Kenma is considerably small compared to a lot of people he surrounds himself with or the people who surround him, which in turn makes Kenma look like a scrawny little short kid. Yeah, he’s pretty lazy and prefers to stay inside and play video games but a lot of people turn a blind eye to the fact that the blonde does consistent volleyball training, he’s lean at best and people disregard this fact, a lot.
So the first time you see Kenma take off his shirt you swear your nose starts bleeding.
His muscles are defined. He's lean and with brave eyes you notice the slightly defined lines on his abdomen. You weren't much for appearances. You liked Kenma well before any of this but now you saw Kenma in a different light.
"Y/N please stop staring." Kenma grumbled as he pulled on another shirt. The rest of your stay at Kenma's place involved you begging to see his abs again.
You’d never slept over before. Not for lack of trying—he’s invited you a few times now, usually in that whirlwind, fast-talking, Bokuto way: “You should stay! I’ll make popcorn! We can watch that terrible space movie you love—wait, not terrible, just… objectively confusing!”
And eventually, you said yes. You’re newly dating, still figuring each other out. Still brushing pinkies under the table, pretending not to smile when he calls you his favorite distraction, and marveling at how easily he can light up a room. Last night was nice. Messy and real. He made you laugh so hard you snorted water out of your nose. You fell asleep curled around his arm, warm and stupidly happy.
You wake up expecting him to be gone. You’ve heard the stories—how Bokuto’s up with the sun, always the first at the gym, how he “accidentally” does 200 push-ups before breakfast because he couldn’t sit still. So when you stir around 9:47 a.m. and find him still beside you, wrapped in blankets and very much not at the gym, you blink in quiet confusion.
And when you try to sit up?
He groans. Loud and pitiful. Then immediately rolls toward you, snaking an arm around your waist, and slumps half his weight on top of you. “Don’t,” he says, voice scratchy with sleep.
“…Don’t what?” you whisper.
His face is in your neck, voice muffled and petulant. “Don’t leave. Too early.”
You laugh under your breath. “It’s basically ten.”
“I’m not emotionally ready for ten.”
You freeze a little, startled by how different this is from what you imagined. No bouncing. No bright energy. No dramatic grin. Just a sleepy man-child melting into you like the mattress is quicksand.
“Aren’t… you a morning person?” you say cautiously.
He groans again. “I am,” he mumbles, “just not when you’re here. You ruin everything.”
"Wow. Thanks."
“No, I mean… you’re warm. And you smell good. And your shoulder’s soft. And the bed feels better with you in it. So now I’m clingy and helpless. Congrats.”
You turn your head, just enough to glimpse his expression—eyes closed, brows drawn, nose scrunched into your skin as if he’s memorizing it.
“I was gonna make coffee,” you murmur.
“Betrayal.”
“You didn’t seem like the clingy type,” you tease, trying (and failing) to pry yourself from his arms.
He only holds you tighter, tugging you closer until your back is flush to his chest. “Yeah, well,” he mutters, lips brushing your collarbone. “You weren’t supposed to find out on the first sleepover.”
You go still. It’s the first sleepover. This was supposed to be casual, a night of snacks and movie reruns while trying not to overthink anything. But this? You weren’t prepared for this.
You clear your throat, flustered. “I could… come back after coffee?”
“No."
You laugh, helpless. “Koutarou—”
He silences you with a gentle touch, turning you toward him until there’s barely any space left between you. His voice is soft now—quieter than before, careful. “Just five more minutes.”
Then he kisses you. Soft and slow, not wanting to startle you. But when you don’t pull away—when your breath catches and your fingers curl instinctively into his shirt—he deepens it. His hand finds the small of your back, drawing you in, needing you closer. There’s no such thing as close enough. He’s still half-asleep, but he’s fully sure of this—of you.
When his lips leave yours, he says nothing. He just buries his face in your stomach and wraps his arms around your waist.
You lie there, stunned—lips tingling, the warmth of the kiss still clinging to your skin. Your fingers find his hair, brushing through the tangled, sleep-ruined strands without thinking. His breathing slows. His weight settles against you, easing something deep in your chest.
And even though your brain is buzzing and your heart is screaming, this is really happening—you somehow manage a soft response. “…Okay. Five more minutes.”
“kei, do you ever think about how strange it is that we've never fought?” you ask, limbs tangled with his as you cuddle on his bed.
it’s 10:03 PM and you’re doing your best to fight against the chilling, icy atmosphere of tsukishima’s room. for some reason, he likes to sleep like a vampire.
“do you want to?” he offers with an arm wrapped around your shoulders. tsukki doesn’t even open his eyes when he responds, too sleepy to entertain another one of your late night overthinking sessions.
“no,” you say calmly, “but we’ve been together for 7 months. we must either be like, the greatest couple of all time or the exact opposite.”
you feel his chest rise and deflate against your head as he lets an overly dramatic sigh.
you knew tsukishima kei wasn’t one for pda. hell, it was one of the things you loved about him. he knew how to make you feel loved without having to scream it to the world.
like that one time on one of your first dates, when you had accidentally fallen asleep on the soft grass of the park while waiting for his weekend practice to end. you woke up with a hand massaging your scalp.
“how long have you been waiting there?” you giggle, rising from your slumber as you rub your eyes awake. he pulls away, casually avoiding your gaze. “why didn’t you wake me?”
kei only shrugs, “you looked peaceful.”
or that other time you got sick for a week and couldn’t make it to school, so he immediately visited you as soon as you got better and brought his backpack with him.
“i got two copies of all the homeworks due next week, so you don’t have to ask the teachers for them.” he unpacks his notes and fishes out two pens from his bag before turning to you. “come, i’ll teach you everything you missed.”
your teachers praised you for how responsible you were, and told you how much they appreciated that you took the initiative to study.
yeah, you totally did that.
or like right now, and all the other nights you’ve spent at his place. because unbeknownst to you, tsukishima kei sets up his bedroom every single time you visit. he tidies up, cleaning even spots that you would never think to look at. but most importantly, and tsukishima knows this routine by heart, he turns the a/c to the highest setting so you’d be forced to cuddle against him underneath his sheets.
“the former,” is all replies with, and you scoff, rolling your eyes.
“but seriously though. how lucky are we to never have fought even after seven months.”
tsukki sighs again, before reluctantly revealing, “we don’t fight because i make it a point to always agree with you.”
you’re taken aback by his words, sitting up slightly as you look him in the eyes, though his are still closed as he tries to focus on sleeping.
“...huh?”
“idiot,” he teases. maybe he thinks calling you names will cover up for how unbelievably sweet he’s being right now, “why would i want to argue with you?” he shifts, trying to subtly move his face away so you don’t see him fully.
“but i can’t always have my way, you know. a relationship should be 50/50, right?”
“not ours.” he presses your head back against his chest, and you hear his heartbeat fasten a little. “you’re the boss.”
BONUS: “and you’ve never paid in your life anyway. you don’t believe in that 50/50 bullshit.” “hey!” “i don’t even know what your wallet looks like.”
"please don't let go. please," you choked out, heart thundering in your chest, voice high with panic. your fingers, slippery and trembling like autumn leaves, grasped your boyfriend's arms harshly like your life depended on it.
tsukishima kei scoffed. "don't be stupid."
it wasn't about being stupid, you thought. it was about being scared. and god, scared you were. absolutely terrified. the sun shone down mercilessly on your back, basking you in a heat that the other half of your body didn't experience.
instead, cool water sloshed around you; a stray piece of kelp brushed your legs, sending another jolt of fear through you, and you instinctively clung to him tighter, feet struggling to find steady footing on the sandy ocean floor.
"hey," tsukishima said, his voice sharper now. his hands found your elbows, steady and firm, "you're not drowning. your head's above water, so breathe properly."
you sputtered as another bit of saltwater found its way into your mouth, coughing and gasping, squeezing your eyes. you tried to mirror him, to mimic the the way his chest never stopped rising and falling so calmly. his skin was milky fair, and off-handedly, you hoped you had rubbed it with enough sun cream.
he leaned down slightly, tilting his head so he was in your field of vision, his face annoyingly composed. his eyes locked onto yours, a warm brown, attentive, "what exactly are you so scared of?"
"i don't—" you sucked in a deep, shaky breath, his eyes serene in the middle of the thundering panic travelling through your chests, "i can't stand. i don't have ground under my feet."
he raised a single elegant eyebrow, unimpressed, "yeah. that's kind of the point of swimming, genius."
a weak, breathless laugh escaped you, equal parts mortified and amused, "maybe i should've asked someone else to teach me."
"no," his grip tightened, and there was a flicker of irritation in his eyes, though not at you, "don't be dumb."
he glanced away for a beat, then back at you, quiet, "i won't let go."
and he hadn't. he hadn't let go once since you panicked, and despite his exasperation, his hands never trembled, never wavered, not once.
"you're clutching me like i'm a floatie."
you blinked, but your fingers didn't let go, "i'm literally trying not to drown."
he sighed. but his thumbs brushed over your arms, soothing, "you're not drowning. i'm right here, dumbass."
Your arms are linked around his neck. His big hands glide along your body, trying to grab and feel whatever he could.
His lips and yours meet in a messy kiss. Teeth clashing, saliva exchanging, tongues dancing. His lips were a little chapped but yours were so soft and sweet. Remnants of your flavored chapstick lacing your lips as he kisses it off.
He was so addicted, always chasing back for more. He groans when you move a little to adjust yourself, his hands gripping your hips.
“Shit.” He mumbles.
Then he’s back to it.
Yet with more passion, you’re shuddering under his touch, his kisses, the way his tongue feels against yours.
His glasses were fogged, slightly lopsided. Occasionally he’d push them up but now.
He rips away from you, confusing you. Both of your lips are plump and red, panting. He grabs his glasses, throwing them on the couch.
“Kei be careful you can break them-” He cuts you off with his lips, his tongue finding its home in your mouth once again. You whine in his mouth and he grins.
“They were in the way.” He says against your lips, biting your bottom lip. A moan leaves you and his tongue swipes along the bite to try and soothe it.
“Just focus on this alright?” He says hushed.
His hand coming up behind your neck, pulling you into him as if you guys could get any closer.
“relax,” suna mumbles against your lips, pressing a soft kiss against your bottom lip. “i’ll teach you, don’t worry.” you whine, embarrassed that he may find your inexperience to be a turn off. “just follow through with m’tongue okay?”
“mhmn..” you mumble, gasping when he presses his swollen lips onto yours once again. he presses himself further into your body, your legs enveloping around his waist and tugging him in. you shiver, mouth gaping wider on instinct when you feel his silky tongue slip in between your lips, running itself over yours.
it’s so fucking wet, and so hot, you can taste his sweet spit on your tongue. it makes you ache everywhere, body sparked with excitement yet nervousness. “c’mon, try.” he groans against you, letting your tongue nervously glide against his on command. he lets out a guttural groan, grinding unconsciously into your thigh, mumbling a half coherent apology before he slips his tongue back into your mouth.
he runs the hot muscle over yours, curling over and around it with messy spit beginning to coat your lips. he doesn’t slow despite your tongue faltering and clearly weakening with every stroke of his tongue against yours. “y’r so weak baby.” he chuckles, pulling away slightly.
both of your breaths are labored, your softened eyes meet his , filled with so much love that they sparkle under the dim light. his pupils seem to dialate over and over, and you can’t help but giggle at the sight.
you can still feel the heat of his breath against your lips, one of his hands with a tight hold against your waist, and one sprawled across your shoulder — holding you still. it’s all so intimate, and all so new.
“can we d—do it again? wanna try again..” you quip, cheeks flushing at the dumb, dumb question.
— “‘samu, stop,” you whisper, as he finds you at the opposite corner of the bed yet again. “it’s so hot.” the fan drones on, making little creaks as it oscillates. it does nothing to quell the heat. if anything, it just cycles the hot air around you, making the bedroom akin to a rotary oven.
what also doesn’t help is the six-foot human space heater in your bed.
osamu groans, his arm coming around your waist to pull you against his bare chest. “stop kickin’ me,” he mumbles. “i wanna hold ya.” he nuzzles his face in your neck, kissing it.
it would be sweet, if his body heat wasn’t the same as an elephant’s. he’s sweltering, and your shoulder sticks to his chest as you try to move away. osamu practically whines as you do. “stop leavin’ meeeee.”
a blast of heat envelopes you as he tries to pull you close again, and you let out a huff. “m’not leaving you, ‘samu, i told you, it’s boiling in here,” you tell him, hitching a leg over his hip to get some air. “s’not my fault,” he mutters petulantly, his big, hot hand reaching over to rest on your leg.
this boy…!
you give another huff. not even thirty seconds later, there’s a low snore that rumbles behind you. “how are you even asleep?” you whisper incredulously, turning to see his peaceful expression. “m’holdin’ ya,” he mumbles sleepily in reply. he inhales deeply, breathing you in. “i love ya.”
a/n: i was inspired by @blockedbykei's fic over here because tsukki's hands TT. thank you so much for posting it <3
--
you're absolutely in love with tsukishima's hands. when you hold hands, you sometimes get reminded how massive they are compared to yours. interlacing your fingers with his, yours reaches just past his knuckles.
you're curling into him in his bed as he reads a book in one hand, while you're fiddling with the other. his fingers are long and slender, and you don't know how else to describe it but "a work of art". they are the exact ones that wrap around your wrist as he pulls you along with him through a crowd, the ones that you help bandage together when he needs help, and the ones that weave through your hair during makeout sessions. of course, you can't resist the urge to press your lips against the tips of them, each and every one. although his hands are callous from his intense volleyball training, they still retain some sort of softness, some sort of comfort to them.
just as you placed the last kiss on his pinky, kei pulls away to flick your forehead, something he has a habit of doing, but he always rubs the spot with his thumb at the end.
"don't you have anything better to do?" he gives a snarky response without leaving his eyes off of the book, but his hand comes back to rest on your lap. and if you look up at him, you'd notice him smiling.
"actually, now that you mentioned it, i do have homework i'm supposed to do." you tease, making a show of removing his hand from you and standing up from the bed. he finally turns to you, rolling his eyes and letting out a sigh in exasperation. you stumble back into the bed as he pulls you by the arm and traps you with his legs. you laugh.
"you're so annoying." this time the book is now forgotten and laying open on the bed. he has his arms wrapped around you from behind, nestling his face on your shoulder. he takes your hand in his assertive yet reassuring ones, holding onto them tightly.
sure, you love his hands, but you love him much more.
Summary: Among other things, Kiyoomi loves that you always seem to know what he's thinking.
A/N: Hi it's me, writing for Sakusa again even tho I feel like I know next to nothing about his character outside of reading other fics :D
One of the things Kiyoomi loves about you the most is that you always know. He knows he isn't the most expressive guy, but somehow you still manage to read him like an open book.
Take the last party Bokuto threw for the Black Jackals as an example. With everyone's significant others in the mix, it had ended up being quite the crowd. Everyone was talking and laughing, and as the evening wore on he was starting to get sick of the commotion. Bokuto slung an arm around his neck as he laughed loudly at a joke Hinata had told, and Kiyoomi had gritted his teeth, hoping his teammate would move on to his next prey soon enough.
Across the room, he saw you in conversation with Meian and his girlfriend. You happened to glance in his direction, and with a few more words and a smile, you stepped away from them and started toward him.
"Hey, Kiyoomi." At your approach, Bokuto greeted you and finally slid away from him. Kiyoomi let out a sigh, and you laughed softly. "Are you ready to go? I'm starting to get tired." There had been a sparkle in your eyes that suggested that wasn't entirely the truth.
"Yeah, I'm ready," He said too quickly, "Let's go home." You'd said your goodbyes and were stepping out into the cool night air within a few minutes. Immediately, he'd felt the weight lifting from him.
"Thanks," He breathed out softly, glancing sideways at you on the way to the car.
"It was really warm in there, wasn't it?" You said in response, sliding your hand in the crook of his elbow and giving his arm a comforting squeeze. You flashed a smile at him, and that was that.
Then, a few weeks ago, he'd forgotten his lunch. It had irked him, because you'd prepared it for him just the way you knew he liked, and now your work would be going to waste. On top of that, there were few things he enjoyed less than buying a quick meal at a convenience store, especially when he had practice for the rest of the day. It was always as though he could feel it settling wrong in his stomach. The fact that he knew nothing about the methods of its preparation didn't help matters any.
Still, when you'd texted him offering to bring his lunch for him, he'd refused. He knew you had a busy day, and the last thing you needed was to waste part of your own lunch break to bring him the meal he'd forgotten. Just this once, he was sure he could select something that would do from the convenience store down the street.
That was why he was surprised to see you mere moments after practice broke for lunch. You lifted the bento box with a smile, showing off the matching one you must have prepared for yourself.
"I knew the rest of your day would just feel completely off without having your lunch," You'd said with a shrug, "And I just wanted you to be able to practice at your best!" You'd shared the lunch break with him, and after that hour with you and the meal you'd prepared for him, he threw himself gladly into the remainder of practice. He'd felt on top of the world.
Just two days ago, he'd come home from practice more than ready for the upcoming weekend. The week had felt like it dragged on forever, and he wanted nothing more than to take a long, hot shower and then crawl beneath the fresh, clean sheets with you tucked against him. He just wanted to forget that the rest of the world existed.
When he stepped through the door, he was immediately met with the comforting scents of the dinner you were preparing. "Welcome home!" You'd chirped, and he'd let his hands linger on your hips for just a few moments as he pressed a kiss to your lips. It felt so good to be home.
"So, I thought we could go grocery shopping this evening," You'd said as you turned back to the stove. "We're getting kind of low on some things, and I just planned out a few meals for next week."
He felt a pit forming in his stomach, but he bit back his sigh. "Okay, sure." He tried to keep his irritation out of his tone. He knew you hated doing the shopping on your own, especially in the evenings. You'd turned toward him and tilted your head, assessing him for a moment before you turned to the cupboard and reached for some plates to set the table. You didn't say anything.
You were halfway through the meal before you spoke up. "You know, I think we should just stay home tonight." You said suddenly. "It's already getting dark, and I bet the selection would be better tomorrow afternoon, anyway."
His lips parted in silence for a few moments. "Are you sure?" He finally asked.
You grinned. "Yup. Let's just relax tonight, okay?"
"Okay by me," He said gratefully. You'd insisted he get in the shower while you cleaned up the dishes, and by the time he was out of the bathroom, the dishes were drying and the counters were wiped down. He found you in your pajamas, and you beckoned him to join you in bed.
He didn't need any convincing, and the moment he was under the covers, you'd maneuvered his head onto your chest, your fingers scratching soothingly through his curls.
"You had a tough week, huh?" You murmured. He only hummed in response, the 'tough week' already fading into memory under your gentle ministrations.
"Sorry you didn't get to go shopping," He'd finally whispered, and he felt the press of your lips on the crown of his head.
"I think this is a better use of our time," you had said softly.
There have been countless moments just like these. Moments when you show him again and again that you love him, that you see him. Every single time, it becomes more and more apparent to him. There's one more thing he wants to make sure you to know.
This is one thing he needs to tell you, in case you never do quite work it out on your own. When he sinks down on one knee, he's never been more certain of anything. "I love you so much, and there's no one I'd rather spend my life with than you. Every single day is yours, if you'll marry me."
: ̗̀➛ bokuto is a huge baby + lover boy, takes place during the timeskip (like he's 22-24), just a bunch of fluff, kinda angsty wtf, non descriptive sexual details, mentions of a non-descriptive illness, mentions of pregnancy + birth, ermmm mentions of going to the bathroom 😭, this was kinda shit lmaoso
run, running all the time.
it's one of his favorite activities, enjoying the way the breeze feels against his bare skin.
he likes to run at various times a day, usually in the morning or at night to release some steam or to prepare himself for the day.
during these various long runs of his, he would think about various things.
bokuto was always one to fall in love easily.
he fell in love, quickly, and harshly with every single person he ever dated. his mind would always be plagued with thoughts of "this one could be the one," no matter how early in the relationship he might be with them.
he never learned his lesson about falling in love easily, always ending up heartbroken after being dumped for being "too clingy."
eventually, after his third relationship, be began to see himself as the issue, before just giving up on dating all together to focus more on himself and volleyball.
he thought that he'd maybe end up marrying a volleyball or something, destined to be alone for the rest of his life. that thought scared him intensely. like an actual owl, he longed for a lifelong partner, he couldn't see himself living alone as an old man in the future.
just the imagine of him sitting alone at an empty dinner table eating barbecue alone made him want to cry.
boy, did he feel so relieved to meet you during the end of his second year.
just like all of his previous girlfriends, he fell in love quickly, practically head over heels in love with you. but, for some reason, it just felt so.. different with you.
he couldn't quite to put his finger on it, all he knew was that you stuck out like a sore thumb, the atmosphere with you a stark contrast compared to his previous partners.
it was around the third month mark (the usual time his partners dumped him) was when he totally expected you to break up with him, and was actually mentally preparing for it. but, much to his surprise, the third month came and went, and his relationship with you grew and stayed.
while you didn't know why, but he was so overjoyed just at that, the next few months following he was 10x more clingy and happy, just so over the moon that you stayed with him. him, he's the one you chose, out of all the people. he would think that on repeat during his morning runs, just urging him to work harder to impress you, to make you proud.
he didn't even notice it, but eventually a year passed, he was too enamored with you to notice the time passing. he almost grew sad at that, only soothing when you allowed him to cuddle you. "i just want to stay with you forever," he would confess during his sad realizations, not ready for these precious times to fly by.
his burly arms would trap you against him, afraid of letting go. "don't worry, i'm not going anywhere, but i might if you don't let me breathe." you would tease, hand patting his forearm in hopes of him releasing his mighty grip around you. of course, why would you leave him? there's not a single bad flaw about him, not a particular reason for anyone to hate him.
but to bokuto, there just might be many.
fat tears run down his cheeks, nostrils leaking mucus onto the cold ground below him while he grovels at your feet. he's frantic, hysterical almost. he almost lost an important match, and yet he's apologizing to you for some reason.
he's so sorry that he's fallen, embarrassed at the way a silly mistake could've costed him his team, his school, and somehow you. he feels like he's failed his coach, team, school, just everyone. you look down at him bewildered, while he's shown you all of his many emotions, you've never seen him cry like this before, especially before you at your feet.
you're quick to get onto your knees, hands rubbing softly against his broad back. you smile softly at him, wondering where all of these silly thoughts came from. "you're so silly, kou. i'm not going anywhere, i promise," you whisper, placing a much needed kiss against the shell of his ear.
it's during moments like those, does he really just love you for simply existing. it's when you somehow hold his heavy body against your much smaller one, when you treat him so lovingly, is when he knows that you're the only one for him.
he wants the soft moments like those to last forever. he wants to feel the soft blooming feeling of your lips pressing against his skin, like the sun beaming it's warmth on him during a warm sunny day.
he hopes you don't let him fall out of love, though, he doesn't see himself falling out of love with you anytime soon.
he's running, running as fast as he can at the end of his morning run towards his home, towards the home he now shares with his beloved fiancé, you. just seeing his and your name on the house's name plate as his chest bubbling up with excitement.
he almost trips over his own feet while fumbling with the laces of his running shoes before he's impatiently running over to the master-bedroom, eyes gleaming at the sight of his own personal sleeping beauty. "good morning y/n-chan!" he practically yells, climbing onto the bed with haste, not wasting a second to kiss your still sleepy face.
there's dried drool on your chin, lips cracked and dry, hair untamed and messy, and yet he still considers you the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. he holds you close to him, still sweaty, but you don't fight it. he's warm, a nice perk of him being a physical large male athlete.
"hey, are you 'gunna join me on my run later?" he asks impatiently. he loves running with you, even though you have to have plenty of breaks, and considerably slow him down but he still loves your presence and enjoys one-sided races with you. "another one..? you were just on a run weren't ya?" you mumble out, face mushed against his broad chest.
"it's important to stay active, y/n-chan. please! you haven't gone with me for awhile!" he whines, one of his hands coming up to move your hair from your face, unintentionally revealing the leftover love bruises from the previous night on your neck. he thinks back to the night with amusement, remembering happily as he spent it at your whim, practically worshipping you like a goddess at the feel him deep within you.
you scoff teasingly at his dramatics, "i went with you on one like, a few days ago. sigh, gee, i guess i'll go today." he gleaming with that, placing excited kisses all over your face before kissing your chapped lip's happily. you can only grin into the kiss, eyebrow arching with surprise when the kiss is quickly deepened.
later that night, as he planned and begged, you join him on his run. you're much inexperienced compared to his years of running, but he doesn't seem to care, or even notice, as he's encouraging you and praising you when you somehow make it to his breaks.
he looks at you, sweaty and almost about to pass out, with a prideful smirk, thinking to himself how lucky he is to get such a talented women to choose him as your lover.
towards the end of the run, your legs are wobbly as you struggle to keep up with him. he notices, albeit not knowing it's because your mentally and physically struggling to keep up, so he takes your hand within his, fingers squeezing encouragingly around yours.
while the two of you are running, he turns back to look at you with that bright smile of his. "keep holding my hand, so we don't get separated!"
years pass, much against bokuto's will. however, he copes well with it when you soon fall pregnant with him for the first time. when you first told him, he was absolutely beaming, jumping around like a small child and boasting to everyone within ear shot about how he's going to be a father to your child.
however, that excitement soon fades when you come down with a sudden illness towards the end of your pregnancy. he doesn't remember what illness it exactly is, nor does he really want to search it up and look at it's possible grim details. all he knows that for the last few months of your pregnancy, was that he was a total wreck.
you were completely bed ridden, so sick you couldn't even walk on your own feet. he didn't mind accompanying you to the toilet, happily volunteering to carry you and sit on the bath's ledge while you peed just in case. hell, he'll wipe your ass if he has to, if it's for you.
while you slept, all he would do was sit at the bedside, waiting for the minute you woke up. he did nothing in particular then except pray, wishing for you to get better quickly.
he just wants you to be the one he needs, be the one he trusts most. you're his source of determination, happiness and just everything good in life. he doesn't want you to stop inspiring him, he wants you to encourage him and lead him on for the rest of his life.
when you gave birth, it was all but calm. it was entirely chaotic, it left him trembling and almost crying at the way you gave up multiple times due to the excruciating amount of pain you were in.
the day beforehand, he took a much needed run while you were sleeping. yet, during the entire time, what usually was a calming stress reliever for him, almost had him stopping not even halfway into it. he was purged with concerned thoughts, all of which were about your wellbeing. he constantly checked his phone to see if you had texted or called him, only continuing when he saw that you hadn't.
sometimes it's hard to keep on running. the two of you worked so hard to keep it going. he didn't know if he would be able to continue happily with life if something bad happened to you. when he returned to your bedside, still in deep sleep, he couldn't help but shed a tear. his hand cradled your own within his, praying silently, don't make me want to give up.
he really hoped the two of you would make it. eventually after a long 36 hour labor, did you finally give birth to your babygirl. she was somehow healthy and full-term, just everything he had hoped for.
following the birth, your own health had improved as well, and while it took awhile, you were eventually joining him on his morning runs as well.
he looked back at you while running, still taking your still fragile health in mind. his hand holding yours, encouraging you to continue, holding your hand so the two of you wouldn't get separated.
Summary: How does Asahi find himself in these situations? He wasn’t the tough and scary guy everyone made him out to be. Why can’t someone just give him a chance? That’s what he thought until he met her…
Word Count: 5.4K
Warnings: So much FLUFF! Dealing with self-doubt and anxiety. I didn’t write Atsumu’s slang dialogue but maybe I’ll edit in the future.
A/N: My contribution to Asahi x Reader content. HAPPY BIRTHDAY BEST BOY!! GIF credit to @akaashikoutarou
~
Today is the day. January 5th. Everyone’s hard work and determination will be put to the test on this day. A day where volleyball teams from all over Japan, the best from each prefecture, will meet with one another and have a chance to battle on the orange court.
Today marks Day One in the All Japan High School Volleyball Championship. Otherwise known as the Spring Tournament.
The victor of each battle will be one step closer to reaching the summit, a place that is only reserved for one winning team.
But until then, each team must go through the wringer and the emotional ties that come when playing the best of the best. Not only are the team members fighting for themselves to place a respectable standing in the tournament, they are also carrying the weight of their school’s pride and honor on their shoulders. The pressure that the Spring Tournament has always been great, but it’s even greater for those teams who are participating for the first time.
Teams such as the Karasuno High School Volleyball team.
A twelve member volleyball team from the Miyagi prefecture. For the past few years, Karasuno has fallen from their powerhouse status, but it seems that has all changed. Because now, here they are competing in the Spring Tournament for the first time in years.
Their methods of offense and defense were amazing to watch. It was almost too beautiful to describe but then again the concept is all the same: just keep the ball in play.
“(Y/N)-san!”
The third-year manager tore her gaze away from the orange court to meet with the familiar brown eyes of Miya Atsumu, the second-year setter of their volleyball team.
“Hey Atsumu.” She greeted the popular setter with a smile before scanning the area around them. “Where’s Osamu?”
“That scrub is probably stuffing his face.” He huffed as he stood next to her. His eyes peered down at the active court. “What are you even doing here?”
(Y/N) followed his gaze and smiled. “Just want to check out the competition. I’m curious as to who our next opponent will be.”
“Who’s playing?”
“Tsubakihara Academy and Karasuno High.”
Atsumu furrowed his brow at the mention of the latter school. He’s sure that Goody-Two Shoes setter came from there.
“Are they any good?”
He waited for her answer but when he didn’t receive one, the twin looked at her. Usually the older girl always had an answer for his questions, however silly the questions were. It was something Atsumu liked about (Y/N). No matter what silly antics he, his twin, and the rest of the volleyball team partook in, (Y/N) was always there to keep them in check. It was something Aran and Kita, her best friends, valued her for and the coach couldn’t agree more.
Of course, there were times she played along with their shenanigans. It was why she got along so well with everyone on the team. As a manager, the girl knew there were times to be serious but also to just enjoy the moments with the best team she ever had. Even the annoying moments of Suna and the Miya twins prying into her non-existent love life. Take the conversation she had with them from last week.
Flashback
“You rejected another guy, (Y/N)-senpai.” Osamu commented as he ate his lunch. “How many is that now?”
His twin answered for her. “I’m pretty sure that makes him Unlucky Schmuck #5. But that guy didn’t even have a chance.”
“Oh?” (Y/N) stopped taking her notes and decided to indulge in the conversation. “And why’s that? Kenji’s a nice guy.”
“Easy because he’s boring. You don’t want to date a boring guy, do you?”
“The most interesting thing about him is that he’s on the basketball team.” Osamu piped in, reaching over the table to get some of her chips. “He’s not even on the starting line up.”
“His last post was just a picture of the ocean.” Suna piped in, his eyes showed so much disinterest in Unlucky Schmuck #5’s profile account. He showed his phone to her. “See?”
“So? That doesn’t mean he’s boring. Besides, I like the ocean. That’s why I liked his post.”
Suna rolled his eyes and turned off his phone. He leaned all his weight over (Y/N)’s shoulder. “That’s because you’re nice.”
“Sometimes too nice.” She grumbled as she jerked her shoulder so Suna could get off her and then slap the gray haired twin’s hand away from her chips. She looked back at Atsumu and said, “But I’m still waiting for the right guy to come around.”
The setter grinned. “Then quit waiting because I’m right here.”
Osamu and Suna scoffed, which irked Atsumu. “Aren’t you Unlucky Schmuck #1?”
“Am not!”
“Got the video on my phone if you want to relive it again.” Suna smirked as he taunted Atsumu with a wave of his phone. The video was pure gold. No way was he going to delete it. He needed all the memories, especially embarrassing moments of the Miya twins.
“Well, I’m glad you three are so interested in my love life but I already have my hands full dealing with you guys. I don’t need a jealous boyfriend on top of your crazy fangirls. My anxiety would not be able to handle it. Besides, nationals are literally next week. ”
The twins pouted in unison when the manager mentioned their fangirls.
“Then get a guy who’ll understand. I’m sure there’s someone-”
“I’m right here-!” Atsumu exclaimed but was cut short when his twin hit the back of his head and at the same time Suna kicked his foot. “Quit abusing me!”
Suna ignored him and continued on. “Whoever this schmuck is, he’s going to be the luckiest guy in Japan.”
“He better be good at volleyball.” Atsumu grumbled, his head on the table. “That’s all I’m asking.”
Osamu joined his twin’s line of thinking. “Preferably from a powerhouse. The guy can’t be from a weak team. And cook some good food.”
(Y/N) rolled her eyes at the Miya twins. Of course, they would say something like that. She looked back at Suna and asked, “Do you have a requirement for my future significant other?”
Suna thought for a moment before answering her question. “As long as he cares for you.”
“Thanks Suna.”
“But the moment he hurts you,” Atsumu began.
“He has to deal with everyone on the team.” Osamu finished his brother’s sentence.
(Y/N) grinned at their protectiveness. “Thanks Unlucky Schmuck #1 and #2.”
“Hey!”/ “Don’t call me that!” The twins exclaimed in unison causing the middle blocker and manager to laugh once more.
End of Flashback
“Earth to (L/N) (Y/N)! Can you hear me, manager? This is future champion setter, Atsumu, speaking! Talk to me!”
(Y/N) blinked and tore her eyes away from the orange court. “Huh? What did you say?”
Atsumu narrowed his eyes and leaned close to (Y/N)’s face, causing the girl’s face to heat up. She quickly stepped back and looked away from the twin’s observant gaze.
“What?” She asked him.
“Who were you looking at?”
“No one in particular. Just Karasuno's team in general.”
She answered way too quickly and they both knew it. Atsumu grinned at his senpai’s poor attempt to lie. “Someone caught your eye?”
“Shouldn’t you be practicing your sets?”
“Oh no, don’t you avoid my question, (Y/N). Besides, my sets are perfect.” He turned his focus on the volleyball players that were still competing below. “Who’s the guy? Better not be that Goody-Two Shoes.”
(Y/N) furrowed her brow. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
“Karasuno’s #9. Kageyama Tobio.”
She looked at the roster and found the person Atsumu was talking about. She then looked back at the match that was still playing.
“Wait a minute. Is this the same Goody-Two Shoes that you met at the National training camp?”
Atsumu huffed and nodded. His eyes narrowed at the impressive set Tobio just did. “Yeah, that’s him alright. Piece of work that guy. Always setting the ball exactly how the spiker wants it. Such a Goody-Two Shoes.”
“Oh my guy, Atsumu. He’s just a first year student. Give him a break.” She paused for a moment before she asked, “Did you actually call him a Goody-Two Shoes?
The Inarizaki setter was just about to answer when he saw the familiar glare on his manager’s face. “Of course not.”
“You’re such a liar.” She scolded him as she flicked his forehead. “You always have to psych someone out and cause trouble.”
“Whatever! It’s not like I hurt his feelings. I was just telling him the truth. Ain’t nothing wrong with that.”
Just as she was about to reply, there was the familiar sound of a volleyball being slammed to the ground. Soon after, the announcer’s voice echoed throughout the stadium. “And Karasuno’s ace, Azumane Asahi, just did a flawless service ace!”
(Y/N)’s eyes searched for the mentioned ace. #3. The third-year wing spiker. A guy with long brown hair styled in a bun. He looked older than the rest of the team with his tall and strong build and with the service ace earlier, Azumane has proven himself that he’s the ace of the team.
He looked intimidating, just like how Aran would like when he was on a roll. But for some reason, Karasuno’s ace, didn’t scare her.
‘It’s his smile. He has a beautiful smile.’ (Y/N) thought as she watched the ace high-fived his teammates. ‘It looks like he’s enjoying himself… Having the time of his life.’
The pair of students watched the match until it reached its conclusion with Karasuno winning the second set. Which means they’ll advance to the second round where they’ll face their own team. Tomorrow’s match: Inarizaki vs Karasuno. It will be an interesting match that would guarantee to excite the crowd.
“Well, at least we know who we’re going to beat tomorrow.” Atsumu’s eyes shimmered in excitement, knowing tomorrow’s match will be a battle between setters. He couldn’t wait to prove to everyone who the better setter was. “Come on, (Y/N), let’s get out of here. The team is probably waiting for us to go out for lunch.”
“Sure.”
As Atsumu led the way, (Y/N) looked over her shoulder where her eyes landed on the members of Karasuno’s volleyball team cheering for joy. The ace’s smile was infectious as she felt her own lips smile as well.
~
“Hey, Atsumu. You go ahead. I want to buy another T-shirt while I’m here. I’ll catch a bus to the hotel.”
“You sure? I can wait-” Atsumu’s stomach decided it was the perfect moment to announce its hunger out loud.
(Y/N) laughed as the setter tried to cease his stomach’s rumbling. “Just go, ‘Tsumu. I’ll be fine on my own.”
“Fine! But hurry, will you? You know how ‘Samu gets when he’s hungry.”
The two parted ways. It always surprised her how large the crowd gets during intermission. She had to dodge and weave to avoid the hurdle of students carrying band instruments. She was successful and luckily the T-shirt stand was right there. There were so many options to consider and she was just about to make a selection when there was a sudden loud CRASH.
The noise caused her to stiffen in fright, she looked behind her to find someone had dropped a pair of cymbals.
“Can someone pick those up?” A girl asked her bandmates.
“I got them.” A bright-eyed boy volunteered.
(Y/N) remembered to breathe to calm her nerves as she gave the worker of the T-shirt stand a wobbly smile. “Can I have-”
“Hey, you! Look out!”
While the boy meant to be helpful, everything went downhill from there. When the boy bent down to pick up the cymbals, he accidentally bumped the nearby bass drum causing it to fall out of its little wagon. The large drum began to roll away, causing the crowd to panic.
(Y/N) looked behind her and saw that the drum was heading right towards her. She was just about to move when she felt a warm hand grabbed her wrist and pulled her out of the way. She watched as two guys her age, one with dark hair and the other with silver hair, stopped the drum from crashing into the T-shirt stand.
“A-Are you okay, miss?” A male’s voice, deep with concern, asked her. “Are you hurt?”
“Y-Yeah. Thanks for that-” (Y/N)’s ability to talk disappeared when she saw the face of her hero. It was Karasuno’s ace, Azumane Asahi.
And he looked even more handsome up close. She had to step back - not because she was scared of him but because she could feel her heart going into overdrive being so close to the guy she was beginning to have a crush on.
“Miss?”
‘He’s talking to you, dummy! Talk back!’
“Oh, um, yeah! Thanks again.” (Y/N) gave him a smile. “You’re Azumane, right? From Karasuno? I just watched your match. You were amazing, especially with that service ace.”
Asahi’s POV
A girl was talking to him.
A pretty girl. Willingly talking. To him.
It was enough to cause his brain to short circuit. He waited for the girl to come to her senses and realize that she was supposed to be scared of him, like how everyone else he came across. But to his surprise, the pretty girl was still talking to him. She didn’t have an ounce of fear in her eyes and the gentle smile she gave him made him feel better about himself. And to make matters even better, she was giving him compliments.
And he wasn’t the only one who noticed.
Daichi and Suga came up on either side of him and saw the girl. Asahi didn’t have to look at them to know his friends were giving each other a knowing smile behind his back.
The two introduced themselves to the girl who in turn introduced herself.
“My name is (L/N) (Y/N). I’m from Inarizaki High School in Hyōgo. I came here with my team.”
“You must be really good if you made it to Nationals.” Suga complimented.
She shook her head. “Oh no. I’m just the manager for the volleyball team. I was just telling your ace here how good your team is during your match.”
“We were nervous at first but we managed to get through this round.” Daichi told her. “The other team surprised us with that underhand serve.”
“Really? You manage to adapt to it very well.”
“We couldn’t have done it without this guy!” Suga slapped his hand against Asahi’s back. “Would you believe me if I told you he was single?”
“S-Suga!” He shouted in embarrassment. “W-Why w-would you say that?!”
“Oh come on, Asahi,” Daichi placed his hand on his shoulder. “It’s not like he’s lying. Besides, we're all single too.”
“Y-Yeah but that doesn’t mean she is.”
“Sorry to break the news but I’m single just like you.”
He was shocked to hear that the girl in front of him was actually single. She was breathtaking. Literally. And she was so nice to him.
“My team thinks otherwise. They keep pushing me to have a boyfriend, but I have my hands full managing them and their crazy fangirls. A jealous boyfriend isn’t something I need, you know?”
“Oh, well, that’s reasonable. Maybe you need to find someone who’s understanding,” Suga elbowed his side. “Right, Asahi?”
“U-Um yeah?” What is Suga up to?
“It’s a good thing there are guys, like Asahi, in the world. He’s actually quite sensitive. The only time he feels confident is when he’s on the court.”
“Daichi, what are you doing?” He whispered, the heat from his neck began to crept onto his face. Is his face red? Can she tell?
“Oh, no. Look at the time. Daichi, we need to go.” Suga announced, grabbing the captain’s shoulders and pushing him in a random direction. “We have that meeting with the coach. Right now. Remember?”
“That’s right, Suga.” Daichi gave him a knowing smile, a smile that he knew meant trouble. “Asahi, why don’t you stay here with (L/N)? Make sure she’s safe from any more runaway instruments.”
“It was nice meeting you two! Good luck tomorrow! You’re going to need it. The boys of the Inarizaki team love a good challenge. Don’t disappoint them.”
“Right back at you.”
He watched as his friends walked away, leaving him alone with the girl who caused his anxiety to skyrocket to a whole new level. Not even Kiyoko made him feel like this.
“You're lucky to have such good friends, Azumane.” She told him, her voice bringing him out of his thoughts. “I bet there’s never a dull moment when you three are together.”
He laughed as he rubbed his neck out of habit. “Been that way since we were first years. Though the first and second years bring all the crazy.”
“I know exactly what you mean. The second years on the team love making my life crazy. I love them but sometimes they can be a bit much. Especially during Nationals. Speaking of which, is this your first time?”
“Yeah. And with this being my last year, I guess I should be grateful that I’m even here.”
He was so lost in his own world of self-deprecation that he didn’t notice what she was doing. Not until her fist punched his chest. It wasn’t gentle or strong, somewhere in between, but her touch didn’t surprise him.
It was her eyes that surprised him. They seemed to shine with determination and, for some reason or another, inspire confidence. Even her voice was firm.
“Don’t sell yourself short, Asahi. Your team didn’t get here by chance. You all earned a spot here. You deserve to be here.”
Was it possible for a heart to beat so hard against a person’s ribs? Maybe it’s a medical condition? Because never before had he felt so anxious yet empowered. He wondered if (Y/N) could feel his heart underneath her hand.
“I’m not saying you should just get over yourself because we all have experienced some level of negative emotion in our lives, right? And it’s not as easy as turning a page in a book. Trust me I know. So believe me when I say this, it’s okay to express those feelings. Maybe one day, you’ll find solace in someone.”
There was another feeling. He couldn’t find a label for it, but he could describe it. A warm sensation that bloomed from his chest to every cell in his body the moment she said his name. Not his surname. His actual name. Asahi. His brain felt as though it had melted inside his skull. But by some miracle, he found his voice again.
“You… You think so?” He asked her. “About me being here?”
Why was he asking her this? Just a few minutes ago, she was a stranger. She could just lie to make him feel better but he had a feeling (Y/N) wasn’t like that.
“Are you kidding? I saw it with my own eyes.” She stepped back and mimicked a serve. The smile on her lips complimented the excitement in her eyes. “I’ve seen a lot of players these past three years, all of them possessing some kind of amazing skill. But you’re… Special.”
“Because I’m the ace?”
She smiled up at him. “That’s part of it, but if I’m being honest here I think you’re special even without the title of ace. The match from today proved it to me and I’m sure you’ll see it soon enough.”
“See what?”
“Your true self-worth.”
Normal POV
(Y/N) watched as Asahi mulled over her words and she hoped it gave him some confidence. While she didn’t know him all too well, Asahi looked like a nice enough guy. A bit self-conscious about his abilities, but hopefully she helped him loosen the strangling roots of insecurity that surrounded him.
Why did she care so much in helping him? Well, he did save her. The least she could do is give him some encouragement. She frowned at the thought. No… There must be something else she could do to give her thanks…
Her eyes wandered to the T-shirt stand and an idea was formed.
“Hey Asahi-san, let me buy you a T-shirt. It’s the least I could do since you saved me and all.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that. Really. As long as you're okay-”
She shook her head, grabbed his hand, and led him to the T-shirt stand. “Come on, please. You can choose whatever shirt you like. Consider it a gift.”
“G-Gift?” Asahi stammered and she couldn’t help but find his stammering cute. “From you?”
A small chuckle escaped her lips. “Yes from me. It wouldn’t make sense if it was someone else. Let me do this for you.”
Asahi contemplated for a moment before agreeing. The worker of the T-shirt stand, who watched their interaction the whole time, was extremely kind to them as (Y/N) picked her choice as well. Asahi stood awkwardly by, waiting for the transaction to be finished.
“You two would make a cute couple.” The worker said, quiet enough so only she could hear. “You should go for him.”
“You think so?” (Y/N) asked as she discreetly peered over her shoulder to look at the guy who made her feel all warm and fuzzy.
“Believe it or not,” The worker handed her the two bags, hers and Asahi’s, “Before the whole chaos started, you already caught his eye. His two friends tried to get him to talk to you but I guess he was too nervous.”
(Y/N) smiled widely at this. Maybe he liked her too? She hoped so because the feeling was definitely mutual. Only one way to find out...
“Hey, do you have a pen and paper I can use?”
~
Turns out the two third-years were heading in the same direction. By some cosmic fate, Asahi and his team were staying at the inn right next to the hotel she was staying in with her own team. So during the whole bus ride there, they got to know more about each other.
Asahi learned about (Y/N)’s favorite foods, hobbies, and even her future dream of attending the university in Tokyo. He laughed at the stories she shared about the Inarizaki team members. And (Y/N) was happy to learn more about him. She learned that he was close to the libero of his team, he has taste in fashion, and that his birthday just passed four days ago.
All too soon, they reached their destination. They walked side by side until they reached the point where the path forked, one way led to her hotel while the other led to Asahi’s inn.
She turned to face him and flashed him another smile. “Thanks for your company, Asahi-san. It was really nice getting to know you.”
“Same here, (Y/N)-san.” Asahi replied, his voice no longer nervous around her. “And thanks again for the shirt. I’ll make sure to take care of it. I want it to last for years.”
“It’s no problem. After all, you did save me.” Her fingers rubbed the plastic material of her bag out of nerves. “Well, I should get going. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Y-Yeah, see you.”
Asahi’s POV
“(Y/N)! Wait!”
He was surprised to hear his voice sound so firm but she brought that feeling out of him. He didn’t want her to leave. Not yet. He enjoyed talking to (Y/N). She was so understanding, kind, and ever so confident. Their time together felt so short but at the same time so long. Those moments with her… He wanted more of those moments.
And the moment his eyes met with her hopeful ones, he knew he had to at least try to ask for her number.
“Yes, Asahi?”
Oh, god. She looked so pretty… He wondered if (Y/N) knew the effect she has on him. The initial confidence he had was beginning to fade, but he steeled his nerves and took a deep breath.
“I was wondering, i-if it’s okay with you, that w-we could-”
“(Y/N)-SENPAI!” A guy with blond hair called out to her.
Right next to him was another guy, identical to the first only with silver hair, yelled, “WE’RE WAITING FOR YOU! I’M STARVING!”
“WHAT ‘SAMU SAID!”
‘They must be the Miya twins.’ He thought.
(Y/N) sighed before answering back, “Give me a minute!” She turned back and offered him a sheepish look. “Sorry about that Asahi. What were you saying?”
Over her shoulder, he saw the Miya twins frowning at him all the while staring daggers in his direction. His confidence, the little bit he had in supply, disappeared into thin air. He stammered out a reply, “Never mind. U-Um… Get a good night’s sleep. T-Take care of yourself.”
(Y/N)’s smile melted. Was that disappointment in her eyes? But she quickly recovered and offered him a bittersweet smile, “Oh, um, thanks Asahi. Good luck tomorrow.”
“Bye.”
“Bye.” She turned around and began to make her way to the twins when stopped in her tracks. “Oh, and Asahi-san?”
“Yeah?” He felt his heart hitch up to his throat when they made eye contact once again. Her eyes were a lovely shade of (E/C) filled with warmth and kindness.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself the next few days. Remember what I said. Your team is lucky to have you as their ace. So do your best tomorrow. I’m sure you’ll do great.” She glanced down at the plastic bag containing the shirt she bought for him. “I hope you like the shirt. Consider it a birthday gift from me.”
And with that, the girl he developed to have feelings for walked away, but not before she gave one last smile that made his heart expand three times its size.
~
“Asahi! You’re back!” Nishinoya’s loud voice echoed throughout the room where Karasuno's team was staying. “Is what Daichi and Suga are saying true? You met a girl?!”
Tanaka joined in his friend’s interrogation. “Yeah, Asahi! Daichi didn’t want to say anything but Suga said you saved her life!”
“Was she pretty?”
“What school does she go to?”
“What was she like?”
“What’s her name?”
“We need details!” The two second-years yelled out in unison. Their eyes shimmering in excitement as they waited for answers.
“Uh, w-well…”
“Alright, that’s enough you two.” Daichi grabbed their shirt collars and pulled them back. “Give Asahi a break. He’s had an eventful day.”
“Yeah, come on, Asahi, let's get you a drink from the vending machine.” Suga offered, his hand already pushing him out of the room.
“I’m not thirsty-”
“Yes, you are. Our treat. Well, Daichi’s treat since he’s buying.”
The trio of third-years walked downstairs and true to Suga’s words, Daichi bought them a round of their favorite drink.
“Okay, spill! Don’t leave out a single detail. I want to know everything.” Suga pressed, just as Nishinoya and Tanaka were a few minutes ago.
“Suga, calm down.” Daichi told him. “You're worse than Nishinoya and Tanaka combined.”
“Oh, come on, Daichi,” Suga complained. “You want to know just as badly as I do.”
“Ok, fine.” The captain admitted before turning to the ace. “So how did it go with (Y/N)?”
“Details.” Suga reminded him.
So he told his friends everything that happened when they left them alone. How she raised his spirits, believing in his self-worth as an ace. How her words inspired him. How she made him feel nervous one moment and confident the next. How she bought him a new shirt as a gift.
“She sounds awesome for you, Asahi.” Suga complimented. “And if I remember correctly, doesn’t she fit your description of your ideal dream girl?”
“I mean- Yeah. She’s great but-”
Daichi interrupted him. “But what, Asahi? You're both single and you’re definitely interested in each other.”
“How do you know that? I mean she did say she wasn’t looking for a boyfriend.”
“She said she didn’t need a jealous boyfriend.” Daichi reminded him. “You’re the most sensitive guy I know.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“This time it is.”
“Seriously, Asahi,” Suga placed his hand on his shoulder. “Why do you think I highlighted your star qualities? You take other people’s feelings into account. She helped build your confidence. And you just told us, how you had a great time talking to her where it sounds like she did too. You’re literally perfect for each other.”
“You think so?” He asked, sounding hopeful. “I do like her. Do you think she likes me?”
“Dude, she wasn’t scared of you, she held down a meaningful conversation with you, and she even bought you a shirt.” Suga listed, his grin growing by the minute. “(Y/N) likes you.”
The small flame of hope in his heart, fueled by his friends’ words, began to burn brightly. He couldn’t wait to see her again. Even if she’ll be on the sidelines on the opposing team’s side, he’ll still be happy.
“So what will you do next, ace?” Daichi asked, crossing his arms. Suga did the same thing as they waited for a response. “Will you let this opportunity slip away?”
“No way.”
His friends grinned, happy to see their glass-hearted friend sound so confident.
~
It was nightfall. Everyone took a rain check and turned in early, knowing that the next day will be just as hard as the first. The only person not asleep was him. He volunteered to shower last as it gave him the chance to relive the afternoon.
How was he going to talk to her tomorrow? Will she want him to talk to her? His team is playing against hers tomorrow… If they win tomorrow, will she be angry and ignore him?
Shaking his head at the thought, he finished his nightly routine. He decided to wear the shirt (Y/N) bought for him. He grabbed the bag and unfolded the shirt. Carefully as if it was woven by the most precious fabric in the world. In his mind, the T-shirt was a treasure given to him by an angel.
For some reason, he recalled (Y/N)’s words, ‘So believe me when I say this, it’s okay to express those feelings. Maybe one day, you’ll find solace in someone.’
He hoped she believed that to be true because he might have found that someone.
The sound of paper falling caught his attention. At first he thought it was just the discarded T-shirt tags, when his eyes landed on a simple piece of folded notebook paper in the sink. He picked it up, unfolded it, and his heart stopped for the third time? Fourth? Maybe fifth?
In clean and elegant handwriting, the note displayed:
I hope this isn’t weird of me to do this, but I didn’t want to lose this chance. So this is me making the first move because while I try to play it cool, you make me nervous. (Hard to believe, right?) Anyways, this is my number: XXX-XXX-XXXX.
We can just talk if you want. You seem like a cool guy and I still want to get to know you. If you don’t, I’ll understand. Anyways, I’ll cut this note short. Good luck tomorrow! Don’t hold back against Inarizaki.
P.S: I hope your friends were telling the truth earlier.
~
Normal POV
(Y/N) ditched her cards the moment she heard her phone let out a small ding, signaling a new message.
“Hey, you can’t just do that in the middle of the game!” Atsumu’s voice called out.
She ignored him as she jumped on her bed and grabbed her phone. Her heart was racing as she quickly unlocked her phone, but then it expanded at the sight of the message that read:
Hey, it's Asahi. Is this (Y/N)-san?
Her face broke into a wide smile. Her thumbs danced over the keyboard as she typed out a reply:
Asahi! Yeah, it’s me. I’m glad you found my note.
She watched as the three dots appeared, signaling that Asahi was typing. God, he has no idea the effect he has on her.
It was a nice surprise. A bit of a shock, but it’s very much welcomed. The shirt fits by the way. I think it’s my new favorite.
Another message appeared after the first and she felt every atom in her body seemed to explode after reading it.
By the way, my friends were telling the truth. I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.
~
This was the first page of a story where two individuals found solace in one another.
Meeting with your parents is the only thing that has been on his mind for the past few days. He was worried that he might mess it up and leave a bad impression on them; but now that he is sitting in front of your dad? He smiles to the man thinking to himself how he was worried for nothing.
Your dad continues talking about his favorite soccer team which turned out to be your boyfriend's as well, and he plays along, mentioning the last match of them that had him shouting and cussing at the TV.
Yeah he can definitely do this; every Saturday night at your parents' house, all family gathered around the table, with him included. He knows he has your father's blessing when he wants to propose. Maybe he will even call him before doing so, to be respectful and be the ideal son in law he deserves to have.
Everything has been going so smooth, so amazing, he's got it under control; and then, you come in the living room and ruin it all.
"Daddy?"
"Yes?" "Yes?"
Shit.
A huge blush spreads over his face as his eyes widen with shock, not attempting to look at your dad's face.
You. Just. Said. Daddy. And. He. Answered.
In. Front. Of. Your. Dad.
And for some reason, you're blushing harder than him.
"I- I just needed some help with the lamp because it seems to be broken but never mind. E-Enjoy yourselves"
Yeah, they definitely will.
He doesn't want to face your dad at the moment. No. He actually wants to be murdered. He wants the ground to swallow him whole. He wants a bullet to break through the window and pierce through his scalp. There are no words capable of describing how bad he wants to die at the moment.
But after waiting a few seconds nothing happens; no sign of bullets or a mass murderer with a huge chainsaw. Even the earth is double crossing him. You running into the kitchen without looking back is not really helping either. It's just him and your dad, who has been weirdly silent since "that" happened.
Miserably, he turns his face toward your dad, looking into his eyes that are filled with something he can't really name, but knows that isn't a good thing.
Maybe your father would be so kind and do the murderers job for him.
⤷ atsumu miya x f!reader; best friends, references to infidelity, pining, sexual content (w.c 3.1k)
“it’s not sex.” he insists between mouthfuls. a drop of mustard dots the corner of his mouth. you stare incredulously.
“are you joking?” you ask. atsumu just shrugs his shoulder, intense focus saved for the burger held in his hands. practically inhaling a third of it in one bite as he brings it up to his mouth.
“‘s not like it’s the real thing.” he bobs his head side to side in consideration of the sandwich before he’s grabbing at the fries in your lap, “can i haf some.”
the carton lays practically emptied from his pilfering next to your abandoned chicken nuggets. three remaining, absent of consumption in favor of a bewildered stare at the man seated beside you on his bed.
“fingering is penetration, that’s sex.” you say simply.
atsumu raises a brow, “yer gyno having sex with ya?”
“that’s different.” you level a stare at him, one that’s serious and fierce and that communicates everything you mean in the single look alone. he meets it with one of his own, familiarity and uncommunicated languages all the rage between the two of you. “she doesn't make me cum.”
“neither does yer boyfriend.” he shrugs, taking another large bite of his burger as you screech in offense. your hand meets his bicep with a sharp slap and he grabs at it in pain. “ow! ya were the one that told me that!”
”some people take a minute to figure it out.”
”sounds like its taking a lot longer than a minute.” he mutters to himself. “look, its a lost cause. just dump the guy before it gets anywhere. ya haven’t had sex yet, he’s got a weird face, dude cant tell a fake orgasm from a real one. why are ya fighting me on this?”
“fingering is sex! your body count would be zero if fingering didnt count.” you insist loudly and atsumu rolls his eyes. he crumples the foil his burger came in and throws it across the room, cheering loudly when it makes it into the bin in the corner of his room.
his room is much the same since the last time you visited. photos of passing years sit framed on the desk— an image of he and osamu with their arms wrapped around each other, taken right before atsumu left for the olympics. another of you and atsumu placed right next to it, you leaning over his shoulder and him laughing loudly, beer bottles held deftly in hands and drunken flushes decorating your faces. momentos of faded high school memories, interspersed with flashes of young adult realities.
its more sophisticated than it once was. minimal in furniture, and of the items that decorate the room they’re the perfect reflection of a twenty-four year old athlete. his closet is lined with designer gifted clothes, but his desk chair remains stacked with undone laundry, the basics of his everyday life found in the plush cushion more than on the hangers. the jacket you’re currently wearing was stolen from the top of that pile just after delivering a pointed comment at how cold he keeps his apartment.
its a far cry from the bedroom he used to share with his brother, the one you remember at the dusk of previous memories. it was cramped and contained, lines between the two boys constantly blurred and you having to learn rather quickly where to step and when. but even now, as he lives on his own in a city a bit further from you than you’re comfortable with, not much has changed. you still sit on the left side of the bed and he takes the right; you still eat burgers on his bed and steal his jackets, and he throws papers into trash bins and insists he could’ve made it professional were he not already in volleyball; you still moan and complain about the woes of daily life and he still listens to them endlessly, interjecting the same amount of dumb enthusiasm as you know him to have.
there is still much in common that remains between he and you. trusted familiarity, endless comfort; a bubble that remains whole and precious, unaltered despite life dealing its hand to you. you’re convinced there’s no one else in the world that gets you quite like atsumu does.
there’s also no one in the world that works you up, quite like atsumu does.
atsumu stands from the bed, retrieving your own trash from your lap and chucking the rest of it in the bin. lithe and lean, he moves with a body that is sculpted to perfection as he turns off the overhead light and instead turns on the desk lamp, submerging the room in the lowly warmth of its glow. days are shorter now and the sun has just made it return home, leaving you to the dim luster of a pleasant comfort.
its quiet, intimate. words entirely inappropriate to describe the weekly hangout with your best friend of seven years.
pushing thoughts aside, you fight to remember what the whole point of the conversation was about. a boyfriend, right. your boyfriend.
right.
“and he does not have a weird face, he’s just… interesting. it’s what i liked about him.”
“revolting. i’m this close to spiking a ball in his face. it would be plastic surgery for the dud.”
“you’re being mean.” you tell him.
atsumu scoffs loudly, “and yer being stupid! yer the one that’s complaining to me about it. yer really gonna date a guy who can’t figure it out when he fingers ya? what happens when ya actually have sex with the bozo?”
“it takes practice. i don’t blame him for not being able to get me there on the first try. i see him later tonight so i’ll talk to him about it. it’s hard to figure out how to turn someone on and then try to, you know, get me there—“
“woahwoahwoah—timeout.” atsumu hold his hands perpendicular to one another, forming a ‘t’. his eyebrows practically touch the hairline of his bleached hair. “he doesn't even turn you on?”
“not everyone is good at everything, like you.” you mean it sarcastically, but it comes out short and meek. it’s embarrassing to have to cover for the misgivings of your current beau, but there’s an obligation to. a point to make, especially to the man in front of you.
you’ve met the ex-girlfriends, heard their feedback for the man before you. an average of six out of ten in boyfriend material, but he knocks the ball out of the park when it comes to the bed—or so you’ve heard.
(aya, the most recent girl to have made her grand exit, followed you on instagram and asked you to not be a stranger. whether that was so she could have her in for atsumu or because she really wanted to be friends is still up for debate, but the gesture ended with a message in your directs.
[9:17] it sucks, he’ll always be more in love with volleyball than any girl he could ever date. and even if he didn’t, you’re his number two anyway, so there’s really no way i can win.
[9:20] i’m super sorry, aya. if it’s any consolation, i really liked you two together. he’s just slow, i’m sure you guys will figure it out.
[9:20] you were our biggest argument.
[9:20] so no, i don’t think we will.
[9:21] i’ll miss that dick tho, best orgasm of my life. rip
there’s not much you can say to a message like that. there’s not much you can say to the surge of smugness that courses through you either, so you don’t.
you don’t tell atsumu about it.)
“alright. sit up then.”
his voice startles you. “what?”
suddenly, he stands before the side of the bed, looming horribly tall over you as he peers down at you. he shoves his hands in the pockets of his gray sweatpants, the fabric unintentionally pulling down ever so slightly and the waistband of his black boxers peeking out in greeting. the light of the desklamp casts a halo over his silhouette.
your attention is drawn upward and it’s hard to deny the familiar pang that tends to strike through you every so often in times like this. the simple effect of being near him. atsumu is unfairly handsome, and while it’s hard to put a name to the feeling that pulses inside of you when the light catches him just right or when a smile is even more charming than usual, the ache is always the same.
it’s fleeting, you convince yourself. something you refuse to settle on for too long. contexts and suppressed hopes pushed to the back of your mind along with the other unspoken things.
“come on.” he gestures two fingers upward. “i’ll show ya how easy it is to turn a girl on.”
its curiosity that has you standing up on your knees on the comforter, nothing more. its the wonder of how exactly your best friend makes his move on women that leads you to be so close to him, chests practically touching. breaths intertwining as atsumu stares a kind of serious into you that you’ve never been in the receiving end of before.
“im gonna touch ya.” his voice is low and your heart beats erratically in your chest. you nod.
lifting his right hand, cold fingertips run across the heated skin on the back of your arm. digits trailing upward as he paints a pathway up. and it’s nothing—just his hand on your arm, nothing new or different, and yet your breath hitches. innocent in theory, but something solidifies on atsumu’s face, the familiar signs of determination playing out on his face. it’s less babied now, more formed and angular with the growings of an adult man, but it’s the same focus in his eye, the same clench in his jaw.
his fingers trail up then down, repeating a circular figure on your skin. the sounds of your mingling breaths the only whispers between you two. your eyes dart down to his lips, but his stay fixed on you. studying every flicker of your eye, every inhale.
his fingers break from their pattern and trails down to your wrist, then your palm, then your own fingers. tracing them, dancing with them, intertwining them slightly only to pull them away.
“we should stop.” you whisper after a moment of his caress.
“why?” he asks and a quick glance to his gaze reveals that he knows why. he’s just making you spell it out.
it’s unfortunate that the only reason you want to stop is out of principle, and not because you truly have any reservations about any of this. your boyfriend of three months all but an annoying buzz in your ear.
“this feels like cheating.” you tell him simply. atsumu cocks his head to the side, charming smirk pulling across his lips.
“i’m touching yer arm. this isn’t anything, yet.”
“you shouldn’t be touching my arm like this.”
“why? cause it’s working, right?” his voice drops to a low rumble, words vibrating through you and shooting straight to your core. “see how easy it is?”
“that means this is cheating then, right?” the question is posed, but it’s obvious it’s more to convince yourself than him. because all that he’s done is touch your arm and you’ve felt the bubbling of that unnamed something heat within you. it feels the exact same as it did seven years ago when you met him; feels identical to the moment four years ago when a drunken night led to a drunken kiss that was forgotten about the next day; feels the exact same whenever he looks at you like he does now, like you're open for the taking. a pointedly very different response to the dread that comes when getting intimate with your actual boyfriend.
and while atsumu may be doing this to prove a point, to rub it in your face that he was right and you were wrong, you don’t trust that you’ll be able to not carry this with you. to not want more than you should.
“nah.” he says simply, knowingly. “if i kiss you then it’s a problem.”
“oh, so kissing is cheating, but fingering isn’t?”
“can you shuddup? always runnin’ that damn mouth.” he renders you quiet.
satisfied with your silence, he brings his left hand to cup your jaw, thumb and index finger grasping your chin and tilting your head to the left, leaving your neck exposed. he leans in, nose tracing a line up the column of your neck until he meets the juncture between that and your jaw. it’s a simple movement, and yet it feels like eternity in his hands. his breath hits steadily against the expanse of your cheek as he whispers into your ear. “does he touch ya like this?”
the gasp you release is guttural.
the arm previously fiddling with your fingers quickly wraps around your waist, pulling you flush to him. you have no choice but to embrace him with your own arms, hands cupping the back of his neck to steady yourself. it’s impulse to run them down the expanse of his back, to feel the muscles that he’s worked so hard for, but you resist. keeping yourself locked on his neck and nothing more, as though you being pliant to his ministrations wasn’t jeopardizing enough.
his thumb inches upward, stroking the corner of your lips sweetly. “does he take his time with ya? cause i would.”
its then that his lips meet the skin of your neck, tingles erupting from the connection. all of its effects causing an inadvertent clench within you. “it’s not about shoving fingers inside and just doing it. its about doing it the way you like it. and i’d make ya tell me how ya like it. since yer always runnin’ that damn mouth, might as well put it to good use.”
its all-encompassing, the traitorous burn between your thighs. and yet, this is the unnamed something, all that you’ve pushed away.
“astumu—” you whine and its in that exhale of yours that he releases a sigh of his own. one that almost sounds restrained.
“tell me to stop.” he says quickly, lips mouthing against your neck as he utters the words.
and you don’t want him to. not really. the desire is feverish, unlike anything you’ve felt before and to end this is to end the sweetness of something you’ve yet to taste. if it were to be with anyone you would want it to be with him.
you could take the teasing, the “i-told-you-so” from osamu, the obliteration of a friendship for the uncertain promise of something more. but it isn’t right. not like this. if mountains were to come to a head, you want it to happen because they were gravitated to each other, not because the earth told them to do so.
“stop.” you tell him, and it’s like a hot brand that strikes him. he’s immediately pushing away from, untangling his limbs from you and stepping back into the swath of darkness in the room.
his breaths are deep and heavy, that much you can tell from the distance. shuttering exhales that wrack his chest. you can hardly make out his irises, only see the intensity of dark pupils. it’s hard to believe that he could be feeling the way you do, just from the simple touch alone. a quick glance down to his grey sweatpants proves otherwise.
a moment, then two, pass by. ragged breaths filling the distance, words spoken in the silent language you’re both fluent in.
“does this mean i’m easy then?” you ask quietly, an effort to ease the wall of tension.
“no.” he shakes his head gently, “just means i know ya.”
he knows what he means to say, the words and all of their yearning practically knocking against his teeth to escape. it’s the long haul, almost a decade long game of carefully advanced chess pieces to get to this point. blocked, temporarily, by the appearance of the new guy. a boyfriend of yours that atsumu met once, a guy he barely attempted to learn the name of. for reasons of his own, their knowing pertinent only to him. held deeply within the urges of being seen, the desires of having you wholly, completely.
there are plenty of other ways that he could do this—probably be more eloquent about it. admit pushed away feelings when you’re not in the midst of ranting about how your boyfriend just can’t get you off.
but the tension irks him. thick enough to cut a knife, always following the two of you in the long held stares and closeness in which you two gravitate towards each other. the answer to your boyfriend problem is standing right in front of you. he knows what he wants you to do when you see your boyfriend later tonight.
there are certain shoes that atsumu is convinced he could fill better than your boyfriend.
your face is flushed, and the desk lamp makes you look angelic under the lowlights, and you're wearing his jacket like you always do in a way that makes him believe it was always meant for you. and he’s not entirely convinced, even without the cloud of lust that hangs over him, that you don’t want this just as bad as he does.
osamu once said that atsumu wouldn’t admit his feelings to you even if they hit him over the head. they’re here, now. settling in the distance between you two, bobbing in the capsizing waves of want. they ache to be spoken, knock repeatedly against his gritted teeth.
but a choice is made in that moment, with you looking at him as wild as you are. atsumu will admit to the selfish and prideful part of himself, but this—you— aren’t something to just take. the taste of your neck, the feel of your body against him, it must be given to him, earned. not because he needs to make a petty point, but because you want him to.
he cares for you too much to be reckless in how he plays his cards. even if osamu will bust his balls for it later.
you have a boyfriend. and he can’t force you to change that. it wouldn’t be right, he’s given you the taste, he hopes it will be enough.
“like that.” he says after a moment, pushing down his pride and long held desires for you. “tell him ya like it like that.”
a/n: why is it that whenever i stop writing for kuroo, the one i always want to write for is atsumu. also big ups for my beta who entertains me and proofreads me at all hours of the day. i love you sanju!!!!!!
“Excuse me?” Osamu asks at your question, popping an eye open as he chuckles. You giggle at your matched silliness, gently patting his chest.
“You know.... like, is my butt cute?” You ask again, traveling your eyes to look. Your leg is hooked over his waist, his large hand running along your thigh sweetly.
Osamu sighs sleepily, “is this one of those scenarios where if I answer, you’ll hit me?”
You giggle at him, “depends on your answer.”
“Then I think you have, single handedly, the cutest butt in the world, sweet love.” His large hand travels down and gives your ass a gentle pat, almost like you were a baby.
Well, you are his baby, as he always assures.
Your heart flutters wildly at his words, they always have an effect on you, and you can’t help but nuzzle into his chest further to hide your face.
“Awww,” he teases. “Did I make my angel girl all shy?”
“Shut up,” you mutter, shoving him lightly. He chuckles lowly before shoving his hand under your hip and pushing you up, guiding you to straddle his waist. He gently caresses your sides and thighs, dopey, loving smile on his pink lips.
“I think every part of you is the cutest, my love,” Osamu whispers, making you roll your eyes.
“Oh yeah?” You challenge. “Like what?” He raises his own brows, “everything.” He gently takes your hand in his, “I love these small, sexy hands of yours.” He plants a kiss to each of your fingers before closing them, placing a final kiss to your knuckles. You bite your lip, brushing the fallen locks of hair out of his eyes.
“They’re not small,” you protest. “Yours are just massive.”
“Either way,” he continues. “I love these hips, and these legs that everyone stares at when you wear shorts,” he gently digs his fingers in your thighs slightly, leaving lightened prints before transforming back to your original skin tone.
You avert his gaze, “they stare because my hips come up to your thighs. Tall freak.”
“They stare because you’re hot,” he says, putting extra emphasis on the ‘T’ and grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “They stare because somehow, your stunning ass got stuck with me."
“I love being stuck with you!"
“I love it too,” he assures, smiling as you laugh. “That’s another thing,” he says. “That sweet laugh of yours.”
“Oh, you mean the dolphin mating call?” You scoff, crossing your arms.
Osamu shakes his head, “no, you brat. I’m talking about your laugh. Your sweet giggles. Your scoffs. The way it goes silent when you laugh really hard. It the fucking best.”
“No it’s not,” you groan. “You’re the only person on planet earth who could find a walrus being assaulted with a crowbar cute.”
“There’s nothing wrong with finding your little giggles endearing.”
“Yeah, right.”
“But you know what I love most about you?” He asks, cupping your ass and hips in his massive hands.
You quirk your brow, “what’s that, oh Prince Charming of mine.”
“My absolute biggest weakness about you, dollface, is...” he squeezed harder. “Messing with you.”
You can barely process what he said before he bucks his hips up against you, bouncing you up and down. You scream out in laughter, planting your hands to his chest. His own laughter mixes with yours, his thighs continuing to bounce you like you’re a rider on a horse.
“Okay, okay!” You manage between giggles. “I get it!”
“Don’t,” bounce “think,” bounce “you,” bounce “do.” He grins as he stops bouncing, sitting up to wrap his arms around you, pulling you flush to his chest as you both flop back down.
“You’re so bad,” you giggle, running your hands over his chest. Osamu chuckles, planting a kiss to your head.
“What can I say,” he sighs dreamily. “I'm a man of poetic genius.”
"If that's what you want to call it."
Immediately, hands dart under your arms to tickle you viciously, smirking as you shriek and clamp your hands to your sides and laughter pours out of your lips.
