Haikyuu!! AU PT.5 - How Some of the Haikyuu!! Men Act When You Show Up to Their Match Looking Way Too Good
CW: Flirting, suggestive comments, jealousy, possessive behavior, workplace romance, shameless staring
Featuring: Kuroo, Iwaizumi, Oikawa, Kageyama, Hinata, Bokuto, Ushijima, Sakusa, Atsumu & Suna
Adult Pro Volleyball AU | Reader is the Junior Player Relations Coordinator
You weren’t trying to distract anyone.
For once, you weren’t working the match. No staff badge around your neck, no company blazer, no clipboard tucked beneath your arm. You were simply attending as a guest, dressed in something you actually liked instead of something approved by the JPVO dress code.
Which apparently created a problem.
Because the moment they spotted you in the stands, professionalism went directly out the window.
Tetsurō Kuroo
Kuroo isn’t on the court.
Which means, unfortunately for you, he has absolutely nothing stopping him from staring.
He’s standing near the VIP section speaking with sponsors when you walk in. Mid-conversation, his eyes find you across the arena.
And stay there.
The sponsor beside him actually has to say his name twice.
“Kuroo-san?”
“Sorry.” His gaze flicks back toward them. “Where were we?”
He lasts maybe thirty seconds before looking at you again.
You’re used to seeing him polished and composed at work, effortlessly managing athletes, executives, sponsors, and whatever catastrophe the JPVO has created that week.
Tonight?
He looks almost offended by your existence.
The moment he gets away, he finds you.
“I have a complaint.”
“You usually do.”
His eyes travel slowly over your outfit.
“This feels targeted.”
You laugh. “I got dressed.”
“Exactly.”
“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”
“Nothing.” His hand settles lightly against your waist as he leans closer. “That’s the problem.”
When someone nearby gives you an appreciative glance, Kuroo notices immediately.
His fingers tighten.
“You’re jealous.”
“I’m an executive. I don’t get jealous.”
“You’re glaring.”
“I’m evaluating a potential security concern.”
“Kuroo.”
He finally looks down at you, amusement flashing in his eyes.
“Next time you decide to look like this at one of my events, little menace, I’d appreciate advance notice.”
“Why?”
“So I can clear my schedule.”
His gaze drops to your mouth.
“I’m suddenly having a very difficult time remembering why I came here to work.”
Hajime Iwaizumi
Iwaizumi is in the middle of warmups when he sees you.
More accurately, Oikawa sees you first.
Unfortunately for Iwaizumi.
Oikawa whistles from across the court.
“Well, Iwa-chan. Someone cleaned up nicely.”
Iwaizumi follows his gaze.
Then completely stops what he’s doing.
One of the athletes nearly walks directly into him.
You smile and wave from near the court entrance.
Iwaizumi’s eyes drag over you once before snapping back to your face.
His jaw tightens.
Oikawa notices immediately.
“Oh, this is going to be fun.”
“Shut up.”
For the remainder of warmups, Iwaizumi becomes noticeably more irritable every time one of the players glances toward you instead of listening to him.
“Eyes here.”
Atsumu smirks. “Yours weren’t.”
“I said run another lap.”
“Worth it.”
After the match, you find Iwaizumi packing away training equipment.
“You seemed grumpy tonight.”
“I had twenty professional athletes forgetting how to follow directions.”
“Wonder why.”
He looks at you.
Slowly.
“You know exactly why.”
You smile innocently. “No idea.”
He steps closer.
“You’ve spent months showing up in office clothes.”
“And?”
“And then tonight you walk in looking like that and expect me to act normal?”
Your smile widens.
“Are you saying I look good?”
Iwaizumi exhales sharply through his nose.
“I’m saying I had to threaten three grown men with extra conditioning because they kept staring at you.”
“That sounds like jealousy.”
“That sounds like me doing my job.”
His hand settles around your waist.
You glance down.
“This part of your job too?”
“No.”
His thumb presses lightly into your side.
“This part’s personal.”
Tōru Oikawa
Oikawa notices you before the match even begins.
Of course he does.
He’s serving during warmups when his attention shifts toward the stands.
The ball hits the net.
The entire team goes silent.
Oikawa slowly lowers his arms.
You smile sweetly from your seat.
Iwaizumi immediately knows something is wrong.
“What happened?”
Oikawa points subtly toward you.
Iwaizumi glances over.
Then back at him.
“Control yourself.”
“Have you seen her?”
“Yes.”
“And you expect me to play volleyball?”
“That is literally why you’re here.”
Every time Oikawa rotates toward your side of the court, he finds you.
Every time you catch him staring, he flashes that devastating smile.
And after one particularly good point?
He looks directly at you and winks.
The crowd loses its mind.
You bury your face in your hands.
After the match, he finds you before the reporters can find him.
“You.”
“Congratulations.”
“No.”
“No?”
“You don’t get to walk in here looking like that and then calmly congratulate me.”
His hands settle at your hips as he backs you toward a quieter section of hallway.
“I was watching the match.”
“You were ruining the match.”
“You won.”
“Barely.”
“You won in straight sets.”
Oikawa leans closer.
“Imagine how much better I could’ve played if I wasn’t wondering whether everyone else was staring at you too.”
“They probably weren’t.”
“They were.”
His expression turns dramatically wounded.
“One man in section twelve looked at you for at least seven seconds.”
“You counted?”
“I had time during a timeout.”
You laugh.
Oikawa’s gaze drops toward your mouth.
“Keep laughing.”
“Why?”
“Because if you keep looking this pretty while doing it, I’m skipping the postgame interview.”
Tobio Kageyama
Kageyama doesn’t notice you immediately.
He’s focused.
Completely locked in.
Then Hinata says, “Oh! She came!”
Kageyama looks toward the stands.
And forgets what Hinata was talking about.
You aren’t dressed particularly scandalously. You just look different from how he normally sees you at work.
Hair styled. Outfit flattering. No clipboard.
Apparently, that is enough.
“Kageyama?”
Nothing.
“Kageyama.”
Still nothing.
Hinata follows his stare.
“Oh.”
Kageyama abruptly looks away.
“Shut up.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
During the match, he keeps glancing toward you between points.
He hates that you notice.
He hates even more that every time you catch him, you smile.
Afterward, you’re waiting near the players’ exit when he approaches.
“You played well.”
“Thanks.”
He’s staring again.
You wait.
Kageyama continues staring.
“Tobio?”
“What?”
“You’re doing it again.”
His brows furrow. “Doing what?”
“Looking at me.”
“I always look at you.”
The words leave his mouth before he can stop them.
Silence.
His ears turn bright red.
You smile.
“Oh?”
“I didn’t mean—” He pauses. “I mean, I did. But not—”
You step closer and straighten the collar of his team jacket.
Kageyama freezes.
“You’re cute when you malfunction.”
“I’m not malfunctioning.”
His hands suddenly settle against your waist.
Your breath catches.
He looks down at you, expression intense despite the flush still coloring his ears.
“You’re the one who showed up looking like that.”
“Like what?”
His gaze drops.
Then rises again.
“Distracting.”
Shōyō Hinata
Hinata’s reaction is immediate.
His entire face lights up when he sees you.
Then he actually registers what you’re wearing.
And nearly misses the ball coming toward his head.
“NICE RECEIVE—HINATA!”
The ball clips his shoulder.
You clap a hand over your mouth.
From the court, Hinata points accusingly at you.
“You distracted me!”
You point at yourself.
Me?!
He nods vigorously.
The player beside him starts laughing.
Hinata spends most of the match visibly energized by your presence. Whenever he scores, his eyes instinctively search the crowd until they find you.
And every time they do, his smile becomes impossibly brighter.
Afterward, he comes sprinting toward you, still sweaty from the match.
“Did you see that last point?”
“I saw all of them.”
“All of them?”
“All of them.”
He beams.
Then his eyes drop over your outfit again.
“And I saw you.”
“You saw me before the match.”
“I know. I’m still processing.”
You laugh.
Hinata steps closer, hands loosely finding your waist.
“You look really good.”
“Thank you.”
“Like really good.”
“I heard you the first time.”
“No, I don’t think you understand.”
His voice lowers slightly.
“You’re usually cute at work.”
“Usually?”
“Wait. No. You’re always cute.”
You raise an eyebrow.
Hinata immediately starts digging himself deeper.
“But tonight you’re like—”
He gestures helplessly.
“Dangerous.”
You burst out laughing.
His face turns red.
“Stop laughing!”
“You called me dangerous.”
“You made me get hit with a volleyball!”
“And whose fault was that?”
Hinata’s hands tighten around your waist.
“Still yours.”
Kōtarō Bokuto
Bokuto reacts exactly as everyone expects Bokuto to react.
Loudly.
He spots you from the court.
His jaw drops.
Then he yells your name across the entire arena.
You nearly sink into your seat.
Several teammates turn to look.
Then several more.
Bokuto immediately regrets alerting everyone to your presence.
“HEY! STOP LOOKING!”
Akaashi, somewhere nearby, looks exhausted already.
Bokuto suddenly plays like someone promised him a national championship and a lifetime supply of barbecue if he wins.
Every point is followed by him looking toward you.
Every successful block earns you a grin.
Every ace earns you a flex.
At one point, he actually points at you after scoring.
You cover your face.
After the match, Bokuto barrels toward you.
“Did you see me?”
“The entire arena saw you.”
“Did you see the ace?”
“Yes.”
“The block?”
“Yes.”
“The cross-court shot?”
“Kōtarō.”
He grabs your hands.
“You look amazing.”
His voice is suddenly quieter.
The shift catches you off guard.
“Oh.”
Bokuto studies you for another second before his grin returns.
“Like, stupid amazing.”
“There it is.”
“You should dress like this more often.”
“I like my work clothes.”
“I like your work clothes too.”
His eyes drift over you.
“I like these clothes more.”
You poke his chest.
“Behave.”
Bokuto catches your hand and pulls you closer.
“You came dressed like this and then cheered for me all night.”
“So?”
“So now I’m excited.”
“You’re always excited.”
He grins.
“Different kind.”
Wakatoshi Ushijima
Ushijima notices you during warmups.
He doesn’t react visibly.
At least, that’s what everyone assumes.
Then Tendō notices Ushijima has looked toward the same section of seats four times in ten minutes.
“Wakatoshi.”
“Yes?”
“You keep looking over there.”
“No.”
“You just did it again.”
Ushijima looks toward you once more.
Tendō follows his gaze.
“Oh.”
A slow grin spreads across his face.
“Ohhh.”
Ushijima simply walks away.
During the match, he remains as focused and brutal as ever.
But every time there’s a break, his eyes find you.
Afterward, he approaches still wearing his warmup jacket, hair damp from his post-match shower.
“You attended.”
“You invited me.”
“Yes.”
He pauses.
“I am pleased.”
The simple admission makes you smile.
“Were you looking for me during the match?”
“Yes.”
No denial.
No embarrassment.
Just complete honesty.
“You’re supposed to be watching the court.”
“I can do both.”
You laugh softly.
His gaze travels slowly over your outfit.
“You are dressed differently.”
“Good different?”
“Yes.”
“How good?”
Ushijima considers the question seriously.
“Enough that Tendō became irritating about it.”
You grin.
“That good?”
His hand settles naturally against the small of your back.
“I prefer seeing you like this when there are fewer people around.”
Your eyebrows rise.
“Why?”
“Because they look at you.”
There’s still no change in his expression.
But his hand draws you closer.
“I dislike that.”
Kiyoomi Sakusa
Sakusa notices you immediately.
Unfortunately, Atsumu notices him noticing you.
“Omi.”
“No.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Don’t.”
Atsumu follows Sakusa’s gaze anyway.
Then whistles.
Sakusa looks like he’s considering homicide.
“Yer girl cleans up nice.”
“She is not my girl.”
“Could’ve fooled me with the way yer staring.”
Sakusa stops staring.
For approximately fifteen seconds.
The problem only gets worse when you come down near the court after the match to congratulate everyone.
One of the opposing players talks to you.
For too long.
Sakusa appears beside you without warning.
“We’re leaving.”
You blink. “Hello to you too.”
The other player gets the message.
Once you’re alone, you look at him.
“What was that?”
“What was what?”
“You practically chased him away.”
“He was standing too close.”
“He was talking to me.”
“He was flirting with you.”
“You sound jealous.”
“I’m observant.”
Sakusa’s eyes move over you again.
Slowly.
“You could’ve warned me.”
“That I was attending?”
“That you were wearing that.”
Your smile immediately appears.
Sakusa notices and frowns.
“Don’t.”
“Were you distracted?”
“No.”
“Omi.”
He steps closer, lowering his voice so no one else can hear.
“I spent an entire timeout wondering whether that neckline always looked like that.”
Your mouth opens.
Sakusa immediately walks away.
You hurry after him.
“You cannot say that and leave.”
“I just did.”
Atsumu Miya
Atsumu’s serve goes directly into the net.
There is absolute silence.
Atsumu stares at the ball.
Then at you.
Then back at the ball.
Osamu, watching from elsewhere in the arena, is probably laughing somewhere.
His teammates definitely are.
“Shut yer mouths.”
Nobody said anything.
Atsumu points at you in the stands.
“This is sabotage.”
You mouth, 'What?'
He gestures vaguely toward your entire body.
You look down at yourself.
Then back at him.
Atsumu shakes his head like you should know exactly what you did.
For the remainder of the match, he becomes obnoxiously competitive.
He plays harder.
Serves harder.
Celebrates louder.
Every time another player performs well, Atsumu somehow needs to perform better.
Afterward, you find him waiting outside the locker room.
“Sabotage?”
“Absolutely.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Ya showed up dressed like that.”
“Like what?”
“Don’t play innocent.”
His eyes drag openly down your body before returning to your face.
“You know exactly what yer doing.”
“I got dressed for a volleyball match.”
“Yeah? That little outfit specifically for volleyball?”
You smile.
“Maybe.”
Atsumu steps closer.
“Was it for someone on the court?”
You pretend to think about it.
His expression immediately changes.
“Careful.”
“Jealous?”
“No.”
“That sounded jealous.”
His hand slides around your waist.
“I’m asking a simple question.”
“And if I say yes?”
Atsumu pulls you closer until your body nearly meets his.
“Then I’m asking which jersey number.”
You laugh.
His eyes narrow.
“Yer enjoying this way too much.”
“Maybe I wore it for number thirteen.”
Atsumu’s smug smile returns instantly.
“Knew ya had taste.”
Rintarō Suna
Suna sees you.
Looks away.
Looks back.
Then takes out his phone.
Your phone buzzes in your purse.
Suna: rude
You stare at the message.
Then look toward the court.
Suna is watching you.
You type back.
You: ???
His response comes immediately.
Suna: showing up like that while i'm supposed to work
You smile.
You: sounds like a you problem
Suna reads it.
His eyes narrow.
You can practically hear the sigh from the stands.
During the match, he acts completely unaffected.
Except every time he rotates toward your side, you catch him looking.
Afterward, he finds you leaning near the hallway outside the player area.
“You’re annoying.”
“Hello to you too.”
Suna stops in front of you.
“Turn around.”
“What?”
“Turn around.”
“No.”
His eyes narrow slightly.
“Why?”
“Because you’ve been staring at me all night, and I don’t trust your intentions.”
His mouth twitches.
“Smart.”
You laugh.
Suna steps closer, fingers catching lightly at your waist.
“You know I missed a block because of you?”
“That sounds like an excuse.”
“I have video evidence.”
“You’re blaming me for your performance?”
“No.”
His eyes slowly move down your outfit again.
“I’m blaming you for making me think about things that had nothing to do with volleyball.”
Your cheeks warm.
Suna notices immediately.
“There.”
“What?”
“That face.”
His thumb brushes against your side.
“Been trying to get that reaction all night.”
You glare.
Suna smiles.
“Worth the missed block.”
Off the Court: Haikyuu!! AU by Livi | Read more on Freeroam
