“souta and i never did much talking” you shrug, unable to tear your eyes away from the wallflower “so what’s the deal with his brother ?”
“that’s satoru” utahime quips, “the ‘other’ gojo. the one who actually uses his brain. he’s here on a full-ride even though their family’s filthy rich. perfect gpa, founder of the campus coding club and head of the debate team. your typical overachiever”
you study him as he frowns at whatever is on his screen. “he’s kind of cute” you admit, biting back a genuine smile.
“no” suguru says immediately, cadence firm and rigid “absolutely not, don’t even think about”
“please” shoko snorts into her drink, “you’ll have him questioning every single one of his life choices in seconds ”
“what ?” you whirl around to face them, arching a brow defensively “why the hell are you guys acting like i’m some evil man-eater ?”
“because” suguru says slowly, gesturing to where satoru stands, “that is souta’s identical twin brother”
“i’m aware of the concept of twins, suguru” you scoff, narrowing your eyes at him, “i’m not that stupid”
“and you” he continues, undeterred “are you.”
“what the hell is that supposed to mean ?”
“it means” utahime says, soft brown eyes pouring into yours, “you suck at relationships. you always end up really hurting people. and we know you don’t mean to–”
“i don’t suck at relationships” you huff defensively, folding your arms over your chest, “and i haven’t actually hurt anyone”
“you went out with souta for three weeks” suguru points out, “and then he spent the rest of the semester listening to juice wrld and xxxtentacion”
“we wanted different things !” you insist, though the memory of souta’s wounded puppy-dog eyes after you ghosted him flashes in your mind
“he wanted a girlfriend” utahime deadpans. “you wanted someone to go to parties with”
“and toji ?” shoko presses, “let’s not even get started on the last couple of months”
“toji doesn’t count.” you retort, “he’s a walking red flag ! he’s the one who’s avoidant. not me”
“i don’t think your therapist would agree with that statement” suguru snickers, “speaking of, when last did you see her because i think you should have a session as soon as possible”
( frankly, your therapist wouldn’t agree with any of this. she’d never approved of your love life anyway )
“okay, that’s enough” you look away before the irritation crawling up your spine can show on your face. you can’t believe this. your own friends, painting you as some heartless siren. it’s beyond insulting
( heaven forbid a girl isn’t the best at romance )
“look” suguru says, his tone softening as he follows your gaze back to satoru, “satoru isn’t like the guys you usually go for”
“and that’s the understatement of the century” shoko adds, “unlike the rest of these meatheads, he doesn’t care about popularity, or parties. hell, he barely cares about anyone who isn’t in the honors college.”
“he’ll be impossible to wrap around your finger” utahime agrees, “you didn’t even know he existed five minutes ago. plus, you’re literally polar opposites. you like partying. he likes engineering. it would never work”
across the room, satoru shifts against the wall. his discomfort is blatant even from a distance. someone tries to hand him a red solo cup and he declines with a barely perceptible shake of his head, his blue eyes never leaving his phone. he’s completely unimpressed by everything around him
you watch him a beat too long before murmuring, “exactly” you lower your cup slowly, glossy lips curving into a smile
shoko narrows her eyes suspiciously, “exactly what ?”
“exactly why it has to be him” you say, “the whole point of the bet isn’t to prove i can make some jock or frat boy fall for me. it’s to prove that i can make anyone fall in love with me. what’s the point of an easy win ?”
suguru lets out a long, pained groan “oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me”
“you said he’d be impossible” you continue, your gaze drifting back to satoru. your target is typing out something with an admirable degree of focus, thumbs flying across his sceen. his brows are slightly furrowed and his lips are pressed into a thin line. he exhales slowly, as if he’s counting down the seconds until he can leave.
“well, i think i’ll have him hooked in ten days” you grin
suguru pinches the bridge of his nose, “i’d rather call the bet off and let you drive my car for free”
“why ?” you ask, completely perplexed, “what’s the big deal ?”
“the big deal” suguru says, lowering his voice to a whisper, “is that satoru is actually a really good guy. and if you make him fall for you because of this stupid bet and whatever issues you still haven’t resolved in therapy and souta finds out. . . he won’t just be mad at you. he’ll murder me.”
“relax sugu” you murmur, “it’s pretty harmless. if he doesn’t fall for me, you guys are right and i’ll take a break from guys. if he does fall for me i’ll be with a good guy for once – which nitta will love! it sounds like a win-win to me”
utahime squints at you, “you’re not actually going to date him”
“why not ?” you counter, “he’s smart, he’s cute, and – no offence sugu – he’s definitely an upgrade from all my exes”
“because by all accounts satoru gojo is the most nerdy, boring person on this campus” shoko insists bluntly, “and you get bored very easily”
“i don’t get bored easily” you frown, “and i don’t appreciate this mischaracterization from my so-called best friends”
“that’s beside the point” utahime interjects, “a relationship built on deceit is good for nothing . .”
“i’m begging you” suguru pleads, digging his fingers into his temple, “just pick someone else”
you’re not sure if this impulsive decision stems from the liquor thrumming beneath your skin, or your infinite insecurities. but your mind is completely made up.
your gaze drifts back to satoru again. his eyes lift from his phone for a moment – sweeping across the room, passing over you like you’re just another person getting drunk by the beer pong table – before returning to the illuminated screen in his hand. you don’t even exist to him
“see ?” utahime says pointedly beside you, “he didn’t even notice you !”
you smile thoughtfully, you’ve never had to chase anyone before. you’ve never wanted to try, you’ve never had to but . . “now, i want this even more”
“that is the worst possible thing you could’ve said” suguru inhales sharply, “i’m a dead man, souta’s going to kill me . . .”
“he’s going to kill all of us” utahime sighs, “shoko, why the hell would you entertain this ?”
“i just asked a simple question, don’t throw me under the bus” shoko says, holding her hands up defensively, “ we, yes we, are all responsible for this”
satoru gojo stands by the wall, blissfully unaware that he’s just become the center of your very bad idea. he’s the only person who hasn’t looked at you twice tonight. and you are very determined to change that.
masterlist day zero ⇆ day one
── .✦ mimi’s notes: first chapter everybody twerk! going on the record to say that this series is nothing like the movie but i don’t wanna spill too much ( wink wink )
head chef!sukuna who would always save a little extra fries or ice cream just for you, even if he pretended like it just happened to be left over. he'd make sure you ate enough during your breaks, wouldn't let you leave the kitchen till you had something in your stomach. he'd grumble every time you asked him to cook something for you but he never refused.
head chef!sukuna who absolutely despised when other waiters flirted with you in front of him. he hated it even more when a customer got too handsy or made a few too many unwanted comments towards you. the other chefs would have to hold him back from fighting them with his bare hands. if he managed to land a few punches on them after they left, it was none of his co-workers' business.
head chef!sukuna who would share cigarettes with you outside your shitty restaurant when shifts were done. he'd light yours for you, watch your face through the smoke. if he was in a particularly good mood he'd buy you a drink. he'd always drive you home himself regardless, didn't like the idea you taking the bus or walking the streets alone at night.
head chef!sukuna who would notice you glancing at his forearms, tattoos when he rolled up his sleeves, trying to hide the flush on your cheeks. he never hid his own gaze either, shamelessly staring at your legs in your skirt as you walked by or the way your shirt clung to your chest. even though you would roll your eyes when you caught him, he knew you were secretly pleased you caught his attention.
head chef!sukuna who would purposely give himself tiny injuries so you could fuss over him when you noticed. he liked the way your eyes would widen with worry at every small cut or burn on his hands, how unafraid you were to scold him for being careless. after you stuck bandaids on his bruises, he'd only pull you right back again, whisper in your ear to kiss them all better.
head chef!sukuna who woke you up at his place during wekeends with the smell of freshly made breakfast of all your favourites. you'd pad to the kitchen in his shirt, wrap your arms from behind and watch him cook over his broad shoulders. he'd lift pieces of food into your mouth with his hand, his gaze intense as you slowly licked off each of his fingers, feigning innocence. it would only be a matter of time before he'd curse, pick you up and take you back to his bed again, determined to not let you leave as you laughed.
✧.* a/n: might need to write a full fic ab this soon, he's so sexy ugh ✧.*
You return to Osaka, eventually. It's with shaky hands and bloodshot eyes, but you return.
Everything was exactly like you left it. A handwritten note you left reminding Atsumu to pick up potatoes from the store pinned to the fridge with a magnet that reads Welcome to Las Vegas. An old pair of your shoes tucked away neatly by the front door. Your favorite mug, dirty in the sink with stains from your lip balm smeared around the rim. It's like you never even left.
Atsumu's not there. You came when you knew he'd be at the gym, because his schedule is still in your head like it's been etched in stone. Though, you figure you don't know as much about it as you thought you did. For all you know this could've been the time he was him; a dedicated couple of hours every day that Atsumu passed off as training. You figure you're lucky that Atsumu wasn't there, that they both weren't.
The apartment feels smaller than it did before. You lived here for so long and you never noticed how crowded it was, filled to the brim with framed photos and posters and knick-knacks and your old college books and just stuff. It's everything you collected living with Atsumu, proof of your life together jammed together on bookshelves and hanging off the walls.
You drag your fingers across a framed photo of you and Atsumu and dust sticks to your finger. There's a lump in your throat and you try not to cry because that's not what you came here to do, but it's useless. You cry. The you captured in a photograph smiles so you brightly your eyes are squeezed shut while Atsumu kisses your cheek, and you cry.
It was too soon, you tell yourself as you sink to the ground, arms reaching around your knees. Your sobs get louder. It was too soon to come back.
You don't do what you came to do. You leave the apartment empty-handed, and find yourself standing in Onigiri Miya.
It's empty and you figure it must be close to closing time, because you've never seen it without a line to order. And when Osamu emerges from the back, he's starting to say, "I'm so sorry, but we're closed and I just forgot to lock the - oh."
He stops at the sight of you, drying his hands on rag he has thrown over his shoulder. Osamu looks at you like he doesn't know what to do with you and when you stare back at him you hold your breath, because it hurts to look at him and you don't want to cry again. You don't say anything. Osamu doesn't say anything. Time doesn't feel like it's passing.
"Do you wanna talk?" Osamu asks eventually, and you don't trust your voice so you give him a hard nod. "Okay," he says with a nod of his own, "we can talk."
You're standing in the back of his restaurant, where it's too hot for your comfort and the smell of grilled fish makes you realize how hungry you are. Your throat is tight and you cross your arms over your chest so you don't start to collapse. "Did you know?" you ask Osamu in a wavering voice that does not sound like your own.
"No," Osamu answers, standing across from you and leaning against his work station. "I didn't know."
You wanted it to comfort you, but it doesn't. Your teeth grind together. Maybe you wanted him to say yes, so you'd have someone to yell at. Though, you figure if you really wanted someone to scream at, you could answer one of the dozens of calls from Atsumu that come in daily. You don't know why you want to take it out on his brother.
"It's not right, what Tsumu did to you," Osamu says. "He knows that. Everyone knows that."
You look down at the ground and your vision starts to get blurry. You clench your hands into fist so hard that your nails leave crescent-shaped indents on your palm. "Did he say how long?"
Osamu shifts. "Maybe you should talk to-"
"I'm not going to talk to him," you say, firm and sure. You look up at Osamu and a tear falls down your cheek. "Please tell me how long."
He swallows, and fidgets with the rag on his shoulder. "Since high school."
It knocks the wind out of you. The realization suddenly hits you that you wasted years of your life being loyal and dedicated and stupid in love and it was all for nothing. That to Atsumu, it was nothing. You were nothing. You feel like you're going to be sick in the kitchen of Onigiri Miya.
Osamu reaches out, and puts a hand on your shoulder. "Hey," he says, and his hand moves up to cradle the side of your face. You struggle to look at him. His thumb moves across your cheek. "It's over now, alright? You'll be okay."
It's not over. You don't think it'll ever be over. You don't think that this weight in your chest will ever lessen and you don't think you can ever bring yourself to look at someone the way you looked at Atsumu ever again. It'll just be this, forever. This hurt and this confusion and no matter what anyone says to you, you will always feel like this.
You look at Osamu and you do your best not to see Atsumu. Their eyes are different, so you look at them. You stare into Osamu's eyes like they're your lifeline and his thumb doesn't stop moving against the soft skin of your face, and you think, it doesn't have to be just you. It can be Atsumu, too.
In a movement that's too swift for Osamu to process, you lean forward and throw your arms around his neck and kiss him. And it takes a second, but Osamu kisses you back.
Your mouth moves against his desperately, hands pulling trying to pull him in closer and closer. He keeps one hand on your face and one on your waist and it takes you a second to realize it what you're doing. It's hard and ugly and your teeth bump together and you wonder if Osamu can taste the salt of your tears. His grip on your waist tightens.
"Wait," Osamu says, but his lips still press into yours and he makes no move to stop. "Wait, wait," he says again, and this time he pulls himself away from you, using the hand on your face to keep you away. You stare up at him, teary-eyes and chest rising and falling with each breath. Osamu swallows. "Why are you doing this?"
"Because I want to," you say, hands moving up the back of his neck to tangle in the ends of his hair. "Because I want you."
Osamu looks at you for a long time. His eyes run up and down your face and his hand pushes back your hair. "Man," he says, eyes locked onto yours, "Tsumu really hurt you."
You flinch, and pull back from Osamu, like his words burned you. Osamu lets you go and suddenly your face starts to feel hot. You want to say that it's not about Atsumu, but there's no point. You'd both know it was a lie.
"Let's get you dinner," Osamu says. "I'll make you something. You're stating in Tokyo, right?"
You nod. You don't trust your voice.
"Well, stay at my place for the night. It's too late to take the train. I'll make sure you get home in the morning, okay?"
"Okay," you say. And that's it.
Osamu cooks you dinner and it's warm and flavorful and it makes you feel like you're a kid again. It makes you miss your mother. He finishes closing up the restaurant and you offer to help with the dishes or something, but Osamu refuses. He walks you back to his home and he holds your hand on the way there. It feels like the only thing that's holding you down to earth. You stay in his bed and he sleeps on the couch and you argue about it for a bit, but Osamu wins that debate. You don't talk much besides that.
When the morning comes, Osamu wakes you gently and takes you to the train station like he said he would. He rubs your back when he hugs you goodbye. You kiss his cheek and he promises he'll visit.
It is your last night in Osaka.
i know i was anti-part 2's but i wanted to write this so
synopsis: oikawa has always been your childhood best friend—so why does the idea of you laughing with another guy make his stomach twist with jealousy?
pairing: tooru oikawa x f!reader
taglist: open! 0/50
status: ongoing...
content warnings: some written parts, ooc, college au, i hope this synopsis doesn't sound too yandere-esque oikawa is a bitch boy (im sorry </3), yn is kinda oblivious, cursing, crude humor, angst(?), invidivual chapters have their own warnings, my smau but i'm mad at how stupid they are, warnings will be updated as this continues
Miya Osamu, who personally, admittedly likes you. Just a little crush, though.
Miya Osamu, who might want to change the “little” in his crush to something much bigger, conscious of how he flinches whenever his hand accidentally brushes against yours.
Miya Osamu, whose case of recall daydreaming just keeps getting progressively worse.
Miya Osamu, who treats his brother just a little bit better whenever you're around, and Miya Atsumu, who takes note of that and uses it to the fullest, further annoying him until he forcibly drops the act.
Miya Osamu, whose new favorite sound might just be you calling him by his nickname, “Samu”—be it early in the morning when you meet to walk to school, while having lunch, or even over the phone.
Miya Osamu, who finds any excuse to interact with you outside of school.
Miya Osamu, who drags you along on the weekend by placing you on a video call while he prepares a meal. Although it's supposedly for you to learn, you spend most of the time listening to him go through the process, drooling over the food, and secretly admiring how he looks in his cooking apron, attractively fully focused on the task at hand.
Miya Osamu, who randomly pauses between those video calls, glancing over at the screen to make sure you're still watching and haven't fallen asleep or gone off somewhere.
Miya Osamu, who enjoys listening to you talk over the phone while he works. It feels like you're physically right there in the kitchen with him, keeping him company.
Miya Osamu, who makes sure to kick his brother out whenever he comes in to steal some snacks or say hello, not amused at all when you laugh at their interactions safely from the other side of the screen.
Miya Osamu, who stares extremely close into the camera, making you wonder how he ever managed to take such good photos of himself to send to you. Maybe it was Sumu’s doing, or even Suna's—though the latter would probably take terrible photos on purpose and keep them for potential future blackmail.
Miya Osamu, who has been threatened by those photos. His big-mouthed brother let it slip to Suna that he has a crush on you, which he immediately denied.
“Then I guess you wouldn't mind if I sent her this photo.” Suna threatened, with a cunning smile, holding up a stupid picture of Osamu midair, falling flat to the ground after Sumu tripped him. Consequently, he silently gave up his pudding and sulkily walked away from the two smug, laughing foxes.
Miya Osamu, on whose cheek you notice a smear of flour and point it out, watching him get extremely close to the phone to clean it off, only to stain the other side of his face as well.
Miya Osamu, who has no words to respond to your entertained laughter, or to your question in between giggles about why he didn't just use his self-view window to check his face.
Miya Osamu, who knows the answer is because he was too busy looking at your face to check his own, but would rather watch you laugh at how stupid he looks than let you know the truth. Plus, it's much more satisfying to see you thoroughly entertained while you hang out with him.
Miya Osamu, who always has a smug smile on his face when he listens to and watches you drool over the finished meal, verbally expressing your strong wish to be there so you can have it in person.
Miya Osamu, who mentally admits it's kind of fun virtually teasing you like that, though it would probably be even more fun if you were actually there with him in person.
Miya Osamu, who changes his lock screen wallpaper—after overthinking it through the night—from an onigiri to a picture of you happily munching on an onigiri he personally made.
Miya Osamu, who refuses to change it back, even when Atsumu sees it and teases him for it, or when the team finds out and hounds him about it, or even when you see it and complain about how greedy you look.
Miya Osamu, who lets you know he's not going to change it, but adds that he'd let you do the same for him. To use whatever photo of him—just him—that you want as your wallpaper. Simply for fairness, of course.
Miya Osamu, who nervously watches you pout about the arrangement, though he is elated to see you present your phone to him the next morning, your payback already installed and locked in.
“It looks terrible.”
He complains, struggling to hide the trembling twitch at the edge of his lips over his hidden thoughts about the two of you having wallpapers of each other, like you're—ahem—dating or… something.
content — meet ugly with miya atsumu, atsumu plays the drums but also models on the side, inarizaki is based in tokyo, reader is a manga author/artist (this is the tortured artists department), reader had a crush on suna rintarou at first (nothing ever happens), kinda strangers to best friends to lovers but the lovers part dont happen here yet, pining i love pining, atsumu is oblivious and reader is oblivious so this is just a disaster in the making, very fluffy tho :PP
you hadn't known when miya atsumu became an integral part of your life. now, you can't imagine it without him.
MIYA ATSUMU wasn’t the person you first noticed as a seventeen-year-old with an eye for the tall, dark, and brooding handsome archetype. Miya Atsumu had dyed blonde hair, an air of arrogance around him, and seemed to become the center of attention in whichever room he stepped into. Sure, he was tall, and yes, he definitely had the looks, but he didn’t have the tired, broody look that was attractive to every girl who’s ever had a vampire phase. In this case, you. Meanwhile, Suna Rintarou had fit that tall, dark, and handsome description more. He was the right amount of mysterious and the right amount of broody, which was exactly why you developed a huge crush on him first, and Miya Atsumu just happened to be his friend and bandmate.
But here you were, almost ten years later.
“Hey! You’re not paying attention,” Atsumu whines from the other end of the couch, an arm's length away from where you were curled up in a blanket with a manga in hand.
You heave a sigh, “Because the words coming out of your mouth are bullshit,” pushing back your reading glasses, then turning a page from the manga you were reading, a new release gifted by one of your fellow author-friends.
“The guy’s face is bullshit,” Atsumu says. If he had said this outside and someone recognized him, he would 100% be cancelled. Or not. Male privilege or whatever. Now that you think about it, male celebrities get away with a lot of things. The world was truly unfair. Well, that wasn’t new.
“I wasn’t asking for your opinion. I want to date him, he’s cute,” you shrug. After a few seconds of silence, you peek over at him. His eyes were narrowed, and his brows furrowed. Earlier, when you were catching up, you mentioned you were going on a date with a producer from the company that serializes your manga, and you even showed him a picture of the guy who you thought looked cute. The guy asked you out after seeing you in the office when you visited last, and he was kind of your type, so why not? You couldn’t think of any reasons why you shouldn’t go on a date with him, but Atsumu seemed like he had plenty.
“That’s what you said about your ex—I forgot his name already,” Atsumu lolls his head, “And where is he now?” he gives you a pointed look.
You purse your lips. That one kinda stung. Yes, your single-ness is very apparent. “‘Tsum,” was the only thing you said. The way you said his name was laced with unintentional hurt.
Atsumu’s face softens, “I’m sorry, sweets.” That damned nickname, you hated how your insides turned. It was probably because you hadn’t heard him call you that for a while. “Not sorry about calling his face bullshit though. You can do better. Said that about the last one too, you know.”
Oh, you know. Atsumu never got along with any of the guys you dated. As few and far between as that happens.
“Sorry not everyone has a face with a net worth of over five billion yen,” you deadpan. You were over your ex-boyfriend, clearly, but you weren’t going to deny that your close friendship with Atsumu contributed to your past relationship not working out. That’s why you and Atsumu were catching up now, since you kept your distance from him for months to please your ex. Well, you do it every time you get into a serious relationship. Atsumu was always a point of insecurity for your ex-boyfriends, even though you reassured them that your relationship with Atsumu was strictly platonic.
You blame it on Atsumu’s untrustworthy face. Okay, and his fame. So there are cons of being associated with the drummer of a world-famous band, who models and does a lot of brand endorsements. Shockingly.
“You know you just indirectly complimented me, right?” Atsumu smirks, elbow perched on the edge of the couch.
Ugh. You did.
“Shut up, ‘Tsum. Don’t make me regret spending my rare free time with you. You want us to fight right now? I’ll kick you out,” you say. Completely disregarding the manga you were trying to read now. The plot wasn’t registering in your brain anyway.
“Still as hotheaded as ever.” Atsumu raises both brows at you.
“Still a big fat jerk as ever.” Your eyes slit.
“Just the way you like it, sweets.” A ghost of a smile on his lips. You felt your blood pressure rising. Only Atsumu could tick you off like this.
You puff your cheeks. What did your friend, Fumika, say about regulating your emotions? Breathing exercises. Count from one to twenty.
One… Two… Three…
“We’re too old to be arguing like we’re still teens.” Your shoulders slump. There you go.
Atsumu scoots over, closer to you, until your shoulders are touching. “I kinda missed arguing with you, sweets,” he says as he relaxes on your side. You let him lean his body weight on you.
“Hm,” you just hum in acknowledgement. You force yourself to relax. You were used to this, you and Atsumu have always been comfortable with each other. A little physical touch isn’t going to kill you. You reach for your manga again and start looking for the page you left off.
“Hey,” Atsumu calls for your attention. Shifting in his position so he could lower your manga. Your eyes lock, so you were left to stare into his warm brown eyes. Yeah, these were the eyes that scam people. “I’m just looking out for you, okay.”
You breathe in, “I know.” You relent and give him a small smile, “I kinda missed your annoying ass too,” you push two fingers on his forehead jokingly.
“My ass is also worth over five billion yen, by the way.” Atsumu gives you a full-blown smile, and you reward him with a laugh.
Unfortunately, Atsumu became one of the few people you treasured. You never would have guessed that would happen when you first met him.
Let’s go back in time for a bit.
It was your second year at Inarizaki, and you wanted to spice up your life so it wouldn’t revolve solely around your sketch pad and Procreate. Your friends had been concerned that you would graduate from high school without even experiencing a crush on a schoolmate. You kept brushing them off for that past year because you were content with fawning over fictional characters rather than real people. Until one of your friends, Momoho—who liked discovering underground bands—pulled you into watching a performance at the cultural festival by a rookie band called Ikarus or something, you couldn’t exactly remember, but half of the members of the band went to Inarizaki, which was how they were allowed to play in the first place.
That was when your gaze landed on Suna Rintarou, charismatically playing the electric guitar up on the stage, and for the first time, you thought you had developed a crush. Momoho caught you staring and gleefully told you his name. Luckily, he was one of the said band members who went to Inarizaki, apparently from Class 2-1. You noticed him more, shocker, you genuinely couldn’t be bothered by others then. Yet, you noticed him, from across the hallway, the cafeteria, or the field when you had PE class, when his class luckily had the same time slot as yours.
You were glad to have some inspiration. Some days, you find yourself sketching him from afar, which you admit is kind of creepy since he didn’t know you, but it wasn’t like he would ever find out. You had zero plans of ever taking this infatuation further than what it is—infatuation.
“Volleyball is starting,” your friend Momoho says, the white streaks on her cheek that mirror the paint on yours bunching up as she grins and pulls on your arm, “I heard a certain guitarist from Class 2-1 is playing,” she drags in a teasing tone.
“We’re playing against them?” You hadn’t checked the schedule of the games for the sports festival.
“Nah, they’re playing against Class 2-2. We lost to 2-2 earlier. Stop camping in the classroom,” she scolds you, shaking her head. Momoho pulls harder on your arm, “The twins are playing on opposite teams, so it’ll be fun to see them compete against each other.”
You relent and stand, tucking your tablet (which you were watching a show on) inside your bag, “The twins?”
“Y’know, the Miya twins, Atsumu from 2-2 and Osamu from 2-1, you-know-who’s class,” Momoho says like you were already supposed to know. The name was familiar, something you’ve heard before, probably, but couldn’t recall well. You try your hardest to remember, maybe an offhand mention from Momoho and your other friends before.
“Atsumu is Suna’s bandmate,” Momoho urges again. You shush her because she mentioned the name of your silly little crush. You look around the room to your other classmates who didn’t want to wander around, only two others aside from you.
Once you’ve recovered from your alertness, you turn back to her, “I don’t remember,” you say sheepishly.
“Ah, whatever, they’re just known around ‘cause they’re athletic and attractive. So let’s go! Fumika’s there already,” Momoho successfully pulls you along her stride.
You let yourself get dragged along. You scolded Momoho a few times for rushing down the staircase, but soon enough, you guys arrived at the main gym. It was crowded since for the sports festival, the gym floor was divided into sections, with volleyball games in the middle, basketball to the right, and badminton to the left.
There were classes surrounding the games, each shouting their cheers and wearing their custom class shirts like the ones you were wearing now. You and Momoho scuffle through the crowd watching the volleyball game to find your friend, Fumika, and other classmates.
You waved at your friends once you saw them, sitting on the hardwood floor. Their attention was captured by the game in front, so after greeting each other, they were once more cheering alongside the other people watching. You take a good look at the game yourself, and your eyes are immediately drawn to Suna Rintarou.
But wait, “Who are you guys cheering for?” you ask Fumika.
“The Miyas,” Fumika squeals when a familiar-looking grey-haired guy serves. That doesn’t make sense. Weren’t the twins on separate teams? How were they cheering them both on?
You tilt your head in confusion. You look at Momoho, and she takes your confusion as a sign to point out the said players (though that wasn’t exactly what you were confused about), “That’s them,” she points at the guy with dyed gray hair who just served on the side you were sitting on and on the other end of the court, a similar-looking guy with blonde hair. Instant recognition flashed before you. You remembered their faces but didn’t know their names. They hung out with Suna a lot.
You just nodded along, but you were also enraptured by the game, more so Suna, who skillfully played the game. You didn’t know a lot about volleyball, but you did know he looked good playing it. Hot and good reflexes? Practically your dream guy.
A whistle blows, and you watch from across as one of the Miya twins—you don’t know which one—is about to serve. It’s the blonde one. Was his name Osamu? Or Asamu? Whatever, it didn’t matter. Your eyes flit in front of you, where the grey-haired twin was in a receiving position (from what you know of). Your eyes gaze back at the blonde one. You watch as the guy tosses the ball and then hits it. Hard. Your eyes follow the ball. The grey-haired twin was in the perfect position to receive it, but no—it slid off.
Your eyes widen. It was coming at you.
You hear your friends squeal.
Then— smack.
A ball landed on your cheekbone. Pretty hard, you’d like to add.
Ouch.
“That girl got hit on the face!” An unfamiliar voice called out, likely another spectator.
Yeah, you noticed.
“Oh my god, you got hit on the face!” You hear Momoho exclaim from your side. Fumika and the others were also fussing and looming over you. Oh God, you hoped they didn’t stop the game for this. You hated getting unnecessary attention.
“Atsumu why’d you hit so hard?!” You hear a shout clearly, even though it’s loud in the gymnasium. Or was that the ringing in your head?
“Why do you suck at receiving?!” Another voice replied.
You think you were feeling lightheaded, your head hung low. Who would smack a ball that hard at a sports fest? Someone with monster strength? No one needs to be that competitive during a sports fest. There was still a slight ringing in your ear. You raised your arm to massage your face to ease the pain. It was not working.
“Sorry ‘bout that. You good?” Someone was standing in front of you. Someone male. You didn’t know who. Only their shoes were in your field of vision.
You were in the process of nodding—you think. When something drips onto your lap. Blood. Your nose was bleeding.
“Oh my god, your nose is bleeding!” Momoho exclaims from your side again. You loved your friend, you do, but the exclamation entered in your ear and is bouncing off the walls of your brain, aka it hurt.
You look up at her, “I’m fine.” You don’t think you look convincing right now, with blood running down your nose.
“Oh shit.” The person in front of you exclaimed. That was when you finally looked at the guy. You blink. It was one of the Miya twins, the blonde one.
“Are you alright?” A teacher stepped in. “Oh dear,” he said when he saw you. He fumbled with his pockets and handed you a handkerchief that you took with gratitude. You press the cloth to your face.
“I’m alright,” you try to say. Then, finally attempting to stand up, from your side, Momoho supports you. “I’ll just go to the infirmary.” Acting too casual about this.
“I can come with you,” Momoho volunteers, but then the teacher speaks over her.
“Miya, take Miss—sorry, what’s your name, dear?” The teacher turned his attention to you.
You say your name, distractedly, focusing all too hard on not looking around you. This was so embarrassing. You look at the blonde Miya, who was sheepishly scratching the back of his head.
“Take her to the clinic, Miya,” the teacher says to the blonde, scratching his head. He was probably the blonde Miya’s class advisor.
The blonde Miya looks back at the game regrettably. You don’t think he wants to leave, but they were already starting up again without him. He sighs, then looks at you, “Okay.”
You feel your eye twitch. Was it just you being overtly sensitive right now, or was that kind of rude? You look at Momoho, who has her eyes wide, looking curiously at the blonde and then back at you. You did not want to know what was going through her head.
With nothing to say, you just bow to the teacher, then tell your friends you’ll see them later. You still have the now-damp cloth clutched to your face. You turn on your heels and start walking towards the exit. You need a change of clothes too. Some blood dripped onto your shorts.
“Hey. Sorry for that again.” A male says beside you. You almost jump, forgetting that the blonde Miya was following you.
“It’s alright,” you nod. Then try to walk faster, he still kept up to pace with you. He was Suna’s friend, but you knew nothing about him, and your social skills were trash. This was killing you. The Miya dude wasn’t keen on making conversation either. Complete silence it is.
“You can go back to your game,” you say, halfway through your trek to the clinic. This wasn’t such a bad situation to be in. Air conditioning and a nice bed would greet you. Yeah, beats watching people smack a ball.
“Really?” the Miya guy says, not against the idea.
Your eye twitches again. You don’t like this guy, you think. His vibes were off. You nod, taking one last look at him. You hoped your annoyance wasn’t obvious. It’s not like he had any obligation to you. It was just an accident.
“Okay, see ya,” he gives a sleazy smile, stopping in his tracks, and waving before running back.
You stop and look in his direction. You don’t know what to make of him. That was definitely rude.
“And he just left you?” Momoho whisper-shouts when you tell her about what happened a week later during lunch break. You were lining up for food in the cafeteria when she asked about what happened last week when you went to the infirmary, since you just went home early after you got cleared and sent a quick message in your group chat saying you were all good.
You shrug, “He didn’t really have to come with me anyway. I was fine on my own—I want that, please,” you say while pointing at the cafeteria lady to the soup you wanted.
“Still, the gentlemanly thing to do would be to stick with you until you get to the clinic, at least. What if you passed out? This knocks down Atsumu’s attractive points, tsk,” Momoho scowls.
That was one more thing, you finally learned his name. Not Osamu or Asumu. Atsumu. Osamu was the grey-haired one.
You shrug then pulled out your wallet to pay for your food, “No harm done.” You thank the cafeteria lady when she hands you your food.
“Would you be able to tolerate him once you date you-know-who?” Momoho wiggles her brows at you before paying for her own meal.
“I’m not going to date anyone,” you glare at her for the obvious teasing.
You turn around, holding your tray, and collide with another person. “Ah!” you exclaim, trying to save your soup, but it was too late. Half of the soup soaked into the shirt of the person you collided with. Why were you such a social disaster? “I’m so sorry–”
“Ah, shit,” your victim had reached to touch the now-wet patch of his uniform.
You looked up and were met with the familiar warm brown hues. Just your luck, it was Miya Atsumu.
“Just your lucky day, dude,” the guy beside him laughed. You turn your gaze and realize late that it was Suna Rintarou of all people. This was the closest you’ve ever been to him. Of course, it would be when you were least prepared (not like you were preparing to approach him or what, but still).
You turn your gaze back to Atsumu, who had his eyes squinted in annoyance at you, “Watch out next time, would you?” He didn’t seem to recognized you.
“Sorry,” you said meekly. In situations like these, it would be better to back down quietly and move on.
“Hey, you look familiar,” a new voice says, pointing at you. It was Osamu. Oh dear. “You’re the nosebleed girl!” Osamu laughed, then stopped himself, “Wait, sorry that wasn’t funny. I’m laughing at Atsumu. This is totally his karma, thanks.”
You purse your lips at the reminder.
“Ah,” Atsumu squints his eyes at you, for a different reason now, trying to remember you.
“Sorry again,” you bow your head and kick Momoho’s leg lightly as a silent way to tell her you guys should go. She was just quietly gawking at the situation. You think it’s best to look ahead and get as far away as you can.
Once you guys got far enough and found a table of your own, Momoho looks over your shoulder as she says, “Is it just me or Miya Atsumu looked back at you?”
“No. You’re seeing things,” you settle down in your seat.
Your encounters with Miya Atsumu for the next weeks kept happening—well, you wouldn’t exactly call it “encounters” since it was just seconds of your day that he happened to be present in and lock eyes with you. Oddly. You keep bumping into him on the staircase. Once, even crossed paths while trying to buy boxed juice in the vending machine. Even in the teacher’s lounge, when you submitted your classmates’ coursework for English Communication II as the beadle for the said subject, Atsumu was in the middle of talking to your teacher.
You don’t know what to think of it. You don’t even know if Atsumu notices that this kept happening.
You shake your head. Must just be a coincidence, your mind’s just making you lean more into it, which was why it seems so prominent in your point of view. Yeah, that makes more sense.
You were sitting outside your classroom, sitting on the bench. You were feeling stuffy inside, and you didn’t want to go to the cafeteria for lunch break, so you decided to just stay and draw.
Loud chatter was heard from the staircase. Your eyes widened when you saw it was Suna Rintarou’s group, including Miya Atsumu. You were reminded of your unfinished drawing of Suna in your sketchbook, so you turn to the page you left off. Maybe this was the chance for you to finish it while you were here. Ah, you couldn’t see him properly from your sitting position, though. You stand and lean on one of the walls. Now you had the perfect view of him, but you still had to be subtle.
The first few minutes were fine, quite calming actually, and then you heard fighting from the staircase, so you looked over to see that the Miya Twins were having an argument. You couldn’t hear them clearly, but it was about…feet sizes? That could only explain why they were missing one of their shoes. Suna had his phone out and filmed as Osamu took Atsumu’s shoe off the floor and threw it across the hallway. You watch as the said shoe lands near you.
Atsumu cursed Osamu and ran after his shoe. He was stumbling across the way, and you weren’t prepared as his shoulders bumped into you. The impact made you drop your sketch book—just as Atsumu bends down to pick up his shoe.
Your eyes widen as you kneel to get your sketch book, blatantly displaying your drawing of Suna, but Atsumu’s eyes were faster.
He looks at the drawing well. The image of his friend is clear and well-drawn. Then at you. “Hey, isn’t this S—” you panic and cover his mouth with your hand and shake your head furiously, eyes wide with warning.
Once you were sure he wasn’t going to continue his sentence, you let go of him and quickly picked up and closed your sketch book.
“So you have emotions after all.” Atsumu still hadn’t left.
“Excuse me?” You stand up and look at the blonde with your brows raised.
“Your face is usually always like this,” Atsumu imitates your supposed usual expression, akin to the stoic emoji, “When I see you.”
Your brows furrow. Acknowledgement of the fact that he recognises you aside, this was strangely ticking you off.
“Hey—Uh, I actually forgot your name.” Atsumu continues to talk.
“Me too. Who are you again?” you pretend not to remember his name.
“Atsumu, how about you?” he just grins. Finding the situation amusing. You don’t think he believes you don’t know his name. “You’ve spilt soup on my shirt, and I’ve made your nose bleed, I think I deserve to know your name.”
You tell him your name, finding no reason not to, “Can you, uh, not mention that?”
“What?” Atsumu says, “That you spilt soup on my shirt or your crush on Su—”
Your eyes widen again, and you slap a hand to his face, “Stop!” You glance to the side, where his friends were, and there, they were already staring at you two. You don’t think they can hear your conversation from here, but still.
Atsumu grabs your wrist to take your hand off his mouth, then proceeds to say the most baffling words ever, “And here I thought you liked me.”
“Excuse me?” You look at him with offence.
“You kept looking at me whenever we’re at the same area.” Atsumu points to himself while putting on his shoe.
“No, I do not.” You cross your arms, hugging your sketch book close to you.
“I’m pretty sure you did.” Atsumu self-assuredly looked down at you.
“I was looking beside you.” You cock your head to the side, to his friends’ direction.
“I know that now. But really? You have bad taste.” Atsumu takes a quick once-over at his friends who were looking at him. He only put out a hand, signaling to wait on him. His previous annoyance with Osamu dissipated.
“And liking you would mean I have exquisite taste?” You bite the inside of your cheek.
“Sure.” He gives you an infuriating grin.
“We don’t know each other. Let’s not.” You sigh.
“I know your name. You know mine. Seems like we know each other.” You think Atsumu was just being a menace on purpose.
“Your friends are waiting.” Please leave me alone. You were already very embarrassed.
“Hm. I’ll go then,” Atsumu flashed you one last teasing grin like you two shared a secret. Oh, you hoped with every fibre of your being that he would keep your crush on Suna a secret. You hope he would forget about you entirely.
Yet, since then, Miya Atsumu has never forgotten you again. But you didn’t know that.
You managed to survive the rest of your second year without any big alterations to your routine, and most importantly, no revealing of your embarrassing crush on Suna Rintarou. There was only one weird thing. Miya Atsumu kept waving at you whenever you saw each other. It shouldn’t be weird. It was normal human interaction. But even Momoho noticed it and asked when you got “friendly” with Miya Atsumu, which you answered with the truth—never.
In your third year and final semester in Inarizaki, you were faced with a responsibility, to Miya Atsumu of all people.
You were still the beadle for your English Communication class in your third year, so while you were dropping off your class work, your teacher stopped you.
“Here’s who I was talking about. She’s great in this subject. Dear, would you mind helping someone review for the college entrance exams?” she said. Your eyes lock with Miya Atsumu, standing in front of the teacher, who gives you a raised brow. “This is Miya Atsumu.”
“We know each other,” you say. Placing the papers you brought on her desk.
The teacher’s eyes brightened, clapping as she said, “Really? That’s great then! Would you mind sparing some time helping him review?”
“I…” you were about to say no. You were. And then you meet eyes with Atsumu again.
“She would love to!” Atsumu answers for you, looking at you expectantly. The teacher looked at him weirdly, then back to you for confirmation. You only sighed and nodded.
Thus began your weekly study sessions with Miya Atsumu. You had no idea why your life kept trying to tangle with Miya Atsumu, and you have no idea why you keep letting it happen. To be completely fair to him, he actually listened to you when you were teaching, but whenever you guys had breaks, he would drift off topic.
“Can you draw me?” Atsumu strikes a pose. Head tucked in the crevice of his palm, his elbow leaned on the table. His dyed blonde hair fell over his eyes, and you were itching to pull it aside for him. How was he not bothered by something blocking his field of vision? It was none of your business, though.
“Top five things I hear the most.” You roll your eyes playfully. He was a sight to see. You can acknowledge someone’s attractiveness without being attracted to him. As you and other people around you have observed, Miya Atsumu’s face was an asset.
“Top one must be how grumpy you are,” he exasperatedly raises his free hand to poke your cheek repeatedly.
You catch his hand and pull it away from your face, placing it firmly on the table with a light slap. “Wrong. Top one is how talented I am, actually.”
“You drew Suna, and you don’t even know him.” Atsumu breaks his previous pose to stretch, letting out a yawn. You look behind him, out the window, the sun was setting, it was late afternoon. You guys still had material to review.
You reply unconsciously, “That’s because he has a pretty face—don’t tell him I said that, please.” You don’t think you even have a crush on that guy anymore. You don’t know, it just faded. You didn’t really know him enough for it to last.
“I’m prettier than him, though.” Atsumu jokingly bats his lashes at you.
You stifle a laugh, “Says who?”
“Says me. I just said it.” Atsumu gives you a ‘duh’ look.
“Invalid.” You shake your head, and you reach out a hand to grab a pencil.
“Draw me with your talented hands, would ya?” He grasps your hand, making you drop your pencil. That’s when you actually freeze. He realizes his mistake but smoothly lets go of your hand to run it through his hair. “Anyways, thanks for teaching me again.”
You shake it off, too. “It’s no problem,” you start collecting your used papers to place them on the side. You open your bag to place the stack in it.
“Oh, what’s this?” Atsumu points out the chocolates peeking from the pocket of your bag. It was chocolate cubes Momoho gave you and said to give them to someone on Valentine's Day, trying to push you to get yourself out there.
“Ah, just chocolates. My friend said I should give it to a boy because Valentine’s Day is coming up.” You pull them out, maybe Atsumu pointed it out because he was hungry. You guys have been studying for two hours non-stop.
“Will you?” Atsumu asks. Looking at the bag of chocolates you put on the desk like it was an interesting specimen.
“Will I what?” You pick up your pencil again and grab your custom-made syllabus. You were putting a lot of effort into this. But at least tutoring him helped you study for the exams too.
“Give it to a boy?” Atsumu continues to ask.
You immediately shake your head, “No. You can have some if you want.” You think he was trying to gauge if he can open it or not. But why else would you pull it out of your bag if you weren’t intending to give him some?
Atsumu opens the bag, reaches for one of the chocolate cubes and takes a bite, “Too sweet.” He says but proceeds to eat the rest of it after.
“Really?” you turn your head towards him. You were taken aback, when did his face get so close? He was leaning onto your side.
“Here,” Atsumu reaches for one inside the bag and casually plops it between your lips, hesitatingly opening your mouth, the sweetness fills your senses, “How’s it, sweets?” Atsumu’s fingers lingered against your lips a second too long.
Which was exactly why you froze again, not expecting Atsumu’s actions. You took a second to remember how to chew. The cocoa was definitely too sweet. It made your teeth ache, “Too sweet.”
“Told ‘ya,” Atsumu cleared his throat, leaning back. “Hey, my band got a gig this weekend. Do you want to come? You can see your crush.”
“I don’t have a crush on Suna anymore.” You admit.
“Oh.” Atsumu looked like he was thinking, “Then you should come watch me.”
“Uh, I’ll think about it.” You were still a little dazed from what happened just a minute ago. Your heart was beating traitorously fast. But it didn’t mean anything, for sure, you just weren’t used to being around the opposite gender, yeah.
“I’ll text you the details.” Atsumu was playing with a pen.
“Okay, let’s go back to studying.” You reach to open your book.
You came that weekend anyway. You arrived when they were already playing, so you swiftly blended in with the crowd. You came alone and didn’t know anyone else here, since you weren’t a frequent socializer. The last time you properly watched his band—Ikarus, you remember the name clearly now—was over a year ago. You knew Atsumu played the drums. What you didn’t know was how good he looked playing them. Darn, you can’t think his face was the only thing saving him anymore. You look at his other bandmates, and you hadn’t even noticed Suna Rintarou first. Well, you’re kind of friends with Atsumu now, so it makes sense that you notice him first.
When his band’s set finished. You attempted to leave, you took a picture of yourself being here and sent it to him earlier, he’d probably see it later. But then your eyes meet his from across the room, and he slanted a casual grin as he approached you.
“What’d you think?” he crosses to your side in an instant, ignoring his friend’s call. You don’t remember who he was, it was the main singer.
“You guys play well,” you tell him the truth. “Are you guys planning on taking this seriously?”
“Yeah, we’ve got an agent and everything. Root for me, okay?” Atsumu scratched the back of his head.
“Uhm, shouldn’t you be saying I should root for all of you?” You cross your arms.
“Same thing.” Atsumu shrugs.
“Then, I’m rooting for you, ‘Tsum.” You roll your eyes.
“‘Tsum, huh? I like that, sweets.” This was a new nickname. You think you heard it when you were studying, but then you thought you were hearing things.
“Sweets? I’m not sweet.” Your brows furrow. Your usual reaction to him.
“Yes, you are sweet, sweets.” He ruffles your head, messing up your hair as you scowl up at him.
Despite the developed closeness with Miya Atsumu, you thought it was going to be a temporary thing. Since you would be separated once you went to university. Your study sessions finished, exams rolled around, and graduation came swooping like a tornado. The day was the usual laughs, pictures with friends, cries of joy and sadness alike. You and Atsumu only waved at each other from across the field.
You and Atsumu hadn’t talked during that summer either. You had no reason to. Even if you guys were to end up in the same university, it was unlikely you would cross paths if you were in different majors. He might not even talk to you then because you would just be some girl from his high school.
You should really stop jinxing yourself.
It was your first day in your required general elective philosophy class. It was a large class size, so you sat by instinct next to a nice-looking girl. Fumika and Momoho, who attend the same university, said you should try to make new friends once the school year begins. You cleared your throat and turned to the girl. You started by saying your name, “I’m a first year. What’s your name?”
The nice-looking girl smiled at you and said, “I’m Yaoki. I’m also a first-year.” There was a beat of silence, and you thought your socializing had failed when she turned to the front, but she surprised you by throwing you a bone, “Did you read the prof’s reviews online? Do you think it’s true that he decides the final grades with a wheel?”
You smile, “I hope not. I guess we’re about to find out. What’s your major?” You internally cringe at your rehearsed lines.
Yaoki graciously answered your question, and you proceeded to have a casual conversation about your interests. This was it: you were making a friend. That was when a familiar silhouette entered the room, blonde head of hair a shade lighter, but there was no mistaking it—the man who walked in was Miya Atsumu. Looking as sharp as ever, and you weren’t the only one who noticed.
“Whoa, that guy’s cute,” Yaoki says under her breath. You both watch as Atsumu has his what you could only call resting bitch-face on, as he stares down another guy in his path to what you think are the third-row seats. Probably unintentionally, if you could guess, the only thing on Atsumu’s mind must have been how he should have stayed in bed longer. He hasn’t looked up, hasn’t seen you. That was only a given. “He looks mean, though,” Yaoki says. You only chuckled.
Of course, Miya Atsumu ended up going to the same university as you. You studied together, you knew he was fully capable. And of course, fate made it so you would end up in the same philosophy class out of maybe the thirty other freshman classes for this subject. Wait—why were you bringing fate into this? Irrelevant. Highly irrelevant. It was just a coincidence.
The professor walked in, and class officially began, but you find your eyes constantly drifting toward the third row. It was after four philosophy classes that Atsumu finally noticed you.
You were running a bit late, still before class started, but later than your usual time. You were trying to regulate your breathing, panting when you entered the hall. Your eyes immediately narrowed to where Yaoki sat, so you could sit next to her like usual. You were on your way up the platform when someone grasped the sleeve of your sweatshirt.
“Hey.” You look up at Atsumu, who had his brows furrowed, “I didn’t know we were classmates,” he continued.
Still out of breath from your trek from the dorms to the building, you forget your words for a moment, shaking your head, “Oh, Tsum. Hi, it’s been a while.”
“Where do you usually sit?” Atsumu asks casually, still holding onto your sleeve.
“Uhm, there,” you point out at the back. “I usually get here earlier.”
“Then did you know I was here?” Atsumu asks, tone kind of disappointed. Oops. Now you felt sorry.
“Uh…” you felt dumb, pursing your lips, “Yeah, sorry, I didn’t know how to approach you,” your shoulders slumped, giving up and confessing.
Atsumu’s face was unreadable. “It’s easy. You should’ve come up to me and said, ‘Oh, Tsum! So glad we’re classmates, I missed you over summer break! Come sit next to me!’” Atsumu imitated you. Was that how you sounded to him?
You glare at Atsumu, “I don’t sound like that.”
Atsumu grins at you, “Yes, you do.” He looks over your shoulder, “C’mon, lead the way, the prof’s here.” You begrudgingly led him to where you sat, and he introduced himself to Yaoki as your most good-looking friend. Very contrary to his first impression with his resting bitch-face on.
University life with Atsumu was very eventful, since wherever Atsumu went, something always happened. It was unexpected, since Atsumu was actually quite reserved, but he was a go-getter. Every opportunity he has, he makes something out of it (it helps because opportunities seem to fall on his lap). You don’t know how he juggles all of it. He’s still very intently focused on his band, too. He invites you to their performances when they have them. Aside from that, he keeps getting noticed because of his face.
“Lucky you, I got you a copy,” Atsumu slaps down the university pamphlet on the table. You two were having lunch in the foyer.
You pick up the university pamphlet that has Atsumu’s smiling face on it. He was asked to model for the university pamphlet when he was just walking to class. It really was that face. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
“Keep it. Frame it. Pass it down to your children,” Atsumu takes a sip of his expensive coffee. You sneer at him. “That,” he pointed at you, making you lean back, “That’s the exact same face my sister made when I showed her that.”
Your brows furrow at that new tidbit about him, “You have a sister?” You only knew of his twin brother, Osamu, who was nice and waved at you when you saw him across campus.
“Yeah, four years younger. She goes to Itachiyama for Junior High, it’s her final year.” Atsumu shrugs casually like this was information you were already supposed to know.
“I didn’t know you had a sister.” You place your arms over the table. You take the pamphlet and look inside. There were pictures of Atsumu fake-laughing with a group of people.
“She went to our graduation,” Atsumu said pointedly.
“I didn’t notice,” You shrug.
“You don’t notice a lot of things, sweets,” Atsumu says. He didn’t mean to say it demeaningly, you know, but his tone of voice sounded like mockery.
You swat at the air, and rolled your eyes, “Wow. So sorry, I don’t know everything about you.”
“You should be. I know everything about you.” Atsumu says. That wasn’t true, could it? You had talked a lot. You couldn’t remember what you said after it comes out of your mouth half the time.
“No, you don’t.” You say still, to prove a point.
“Yes, I do. Try me.” Atsumu cocks a brow. You don’t know where he got his confidence.
“What did I have for breakfast this morning?” You ask a trick question deliberately just to be sure. You were waiting for him to whine that your question was unfair.
“Bread with peanut butter,” Atsumu says immediately.
Your brows furrow. You did indeed have bread with peanut butter this morning. “That was a lucky guess. It’s a common breakfast.”
“No. You complained you ran out of eggs last night, and I went to your dorm the other day and checked your fridge for things I could munch on. All you had was bread, peanut butter, crackers, and pasta packs. Then I ate your last crackers. And you don’t like eating heavy carbs in the morning, you said it makes you feel bloated,” Atsumu just says, he had a smug look on his face.
“Whatever,” you close the pamphlet and stuff it in your bag. Atsumu’s grinning face on the cover felt like additional teasing. You don’t know what to feel about Atsumu remembering things you’ve said in passing. You accept defeat this time.
“Anyways, I’ve been going to the gym and tracking my calories. You think there’s been progress?” Then Atsumu started flexing his muscles in front of you. You do notice that he’s been a bit bulkier. Your eyes track the flex of his biceps. He was feeling himself too much.
“Okay, ‘Tsum. Keep your shirt on,” you shake your head, he laughs, “You look good though,” you give him an unexpected compliment. But he always looked good. That was a given.
It was just stating an observation for you, but Atsumu grins, “Do you want to feel them?” pertaining to his muscles.
You deadpan, “Do I look like I want to do that?”
“Hey, I was giving you grace.” Atsumu shrugs, shameless.
“Aren’t you going out with someone?” you ask, remembering that Atsumu took a girl from his economics class on a date last week, you forgot to ask how it went.
“Nah, it didn’t work out.” Atsumu was a natural charmer if he wanted to be. And usually, he didn’t want to be. He wasn’t against putting himself out there, so he went out with people from time to time, but he’s never been in a serious relationship.
You just remembered, “I’m going on a date tomorrow,” you say.
Atsumu froze, blinking, before giving you a smile, “Who’s the guy who caught your very, very selective attention?” It was a true observation. Your last crush was Suna Rintarou, and that was two years ago. You’ve found people attractive since then, but you were always too busy to give it a shot.
“Fumika introduced him to me,” you don’t add that it was after asking you when you planned on officially dating Atsumu. Which you called her off on, you and Atsumu were strictly good friends. “I’m officially meeting him tomorrow.”
“So it’s a blind date?” Atsumu probes.
“Not technically,” you swirl your coffee, “I know his face. He knows mine. Fumika said he asked about me, she’s in the same major as him and saw me with Fumika a while ago. Asked her to introduce him to me.”
Atsumu scoffs, “Then he had no balls to approach you on his own.” He rolled his eyes. What’s with him? “Send me your location when you go out. You still don’t know him. It’s not safe.”
“You’re being overprotective, brother Tsum,” you laughed while drinking your coffee. You watch as his face contorts, and he provides his reasons. The rest of that day went nicely.
Your date actually goes well, and you go on several more with the same guy after that. You think you liked him, his name was Ennoshita, and you think you had good chemistry. You liked the same songs, shared the same taste in food, and agreed on the same things. It wasn’t long before he officially asked you to be his girlfriend, and you agreed.
Ennoshita was waiting for you on the couch while you prepared the popcorn. You were staying over at his unit. You planned to have a movie night.
“Babe, your friend Atsumu…” He called out to you.
“What about ‘Tsum?” You asked, lifting the bowl and making your trek to him on the couch, snuggling next to him as you reach for the remote.
“I don’t think he likes me.” Ennoshita scratches his nape.
You laugh, “He just looks like he doesn’t like people. He has a resting bitch-face.”
“No, I don’t think it’s just that. You didn’t see, but I think he was giving me a stink eye.” He actually looked concerned. You introduced him to Atsumu earlier today, at a mini get-together with other college friends.
You laugh harder, “He’ll get over it. You’re my boyfriend. He’s one of my best friends. He has to.”
“You sure he doesn’t like you romantically? Or you’ve never liked him? He’s good-looking, and he plays in a band. You’re around a guy like that a lot.” You ponder it. That was all true. But at this point, you don’t think Atsumu possesses a libido for you, and you didn’t see Atsumu in that way.
“Are you jealous, Chi?” you tease your boyfriend instead.
“I… kinda…” your boyfriend admits.
“Do you want me to distance myself from ‘Tsum? I’m sure he’d understand.” You say, offering him a kind smile.
He ponders it for a bit, “I think that would be best, yeah,” Ennoshita nods and gives you a brief peck on the lips.
You started declining Atsumu’s invitations to go out more often since then. You had told him the reason: your boyfriend found it weird that you would go out one-on-one with another guy often. You still went out with Atsumu bi-monthly, not as frequently as before, because it’s not like your boyfriend was controlling your life. You just wanted to respect him.
It all came to an end nine months later, when Ennoshita cradled your face and told you he loved you. Your throat went dry, and you couldn’t bring yourself to say the same words back. You broke up with Ennoshita three days later.
You called Atsumu that night, and he picked up after the first ring. “I think I’m heartless.”
“That’s not true, sweets. Why would you think that?” Atsumu’s voice was groggy, which makes you think he just woke up.
“I broke up with Chikara because he said he loved me and I couldn’t say it back,” you admit.
“Oh.” Was the only thing Atsumu responded with. After a few seconds of silence, he continued, “It’s not your fault you don’t feel the same way. That doesn’t make you heartless. It was good that you broke up with him when you realized it. You didn’t lead him on or lie.” The world was officially ending. Atsumu made sense. “Are you alright?”
“I’m okay. I think. A little sad. But okay.” You say, breathing heavily.
“Get ready. I’ll pick you up in an hour.” Atsumu says. You look at the clock, it’s seven in the evening. It wasn’t odd for him to suddenly tell you to get ready, when you hung out before, sometimes he would just say he was waiting in your lobby.
“Where are we going?” You think your dorm felt too stuffy. You needed to get out. You stand up from your bed to open your closet.
“Getting a beer, or some steak, what do you prefer?”
“Beer.” You say, uncharacteristically. You needed something intense to make you feel sane.
Atsumu arrived on the dot, an hour later, having walked to your dorm from his across the campus. You had drunk a lot that night, more than you ever had before. And Atsumu just let you do whatever you want. You leaned on his shoulder later that night, the alcohol settling in nicely and making you delirious, “You’re so good to me, ‘Tsum. Even though you’re such a bitch to everyone else.” You exaggerate that last part a bit. He was just okay, but when he was cranky, he was cranky.
“You didn’t need to add that last part,” Atsumu says, he pats your head, still leaning on his shoulder. “But of course, it’s you, sweets.”
You suck in a breath, you think the cold air just gave you chills, “What did I ever do?”
“Lots of things. Spilt soup on my shirt. Stepped on my foot. Degraded me a lot.” Atsumu seems like he was still thinking to add to the list of things you’ve done to him.
You think that sobered you up, “Be serious.”
“You’re just you.” Atsumu hums.
Ennoshita’s words months ago spring up in your head. You sure he doesn’t like you romantically? Why was that in your head? You shake it off. But was he right? Did Atsumu have feelings for you? Surely not.
You lift your head from its rest on Atsumu’s comfortable shoulder. And you see him. You see him clearly, even with the trashy lamp light of the 7-Eleven you guys chose to drink in front of. His blonde hair was messy, his eyes bleary, but he had a soft smile on his face. You notice his jaw was more defined, his features more mature. How had you never noticed before?
“You’re gonna make me melt if you keep staring at me, sweets.” Atsumu snaps you out of your trance. You’re surprised he didn’t follow that up with teasing about how you found him attractive.
You scoff, then you tell him about a presentation you have and how horrible your groupmates were, and he shared that his band had a really promising record label contact them, and he thinks they’re getting signed soon. Casual conversation was always easy with Atsumu. It was nice. It was always nice being with him.
When he took you home, you went up to your dorm and took a warm bath. You would usually crash into your bed right after, but you found yourself digging up your sketch pad. It had been almost a year since you last did anything resembling art, you got burnt out. But that night, you found yourself sketching the image of Atsumu outside that 7-Eleven that lingered in your mind.
You started drawing frequently again, but this time you were drawing full-length stories. It definitely took a lot of your time. But it was so much fun. You were in the middle of drafting panels when your phone started ringing. You looked over to see Momoho’s name flashing. You put your stylus down and picked it up, “Hey.”
“Have you seen?”
“Seen what?”
“Atsumu and Suna’s band, Ikarus, are blowing up.”
Your eyes widen. They released their first single a couple of months ago, and they were slowly gaining popularity. Atsumu excitedly told you to wait for the release so you could watch it the moment it was out there. The both of you had celebrated with tacos that weekend after. You open your social media accounts and find their band in the trending section. You go on YouTube and see that their music video had reached ten million views. You gape.
“I’ve gotta go.” You tell Momoho hurriedly, then scroll through your contacts to call Atsumu. He answered after two rings.
“Congrats!” You say, smiling, “Your song is trending!” You were so happy that it would seem like you were part of the band.
“What?” Atsumu seemed as shocked as you. He was on vacation with his family right now. In a different time zone. You forgot, you checked the clock, it was two in the morning where he was right now. Before you could say sorry, your eardrums were met with a very excited “Holy shit!” a few seconds in.
Forget about the timezone. “I know!” you exclaim in delight, “Congrats! You guys deserve it!” you say again. You knew how much effort he and the guys had put in, even though you weren’t particularly close with the others.
After that, Atsumu’s career had taken off. Both of you were graduating soon. Atsumu was already living on his own without support from his parents because of his band. Naturally, he got busy, but somehow, he always made time to hang out with you.
Before you knew it, though, you started seeing his face everywhere, like in the subways, billboards, and online articles about rising artists. Out in a café, you overhear his name being fawned over by some teens. Atsumu became a star. It was weird to see your friend as a celebrity, but you know, he always seemed like the type. It was only natural. Expected.
University graduation came, and it was the usual smiles and celebration after four years of effort. You were with your friends, old and new, and unlike your high school graduation, Atsumu stood beside you. Atsumu surprised you with a bouquet of your favourite flowers as a congratulations gift. Momoho saw and gave you a look that you ignored. It was clearly a platonic gift, you basically just exchanged when you handed him a gift of your own.
“What’s this?” Atsumu looked shocked, not expecting anything from you.
“Check inside,” you say before clearing your throat, containing your excitement, “It’s nothing much.”
Atsumu opened the black paper bag. You know he would find a finished copy of your drawing of him that night in front of the 7-Eleven, with your signature at the bottom right. Atsumu gapes, “You drew me?”
“Yeah,” you murmur, now embarrassed, as you look at the ground.
Then suddenly, Atsumu wraps you up in a tight hug, as much as he could with the bouquet he gifted you snugged tightly to your chest, “Thank you.” He says with such warmth, you feel your cheeks flush.
“It’s nothing much,” you say, still a bit embarrassed. It shouldn’t be much at all since he could literally afford anything he wanted now.
“Would I look self-centered if I hung this up in my living room?” Atsumu asks, arms still wrapped around your shoulders, tucking you to his chest in front of all your friends.
“Definitely.” You answered, giving in to a small smile.
“I’m hanging it up anyway.” Atsumu shocks you by placing a small kiss on your temple.
Your chest was beating unbelievably fast. Maybe it was the dopamine.
The first big fight you had with Atsumu happened a week after his birthday, the one after graduation. You made plans to celebrate his birthday on a different weekend because you were both busy during the actual week. You, with your job as an editor at a big manga publishing company, and Atsumu, with his rehearsals and modeling partnerships. He had a tour coming up, it was going to be big, and he was going to be traveling around the world. Before that happened, you wanted to spend time with him.
You were preparing well to hang out with him. You and Atsumu texted and called frequently, but it’s been a while since you saw each other in person, and frankly, you were tired of only seeing his face in mall posters.
You took official leave from work and planned a nice day for the two of you. You woke up early to make yourself some breakfast and to have plenty of time to get ready. He was supposed to pick you up from your apartment by ten in the morning.
You frown at the clock. It was 10:05, and there wasn’t even a text from him. You sent him a message.
you
10:05 AM
Are you on your way?
Atsumu replies ten minutes later.
atsushit
10:15 AM
shit was that today?
Your stomach dropped at his message. He forgot. You were looking forward to today.
atsushit
10:16 AM
i forgot
sorry
can we reschedule?
Your nose flared at his last message. Does he think you had as much control over your time as he did?
you
10:17 AM
I can’t just reschedule, Atsumu
I have work
atsushit
10:17 AM
i have a shoot today
You understood that, you did, but you had explicitly made plans for today over a month ago. How could he just forget and expect you to adjust to him? You knew Atsumu could get caught up sometimes with whatever he’s occupied with, but he always made time for you. You got used to it.
you
10:18 AM
Then I guess we’re not meeting.
You regret it after you send it.
atsushit
10:20 AM
why are you mad?
You felt a tick on your forehead.
you
10:20 AM
Why am I mad? Are you really asking me that?
We made plans a while ago and you forgot
I got ready waiting for you and you forgot
atsushit
10:21 AM
i’m busy okay
you know that
sorry
His reply felt so insensitive. It hurt your feelings that he forgot. He’s making it seem like your time with him was insignificant.
you
10:21 AM
I’m busy too and I still made time for you
Glad to know you don’t care
atsushit
10:22 AM
it’s not like that
of course i care
you of all people should know that
But you didn’t feel that way. You were too angry to respond. You put your phone down and decided to change out of your going-out clothes—you were even wearing the new clothes you were saving up for an occasion, what a waste. You understood that he was busy, but he really hurt your feelings.
Your phone vibrated, you turned it over to see Atsumu’s contact name flashing. You reject the call. You open your screen to a series of messages from him.
atsushit
10:23 AM
sweets?
10:25 AM
are you really that mad?
i’m sorry i forgot
10:30 AM
i can’t cancel my shoot
10:32 AM
could you pls not be so difficult?
You feel your anger rise with his last message. Your phone flashes with another call from him, but you immediately reject the call and even take the time to block his contact. You were fueled with fury. You knew that, but you let your emotions take control of you anyway. You hated feeling insignificant to a person you cared about.
You tell Momoho about what happened two weeks later. You and Atsumu were still not on speaking terms, but you unblocked him after three days. No new messages from him came after that. You still expected him to reach out after you ignored him, unreasonable, yes, but you just wanted to see him care.
“You know you guys fought like a couple, right?” Momoho said through the line. You freeze mid-pouring your nightly tea.
It was that terrifying connotation that made you want to make amends with Atsumu. Before you could do that, a message from the devil himself came in. It was as if he knew you were talking about him.
atsushit
7:03 PM
i’m sick of this ignoring game, sweets
i’m sorry :(
miss u :(
can we talk?
“Uh, he’s texting me,” you tell Momoho through the call, effectively ignoring her jab.
“Well, you'd better reply to loverboy then,” Momoho says in a sing-song voice.
“I told you it’s not like that,” you complain as you stir honey inside your tea. Momoho takes it in good faith and ends the call, telling you to meet up with her soon.
As soon as your call with Momoho ended, you were bombarded with another one. It was Atsumu. Your heart swelled. It wasn’t like you hadn’t gone long before contacting Atsumu in the past, but this time it was different. You were actively not cool with each other. You don’t think you like this feeling.
You took a deep breath before answering the call. Hesitantly placed the phone against your ear, “Hello?” you managed to let out.
You hear a groan from the other end, “Finally. I hate fighting with you, sweets.” Atsumu’s familiar voice settled in your nervous system.
“I’m sorry for being difficult,” you murmured, clinking the spoon you used to stir your tea on the cup.
“No, I’m sorry for forgetting about our plans.” Atsumu seemed breathless. “Can you go to your balcony for me?” Atsumu says.
Your forehead scrunches, “Why?” You look at your balcony. The apartment you were renting right now was in the suburbs, two stories tall, with the upper floor all yours. It gave you a cozy space and was only one train ride away from work.
“I’m outside.” Atsumu’s words took a second before registering in your brain. Eyes wide, you rush to your balcony and open the glass doors. You look down, and there he was, sporting a weary smile, as if he didn’t know if he was allowed to give you a full grin, leaning against his car with his phone raised to his ear.
“Why are you here?” You asked through the phone, speechless. That was probably a dumb question. He came all the way here for you.
“I brought you some chicken,” Atsumu raises the paper bag he was holding. “I even have some Onigiri that Osamu especially made. One of a kind.”
He said it so seriously, you also didn’t know if you could laugh. “You came all the way here on a random Friday night to give me some chicken and onigiri?”
“And to ask for forgiveness. Don’t forget about that.” Atsumu’s gaze hasn’t left you since you stepped out. “Do you forgive me?”
Your brain was running a hundred miles a minute, “You’re partnering with that designer who likes funky clothes for your next performance, right? I saw a headline. I’ll forgive you if you request to wear a tutu on stage.” You say mostly as a joke, because deep down, you already forgave him.
“That’s all? Deal.” Atsumu gives you a grin.
You bite your lower lip, stifling a smile, “Then I forgive you, ‘Tsum.”
“I missed you,” Atsumu says, suddenly all serious, “Not just the past two weeks. But the past few months. I haven’t seen you in a while.”
You could only let out a noncommittal sound. Not knowing what to say. You bit your lower lip. Atsumu’s gaze hasn’t left you. “Did you miss me?” He asks.
You gulp. Part of why you got mad was because you felt like he hadn’t valued your time with him as much as you did. Especially after months of not seeing each other. So you tell him the truth with a sense of dread, “I did. I missed you, Atsumu.”
It was in your fifth year of friendship that you realized you were undoubtedly, impossibly, in love with Miya big-fat-jerk Atsumu.
Shit.
You needed to get rid of these feelings fast.
a/n — guys icl im developing a thing for miya atsumu. also i was planning for like the over ten years thing to happen in just part 1 but then this would be 20k words lets not.
[+..••] CONTENT: genderneutral.rea , fluff , slight bullying , alternate universe , modern au , smau , twitch and imessage
You sit in your LED lighted room in front of your multiple glowing monitors.
*MATCH POINT* you hear from your gaming laptop for the second time.
Seriously, how long is this match going to last?
Not only has this stupid FPS game taken over your life after your fanbase demanded you play it, but the matches last eons. Minimum thirty minutes of your time to play a shooter game full of sweats and raunchy e-daters. The grating voice of an obnoxious teenager blares in your gaming headset, commanding you to do something you didn’t really care for.
The things I have to deal with in this job really does make me feel like a medieval court jester sometimes.
On top of all the idiocrasy in your game as well as the pandemonium of your live Twitch chat, a duelist on the opposing team has just seemed to love to target you. He’s good at the game too, one-tapping you almost as soon as you come on his screen. Unfortunately, for you at least, your live chat is entertained by your misfortune.
*BANG* You’re dead. Again. And guess who killed you?
“Are you serious!? This guy has to have wall hacks on or something!” You yell into the void of your livestream. Messages from your chat flood your second monitor, some sympathizing with you, most just making fun of your misery. “Chat, you guys suck! Why would you ever convince me to play this game?” You sigh as you rub your dried eyes.
You open your eyes and are met with a bright red screen.
“Defeat!” The game announcer claims, as if you couldn’t already tell. You look over to your K/D/A, it's in the negatives. Not only the negatives, but the triple negatives. 1/30/15.
Oh gosh, I don’t even want to look at my chat right now.
You turn over to see your entire chat talking about some ‘Ryo’ dude.
“Chat, who the hell is Ryo?” You chuckle.
What a stupid name
You get a $20 dollar dono, which reads: “RyoSukunz is one of the top streamers in this game LOL. Can’t believe you haven’t heard of him, his team won the Champions Tour: Masters Madrid this weekend.”
Champions Tour!? No wonder this guy is crazy good…
You look back to chat, “Ok then, if this guy is so good let’s go raid his stream right now. I’ll hop off for today. Everyone, get on this rats stream.”
Waving goodbye to your stream, you send out the prompt for a stream raid and turn off your Twitch stream and immediately open Ryo’s.
Let’s see what this guy is all about…
Opening the stream, you're greeted by the deafening laughter of a man around your age. You look at how many viewers are watching live right now. Twenty-five thousand. Twenty-five thousand. That many people and the number is still going up because you just That’s more people than the population of Vatican City. And all those people just watched you get absolutely obliterated by this obnoxious loser.
Your eyes shift to the man on your screen, who is still laughing at your utter failure. His slender fingers cover his mouth, attempting to suppress his amusement. His perfectly messy, dyed pink hair sits underneath his expensive-looking gaming headset. Thin tattoos line his toned, slightly pale cheekbones and face. He has a build that you would usually only see in museums as well, absolutely chiseled. You just might be picking a fight with the wrong guy.
“Yo! A raid!” The man yells, his voice baritone and a bit husky. He leans forward to get a closer look at his own live chat before once again erupting into uncontrollable laughter. “It’s that girl again!” He practically shrieks.
Shoot, I forgot my streaming user is the same as my gamertag.
His live chat blows up with messages and emotes. Without even reading them, you know for a fact they're either mocking you or just agreeing with Ryo. Thoughtlessly, you type out your message, sending it instantly.
Ryo looks at your message and smiles.
“Already did. Accept it.”
Ch.2
a/n: i swear there will be more real smau stuff soon!!
BAD HABIT - YAKUZA!SUNA x ESCORT!READER - MASTERLIST
18+ NSFW - MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT
tags: drabble series, suna rintarou/f!reader, tw sex work, organized crime!au, explicit content related to prev tags will be present, please read the tags on each part.
bad habit - 1k - you criticize suna for his bad habit, but you're not really in any position to judge.
a room with a view - 2.7k - a change in schedule is met with a change in scenery, too. home is where the heart is, etc.
who? - 2.9k - PREQUEL - a very important guest is paying an unexpected visit to the club, but you're determined not to make that your problem.
her - 2.3k - PREQUEL P.2 - it's your problem.
two-faced - 2.3k - set in the morning after part 2 - a wake up call you aren't anywhere close to being appropriately dressed for.
go - 2k - atsumu starts a fight with suna, but kita is the one who ends it.
You’re all sat around Issei’s table, a rare occasion where everyone actually managed to be home at the same time.
Food and drinks are scattered everywhere, conversations overlapping, the kind of comforting chaos that only happens when no one has anywhere else to be.
You’re well into the night, many drinks and stories shared, when the topic of marriage pops up.
“Mattsun will be the last to get married, I’ll be the first obviously” Oikawa says confidently, swirling the half empty bottle in his hand, smug as ever.
Issei quirks an eyebrow at that, “What? Why?”
The brunette just shrugs easily, “You’re not the marriage type”
And with that, the hours crawl by & no one brings it up again.
The conversation moves on, but Issei doesn’t let it go.
The next morning while everyone sleeps off their hangovers, you and Issei clean the kitchen together in comfortable silence.
“So,” he starts quietly, bumping your hip with his own, “Will you marry me?”
You nearly drop the bottles in your hand, eyebrows scrunched together instantly, “..Huh?”
He laughs at your expression, shooting you a real charming grin, “For the bit”
“Is this about Toru’s stupid comment?”
“I can’t let it slide,” he says flatly.
You roll your eyes, huffing out a laugh, “You’re so stupid”
“I’ll pay for everything”
You stare at him for a second, his stupidly handsome face split into that easy grin, warm brown eyes that make your heart beat just a little harder.
You sigh, smile pulling at your lips despite yourself, “Fuck it. For the bit.”
That’s how you find yourself at the courthouse a few days later, getting legally married.
Makki had laughed when Issei told him the plan, immediately calling dibs on being the officiant, like it was a true honor instead of an incredibly stupid life decision.
Iwa was more reluctant to participate, “This is serious. Like, legally binding serious. You know that, right?” he had tried to reason, to no avail.
An hour or so later, after many signatures and a ceremony that somehow managed to be both official and completely unserious, you’re walking out of the courthouse as a legally married couple.
Makki insists on a “celebratory photoshoot,” which mostly consists of him yelling directions like, “KISS YOUR WIFE!” while Iwa fights back a laugh.
The four of you come together for a selfie, squeezed together tightly and each grinning so hard your cheeks hurt.
After, Iwa leans in to look, then lets out a breathy laugh, “God, this is so fucking stupid”
Issei glances at you, still smiling, “You regret it yet?”
You bump his shoulder, grinning, “Hmmm.. Give it a few minutes”
He laughs, slipping his hand into yours gently.
When you glance up at him, cheeks warming, you can’t help but notice the soft look in his eye.
And before you can make sense of the feeling blooming in your stomach, “Sent!” Makki announces, holding up his phone like a proud mother.
“Now let’s go celebrate the happy couple”, Iwa teases, playfully rolling his eyes, “Dinners on me”
By the time you’re seated, the table is already chaotic again.
Food comes and goes, laughters spilling out in every direction, and Oikawa is actively blowing up everyone’s phones with increasingly dramatic messages like he wasn’t the entire reason this happened in the first place.
“Do we block him?”, you ask at some point, half-joking.
“Oh I blocked him 10 messages ago”, Iwa huffs out, stealing a piece of meat from your plate.
So everyone follows suit, setting their phones down and choosing peace over the drama queen, laughing away and sharing a meal.
By the time the suns setting, you all end up stumbling back into Issei’s apartment, thanks to way too many congratulatory drinks from strangers and Makki insisting “it’s rude to deny them”.
Iwa kicks off his shoes with a sigh, “I’m never going along with any of your stupid plans again”
Makki flops onto the couch, “You say that like you really got a choice”
Issei closes the door behind you, still holding your hand like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
And for whatever reason, that part doesn’t feel like a joke anymore.
You smile up at your new husband, stomach flipping, “So..”
He tilts his head slightly, that familiar amused look in his eye, “You’re not asking for a divorce already, are you?”
And somehow, that makes your stomach do that funny little thing again.
Maybe this was a bad idea after all.
———————————————————————
A/N: based off that stupid post from earlier, enjoy !
also leaving y/n’s relationship w Issei (pre-forthebitmarriage lol) open for interpretation bc it’s more fun that way
tattoo artist! iwaizumi hajime x nail artist! reader
oh no! you own the nail salon next to iwaizumi's tattoo shop.
what do we do? him!
my masterlist
warnings // reader is female im so sorry it just flowed out of me, swearing, mentions of drunk men, smoking, kys jokes, a gun, mentioned AI once but u need to understand i will never use it
miyako's notes // i shat this out bc i couldn't stop thinking about tattoo artist! iwaizumi but i couldn't sit and outline a whole story for it IM SORRY
shoutoutz to @dumdogs and @lilylilylilylilysstuff for enabling me
»-♡→ frat! sukuna who spends the next few days after getting your Instagram stalking you.
»-♡→ frat! sukuna you has a stupid small smile on his face as he taps through your stories. there's ones with you beside friends, some of you alone where you're smiling so brightly at the camera. then there's pictures of sunsets and cafes and bookstores.
»-♡→ frat! sukuna listens to each song you have posted with careful precision, trying to somehow figure something about you through it.
»-♡→ frat! sukuna who realises he's going insane. he's never been this obsessed with anyone, ever. he was a hookup kind of guy. the kind who took a girl home after a party and forgot her name the next day. he was definitely not someone who spent 30 minutes dissecting a singular story of a girl holding a cat.
»-♡→ frat! sukuna feels stuck. he's not sure if he should send you a message or try and forget all of this. he's never asked out a girl on a date. his "dates" consisted of locked rooms and clothes on the floor, with no "good-morning" texts the next day.
»-♡→ you on the other hand, were freaking out much more than he knew.
"girl I'm telling you, he's just trying to fuck."
that's what your friend told you after you explained what happened. that ryomen sukuna, star stoic fuck boy of the biggest frat on campus, asked for your instagram. and the weirdest thing, he seemed more nervous than you.
"i don't know...he seemed like, I don't know, sincere?"
"the only thing sincere about that man is his good looks, everything else is a lie."
»-♡→ so you decide to test something out. you get ready one day after school and take a few cute pictures. with the perfect song to go with it, you post on your story.
»-♡→ when you stalked ryomens instagram, there honestly wasn't much. a few gym pictures, some pictures of the city at night, and of course, his car.
»-♡→ you nervously wait for him to view your story, checking every few minutes like a maniac.
»-♡→ frat! sukuna who's sitting on a couch at the frat house, his frat brothers surrounding him.
"bro, just fucking text her, why are you being a pussy all of a sudden."
that was gojo, of course. him and sukuna were either fighting like enemies l or getting along like birth brothers.
"it's not that simple," sukuna mumbles.
"you have a million girls in your phone, how is this one any different?"
geto was good at pointing out the obvious. and yea, sukuna did have lots of girls on his phones. at any moment he could text any of of them and ask her to come over for a quick hookup. but for some reason, he hasn't been feeling it lately. maybe he was cursed.
"maybe he actually likes this one," nanami says.
now that pissed sukuna off. he got up from the couch, pushing gojo out of his way.
"oohh, looks like he does!"
that earned gojo an elbow in the gut. as gojo cursed him out, sukuna retreated to his room.
why the fuck was he acting like this? why couldn't he just send her a simple message. just two letters, hi.
and then comes the notif. she posted. was it weird he had her notifs on? probably. did he care? nah.
he clicks on the notification, and displayed on his screen is a picture he thinks is worthy to be his wallpaper. it's a mirror selfie, her hair is done up, her smile so adorable he has to look away for a second. and she's clad in a light pink cardigan.
now what he wanted to do was message her and say "let me take you out i swear i'll treat you good". but he knew that might scare you away. you didn't seem like the type of girl who'd want his attention like that. and for some reason that made him harder than the girls who would drape themselves on his lap.
but he had to do something. he had to let you know one way or another. so he pulls a middle schooler move, and likes your story. and then he shuts his phone off and throws it under his bed. fuck this, he needed to shut his brain off. he takes gojo on an offer from earlier, and heads to the campus bar.
»-♡→ you're scrolling on your phone when you get the notification.
ryomen.su liked your story
»-♡→ you get up so fast you hurt your neck. what is he playing at? you call your friends right away, but instead of excited squealing, they repeat the same mantra of , "he's just trying to fuck."
»-♡→ and so your friends decided, to get your mind off of this, you should go to the bar with them. the bar totally was't your vibe, but waiting for frat boys to like your story wasn't either. so you got up, shook your head, and got ready.
»-♡→ frat! sukuna is already the life of the party. he's pouring shots down the throats of girls who would do anything for his attention. he's laughing and roughhousing with gojo and geto. clad in low waist sweats and a black muscle tee, he's in his element. that is until you walk in.
»-♡→ up until now, he's seen you as cute, adorable even. but when you walk in wearing jeans and a top he could only describe as murder, he almost drops his drink.
»-♡→ frat! sukuna came here to get his mind off of you, not to want to get on you.
»-♡→ frat! sukuna downed his drink in one go; he shouldn't be thinking these things about you. for some reason, it makes him feel gross to think of you like something to have.
»-♡→ frat! sukuna watches you enter the bar with unease. your friends immediately start mingling, while you stand beside them, offering small quips of conversation here and there. he knows you haven't noticed him yet.
»-♡→ and then you do. you spot him leaning against the bar counter, next to some other frat guys, girls surrounding them. the eye contact makes your stomach drop, and you have to look away quickly.
"guys! what is he doing here?!"
your friends spot him and start freaking out, "go talk to him!"
"weren't you guys against this?"
"girl, with the way he's looking at you, you need to get your ass over there."
your friends didn't even need to say anything though, because soon enough his large frame is making its way towards you.
all you can think is, oh my god oh my god oh my god.
and then he's there, right in front of you.
"didn't think you'd be here."
"yea, not usually my kind of place."
he takes a moment to think, still staring down at you.
"then let's get out of here."
huh?
"what?"
he leans down to your ear. you feel his warm breath against it, and a slight shiver goes up your spine.
"let's leave, we can find something more your vibe."
your friends are throwing up big thumbs up behind him, and you try not to giggle. from the bar counter, you see his frat brothers staring at the two of you, nudging each other and laughing.
what had you gotten yourself into?
"sure."
the smile on ryomens face can only be described as erotic. one side is more lifted than the other, a sharp canine in view, as well as a dimple.
he leads you out of the bar with a hand hovering at your lower back. he's not touching you, but you feel the energy from how close he is to you.
»-♡→ frat! sukuna who is so nervous he's sweating. why was he nervous?
»-♡→ frat! sukuna who walks in complete silence for the first few minutes, staring at anything but you.
»-♡→ you finally break the silence, "i have a question."
»-♡→ fuck, he thinks. he should have said something first. why couldn't he even look at you?
»-♡→ he hums in response. "why did you even talk to me, i know the type of girls you surrounce yourself with, and, to be blunt, they're not like me."
»-♡→ frat! sukuna wish he knew the answer to this himself. he takes some time to think, then answers with complete sincerity.
"not to come off a corny but-" he swallows, "that's exactly why."
"what do you mean?"
"i've always been around people like me. loud and crazy and fucking annoying. no one has ever been disciplined. and i guess when i saw you... it was something different."
»-♡→ frat! sukuna who feels like he's walking outside of his body. he doesn't even feel his own words coming out of his mouth.
»-♡→ now you're silent. he nervously glances at you, wondering if he said the wrong thing."
"are you just looking for sex?"
»-♡→ frat! sukuna trips, literally trips.
"w-what?!" he splutters, "no! who the fuck told you that?"
"no one! it's just because... your reputation," you say the last part quietly.
»-♡→ frat! sukuna who knew his reputation would come back one day to bite him in the ass. he just didn't think it was because he finally had a normal crush on a normal girl.
"yea, there's not much i can say to defend that," he stops walking and finally, finally, turns to face you.
to say he was handsome would be an understatement. his face and body sculpted, his features perfectly placed on his face. his blush colored hair sat atop his head with messy precision.
"if you give me a chance, even just one date, i can show you i'm not as horrible as everyone says. and i won't touch you, promise," and then he smirks that thigh clecnching smirk again, "unless you want me to of course."
you softly smack his chest, "shut up, weirdo."
he laughs, a low rumble that goes straight to your core.
»-♡→ you and frat! sukuna stand there for a while, under the campus trees, as the sun slowly sets.
"i guess it's worth a try," you say.
"i'll treat you like no other, princess."
princess. now that you could get used to.
"ew, don't call me that."
»-♡→ frat! sukuna and you ended up walking for another hour, talking about this and that, until he finally dropped you to your dorm with a soft goodbye.
»-♡→ neither of you was in each other's orbit, but something about being so different made you want to come closer.
»-♡→ and you both fell asleep that night, wondering where it would lead. would he break your heart and you'd learn your lesson that all frat boys suck, or was he seriously different?
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢
part 4...? comment for a tag in the next part!
masterlist
this is my original work, no ai used. please do not claim as your own. - @maroonskiesfrvr 2026
