#msby x reader

these were his second olympics, to say you were proud would be an understatement. your tickets and front row seats were secured even before he gave you the news. that’s kiyoomi for you.

however, he had told you that this time, due to some mistakes made last time, the japanese volleyball association had ask each of the players on both, the men and women’s teams to make a brief description of his profile for marketing and promotion.

your fiancé sighs “yeah, i just… don’t really know what they want. they have my stats, my career history, what else would i write?”

“omi, your fans want little insights!” you snort, shifting in your sit, turning your body to properly face him “obviously not a bible, but small things”

“what am i? an idol?”

you kiss his forehead moles “with that face you could” he scoffs, though there’s a dust of pink in his cheeks.

“well, why don’t you google yourself?” you suggest “sometimes wikipedia or twitter have random facts you can use”

he opens a new tab on his browser, fingers sliding in his screen and reluctantly says “can’t believe i am listening to you”

“you better get used to it, it’s a lifetime agreement from now on” you chuckle, wiggling your fingers, reminding him of the diamond marquis ring you’re wearing.

he lets out a huff, a quiet laugh. the main page loads quickly and soon, he clicks the first link that pops.

“let’s see…” he begins reading. then, silence. a slow deliberate blink, and next, a frown and pouty lips.

you crease your eyebrows noticing his reaction “kiyoomi? everything alright?” you inquire, and you can’t help but looking down to his screen.

and so, you see it.

Sakusa Kiyoomi is a japanese professional volleyball player and best known as [name last name]’s fiancé. He currently plays as an Outside Hitter for the MSBY Black Jackals team and…

a flicker of surprise crosses your face before pressing your lips together. you want to let out a surprise laugh.

but kiyoomi?

“why would they even do that?” his tone is not what you expected. it’s… confused. not angry, not surprised, just pure confusion.

your shoulders shake with silent laughter “oh god”

kiyoomi doesn’t react to your evident mockery, instead he’s looking like the wikipedia page personally offended him and his entire lineage.

“baby” you manage to voice in between laughter “come on it’s not that serious, wikipedia pages can be altered by everyone, it’s a risk”

it’s like your talking to a wall. you knew your boyfriend could be very dramatic in his reactions, but also, your face softened when you remember how volleyball was actually his passion. it’s must have been quite confusing people changing his wiki biography to sort of, link him directly to romance.

“nah, this will not stay that way!” he scoffs out, not mad, but incredulous. he is already clicking the edit button and as you take a sip of your forgotten coffee, you roll your eyes.

you scoot closer as he lets out a ‘hmph!’ an approving sound paired with a satisfied nod.

Sakusa Kiyoomi, best known as [name last name]’s fiancé, is a japanese professional volleyball player. He currently plays…

you choke on your coffee “KIYOOMI, no!”

“KIYOOMI, yes” he disagrees, as if it was the most normal thing in the world puttin ‘fiancé’ before his actual profession.

he shots you a look, a smirk appearing if you squint “i will not be discouraged from my true self”

“omi, your true self wouldn’t pay our bills if that was the career you chose”

“the order of things in sentences matter” he comments flatly, completely ignoring your previous statement “now it’s accurate”

“you just downgraded your own career”

“i reordered it, there’s a difference” he corrected, moving his index finger from left to right.

you catch it, eyes sparkling “a reorder that now will have the entire internet talking”

“haven’t we already master that issue?”

“you’re impossible”

you watch the page reupload, now the edit segment bright and clear, next to his professional headshot. “and yours” he claims.

you laugh pressing a soft kiss on his lips “always mine”

he smiles against your lips and pulls back just slightly “i guess i know what to put on my olympic bio”

“KIYOOMI, no”

he catches your lips again, mumbling “KIYOOMI yes.”

“why would you care so much about that?” you chuckle, cupping his face, completely ignoring the café audience’s soft gazes directed your way.

“because i chose to be your husband”

you go quiet for a moment.

“my career… i like to think it just happened, you didn’t. you found me and i chose you” he brushes a strand of hair off your face “and decisions should be in wiki pages”

you lean in and kiss him a third time, slowly this time pouring all your love and attention to your soon to be husband as his hand finds the nape of your neck. when you rest your forehead against his, you softly speak.

“if you put that in your Olympics bio you will, in fact, sleep on the couch until you come back from the games. so…”

he sighs defeated, repeating your words like a scolded kid “KIYOOMI no”

you kiss his forehead “KIYOOMI no, indeed”.

"so... the party last night..."

"the party, indeed," atsumu smirks, "is this about a certain someone i saw you leave with last night?"

"yes, we slept together." kiyoomi says as calmly as possible, hoping to manage his friend's reaction (even though kiyoomi himself is freaking out internally).

"let's go!" atsumu fist pumps, "hell yeah, man, congratulations! it's about time! you've been crushing on her for forever; i was so close to just locking you two in a room myself—"

"that's not the point," kiyoomi groans.

don't get him wrong, it was definitely the best night of his life, but how does he explain to atsumu that he didn't want things to go like this? he had a whole timeline in his head—take you out on a few dates, kiss you in front of your apartment door, get you flowers and treats from your favorite bakery, go on a couple more dates, and then get into bed together (maybe on the same day that he properly asks you to be his girlfriend). he didn't want things to start with a drunken hookup.

"kiyoomi, hey, you still there?" atsumu says a lot gentler this time, seeing the worry on his friend's usually stoic face.

"i don't want a one-night stand, but i have no idea what she wants. and i'm... scared that that's what she wants."

atsumu has never heard kiyoomi admit his worries like this, not even when they were first recruited for the olympics and the excitement started transforming into nervousness. he knew that you mattered a lot to kiyoomi, and this just solidifies that.

"i mean, it doesn't have to be a one-night stand. you can just talk when she wakes up."

"that's true, but i—" kiyoomi hesitates. going to atsumu for advice was embarrassing enough, but admitting this next part is even worse. he's finally got the blonde to a more serious spot, and he knows his next admission will just bring back the teasing.

"hey, you're kind of starting to scare me," atsumu sighs, "please just spit it out."

kiyoomi says nothing. instead, he braces himself for what's to come.

kiyoomi turns the phone camera and atsumu sees to the hotel's dining room table overflowing with every single breakfast item on the room service menu. in addition to all that, there are even desserts and several cups of juice and coffee.

there's a beat of silence.

and then suddenly, atsumu is practically dying of laughter, "what the fuck, omiomi? what did you do?"

kiyoomi faces the phone back to him, his face a lot redder than a few minutes ago, "i panicked, okay? i figured—you don't have breakfast with your hookups, right?"

"this is breakfast for at least 10 people!"

"i wanted to make sure i got something she liked!"

"don't you already know what she likes?"

"well, i was worried she might be in the mood for something else!" he groans, rubbing his hand across his face. he moves the phone a bit so atsumu can't see how much he's stressing about this.

"she's going to think it's stupid. i just like her so much and i panicked and i just hope she had a good time last night and i feel like she won't take me seriously with this fucking spread but it's not like i can get rid of it and i have no idea if she'll even want to go out with me now and i—"

"just ask her," atsumu says.

"miya, she's asleep and—"

"did you have a good time last night?" atsumu practically shouts, somehow looking past kiyoomi through the phone screen.

"what—"

"a great time, actually," you say.

kiyoomi turns, seeing you leaning against the bedroom door behind him.

"but, i don't kiss and tell, so you should go back to bed," you make your way to kiyoomi, gently placing a hand on his arm, "'cause it looks like this guy and i have a lot to talk about."

atsumu gives a quick goodbye, winking at kiyoomi before hanging up. kiyoomi sets his phone down and turns to completely face you. your hair's still a little messy, you're wearing his shirt—oh wow, you look good in his shirt—and kiyoomi nearly forgets the situation he's in. before he can begin explaining himself, you speak up.

"yes, i've been up for a while. yes, i heard most of that conversation—i think atsumu forgets how loud he is—and," you move closer, wrapping your arms around his neck while his hands find your waist, "yes, i would love to go out with you."

when your words finally register, he feels a stupid grin spread across his face.

"yeah?"

"yeah," you smile up at him, "it's not every day that i get to wake up to a breakfast buffet."

you laugh at the way his cheeks turn pink before he buries his face in the crook of your neck, "did i at least get something you like?"

"well, i like you."

"not what i meant... but i like you, too." he says softly.

"so i've heard," you gently nudge him back so you can look at his face properly, "i believe you like me so much?" you grin.

miya atsumu ✶ brother’s best friend

osamu’s not sure how atsumu managed to weasel his way into his plans. it was a bit of a blur, atsumu practically crashing through the door of onigiri miya as osamu closed up shop to go get drinks with you, begging to be included. he supposes to reason was pity and atsumu’s pleading look as well as the fact that you work far away that had him agreeing to his brother tagging along. 

it was in your last year of high school that osamu figured out his brother had a big, fat crush on you. honestly, it should have been more obvious, especially with the way atsumu flaunted himself and often paraded around the house shirtless when he knew you were coming over. it bothered him at first, thinking bitterly that ‘tsumu couldn’t let him just have one thing to himself? but over time, the annoyance faded as he saw atsumu prove that this wasn’t just a flight-of-fancy, and osamu has already made peace with the very real possibility that you could be his in-law someday. that is, is atsumu could even tell you in the first place.

it’s a little disturbing, osamu thinks, watching the way atsumu flirts with you and wondering if he too makes the same googly-eyes at someone he’s crushing on or if that’s the way he sounds. you giggle when atsumu tries to take a sip of your margarita, telling him, “order your own then, ‘tsumu!”

“nah, yours tastes way better.”

“can’t take this scrub anywhere,” osamu says, earning a laugh from you and a glare from his twin.

you pat atsumu’s shoulder and osamu can’t believe you don’t feel how atsumu melts into your touch. “i’m actually glad both of you are here,” you say, “because i wanted to tell you guys that i’m moving back to tokyo! my boss promoted me so i’m back at main headquarters! isn’t that great?”

“that’s awesome,” osamu says, speaking for both himself and atsumu, who looks like he just won the lottery. 

bokuto koutarou ✶ opposites attract

whenever akaashi introduces you and bokuto as a couple to new people, he always gets pulled over to the side and asked in a whisper, “how did those two get together? he’s so… and they’re less…” 

akaashi can’t say that he wasn’t surprised when you and bokuto started dating back in high school, given that they two of you were on very different trajectories. obviously, bokuto was the captain of fukurodani’s volleyball team while you were student council president and vice-president of chess club. bokuto’s grade sat at the lower end of the spectrum while you were always within the top five students in your class. bokuto liked loud, screaming parties while you preferred a quiet night with a few friends. 

so when bokuto grabbed him by the shoulders one day and shook him, saying that he needed to tell you how he felt, akaashi was taken off-guarded. he didn’t even know you knew each other beyond having a mutual friend, him. 

maybe back then, akaashi would have agreed with the person asking him but now, he just tells them to observe the two of you. because when akaashi does, everything falls into place. like right now, as he and bokuto sit in the stands, watching your final chess match. if you win, you’ll hold onto your spot as a national champion and go on to compete internationally. 

out of the corner of his eyes, akaashi watches as bokuto sits at the very edge of his seat, chewing on his bottom lip. it’s clearly killing him not to cheer and it’s a testament to both his devotion to you. your hand hovers above the bishop before you switch quickly to the queen and move the piece with confidence, setting it down and announcing, “checkmate.”

the crowds erupts into the cheers and you’ve only barely finished shaking your opponent’s hand when bokuto flies out of his seat and barrels towards you. he sweeps you off your feet, spinning you once and setting you down before planting a big kiss on your cheek. you’re beaming as you’re handing your trophy, and bokuto steps back to let you soak up your spotlight. akaashi can’t help but notice that bokuto is beaming too and clapping the loudest. 

as the crowd starts to disperse, akaashi and bokuto join you again, ready to take you to your planned dinner. before you leave, bokuto says, “i was going to do this later but i can’t hold it in anymore, babe.” and he gets down on one knee with a ring box akaashi is all-too familiar with. 

sakusa kiyoomi ✶ reunited childhood sweethearts 

“try not to look so dour, sweetheart,” sakusa’s mother tells him as she fixes his tie. sakusa wants to grumble some choice words but he knows better than to complain to her. besides, he’s only partially paying attention, eyes darting about the crowd and back towards the venue’s entrance. 

he settles on adjusting his mask with a barely audible sigh and mumbles a quiet thanks as she flits to fuss over his older siblings. he glances again, disappointed as a different group of people waltzes in. he knows his older sister wouldn’t be so cruel as to lie to him that your family will be in attendance but the anxiety is making his antsy.

the two of you were inseparable as children with you being one of his only friends growing up.  you spent you days squirreled away in some nook reading or outside playing volleyball. your mothers always cooed that you two would get together one day, and as he got older and learned what that really meant, sakusa found himself hoping too. but then your parents took you and your siblings abroad, leaving him alone and heartbroken. he cut you off, hoping the distances and time would make your departure hurt less, but it didn’t.

sakusa doesn’t recognize the voice that calls his name but his head snaps towards the doorway. you’re standing in between your older sister and younger brother, waving at him. his heart skips a beat. your social media postings don’t do you enough justice; you’re even more attractive that the pixels he’s spent hours staring at. 

you still have that ever-present smile on your face and you quickly break-off from your family to bound over to him. without even thinking, his arms close around you as you embrace him tightly. you feel so familiar and he doesn’t want to let you go as you part. evidently, you don’t either as you keep him close still, only leaning away to look at him. “you’re so tall,” you laugh, more shyly you add, “and very handsome.”

By the time he deleted the photo from the chat, he knew it was still too late.

Meian: bro

Hinata: I DID NOT NEED TO SEE THAT

Bokuto: wait r u okay or is this u seducing us?? 

Inunaki: ???

Inunaki: wtf????

Sakusa: ?

Sakusa: blocking your number

Coach: Miya, PLEASE do not send nudes to the team. 

He threw his phone across the bed like it had personally betrayed him. Which, in a way, it had. Why the hell are the chat names so close together?!

Suddenly, just to make matters worse, you rushed out of the shower, the towel wrapped around your body messily from putting it on in a hurry.

“What happened? Is everything okay?”

Atsumu was red, his hands on his head, and he cornered himself on the side of the bed, as if this piece of furniture could protect him from the very embarrassing moment he had just experienced.

“Tsumu?” 

“Baby, I’m going to retire.”

“What?” 

“I’m retiring and moving to Alaska. Look at me really good, baby. Because this might be the last time you’re seeing me.”

“What’s going on? Are you—” 

Atsumu’s phone left on the bed caught your attention, from the looks of it, something on his device was to blame for your boyfriend’s mood. 

“What were you watching?” You scolded him as you reached for the phone.

Atsumu instantly jumped up, “Don’t look at my phone!”

“Why not?” When you unlocked the phone and saw the chat open, you squinted at the screen, scrolling through the messages. “Wait, I don’t understand. You sent a nude to the group chat?”

“It wasn’t a nude, just a slightly provocative photo.” He said, trying to defend himself.

After you processed the information, you couldn’t help but burst out laughing. 

“It’s not funny! This is the worst day of my life!” His face was the color of an apple now, hands covering his burning cheeks.  “It was supposed to be for you!”

“But why were you sending me slightly provocative photos when I was literally here? In the shower? Like twenty feet away from you?”

Atsumu threw his hands up defensively. “I don’t know, for fun?!”

That set you off again, and something about the way he said it—so genuinely bewildered by his own choices, like a puppy who didn’t understand why the shoe he chewed was a problem—made your heart squeeze. He was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. And somehow, that made him even more endearing.

Atsumu let out a long, defeated groan and collapsed onto the bed face-first, his voice muffled against the comforter. “I’m never showing my face at practice again. They’re gonna roast me for the rest of my career. Omi’s probably already bleaching his eyeballs.”

You watched him lie there, completely deflated. The tips of his ears were still bright red, and his shoulders had that slumped quality that told you he was genuinely mortified. Okay, maybe you’d teased him enough. 

You climbed onto the bed beside him, your hand gently rubbing circles on his back. “Hey.” You said softly. “Baby, it’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad?” He turned his head just enough to look at you with one eye, his expression pitiful. “I sent a nude to my entire team. Coach Foster saw it. Coach Foster. I can never look him in the eye again.”

“Okay, yeah, that part is pretty bad.” You admitted, and he groaned again, burying his face back into the mattress. You couldn’t help but smile as you ran your fingers through his hair. “But hey, they’ll tease you for like... a week, tops. Maybe two. And then Bokuto will do something dumb and everyone will forget all about it.”

“You really think so?” His voice was small, hopeful.

“I know so.” You tugged gently at his hair until he rolled over onto his back, looking up at you with those warm brown eyes that were still clouded with embarrassment. You leaned down, cupping his face with your hands. “Besides, you’ve got a great body. If anything, they should be thanking you for blessing their group chat.”

That got a weak laugh out of him, one corner of his mouth quirking up. “You’re just sayin’ that.”

“I’m absolutely not.” You brushed your thumb across his cheekbone, your voice sincere. “You’re hot, Tsumu. Like, annoyingly hot. It’s actually kind of unfair.”

Some of the tension finally left his body, and his hands came up to rest on your hips, pulling you closer. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You leaned down to kiss him, soft and reassuring, until you felt him relax completely beneath you. When you pulled back, he was smiling—that genuine, slightly dopey smile you loved. 

You settled beside him, propping yourself up on one elbow, and traced absent patterns on his chest. After a moment of comfortable silence, you spoke up, trying to sound casual. “So... am I still gonna receive that photo? You know, in the right chat this time?”

Atsumu’s entire body went rigid.

His head whipped toward you so fast you were worried he might hurt his neck. “You… wait, you want—?” His voice cracked spectacularly, and he cleared his throat, ears immediately burning red again. “Even after— I mean, you really—?”

You bit your lip to keep from laughing at how utterly flustered he’d become. Here was this confident, cocky setter who could trash-talk like no other, completely short-circuiting at your question.

“I mean, you took it for me, right?” You tilted your head, playing with the chain around his neck. “Seems like a waste if I never get to see it.”

Atsumu’s mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. No sound came out. His hands on your hips tightened slightly, and you could practically see the gears in his brain grinding to a halt and trying to restart.

“I—” He started, then stopped. Swallowed hard. His gaze darted away from yours, then back, then away again, a flush creeping down his neck. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious.”

The look on his face was priceless—somewhere between elated and completely overwhelmed. His trademark smirk tried to make an appearance, but it kept flickering into something much more genuine and flustered.

“Well.” He finally managed, voice slightly strangled. “I guess… If you really want… yeah. Yeah, okay.”

You grinned and leaned down to kiss his cheek. “Good. I’ll be waiting then.”

You started to pull away to finally get dressed, but his arms wrapped around you, keeping you in place for a moment longer.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” He muttered against your shoulder, and you could feel the heat radiating from his face.

“At least it won’t be from embarrassment this time.” You said cheerfully, finally extracting yourself from his grip.

His only response was another groan as he grabbed a pillow and covered his face with it.

&&&

It’s fine that you leave. It’s not like he's holding you hostage. You’re free to make your own decisions. You’re both adults, after all.

So, like an adult, Kiyoomi goes to practice and works hard. Nails every set that comes his way and aims his serves with lethal precision. He pointedly ignores the chorus of wolf whistles that start up when they’re back in the locker room, responding to overly curious questions with a smug ‘Wouldn’t you like to know’ or ‘Not very work appropriate, Miya.”

Now that had earned him a growl, “Since when do you fuck?” 

“Since your mother asked me so nicely.”

“Don’t you fuckin’ talk about my—”

But Kiyoomi’s already gone, letting Atsumu’s rage fissile out of earshot as he slips out of the locker rooms and into the gymnasium, sneakers squeaking against the glossed court floor.

You’re there when he leaves, sitting on the bleachers as you type furiously on your laptop, the cutest scrunch between your brows as you focus on your task. You don’t seem to notice him, too deep into… whatever it is that you’re doing, so he clears his throat with an awkward wave.

“Hey.” He says, a little startled to see you, a little excited. A clipboard rests beside you, fixing a document in place that you’ve scribbled numbers all over, half the page covered in bouts of pink and purple highlighter. You’ve got your hair pulled up tight, face set into something pensive. “You look nice today. I like your hair.”

“Oh, hi. Thanks, Omi.” You smooth a hand over a lock of hair, twirling it around your fingers in focused circles, your expression melting into something warm, “You really think so? Trying something new.”

Ki, Kiyo, Yoomi, Yooms—You seem to be searching for every possible way to shorten his name. It always catches him off guard when you come up with a new one, taking steady breaths so his heart doesn’t beat out of his chest, lips fixed in a frown to fight down a smile. 

Kiyoomi nods—perhaps a bit too stiffly—remembering the way you looked last night, sleepy and satisfied and so, so cute. He wants to kiss you back into yesterday, when you were soap-soft and giggly, falling apart again and again as he worked you through it all, melting on his tongue like ice cream on a summer afternoon—

“Is… there something I can help you with?” You say when he doesn’t reply, and oh my god he’s been staring this entire time just say something Kiyoomi say anything—

“What… are you doing out here?” Jesus fucking Christ. 

“Working, if you can believe it.” You don’t seem to mind his presence, so maybe he’s not making a complete fool of himself. “The wifi in my office is shit, so I’m stuck out here until I finish this.”

“What are you working on?” He asks, craning his neck to see the source of your despair.

“Budget stuff.” You jot down a few more numbers on the sheet packed full of numbers, tilting the screen to give him a better view, “We need to order a million things before the season officially starts. This isn’t even technically in my job description.”

You tilt the screen to reveal a spreadsheet. Kiyoomi doesn’t understand much of it.

“Seems like a lot of math.”

“It is.” You hit the ‘enter’ key with perhaps too much force, “Putting my degree to use, I guess.”

“I thought you majored in English?”

“I did, but it’s all the same to them.” You dismiss him with a wave of your hand, “A degree is a degree. And someone has to order the charter bus for the game next week.”

That pulls a quiet laugh from him, “Maybe you could use a drink?”

Your eyes finally shift from the screen to meet his gaze, playful but intrigued, “Why? Are you offering?”

The effect is immediate, stomach fluttering as his chest thumps. It feels good to have all of your attention. He’s not too prideful to admit that.

“I—Yeah. Well, the guys are going out later. Team bonding, or something. You should come.” He feels a bit like a coward for using the team as a crutch, but he’d say anything to spend more time with you. “And before you ask: You are part of the team. Nobody would care about us if it wasn’t for you.”

“That’s not true. You’re all well-liked, with or without me.” Your disagreement is made clear when the scrunch between your brow returns, “Besides, nobody wants to get drunk with their PR manager.”

A half-truth. Managing their public images hasn’t been easy. Last month you had to deal with a leaked sex tape that looked suspiciously like one of the Miya twins. Bokuto can’t stop swearing during public interviews and Hinata almost got himself cancelled for inappropriate comments about the starting setter for the Schweiden Adlers. Even Kiyoomi has gotten heat in the media for turning down gifts from fans. You’ve got enough dirt on them to bury them several times over—It’s a miracle you have anything nice to say about them at all.

“I do.” He says before the courage leaves him. Kiyoomi likes that about you, too. Part of him wishes he could step into your world and experience life through your eyes—where everything is brighter, lighter, and forgiving. You always find ways to highlight the best parts of people, even when faced with the absolute worst. He figures that’s why you’re so good at your job. 

Still, he can see the uncertainty in your face about coming. “I want you to come. It would be nice if you came, I mean.” Then more quietly, “Only if you want to, though. No pressure.”

Kiyoomi is about to cut his losses, feeling like he’s pushed too far and revealed too much about himself, begging for a scrap of your attention like a dog at dinnertime. 

But you say something so astounding and unfathomable that Kiyoomi thinks he misheard you.

You say yes.

&&&

The bar they always go to is nearing empty. It’s almost midnight and still no sign of you.

The team is long gone by now since they do everything on an early schedule, including going out. Start drinking by 7pm, have your last drink around 9pm, then sober up enough to leave at 10pm to be ready for 8am practice the next day. That’s just how it goes.

So he sits in a corner booth, waiting for your silhouette to walk through the door when he probably should have left hours ago, his beer untouched and having lost all carbonation. He watches a guy on the other side of the bar completely miss his shot in a game of pool.

Huh, Kiyoomi thinks to himself, watching the condensation steadily slip down the glass, so this is what getting stood up feels like.

It just stings, more than anything else. The embarrassment is what kills him, really. You hadn’t even texted.

It begins to make sense the longer he dwells on it. It was ridiculous of him to invite you, and even more ridiculous for him to get his hopes up. Drinking with the team, really? You obviously want to maintain a professional relationship with him as much as possible, and that’s fine. He was stupid to think otherwise. Why would you jeopardize your career over him? This isn't a workplace romance.

It’s a thirty minute walk back to his apartment, but he could use the air. The trains are done for the night, so it’s not like he has a choice in the matter. Kiyoomi closes his tab, tugs on his jacket and heads for the door. 

He decides to take the long route anyways, hoping to pass through the livelier side of the city to drown the noise in his head. Stopped at the crosswalk, he waits for the light to change, when a shoulder shoves into him. It’s not a big deal. He did choose to walk through the part of town known for nightlife. Though, the thought of a drunk stranger emptying their stomach on the pavement beside him has Kiyoomi turning to look at just exactly who bumped into him.

“Oh.” He says, eyes wide, “Hey.”

“Hi.” You greet, brushing him off. The light changes and you start walking, Kiyoomi following a half-second after.

“You… ” He trails, taking longer strides to match your pace. You walk strikingly fast for someone so much shorter than him. “You didn’t show.”

You huff, walking faster. “You didn’t text.”

He… what? The only reason he didn’t text was because he didn’t want you to feel pressured. You don’t need him hounding you about an offer you seemed hesitant to accept in the first place. He was trying to be considerate, afraid to stretch his luck too far and ask for too much.

“Did you not want to come? I didn’t want you to feel I was forcing you.”

“I don’t know what to feel, Kiyoomi.”

The use of his full name makes his stomach drop, “Did you want me to text you?”

“I don’t want anything from you.” You spit, tucking yourself further into your thin cardigan. He can feel you slipping further from his reach. Kiyoomi can’t see any tears, but the tremor in your voice gives you away, “Not anymore. I just want to go home.”

“Then let me walk you.” He blurts, shrugging off his jacket to drape over your shoulders, “And it’s cold out, you should be wearing a thicker coat—”

You stop walking, whipping around so fast that it forces him to stop, too. The sudden loss of momentum makes him stumble, nearly taking you down with him. The crowd splits around you, suspending this moment in a bubble where it’s just you and him, pedestrians passing by in an indistinguishable blur.

He would have fallen if he didn’t reach out to steady you, one hand landing on your shoulder and the other around your waist. Kiyoomi’s hands retract as if burned, but the slip-up puts the two of you much closer. You don’t step back. 

“What is it that you want from me?” Your face is set into that firm expression again, the one that makes the cutest dip between your brows. Kiyoomi just wants to kiss it away, make it all better. 

“I want—” He tries, panicked eyes darting around your face to catch every microexpression. “I want whatever you want. I invited you tonight because I wanted an excuse to see you. I’m sorry I didn’t text. I didn’t want to push. Earlier it seemed like you didn’t want to come.”

“Of course I wanted to come! You’re just so—” You gesture towards him vaguely, “I don’t know! You don’t acknowledge me at work. You rarely text. You just followed me on Instagram. What am I supposed to think?”

Kiyoomi could rip his hair out. In hindsight, his choices seem nonsensical, but every decision had been a carefully calculated measure.

“Fuck, I was over-thinking.” He can feel his heartbeat in his throat, “I was overthinking it so bad—” 

You huff, adjusting his jacket over your shoulders. You don’t look convinced.

“I swear I was trying to do right by you. I didn’t know if you wanted other people to know, or if this was a casual thing, or if—”

“You could have talked to me, maybe?” You cut him off, “Fucking asked me?”

“I… didn’t have the guts to ask. I don’t know what I would have done if you just wanted to be friends.” The words catch in his throat. “I wouldn’t have known how to stand next to you at work and pretend that was enough. I still don’t.”

He’s rambling now, inhibitions now forgotten at the crosswalk when you first bumped into him.

“I think about you all the time. At practice, at home—” he gestures vaguely between you like that explains anything, “I replay every conversation we’ve had trying to figure out if I imagined it or if you actually—” he cuts himself off, “And then you leave. Every time, you just—leave. Like it didn’t mean a thing.” His voice drops, quieter now, shy. “And I didn’t know how to ask if it did.”

You’re both still blocking the walkway, the city moving around you in blurred streaks of noise and neon. Neither of you move, your fingers twitching at your side like you’re not sure what to do with them. Your mouth opens, then closes. For a second, it looks like you might say something.

You don’t.

Still, Kiyoomi holds your stare, refusing to be the one to look away first.

Finally you shake your head, but there’s no malice in it. Your voice comes out quieter than it should, “You are so fucking stupid.” 

“Yeah.” He agrees easily, no arguments to be made, “—But I can do things differently from now on. If you even want to continue this. I just—Let me walk you home? Please, can I walk you home?”

“I am home,” You gesture to the building behind you with a tilt of your head. “This is my apartment.”

Not that he would know. You’ve never invited him over.

Kiyoomi recalculates, face warm. “Let me walk you to your door?”

Your smile takes him by surprise, small as it is, keys jangling loudly as you pull them from your purse, “Sure. Don’t want to get lost, now do I?”

Your sarcasm fails to deter him. Kiyoomi is a man of his word, so he escorts you the final ten paces to your doorstep, not-so-discreetly wiping the sweat from his palms. 

“I have to know. What were you doing when you bumped into me earlier?”

Your gaze drops to your shoes, rocking slighting as you shift your weight from your heels to your toes then back.

“Being petty. I didn’t want to show up too late or too early. I was waiting for you to text me, so I wouldn’t look stupid.” You exhale a quiet laugh. “But you actually didn’t text me. And it suddenly felt like I was reading too deep into this. I was heading home when I saw you at the crosswalk.”

“Where’d you go for all that time?”

“The bar next door.” You snort, “I had drinks with my friend instead. They really helped me figure out my feelings.”

The thought of you dressed up, waiting anxiously for a text that never came makes Kiyoomi want to fall to his knees. Your friends probably hate him, too, and they’d be right to do so. It takes significant effort not to bang his head into the sidewalk.

“Could I…” He feels a flush creep up his neck, “Could I try again?”

You debate his question for a short while, Kiyoomi’s heart a sledgehammer in his chest. Clumsily shoving your keys into your bag, you extend a hand and give him your full name.

He scrambles to take it, your hand soft against his calloused palm, and it feels like something new. 

“Sakusa Kiyoomi.” He reintroduces himself with a firm shake and a boyish grin, “Are you doing anything next weekend?”

haiii the sun is out and i feel like a person again. its actually so embarrassing how slow i am at writing i totally understand if u want to stone me in the town square. i have like 5 longer wips to finish so expect more at some point in the future probably!!

the quiet chuckle and relieved smile that you’d silently give after staring at him—indicating that whatever ridiculous thing he did was the first thing to leave a positive impression on your tiresome day.

the way that, even with the amount of times you’ve complained about him being ‘dirty’, you were always the first one to throw yourself onto his sweaty figure after every game, hugging him regardless of whether he had won or not.

the light kiss that you’d plant on his forehead whenever you left his hold, purposely not putting too much pressure so as to not wake him—and how you’d slightly panic when he’d grumble to himself even just a little bit.

and if anyone were to tell him that there would be so much more realizations about you and your ways of showing love, he would’ve felt like less of an idiot in the long run.

so much things became clearer to him.

the way his baby picture was the main picture in your wallet.

the way your onigiri started to ‘coincidentally’ taste exactly how osamu’s did—just how atsumu liked it.

the way his favourite toothpaste suddenly became your toothpaste after he once commented how he didn’t like the taste of your old one.

the way how, when once passing by a room in your house, the sound effects of the video game he had excitedly introduced to you was suddenly being heard, despite the fact that you both had to stop playing the other day because of how bad you were.

and how you were oddly decent at it the next day when you told him you wanted to “try playing a second time”.

honestly? this wasn’t even the whole of it. not even close.

if there was ever something atsumu regretted within the course of your relationship, it was the fact that he was once in the belief that it was solely him ‘putting in the effort’.

there was never a need to question your love.

not at all, not ever.

and atsumu made it an everyday vow to make sure you would never doubt, either.

— “i love you.”

“eh?”

“what? i love you.”

“that was random.”

“can’t i profess my love?”

“we’re quite literally in an insurance office…?”

“so?”

“…”

“i love you too.”

made this in honour of the fl’s whose display of love is never talked abt by the fandom bc the ml overshadows them 🙏🏽

guys are u tired of me making atsumu imagines yes or no (don’t say yes pleas)