Hii!!! Hope you had a good day! I was wondering if you could write something with Noya? Finding something good with him is always so difficult. Can you make it like the reader has always had a crush on him but never confessed coz she thought he liked Kiyoko? But noya likes the reader back but foor some goddamn reason (probably coz he's stupid) he doesn't talk to her thinking she doesn't like him? Omg idk if I'm making sense but I hope you get the idea 😭. Even if I don't make sense its ok I just want something, ANYTHING with Nishinoya. Thank you so much for your time sweetie ❤️ <33
such a great idea! thank u for requesting, mwah (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ
wrong!
— you thought nishinoya liked kiyoko and he thought you hated him.
nishinoya yū x f!reader
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
you were convinced nishinoya yū was in love with kiyoko shimizu.
how could he not be? everyone was. she was literally the team’s goddess, the poster girl of karasuno’s collective infatuation. she could sneeze and people would write poetry about it. plus, you’d seen how noya practically lit up like a neon sign whenever kiyoko walked into the gym. he’d bow dramatically, whisper some worshipful nonsense, and then collapse on the floor like he’d just touched divinity.
the thing was—you didn’t know that he only did that because everyone else did it. peer pressure, basically. noya didn’t even like kiyoko like that. he thought she was cool, sure, but he didn’t look at her that way. the truth was he couldn’t even look at the one he did like, because every time he tried, his entire brain short-circuited, and he ended up tripping over a volleyball or face-planting into a wall.
that someone? you.
you, the girl who sat in the stands during practice sometimes, pretending you were there to study but really watching him fly across the court like a superhero. you, who brought extra bottled water in your bag just in case one of the guys “forgot theirs,” but it was always him who somehow forgot. you, who laughed at his dumbest jokes in class even though they were, objectively, the stupidest jokes ever told by mankind.
but you couldn’t confess. because you were sure he loved kiyoko, and you weren’t about to humiliate yourself.
and he couldn’t confess. because he was convinced you barely tolerated him, that your polite smiles were just that—polite. and honestly? if you hated him, he didn’t know what he’d do. so he kept his distance, worshipping you in secret, scribbling your name into the margins of his notes like some sort of tragic poet.
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
karasuno practice, thursday afternoon.
“y/n, you’ve been staring at nishinoya for, like, ten minutes straight.” yachi whispered, nudging your arm as she tried to help set up the nets.
“what? no i haven’t,” you whispered back, shoving a stray hair behind your ear. “i’m just—spacing out.”
“you’re spacing out in his direction,” she said flatly. “do you want me to push you at him? like, gently?”
“don’t you dare—” you started, but then noya yelled something loud and heroic across the court, diving to save a ball that probably had no business being saved, and you immediately forgot what you were saying.
god, he was so cool. infuriatingly, devastatingly cool. but he’d never see you like that, not when kiyoko existed. not when he literally had hearts in his eyes every time— he didn’t have hearts in his eyes when he looked at kiyoko, you’re just making yourself more miserable.
“noya, stop worshipping kiyoko and go shag balls!” daichi barked.
“BUT CAPTAIN—” nishinoya’s voice cracked as he protested, but he scampered off with a grin, muttering something about eternal loyalty.
your heart sank. yeah. there it was again.
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
nishinoya, across the gym, was dying.
you had smiled earlier. at him.
he was 97% sure it wasn’t a pity smile. maybe 80%. okay, fine, it was probably 60/40. but still! he had replayed it in his head about fifty times in the last five minutes. the way your eyes crinkled, the way you tilted your head slightly—
he wanted to bottle it. tattoo it on his brain. staple it to his forehead. if he had any artistic ability whatsoever, he’d draw it over and over in the margins of his math notes like some lovesick gremlin; mumbling about how his eternal loyalty is all dedicated to you after being scolded by daichi.
but no. you didn’t like him. you never talked to him outside of practice. whenever he tried to say something, his voice came out too loud, too squeaky, too desperate. and he’d seen the way you looked at him sometimes—like you were analyzing him, like he was some bizarre science experiment. that had to mean you thought he was annoying, right?
so he kept his distance. worship from afar. obsess silently. nothing creepy, of course. except maybe the notebook he had at home with a list of every time you laughed in his presence, but that was… normal. kind of.
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
fast forward: friday after practice.
it was just you and him left in the gym. everyone else had already left, the sun spilling through the high windows as you collected stray volleyballs into the basket. you were humming quietly to yourself, trying not to think about how you were alone with him.
noya was standing by the door, frozen, gripping his bag straps so tightly his knuckles were white. he couldn’t move. he should move. he should say something.
“uh—y/n.” his voice cracked. great start.
“yeah?” you turned, blinking at him.
he nearly collapsed. you were looking right at him. him.
“uh, d-do you—do you need help with the balls?” he stammered, already tripping over his own feet to cross the gym.
“oh, um, yeah, thanks,” you said, heat crawling up your neck.
so there you were, the two of you, gathering volleyballs in silence, your hands brushing once or twice (and both of you pretending it didn’t send shockwaves up your arms). finally, you couldn’t take it anymore.
“so…” you blurted. “you really like kiyoko, huh?”
noya froze. froze. his brain just blue-screened.
“wha—kiyo—wait—what?!” he squawked, whipping around so fast he nearly dropped the volleyball in his arms.
“i mean, it’s obvious,” you said, trying to sound casual, though your chest felt like it was caving in. “you’re always calling her amazing and bowing to her and stuff. it’s cute.”
“AMAZING?!” he shouted, his face so red it looked like it might combust. “wait no no no no no—you’ve got it all wrong! i mean—yeah, kiyoko is awesome, but—that’s not—i don’t—she’s not—”
he was flailing so wildly he looked like he might just explode into confetti.
“she’s not who i like,” he finally yelled, gripping the volleyball like it was his last lifeline.
“…oh.” you blinked. “then… who do you like?”
and that was it. the dam broke.
“YOU,” he blurted, louder than was socially acceptable in any universe. the word echoed in the empty gym like a cannon blast.
silence.
you dropped the volleyball in your hands. it bounced away pathetically.
“…me?” your voice cracked.
“YES YOU. it’s always been you. since forever. i just didn’t say anything because i thought you hated me and if you hated me i didn’t know what i’d do because every time you smile i feel like my heart’s gonna rocket out of my chest and land on the moon and—”
“noya.”
“—and you laugh at my dumbest jokes which i know are dumb but you laugh anyway and i literally wrote your name in the margins of my notes in like ten different fonts—”
“noya.”
“—and sometimes i think about how if i die on the court saving a ball at least my last thought will be you—”
“noya!”
he froze mid-rant, chest heaving.
you were smiling. not polite, not pity—beaming. so bright he thought his knees might give out.
“i like you too, idiot.”
he blinked. once. twice. “wait… what?”
“i like you,” you repeated, laughing a little. “i’ve always liked you. i just… thought you liked kiyoko.”
“KIYOKO?!” he wailed again, clutching his head like this was the greatest tragedy of his life. “i wasted so much time—”
but then you were laughing, and it was so beautiful, so you, that he immediately forgot all about it and launched himself at you in a hug so enthusiastic you nearly toppled over.
“don’t ever think i like kiyoko again,” he said fiercely into your shoulder. “i only like you. only you. always you.”
and it was obsessive, maybe, the way he clung to you like you were oxygen, the way his eyes burned with something a little too intense for a high school crush. but you didn’t care. because you felt the same.
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
later that night, when tanaka spammed the group chat with memes of kiyoko again, noya didn’t join in. he didn’t need to. his eyes never strayed anywhere else, not even for a second. his whole world had narrowed down to you, and the thought of anyone thinking otherwise made his grip on his phone tighten until the plastic creaked.
instead, he opened your chat. your name sat at the very top, decorated with hearts and stars he’d painstakingly added. and with a manic grin, he typed:
y/n’s husband: can’t believe i finally get to call you mine.
then, just to make sure, he added another:
y/n’s husband: and now that you are, you’re never getting away from me.
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
a/n: say awwee then cry yourself to sleep.
© showhay — don’t copy nor translate without my permission. i do not own any of the photos that i have used. credits to all the rightful owners. (˶ˆᗜˆ˵)
iloveu
