Blueberry Appreciation

"I can't believe that you're getting married. It just seems as if I was changing your diapers." My mom wiped away a small tear. She had suddenly got super emotional.

"Mom, you said you weren't going to cry till after the ceremony." I laughed lightly.

"But seriously, I don't like seeing you cry." I gave her a small hug, making sure not to mess up my hair.

"Oh, are the bridesmaids almost done? I want to see how they look." I pulled away from the hug and entered the room connected to mine.

"Good god, you all look wonderful!" I astonishingly said to all of them.

Suddenly, a herd of women surrounded me. And of course, with my short height, I was hardly able to get out of their grasp.

"Do you need help with your makeup? I'll do it for you." I looked at my friend, whom I asked to be a bridesmaid.

"Ah, thank you," I thanked her whilst I grabbing the makeup box.

After about an hour, we all had done almost all of each other's makeup and because I needed something to take my mind off of hunger.

"Is everything ready?"

"Yes, dear. Now all you have to do is walk your fine ass down the aisle and become a Futakuchi." My soon to be husband said through the door.

I have been talking to my fiancé for about ten minutes now. I wouldn't let him see me till I was walking down the aisle, I didn't want any bad luck on our special day.

However, my smile was quickly replaced by a groan of hunger.

"Babe? Are you alright?" I heard him through the door. He couldn't open it obviously, but I could tell he definitely wanted to.

"I'm fine, just hungry." I lightly laughed. If I didn't get food in me quick, I was sure I was going to die.

Hearing no response from Kenji at the door, I furrowed my brows. Getting on my knees, I bent down to see if his shoes were still there from under the door.

Which they weren't, by the way.

Suddenly, a loud gasp made me look up. I saw my mom there, looking as if she was about to scold me for being on the floor.

I silently told Kenji I loved him as I received an earful from the woman who raised me all my life.

"Ah, yes, thank you for that," I awkwardly said to my mother. She sighed and shooed me away, saying something like I should already be in my dress and shoes.

Sorry mom, but I was more worried about my future husband than a dress and heels, even if they were gorgeous.

A loud knock sounded throughout the room. The bridesmaids had pulled me into their room as if sensing Kenji was outside that door.

I pressed my ear against the mahogany door while listening. Although, it seemed to be that I was hearing for exactly nothing.

"(Y/n)? You can come out now." I finally heard someone speak, kind of sounding like my mom.

Once my mom said that, I rushed out to see if anything was wrong.

I noticed a pizza box in her hands, she handed it to me.

"Did Kenji get this?" I asked hesitantly, a smile coming upon my cherry-colored lips.

"Yeah, you said you were hungry, so I went and got you my favorite pizza. Enjoy babe." I heard a kissy sound from him through the door, and his foot steps trailed away.

Dear God, I love that man. Which is exactly why I'm going to marry him.

I set the pizza box down and quickly indulged in it, not really caring if it was burning my mouth or not. I sure was hungry.

I'll definitely have to thank him for this. I almost died from the lack of food.

"After that piece, I'll save it for you. You need to be in your dress and down the hall in ten minutes." I heard my mom lecture looking at her gold wristwatch, as I shoved the crust into my mouth.

I saluted and licked my fingers, heading towards the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my hands.

"Are you ready?" I saw a plastic bag that held my dress in it.

I nodded and took off my robe, which revealed the embarrassing black lingerie my best friend had put me in.

She said something along the lines of, I should get the attention of my man by wearing something hot.

As if I didn't get his attention already. I could hardly stop him from paying attention to me and what was underneath the clothes.

After I slipped on the dress, I was down the hall in a short period of time.

I was met with my mom, who would walk me down the aisle. I mean, who needed a dad anyway?

We hooked arms as I nervously held the bouquet. Even though I've woken up to his handsome face plenty of times, it still gets the knots in my stomach going.

Later, rather than sooner, our vows were said and the celebration of my marriage lasted for hours.

Kenji had been lying on my breasts for the past thirty minutes. I love him so much, I truly do, but I was about to snap, it was uncomfortable.

I shifted, trying to move his head so it would be lying between them instead.

"Why are you moving? Are you uncomfortable?" He looked up sweetly at me.

I glared at his handsome face, which pissed me off even more than his big ass head.

"Your fat head is hurting my boobs," I whined, shoving his head down to my mid-gut.

"You could have just said so; let's switch places then." He laughed softly, putting my comfort over his.

Right as I was about to question him, he had flipped us over. Where I had my back against his chest instead.

I snuggled my back into his chest, paying more attention to the movie now that I was comfortable and happy.

We got married two months ago, but yet he still says dumb shit like this.

"I can massage them for you." I could almost feel the smirk on his face.

I tore my eyes off the screen and just stared at him. How the hell is someone so perfectly annoying?

"As much as I'd like that, I'm watching a good movie right now, babe." I pointed it out, shifting so I could have more cover.

"Can I hold them then? They're always really warm." He commented, nuzzling his face into the crook of my neck.

Before I could comment, his hands slipped under my shirt, and I felt his extremely large hands hold my breasts.

This was some kind of 'normal' thing we would do. However, it most likely didn't seem as normal as he thought.

"Kenji?" I mumbled, my eyes burning from looking at the television screen without blinking.

He hummed to answer, and I could feel the small vibration through his chest.

"I love you."

He pulled his hand from my shirt and squeezed my body in a tight hug, "I love you too, baby."

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

a/n: this is from my book “Haikyuu x Reader One Shots” from Wattpad! I hope you enjoyed and let me know if you would like more!

The surface is the most shallow and false of sights, and Futakuchi knows that what people show on their surface level never matches the sight of what could be seen under their masks of obscurity.

Futakuchi likes digging deep. He likes secrets and hinting and pushing and pulling until he tears things apart. He likes clawing at it until it breaks open for him. He likes being the only one privy. He likes knowing what no one else knows, what people can’t so easily see. He likes being included, being in on inside jokes. He likes the vulnerable, and the honest, and the bare and direct. He likes burrowing himself in the brutal, undeniable passion of what makes someone tick, their reason for living, their lifeline that keeps their breath warm and eyes bright.

And he likes you because you’re his. His reason for warm breath and bright eyes and life. You are Futakuchi Kenji’s, all his.

All his.

And it makes him wonder how anyone can feel so half-hearted about things like love and loyalty, because if he ever felt any less than how he feels for you, he doesn’t think he’d be able to take it. He thinks he’d rather die than ever love you less.

Because if he didn’t feel the way that he feels, to this amount, to this intensity and depth and so far beneath the surface of his being that it almost feels like he loves you to the oceanic core of his very soul…well, if he didn’t love you this much, he doesn’t think he’d be capable of doing what he’s doing.

“What did you just say?”

The question leaves you in a pretty, breathless wave. Futakuchi is reminded of how your breath feels against his cheek when you’re laughing, crying, panting, sleeping. He’s felt the warmth of your breath and your touch and your skin—countless times—and it’s all a stark contrast to the chill of the turmoiled sea that is your voice now.

He lets the wave crash into him and takes it.

“Let’s break up,” he says.

Your waters don’t ease. You still and stare at him. “What?” you ask again.

“You should go, Y/n.” He turns away and pours more coffee in his mug to distract himself from the way his hands shake and his voice lilts and his heart hammers in his chest. It has your voice in it—your voice in his heart and his lungs, screaming at him to shut the hell up, shut the hell up, to just shut up! He prays you don’t recognize the sound of yourself in the silence.

“I….” Your voice trails off weakly and he patiently sips his coffee and waits for you to continue. “I don’t understand. Why are you—”

“Because I love you.” He turns back around and you shake your head in denial at him with a laugh.

“No,” you say vehemently. “No, because if you love me—”

“Then I wouldn’t be doing this?” He sets his mug down and leans against the counter. It’s a little too low for him; he’s grown taller since when you first started dating, and it digs into his back side a little uncomfortably. He ignores it. “No, if I didn’t do this, I think that’d mean I didn’t care for you at all.”

You shake your head again. “You’re not making any sense, Kenji,” you whisper.

He clenches his jaw and curses himself. He never expected you to understand. Part of the reason is because he’s sure you don’t love him as much as he does you. And that’s okay. He wouldn’t be surprised, anyway. Futakuchi always goes beyond what’s normal for any average person. He always feels more than the human body is allowed to regulate. It’s why he hates harshly and loves defiantly, chooses to do things to the fullest extent or die trying. He’s swimming with emotions at any and all times, and at the center of it all, he drowns himself in you.

But another part of the reason he never expected you to understand is because he knows how you feel too. He knows that he isn’t making any sense…but more than that, he still knows that he’s right.

“I love you,” he tells you again. He holds your eyes and won’t let you look away, because you look so desperate to understand him. He knows you are. You understand him more than anyone else could. And now you look the same way he felt when he first met you. Something riddled with utmost longing.

Before you can protest, he continues, “I want you to have everything. I love you so much I want you to have everything, even more than I do for myself. And that’s saying something.” He chuckles at his attempt at sarcasm, but lets it go when he sees you’re not laughing. He sighs and drops the act for once. “You’ve taken over my very will,” he says quietly. “And I can’t give you what I so badly want you to have. Everything.” The reality of his own words hits him like a pummel to his gut, because even though he’s known it, he’s never had to say it out loud. Now that it’s been spoken, it feels even more real. “I can’t give you everything, Y/n.”

Futakuchi knows that he isn’t much. At least, not much for someone like you to be with. He’s a small town worker, another name on an employee list and a recreational volleyball roster; he’s not the hotshot he used to be in school. That’s not to say he misses the past. He had his fun times, his stage and spotlight and national attention, but now he is simply and quietly himself. Now he’s just Futakuchi Kenji, born and raised in Miyagi, casual volleyball player, coffee sipper instead of energy drinker, easy joker instead of instigator, reluctant cooperator instead of immediate arguer. Softer now instead of hard-headed. Mostly because of you. Thankfully because of you.

You’ve shown him so many sides of himself in so many ways, and he feels incapable of doing the same for you, of being enough for you.

And when one is in love, feeling incapable is the worst of the worst regrets.

“Kenji….” You say his name with such concern he wants to cry at the mere thought of you pitying him. 

He gives you a small, sad smile. “That’s why you have to go,” he says gently. “You have to go and see the world outside Miyagi. You have to take the job in America. You should take the opportunity of the dreams that I can’t give you.”

When you step up and take his hands in yours, peering up at him with tears in your eyes that he’s begging won’t fall because if they do then he’ll break too, he stiffens and melts all at the same time.

You’re really everything. To him, for him…you make him feel everything.

“Please….” you beg him in a hushed, pleading tone. Futakuchi wills himself not to caress your face and instantly acquiesce. You press a kiss to his knuckles and he withers and bows his head because he can’t take it, can’t take the way you make his heart feel when he’s trying so hard to put a stop to himself for your sake. “Please,” you murmur in anguish against his clenched hands in yours, “please…tell me to stay.”

Kenji barely lifts his eyes to look at you through his lashes. His voice cracks when he says, “I can’t do that.”

You squeeze his hands in a vice grip and the first tear falls. He curses it when he feels his own follow after. “Why not!” you cry, your nails biting into his skin. He hopes they draw his blood.

“Because I’ve been too selfish with you already.” He watches your expression for another cry that will him to stop, but you just stare at him with your heart breaking across your face. He hates himself for making you look like that. He forces himself not to turn away from his own fault. “I’ve kept you to myself for so long and you’re in everything I see,” he says. “I love you.”

When he says those three words, he squeezes your hands back so you know he means them, and in response your own go limp. Then he tells you, “I would give you the world if you asked me for it…but I can’t promise I wouldn’t burn it down on my way to you.” He tugs you lightly and draws you closer to his chest when you look like you’re about to fall. “Because I’m selfish,” he tells you, “and I want to be your only world. Like how you’re mine.”

You don’t say anything, more tears running silently down your cheeks. He lifts a hand, still wrapped around yours, and brushes a stream of them away. You shiver at his gesture and close your eyes. He smiles at the crease slowly disappearing between your furrowed brows.

“But I don’t want you to be like that…not like me,” he says softly. “You’re my world, Y/n. My entire world. And I’m okay with that. Because I love you. But I don’t want to be the only extent of your world. Because you deserve so much more than just me and Miyagi.”

Futakuchi thinks it’s easy to find what makes people tick. But when it comes to himself, he finds it so hard to tell you just what he’s feeling. He loves you so much that you’re his everything. He loves you so much he wants to be your everything too; but he also loves you so much he knows that he can’t be. Truly, you make him feel everything, and all of his everything swarms against each other as he sifts through them to find the right something that would be best for your sake. Even if it pains him to keep you away from himself.

Love like Futakuchi’s almost feels like holding a chain on you. But he can’t be selfish with you anymore. He can’t keep you to himself just because he wants to be the only one you see and think of, not when the vastness and the colors and the opportunities of the world should be at your fingertips, just as you deserve to have them. As badly as he wants to be your only one, there are a million worlds and sights to see, and he wants you to have all of them. He wants you to have everything, to feel everything in a way even more than how you make him feel everything. As far beneath his own surface as Futakuchi digs for his heart, he would dig even deeper through the core of hell for you.

You still don’t say anything, so he thinks you’re listening now. And maybe understanding, at least a little bit, he hopes.

“And when you come back,” he says lightly, tapping you on your nose, “if I’m still all you want, I’ll be expecting a plane’s worth of souvenirs. Show me the rest of the worlds that you saw.”

As suddenly as you approached him, you yank your hands out of his with force and he stiffens at the thought that he’s done something wrong or upset you even more. You stare at him with a fuming face and he holds his breath.

But then you slowly wrap your arms around his middle and stuff your face into his shirt, muffling your sobs and digging your fingers into his back like you’re afraid you’ll lose him if you ever let go, and Futakuchi’s body relaxes and he hugs you back, holding you even tighter as he presses a warm kiss to the crown of your head.

“Even if I see a hundred worlds,” he hears you sniffle against his shirt, “I’m still going home to you.”

He laughs, endeared by your everything. “Don’t go making promises you can’t keep now, baby.” When you finally, hesitantly, peek up at him, Futakuchi smiles. “Or do, and prove me wrong.”

You frown and glare at him, fingers clenching into his skin even more. He sees your true meaning in your eyes and under the surface-level threat you mumble at him. “I’ll prove you so wrong you’ll be on your knees begging for me back.”

And at those words, the last pieces of his heart break. Because while you make him laugh again, you make him realize just what it is he’s ending here with you. Everything, yet nothing, as you still hold the promise of returning to him for something.

–––––––

The day you leave, he says goodbye. He cries in his apartment after seeing you off at the airport.

While you’re in America, Futakuchi doesn’t write you letters. He doesn’t send you texts. He doesn’t call you over the phone or ask your friends and family to pass on a message. It would defeat the purpose of letting you go.

“I felt it was a team where I could continue to improve myself.”

What Kageyama Felt As He Looked Back On the 2023-2024 Season

“There were a lot of times where I was stumped by blocks, but I think we could have done a better job with reorienting.”

Kageyama, who spent the 2023-2024 season with Italy Serie A Powerhouse Ifviga Torino, first expressed regret when asked about his feelings about this season. For Kageyama, who hates defeat more than anyone else, being unable to lead his team to victory at any level is surely vexing. More than anything, it’s only natural for a setter to blame themself when they can’t find the reason their team struggles with blocks. The reason Kageyama decided to transfer to his new team from the team which, last year, advanced into the finals of the World Championship Finals, was this:

“I felt it was a team where I could continue to improve myself.”

Coming up on his fifth season in Italy, he’s constantly setting records. Even so, it’s precisely because he has confidence in his ability to overcome this wall that he chose this team. Undoubtedly, in the Paris Olympics and the coming season, Kageyama will be able to slip through rival team’s blocks while showcasing his characteristic superhuman setting.

Having turned twenty-seven in December 2023, Kageyama has entered his prime as a volleyball player, but his insatiable desire for self improvement hasn’t changed in the slightest since he began taking volleyball seriously in his second year of elementary school.

His middle school classmates, Kindaichi Yuutarou-senshu and Kunimi Akira-san joked that, “Kageyama will probably be hitting jump serves in his seventies.” I suppose Kageyama intends to continue playing volleyball until his body can no longer move.

The Start of His Volleyball Life Was His Grandfather’s Wish

Many fans worry that Kageyama will wear out his spirit by continuing to abuse his body and mind to that extent, but Kageyama is a professional athlete, who ensures he rests properly.

Kageyama: “I try not to change the rhythm of my daily routine while my body works to recover during the off season. When it feels like nothing is going smoothly, I try to go on walks. Going on a walk with an empty head is always refreshing.”

Kageyama has said his grandfather who taught him volleyball, Kazuyo-san, also taught him that “‘Self-maintenance’ is just as important as practice.”

Looking back on Kageyama’s high school days, while there were, of course, strategic substitutions, he was never benched due to serious injury or illness. As a professional, being able to stand on the court in perfect condition is an important factor to their success. It may be precisely that Kageyama was able to reach where he is today because he faithfully followed his grandfather’s teachings.

Shortly after Kageyama was born, he already was well acquainted with the volleyball, and at the age of three, Kazuyo, who coached a ladies’ team, and Kagyama’s older sister Miwa-san began taking him to the gym to play volleyball.

When he entered his second year of elementary school, Kageyama joined the boys’ volleyball club “Little Falcons,” beginning to play volleyball seriously.

From a very young age, Kageyama loved volleyball above all else, to the extent that he didn’t care for video games in the way his classmates did.

Hearing Kazuyo-san’s words, “The position that gets to touch the ball the most is setter,” was a great factor in Kageyama setting his sights on the position.

One day, a young Kageyama, who wanted to play in a match just a little longer, purposefully hit serves weakly. Kazuyo had told Kageyama, who had been guilty afterward, “If you get really good, you’ll be able to play in even more games… If you get really good, I promise you, someone even better will come and find you.” 

Kageyama’s desire for strength probably originates from that unchanging desire to play in matches, just a little longer.

Unfortunately, Kazuyo-san passed away while Kageyama was in middle school, but the things he taught him remain rooted, unchanging, within Kageyama.

By the way, Kageyama’s parents and Miwa-san are detached* from volleyball, but he said, “My parents and sister are supporting me, but don't come to cheer me on directly. They’re the… Laissez-faire? type, I think.”

*(T/N: The word used here could also mean quit/lost connection from, or uninvolved with. I was unsure which word to go with.)

“Yes, I am. Keep our long-suffering ace company for a bit while he patches up his ankle, won’t ya?” He’s already escaping down from the stands with the knowledge that you will, because if nothing else, you love watching the guys play. You’ve loved watching Shinsuke play ever since middle school, and Aran’s expression gives you the idea that he knows this too. Because he simply shrugs, and re-wraps the ice pack a little better around that wounded ankle.

“Aye aye, Captain,” you shoot back as he makes his way back to the court, and this time, he gives you that wonderfully cheeky smile that made you fall head-over-heels in the first place. “And you, you’re a third year. You’re supposed to be one of the responsible ones.” You give the tall ace to your side a side-eye as he laughs full and loud, and nods.

“Sorry, Mrs. Kita. It won’t happen again.” Practice continues for another half an hour in peace, as you joke around with your boyfriend’s best friend for a while, tossing the occasional stray ball back onto the court, but mainly, just watching the guys play. You didn’t use to have such a love for the sport. When you were a ball-girl back in middle school, you only did it because it was an easy extra grade on your report card, and kept you sort of busy during hours you wouldn’t have anything else to do.

But now, sometimes it seems as much your life blood as it is theirs. You probably wouldn’t have developed such a crush on the quiet, well-spoken boy with the fluffy tufts of hair that flopped about if you hadn’t kept with it, wouldn’t have dated him, wouldn’t have laid in the dark talking about what your life together might look like. Watched Shin grow into the person he is today.

You smile and wave as Shinsuke looks up at you yet again and throws back a wink, and a few of the guys follow his gaze. Familiar lazy gazes of differing shades of brown. But they stay quiet, for now, and the team captain claps his hands to call for a break. And the lankiest of your middle blockers groans and reaches for a bench too quickly, as everyone disperses. Aran makes his way down the stands for the toilet, Ginjima follows suit, and your boyfriend goes through the trouble to start collecting the balls with the same single-minded focus he always has while practicing. But before you can so much as manage to make it down the stairs to help him out, a familiar figure comes up beside you.

“Captain’s got it, I think,” Atsumu smiles as he comes to walk beside you, not the slightest bit winded despite having jogged up to you after an hour of intensive training— and blinks down at you with the self-assured grin you’ve come to expect of the star setter. “Yer still comin’ to our practices, huh?”

“Yes, Miya. Believe it or not, I actually like watching you guys play, ‘m not just here to waste time and gawk.”

“Whoa, doll,” the blond isn’t fazed, and simply throws up his hands in mock-defense, “I wouldn’t dare question the validity of yer visits. I mean, ya brighten up the place, really.” The comfortable way he swings an arm over your shoulder and leans in a little isn’t too far out of how he usually acts, and you do know that Atsumu’s pretty damn touchy with everyone. But his smile, and the way his eyes flick down your face with an almost grating intensity— will never stop feeling flirty- and therefore- inappropriate. Though you try to find something fitting to say, he’s already running his mouth again before you get the chance to.

“Would be even better if ya’d put on a shirt with my name on it and took some cheer classes,” he gloats, and the way he walks leaned into you keeps his face much too close to yours as you go to frown at him, “bet ya’d really suit the Inarizaki colors when you glare like that.” It sets you off, and he knows it does, because he’s dodging the way you go to swing at his arm with a chuckle before you get to, and catches your fist in his hand to squeeze it a little. “Hah, always so mean to me. Getting predictable, pretty girl.”

Your bottom lip is sucked to slot between your teeth, and you roll your eyes, shrugging off the other hand that he tried to ruffle through your hair. “You’re exhausting.”

“Sure is,” Shinsuke suddenly mumbles, tossing a ball at the setter that he manages to catch, before raising a brow. “That’s my girlfriend, Atsumu. If you would, please.”

“Ya got it, Cap’n. Of course,” he chants back with a sing-song-y voice, but his thumb still rubs another few circles into the soft skin of your hand before he goes to annoy Osamu and Suna instead. It sends a cold shiver down your spine, but he’s pulling away before you have the chance to really acknowledge the touch. And if Kita has any concerns about what he just saw, you sure as hell can’t tell, when he pulls you close and places a loving kiss between your brows. But you still have to force yourself to ignore the way Atsumu gives you a once over and -if you didn’t know the guy better than that- undresses you with his eyes.

+

Graduation should feel a little bittersweet, you guess. The party isn’t too wild, considering, but it’s still loud and a little over the top— so you confine yourself to the area further away from the pounding music and sip reasonably mild drinks while the rest of the team and their plus-ones take their best attempt at rattling Suna’s house off its’ foundations. It’s warm for a spring night, and sweat sticks to the back of your neck and chest from the earlier forced dancing you were pulled into. But now the pool table has been abandoned for the garden, and you take the few quiet moments to breathe.

Most of the guys will be moving on to professional level, a few of them to university, and another few have jobs lined up. Just last year, Shinsuke moved back out to the countryside, and Aran to Tokyo; and while you’ve all tried to keep up communications, distance really does play a big part in it. And now it’s all your turns… It’ll be safe to say you won’t see some of them again much in just a few quick months. The thought already fills you with a strange sort of nostalgia. You don’t get too much rest though, because a flash of blonde followed by an equally handsome, dark-haired copy filter back into the house. Atsumu brightens a little when he spots you, lazy eyes sharper and more calculating in the low light of the house. Of course he does, he seems to have a strange fascination with annoying you to bits.

“Well, pretty girl, ‘ve ya been abandoned by yer human defense robot?” His handsome face paints on a grin, with slightly rosy cheeks and ears, that almost makes him look a few years younger. Almost makes him look innocent. You know better though, and swallow down the want to give back some snarky comment that would surely have you in a battle of wits until someone puts a stop to it. And his twin… isn’t that person. You wonder how much he’s had to drink. Not that you’re doing much better, anyway. You can feel the buzz in your blood and the heat on your face.

Osamu’s hair is messy and fluffier than usual, probably courtesy of the girlfriend he brought and— with a quick glance around the room— has been left on her lonesome somewhere in the partying group outside. You pity her just a little bit, but it doesn’t exactly surprise you that the Miya twins aren’t the most consistent with their affections. The guys started having groupies all the way back in freshman year, and the years have only built upon that fame. The darker haired of the two puts a fist into Atsumu’s shoulder, before crossing his arms. “That’s our last Captain yer talkin’ about, stupid Tsumu. Show some respect.”

“Aw, Samu. I’m sorry, alright.”

You smile softly, and nod your head towards the door. “Not abandoned. He stepped out for a minute for a smoke,” you cut them off, knowing full well they could continue their bickering for hours if left to it. It’s not like you don’t like the twins. They’re obnoxious, and boisterous and hyper at the best of times, but they’re insanely talented too. You would like them, if not for— Atsumu feeling too comfortable hanging his arm over your shoulder to pull you in for a hug, heavy cologne mixed with a scent that is distinctly more him enveloping you as you freeze up. “Miya-”

“‘S gonna be weird without everyone ‘round, huh? I’ll miss ‘em,” he lowers his voice as he keeps your face into his chest, and simply out of a desire not to feel too awkward, you allow your arms to wrap loosely around his back. You give a little motion to be let out of the hug to nod, and smooth your hands down your pants.

“Yeah, me too.”

There’s a sort of glint in Atsumu’s eyes that seems like tenderness as he pats your shoulder, then smiles. “Well, a’least you’ll know me.” Your expression must give away your confusion, because he continues. “Yer goin’ to Tokyo uni, I’m goin’ to Tokyo to check out some of the teams there. It’ll be good. Don’t tell me yer just gonna ignore me when we’re gonna live so close together.”

You don’t think it over- Shinsuke must’ve told him. As the buzz washes over you and the music picks up outside, Atsumu’s large hands find your shoulders and he turns you around towards Osamu, who has already poured three large shots. “Oh, I don’t-”

“Come on~ for prosperity,” Osamu chants, his hand finding yours to unfurl it and place one of the large shot glasses in your hand. And Atsumu nods behind you, basically glittering from excitement. You’re normally a bit more -standoffish, by necessity- but the atmosphere of the night is light. And Tsumu’s hand on your lower back as he pushes you towards one of the chairs and sits you down is nice; even if you only realize a second or two after that he’s sat below you.

“Ya owe me a couple cheers at least,” Atsumu basically coos into your neck as he taps his own glass to yours. “‘Sides, I think Shin went ta go drop off some of the other guys, no need ta wait up for ‘em. Right Samu?”

“That’s what I heard, Tsumu.”

+

You don’t expect university to be the thing that breaks you, but the distance, the lack of communication, of support— all drag on you. You and Shin both promised to make it work, but he’s busy a lot. The farm keeps him occupied. At least- that’s what you have to assume when most of your messages get read and not answered. It isn’t like Shin, but then again, you suppose it’s a growing period. It’s natural.

More surprising than that is that through it all, Atsumu is there a lot more than you expected. The giant, prestigious sport center where he trains isn’t too far from your campus, but he still goes out of his way to swing by whenever he can to keep you company, which isn’t so self explanatory as you had hoped it would be. It’s not that you don’t make friends, or can’t make friends, it’s just that- after a few weeks- they just seem to vanish off of the face of the earth. Like they were never even there to begin with. You even catch some people purposefully avoiding you on campus as the year goes on.

But the workloads are heavy, and hard, so you sadly don’t have enough time in a day to worry about it as much as you would like to. You still have Atsumu, at least, and as much as you wouldn’t have wanted to admit it shy of a few months ago, his persistence about wanting to be by your side does slowly have you bending just a little.

“I swear it, cross ma little heart,” the blonde dramatically says while walking the grounds with you- on his free day- “am I not the best goddamn setter in the prefecture? What choice is there?” He runs a hand through his hair, then looks over at you to pout. “Make me feel better, c’mon.” Before you can really analyze the moment or how he looks at you with those warm brown eyes and too much fondness, his hand wraps around yours, slipping his fingers between yours with a strange determination.

You stop walking, and your school bag hits your thigh hard because of the abrupt stop. “Atsumu.” You’ve had this conversation with him about a million times. You are with Shinsuke. You have been with Shinsuke since middle school, and though dealing with the distance is hard right now, you promised to try. And he says he understands, and you’re making a big deal out of nothing— but it sure doesn’t seem like he does. “I am d-dating Sh-”

“Ya keep sayin’ yer dating, but where is yer boyfriend? Didn’t ya say he hasn’t been responding to yer messages?” Though he tries to keep his voice down, he doesn’t let go of your hand, and stares like he’ll burn holes through the shape of you. “Ain’t that proof enough?”

“I know Shinsuke, and you know Shinsuke. If he wanted to break up, he would say it.” You puff your chest out a little, and swallow, trying to untangle your hands from his grip. “He’s busy, and this is a transition period for us both, and I just- I want to make it work.” Atsumu seems to cling on for a second longer with a slight kink in his brow, but then he lets go and sighs, rubbing his hands back and forth through his lighter blonde hair with a groan.

“Fine— fine! If ya gotta hear ‘im say it…”

+

The irony tastes bitter. It stings with every swallow, really.

‘I think it’s not working out. I’m sorry. We should break up.’

You’re staring at the message for the nth time this evening, burying yourself in your cocoon of blankets and an almost empty back of chips yet again. You must’ve breathed it into existence, right? There’s no way around the timing of the message, and the sick way it churns in your stomach. You’re halfway towards another crying fit when Atsumu plops himself down onto your bed and grimaces. “Put that down,” he mumbles, snatching the phone out of your hand despite your glare, “you’ve been cryin’ all fucking evening. You really wanna do more of that?”

“I didn’t ask you to come over,” your voice is a murmur, pinched and sad and tiny, because who wouldn’t be heartbroken at a moment like this. “You just invited yourself in, which- hck- is the worst timing you’ve ever had.”

“But yer glad I’m here. I know ya are.” Whatever. Maybe you’re a little glad for the company, but Atsumu’s flavor of bluntness is really doing a number on you. Instead you reach for a tissue and blow your nose again, and try not to cry yourself to death. “He didn’t treat ya right anyway, don’t lie t’ yerself. Hey- look- look at me, c’mon,” his hands are on your face as he tugs it towards him and stares too deep into your eyes, brushing his thumbs along your cheekbones. “No more cryin’ about yer shitty high school crush. Not while I’m here, and I’m yer amazing, incredible support system that yer so very grateful for-” He breaks off in laughter when you have to bite a chuckle back despite your heartache, and try to pull your face out of his touch.

But he lingers, and leans in a little. “What? Am I wrong?”

“You’re not wrong, and I- I’m glad you’re here-” It isn’t a lie, but he’s still leaning in, and his face is growing awfully close and it’s- it’s too soon— and you shrink into your cocoon and look away in an attempt to save the situation. Shin broke up with you hours ago. “Atsumu-” you start, only to be cut off as he tugs the blankets down somewhat harshly, and clicks his tongue.

“Stop runnin’. Yer always doing this crap, I’m…” He sighs, and tries to coach you back out with thinly veiled patience. “Am I really so bad to ya? Hm?”

“Of course you’re not.”

He sits back, before patting his lap, and looks at you. In the last light of the sun that falls through your window he’s cast in the prettiest oranges and pinks, and looks almost ethereal to the world. You’re not blind. That was never in question. “Come here.” Despite being conflicted, there’s a glint in his eye that worries you. That if you were to disagree, he’d leave. And you’re not sure you could handle that right about now. As he leads you out of the blankets you notice how cold your room is in just a shirt and some ugly shorts, and Atsumu mumbles something under his breath. “Ya weren’t this shy at graduation, y’know.”

Your frown digs into your face, but his hands settle on your hips as he pulls you in and pushes you down into his lap with a soft hum. “What do you mean- graduation?”

“Just settle down, will ya? Jeez.” Warm hands that slide to the small of your back to force you ever so close to him, your heart basically stuttering out of your ribcage. “Always so damn skittish ‘round me.” You always wondered a little, truthfully. If the way Atsumu’s touches would linger on you was something to worry about, keep an eye on. If you should have been more careful about setting boundaries- and how he looks at you now, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth as he gives you an up and down… it says enough. Too much, even.

And though you admit that your heart is pattering like a hummingbird, there’s a much larger issue here. You love Shinsuke, you want- Shinsuke, p-promised you’d make it work for him— and it's barely been a few hours. You can’t, so you try to find the words to say; but the blond leans down to start pressing kisses down the side of your neck with a soft chuckle. His arms wrap tightly around your back, even though you place a hand on his chest and shake your head. “Tsumu, no. We can’t, I- can’t, let go.”

The noise he makes into the kisses trembles through your skin and seems to reach bone, before he squeezes a little harder to keep you slotted against him. “Yer so pretty, baby. Always were so fuckin’ pretty,” he goes from keeping you in his lap to slowly pushing you back in bed, sending your breathing into shallow spikes.

“Tsumu, cut it out!”

“I know yer nervous,” his pretty brown eyes are blown out when he pushes you down by your shoulders and you’re buried in your blankets, before he descends on your throat and chest again, kissing and leaving biting nicks, “didn’t do nothin’ like this before right? Know ya were waitin’- but I got ya now. Relax, I’ll make ya feel good. Promise.” The idea that Tsumu knows something so personal about you doesn’t even cross your mind— though it should, more than the way his weight and size locks you in place under his strong, athletic body.

“No, no, I- Shin just broke up with me- and I-”

His expression darkens, eyes narrowing a little as he comes to hover over you, one hand brushing your cheek as the other wraps tight around your wrist. “Don’t say another man’s name when I got ya under me.” He takes a long breath, before descending on you, mouth to mouth, and then pushing his tongue into your mouth too hard for you to keep him out. You try to call his name, but he kisses you without regard, uncaring as he grips your face and makes a noise of agreement when you relax your jaw out of sheer necessity. “Ya’ve got no idea how long I’ve wanted ya, doll. Really, hah.”

His hand slides down your chest to start picking the shirt up your body, and though your rapidly rising and falling chest is exposed, his eyes stay sharp on you, and you can’t help but choke on your cries. He doesn’t look right. His eyes are wide and so sharp, mouth slightly curled as he forces your both wrists next to your head. “Thought I was gonna have ta kill ‘im for you ta finally give in, but-” He kisses you again, before the hand gripping your face snakes down between your bodies to grab your tits through your shirt as he repositions his thighs to lock your lower half in place under him. “Yer gonna be a good little thing for me, ain’t ya?”

“Tsumu,” you squeak, fisting your hands into his shirt by his shoulders, but it only makes him groan in response. “Let me go, I want-”

“You don’t know what ya want.” He takes a deep breath, before slipping his hands under the garment and brushing his thumb over your raised nipples, peeked from the cold air. “But I do. ‘N I’m gonna make ya beg for me so fuckin’ good.” He lets you go for a moment to take your shirt off with rough tugs, before staring again. “See, Samu said I should give it a rest. But how can I, when I knew you’d be the prettiest little virgin cunt ever? Hm?” He licks his lips, before leaning down to start kissing all over your tits, sucking and tugging at your nipples with noises that make you grow from the inside. A cold shiver rolls down your spine, and you find yourself pulling his hair despite yourself. Because it feels good, and heat pools low in your belly.

“Tell me ya want it. Tell me ya want me.” The fire that seems to glint behind his eyes takes you aback, and you try to scramble from under him, but he’s back over you before you get a chance to. Gripping your face and forcing you into another kiss, the taste of his tongue on yours, deep and heavy. “People here hate ya, don’t ya know that? Think yer a real bitch. That’s why no one wants to be yer friend.” He rests his forehead to yours, so that you’re basically breathing each other’s air, and hums. His free hand starts taking off the sweats he’s wearing in a smooth motion, leaving him hard in just boxers. “But I’ve been ‘ere for you.” Another kiss. “I’m good to ya, too.”

The room is so hot, and your brain completely thrown off with the mix of all emotions you’ve felt in these short few hours; and it has you all fucked up. Tsumu must know this, but he doesn’t care. And you take a few panted breaths, looking between your two bodies at the was your tits brush up against him each time you move— he’s so close. “So say you want it, or I’m leavin’.”

“I want it.” Your voice shakes as it comes out, eyes stinging, head floaty— it barely feels like you said anything at all. “I want you.” He takes that as all he needs before grinning, kissing your temple and shuffling off you to shove his boxers down his thighs, before grabbing himself by the base and stroking a few lazy pumps along himself.

“Here, kiss it,” he nods his head towards it, helping you up and then right back down so you’re on your hands and knees. You’re getting wet. Sadly, you didn’t exactly think to put on any nice panties, but Tsumu doesn’t care as he makes you lean in and down until you can rest your lips to his cock, and he makes another noise. “I know it’s kinda bad but- I’ve been wanting ta fuck yer face for years now. Put- yer tongue out.” The admission only makes you feel more hot and hazy, and you do as you’re told. “Ahh, mhm.” He tastes weird when he pushes the glossy head to your tongue, translucent precum coating your tongue, but he takes a few more pumps, then pushes you back over.

“But not now, I wanna fuck you first. Yer gonna let me fuck your tight, little cunt, right?” The plush in your face doesn’t hide the heat as it floods to your face, your belly, down your legs— and he manhandles your legs up to start peeling off your shorts and panties. You can feel the strings of slick as they connect your wet pussy and the fabric, and hide your face into your shoulder before he groans your name again. “Yer so fuckin’ wet, look atcha. Already a little cock tease, and I haven’t even done nothin’ yet.” Your hot, puffy pussy is revealed, and he swipes two fingers out to circle around the wet hole without hesitation, only pulling back to slot the digits in his mouth. He shrugs his shirt off and tosses it next to the bed, then comes to kiss you again.

“Ya taste that? That’s yer pussy gushin’ like a whore for me. Only me.” He kisses like he’s got something to prove, taking your mouth up until all you can think of is him, and the places where your skin seems to zap under his rough hands. Each touch leaving you more breathless than the next. And you’re forced to just nod along and abide, because you couldn’t ask for what you need if you tried. He plays with your tits while pushing first one prodding digit in, but soon pushes up with two. “Gotta- prep this little hole before I fill you up, right? That’d be the nice thing to do. Even though ya haven’t been very nice to me, babe.”

“‘m sorry- Tsumu-” you hold back a whimpering moan as he squeezes your tits hard and flicks your nipples, and his fingers slowly push into you. The wetness dripping down your slit and along your inner thighs is hot, and your body curves instinctively as he slowly slides in and out a few times, while the man above you chuckles.

“No, you ain’t, little minx.” His grin is still wide though, hiking your one leg higher to get a better look at the way your greedy pussy swallows up his long fingers and he fucks you open so easily. “S’okay tho, I forgive ya. ‘Cus I’m gonna get to fuck this pretty pussy first.” The slick sounds fill the room and sound so, so loud, and lewd, and yet, there’s still more noise coming from your throat as he goes deeper again and his thumb finds your puffy clit with a little hum. “Uhuh, that feel good? Look at you enjoying this. Didn’t you want me ta stop? Huh?”

“Hm,” you just answer, grabbing your own chest with one hand, his arm with the other. He’s so much bigger than you like this, so muscular and intimidating. You look between your bodies to watch his fingers bottom out, and though the stretch is a little uncomfortable, it’s mostly just really, really good, filling your head with fog. Tsumu’s thick cock twitches between his legs, and he leans in to kiss you again. This time pulling his hand back to slide it into your mouth instead, making you gag when his fingers hit the back of your throat. You taste heady, a little musky, and lick your lips for the thin thread of spit when he pulls back.

“Alright, say thank you, Tsumu.”

“-thank you, Tsum-” you parrot, and also freeze under him when he goes to reposition himself and his cock head pushes at your sloppy, wet slit. “Wait- condom-”

“Shhh, just relax. If you freak out it’ll hurt ya.” He places one elbow next to your head, and lines himself up better, before starting to push into you already, and your leg jerks. He’s really big. Too big, you think, trying to take a deep breath as he starts breaking open your slick walls and slowly moving back and forth through it. “Aghh, that’s- it, that’s it, thatsithatsit-” He moans loudly, pushing your cheek up and kissing you back long and deep, tongues messily tangling and tasting each other, bumping noses as he fucks in, and in, and in. It pulls every thought out of you, every fiber filled with electricity. The tightness is painful, but you don’t want him to pull back, and judging by the way he groans into your mouth, he won’t anyway.

“You’re crazy if you think I’m fucking my tiny virgin cunt with a condom,” he pants when pulling back, eyes blown wide. His hand pushes your knee up more to stare at where you’re connected, before pulling back halfway and fucking back in, and the pressure on your womb and belly is enough to have you whining out so loud it barely sounds human. “That good, huh?” He bottoms out again, feels so fucking deep inside you that you can feel him high up in yourself bumping against your walls, and it feels so good, so, so good your toes curl and your knees lock around him.

“Fuck,” you can just barely gasp, before he pumps into you again, and starts really grinding himself into you. Slick drips out of you with each thrust, and makes the bed rattle under his weight. His hair sticks matt to his forehead, his lip pulled between his teeth, and the wet slapping of his hips meeting your skin is so distracting. Everything aches. Everything feels so good. You can barely even feel the sting anymore, jerking on his cock like you are. “Tsumu, I-”

“Gon’ have ta wait, princess,” he suddenly chokes, “yer clamping down on me like crazy— fuck.” He lifts one knee to push your legs open more, and then just shakes his head as he starts speeding up. “Oh, fuck it, gonna fill you up first. So fuckin’ tight, god, fuck-” The heavy thrusts go more sloppy, rapid as he chases his own orgasm and squeezes your thigh hard, yanking your teary cheeks back towards him as you pant to slide a finger between your lips and dropping a glob of his own spit into your mouth like it’s normal. Groaning into your mouth, and fucking his fat cock so deep into you you see stars. “One experience at a time, right?”

“Ah, Tsumu- p-please, fuck-me more, more, touch- more.” Your head rolls back as he pulls your hips back into him again and again, before suddenly locking up, and feeling how hot ropes of cum fill you up and he pants out your name in between a string of swears that all melt into a long growled moan as he stills. Only for a second though, because he’s quick to pull out and roll you back so that your knees are by your head, and he’s on top of you. He strokes his cock a few times, watching the last of the strings of thick cum land between your thighs. “Tsumu-” you pant, and take a breath, and pout- all at once. Because he stares at the way his cum comes out of your sloppy hole, before pushing it back inside. “Ughn-”

IWAIZUMI HAJIME — he hates crying. but being the responsible and knowing person he is, he knows that crying is inevitable. but the "strong", reliable guy in him wants to punch himself every-time he feels his eyes sting at the feel of salty tears brimming at his waterline. unbeknownst to you, he would avoid you every-time he felt like he was going to cry, usually hiding in the locked confides of the bathroom. he thought he was hiding it well, until one fateful day where it all came crashing down..

"haji?" you said on the other side of the door. he immediately shot up, his eyes darting to the doorknob. he always made sure to lock it, but today, he was just so exhausted and down that the idea of a lock was forgotten. crap, "hey wait-," before he could even rise up from his slouched kneeling position on the bathtub's side, you opened the door unknowingly. "i just need my–hajime?"

there he was, in all of his fucking glory, hunched over, his face long and clearly expressing his hurt feelings. his heart fell to his stomach, his vision going cloudy as his day just kept getting worse. "hajime?" you called out once more, only your tone had softened, more light and tender. you reached a hand out to him, eyes full of concern. he couldn't help but jolt away from your hand, eyebrows furrowing at your softness.

he didn't like your tone. why are you looking at him like that? like some sad kicked puppy lost in the middle of nowhere? it made him feel so small, so weak. "haji.. are you okay?" you whispered, crouching down to his level outside of the bathtub. you attempted yet again to touch the side of his face, lightly pressing your fingertips against his cheekbone before fully pressing your palm against the side of his face.

his lips trembled as he was just a second away from breaking down, his eyes locked on a single object as to hold on to the last of his will. you sighed softly at his resistance, of course he wouldn't want to cry in front of you, but you don't understand why, afterall, what makes a person weak for crying? "it's okay, hajime."

with that, fat tears finally ran down his cheeks, his eyes shutting close as he finally broke at your words. he could only grab onto your hand as you climbed into the tub, his head going straight into your chest as he sobbed and wailed.

MIYA ATSUMU — surprisingly, you've seen this guy cry many of times before. he cried when getting accepted into nationals, winning nationals, just crying at things any normal person would do. but he never cried for you. no, he held himself to higher standards. he'd never cry for someone, not even for you. yeah, he loved you, but he wasn't about to cry for someone like a little child. all high and mighty, he never thought you would actually have an affect on him like you do now. him being someone who wears his heart proudly on his sleeve, he found himself getting into an argument late at night with you, too prideful to back down.

"are you serious atsumu?! you know i'd never do that!" you yelled, voice hoarse and scratchy due to the ongoing screaming match between you and your boyfriend. "oh really?! then why were ya' 'll over that fucker earlier? huh?!" he yelled back, pointing out the way you were seemingly flirting with a guy at the club earlier.

but you weren't? you would never do that, you're not a scum. "what?! we were just talking?! am i not allowed to TALK to people atsumu?" you scoffed, arms crossing defensively. "if you wanna consider talking as flirting, then let's talk about that girl you were laughing with the other day? huh? let's talk about that!"

his eyebrow raised at your counter, fumbling nervously as he wondered what to say. "w-wh- you know what?! fuck you! i don't know why i'm even dating a bitch like you!" he said, almost immediately regretting his words when he saw the way your eye's widened at his harsh words. the apartment was finally silent as you registered his words, he wishes you had any sort of expression on your face, but you had nothing but a stoic and emotionless face.

"okay then," you finally said, arching your eyebrow in a taunting way, resting your hand down on your hip. "bye." you followed, grabbing your bag and your keys, turning your back on him.

he watched, frozen in his spot as you exited out the apartment with your composure. his body jolted when he heard the slam of the front door, finally letting out that breath he was unknowingly holding. he scoffed at what you said, clenching his jaw tightly as he tried to hold onto his pride. "damn it." he said.

he felt the tear roll down his cheek before he could even register that he was crying. "..damn it!"

KAGEYAMA TOBIO — to him, life is volleyball. his childhood consisted nothing of volleyball, and so will his adulthood. maybe his obsession with volleyball was a little extreme, but you never really minded. he respected you greatly for your patience, he wasn't dumb, he knew that his priority of volleyball was evident, so he always tried to make it up to you by spending time with you whenever you wanted. but it seemed like after awhile, he began to take your patience for granted. it wasn't until the nth time when he didn't show up for the nth date was when he realized.

kageyama was careful to shut the front door as quiet as he could, tiptoeing as he took off his shoes and walked throughout the dark hallways and into the master-bedroom. he jolted like a cat when he sat you sitting up on the side of the bed, back facing the doorway.

"y-you scared me. what are you doing up at this time? it's nearly 10PM." he stuttered obliviously. it was silent for a few seconds before you sighed, slowly turning your head to face him. "you forgot." you muttered before turning back to look at the wall. forgot? forgot what? it was then he noticed the way your hair was done, still clad in a pretty dress.

"o-oh.. the date! i-i'm sorry y/n, i promise i can make it up to you"— "don't bother." you interrupted, voice stern yet monotonous. what do you mean 'don't bother?' you love going on dates don't you? his lips pursed into a straight line, chewing on his bottom lips nervously. "w-what do you mean? i really promise, this thursday i have a free day.." he trailed off when you suddenly stood up from the bed.

"i mean that i think we should break up." his heart dropped at your words, eyes widening. break up? his mouth was agape, mind spinning with different solutions and apologies. before he could detest, you walked over to the corner of the room, pulling up a suitcase that he didn't even notice.

"b-but why? you said yourself that me and you are meant to be together?" he cried out, quickly rushing over to your side and grabbing onto your wrist. he watched your face closely, eyes taking note of every single feature of yours. you inhaled deeply, still refusing to look at him.

"i said that when we were in high-school and didn't have any major responsibilities. things have changed, we aren't in high-school any more. you're now a pro-volleyball player with big responsibilities, and i'm.. someone who clearly has too much time on their hands, wasting it on someone who can't give me any of theirs. it's not your fault, kageyama, but we just don't align anymore."

you finally said, tugging your hand away from his grasp. before you could take a step, his hands were once again on you, gripped onto your shoulders, forcing you to look at him. "but.. you said you would be there for my game at nationals.." he whimpered out, tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

it was then, when you were finally walking out of his apartment, out of his life, was when he finally did realize, that maybe, he did take your patience for granted..

BOKUTO KOUTARO — this guy cries a lot. he's cried so many times you might have to start writing it down somewhere. he rarely masks his emotions, he's an open book. thats what you love so much about him, that he's so open and honest. you love the way he's so eager and sweet, you love the way he's always willing to talk to you and so damn clingy it's like you have your own personal koala. aside from the times he's happy, he's sad, sad because he didn't perform well, or because you didn't kiss him. but you never really made him cry, you'd never do that. or so you thought.

"y/n!! i missed you!" you hear a booming voice yell, his footsteps speeding up at the sight you. he paid no mind when you didn't respond to him, as you were currently hunched over the your work desk, laptop gleaming at you brightly. your back was turned to him, so you were basically calling him for a back hug.

"y/n!" — "not now koutaro." you interrupted, tone serious and stern. he raised his eyebrows at you with surprise, his arms a few inches away from your shoulders as they stilled in their preparation to hug you. "babe? is something wrong?" he asked curiously, lips pouting at your stern denial. you never decline a hug. you love them. right?

"i'm working. can't you see that?" you spit out, sighing deeply. you pull away your cramping fingers away from your keyboard, rubbing them over your sore eyes. "my gosh." you mumble under your breath, eyebrows intensely furrowed with stress. you had been working for a few hours straight, staring at nothing but a bright screen with words that were becoming incoherent to you.

you yelp out when you're suddenly pulled from your chair, being lifted up into bokuto's strong arms as he spins you around. "don't be so sad!" he says cheerfully, hoping to cheer you up with a big warm hug. only— this seems to make you mad. "put me down, koutaro!" you yell, pushing his chest away and forcing him to practically drop you.

"don't you see i'm working?! why are you so damn clingy? you're so annoying, god, why don't you just leave me alone?" you spit out. your words are like venom, stinging his heart greatly as his hair is quickly deflating once your words reach his ears. you simply return to your laptop once you've finished, typing mindlessly once more.

him? annoying? he didn't mean to annoy you..

he couldn't help but softly whimper, left standing in shock. he opened his mouth to say something before your previous words were reminding him to stay silent—leave me alone. he clutched his palms, looking at your turned back with teary eyes. he hopes you don't find him annoying for long..

How can she be so precious with her mother, her uncle, the other uncles who is on Atsumu’s team, her granny, literally everyone but him?

Menace.

It takes two hours to get Hisako ready and fed and in the car for school, Atsumu is sure he’s got grey hairs now, but he’s thankful to at least have her in the car. The ride is silent and tense, with Atsumu’s white knuckles gripping the wheel with the force of 1000 gods. In the mirror, he sees her little arms crossed, her lips in a little scowl, and she looks so much like him when he was a kid it’s hilarious- if he ever acted like this as a kid though, he needs to send his poor mother a muffin basket ASAP.

Finally, finally, they’re able to get to school without getting into another spat, and Atsumu sighs and parks his car, but before he gets out to let Hisako out, he turns in his seat with a soft smile.

“Listen, baby,” he says sweetly, trying to extend an olive branch to his damned six year old. “I… I want you to have a good day today, okay?” His tips his head when the pout etched on Hisako’s lips soften. “Do you wanna tell daddy what’s wrong? What I can do to help?”

Hisako sighs and fiddles with her tiny fingers. Atsumu nods softly in encouragement, ready for his babygirl to confide in her favorite person and reach a resolution that would help them both through the day, and-

“It’s you, daddy.”

Uh.

What.

“Excuse me!”

“It’s you!” She whines again, her legs kicking out in her seat for emphasis.

Atsumu is convinced he’s never been more offended in his life. He knows his little girl could be a tiny devil, she was her father’s spawn, but this?

Horrendous betrayal.

“What the heck did I do!”

“Other than breathin’, nothin’!” She grumbles, the scowl on her lip out once again. “You just get on my nerves sometimes!”

“You little-!” He unbuckles himself to fully turn in his seat. “You don’t even know what that means, okay?!”

“Uh-huh I do!” She crosses her tiny arms, “you get on uncle ‘samu’s nerves all t’ time! He tells me!! He goes ‘your dad’s real good at gettin’ on my nerves!’” She huffs, “and now I ‘gree!”

“That’s not-! That’s-! You’re-!” While Atsumu scrambles for words, Hisako is blinking at him with the most wide, angry eyes, and he growls deep in his throat when he can’t find the words to convey how salty he is. Scrambling, he escapes his way out of the car to open the door to his back seat, brows furrowed.

“I hope you have the day you deserve!” He snips, fingers diving in to tickle her sides and up to her neck, and he tries not to soften at the sound of her laughter. “I hope, that none of your markers work, and all of your crayons are broken, and all your letters are messed up!” Tiny hands shove at his, bouncing in her seat to try and fight him away.

“Daddy, no!” She squeals.

“I hope that all your papers get crinkled, and I hope the lunch uncle Osamu packed you doesn’t come with a note! I hope that your friends only want you to swing when you play jump rope, and I hope you get sand in your shoe in the sandbox, you little snot!”

With that, he retracts his hands and unbuckles her seat, still trying to keep an angry facade, despite the fact that seeing her smile is more than enough to break that feeling. Quickly, Atsumu unbuckles her seat and pulls her up and out of the car, passing her backpack to her with a tiny ruffle of her hair. “Get outta here.”

Atsumu cards his hair back and looks to the sky for whoever was listening for patience, but that silent prayer is interrupted by a gentle tug on his sweatpants.

“What?”

She flashes him her biggest set of puppy eyes, and Atsumu quirks a brow. “You didn’t give me a hug…” her fingers clasp in front of her innocently. “‘N I don’t like that. You still give mommy hugs when she mad at you.”

The vein in his forehead throbs but he chuckles at his little girl’s words, because sure, maybe she is right, the little shit. He bends down to scoop her into his big arms, squeezing her tight with a playful groan of effort while she curls her arms around his neck.

“I do hope you have a good day, princess,” he hums, kissing her temple. “Even if I made you mad this morning with my breathing.” Hisako giggles into his neck, and with another kiss to her head, he finally puts her down and sends her back off with her teacher, sighing at the little terror he calls his daughter.

He gets back in the car. He picks up his phone. Immediately, his fingers fly over the keyboard to dial his brothers number.

“It’s 7 in the morning, one of ya better be dying-“

“YOU TELL YOUR NIECE I GET ON YOUR NERVES?”

There’s a beat of silence. Then, he hears his twin, his younger twin, the twin he should’ve eaten in the womb, chuckle.

“Yeah,” he says cooly, like this hasn’t been the lead cause of chaos for the first four hours of Atsumu’s day.

“Sometimes, you manage to piss me off with just breathin’, ‘tsumu.”

the moment the door in front of him opened, he expected to see you. but the one who greeted him instead was none other than your younger sibling. "are you here for (y/n)?" your sibling asked him. "uhm. yeah, i am. they haven't been responding to me at all," he says.

"sick in bed, so they've been there ever since this morning."

oh, so that's why you haven't been responding to him.

"can i come in then?"

your sibling opened the door more and stepped aside, a sign of inviting him, which he gladly accepted. he started heading to your room, a plastic bag filled with snacks still in hand. he gently knocks on your door, waiting for a go signal to get in.

"yes mom, i already took my medicine!" he heard you say in a sick voice. from what he could tell so far, your nose was probably clogged right now, which was why your voice sounded a bit different than before.

"i didn't know i was your mom now." atsumu chuckles.

"tsumu?"

"the one and only, baby."

"you can come in." your boyfriend gladly opens the door and waltzes into your room. however, he didn't expect you to be so wrapped in your blankets. "sorry about earlier. mom has been nagging me a bit about my medicine."

atsumu places the plastic bag on your desk nearby. "i tried reaching out to you everywhere, but you weren't responding, so i got worried and decided to check up on you," he says, proceeding to sit on the edge of your bed. you pull up the blanket on you, covering half of your face. "sorry about that, my phone died on me last night. it hurts me to move around right now, so i haven't plugged it in." 

"it's alright; you shouldn't move around that much anyway," atsumu replies before getting up and plugging your phone in right after. he was about to go closer until you stopped him. "wait! don't come closer."

"what? baby, why?"

"i might get you sick as well if you do," you pout.

he chuckles at your words: "my immune system is pretty strong, you know?"

"but still…"

"baby, it's fine." he kisses your forehead. "i got you some snacks, by the way, but with you being sick right now, i don't think you can eat 'em."

"awe.. just one bite?"

now, don't look at him that way. not when you both know he's weak to that pleading look on your face, especially with those pouty lips that he'd love to kiss right now if you weren't having a burning fever at the moment.

"fine… just one."

yet one turned into two, two turned into three, and so on!

if there's one thing that could make miya atsumu weak in the knees, it's you.

(by the time your boyfriend got home, he was sneezing, and when the time came, it was your turn to take care of him now.)

a/n: i dont like this one bit tbh... i also forgot to change the you and your to ya and yer 😭 probably ooc atsumu but this is just pure word vom 🧍‍♀️

Atsumu sighs before he turns a bit to look at the titan behind him.

"Yeah, missin' 'er terribly. An' she is doin' okay, I guess?Last time I called 'er, she was vomitin' lots. Must have been somethin' she ate, accordin' to 'er." Atsumu frowns deep in thought.

All of sudden, Hinata‘s orange hair pops up next to him.

"I hope she is okay. Maybe the flu?"

"Vomiting? You better not bring this illness to practice, we have a game in two weeks." Sakusa says in a threatening voice.

"Oh please, as if missin' yer presence on da court has any effect on our performance, Omi. We have plenty of players ta cover for ya."

Sakusa slowly turns his head, Hinata shrinks in fear behind the seat.

Bokuto does not care, still watching Guardians of the Galaxy in high anticipation, eyes entirely focused on the screen while munching on his snack loudly.

"Are you calling me useless on the court Miya?" The ravenette growls.

"Well if da boot fits-"

"Say that again to my face. I dare you." Sakusa begins to get up from his seat, about to strangle the blonde Setter, when the Captain, Shūgo Meian interrupts before it can escalate.

"Guys, we still have an hour left on the flight, behave. Please." Meian, the team captain calls out tiredly a few rows behind them.

"You heard the chief. No more fighting." Joffe laughs.

Sakusa huffs, putting his AirPods in, trying to calm down when he sits back down in his seat.

Atsumu looks back out the window, being with some people for a long time every single day for hours has really brought him to his limit.

Thank goodness the airport is not far from your shared apartment and the flight is less than an hour now.

Soon, he will be with you again.

Back at home, you just came back with some grocery bags, along with some prenatal vitamins from the local pharmacy.

Honestly you’ve been constantly so tired and grouchy, you’re thanking the heavens that Atsumu is not here with you right now.

He’d be constantly worried for you.

Putting away the groceries, you cut yourself some apple slices with honey as a dip and some rice waffles with strawberry Joghurt as dipping sauce.

Stocking the vitamins in the med cabinet, you begin to munch on your food when your phone rings.

Seeing Atsumu’s silly face on the screen, you put your food down and answer it.

"Hello, my handsome Setter." You greet him happily.

"Heyyy, my sexy girl. How’s it goin'?" Atsumu cheers back.

"Going good, missing you a lot. Just got back from the store to make some Japanese curry later on."

"Sounds delish. Hey, uh can ya open the door? I got some flowers in one hand an' my luggage in the other, kinda hard to open the door like that." Atsumu grins on the phone when he hears you gasp and run towards the door.

Highly confused at his saying, he hangs up all of sudden and you put your snacks down to run to the front door.

When you open the door, a 6'1 tall, athletic guy with messy blonde hair grins excitedly at you, a grin that you missed terribly.

Throwing yourself in his arms, Atsumu drops his luggage to the side, wrapping his strong arms around you while still having the flowers in one hand.

You breathe in his familiar scent, the smell of his expensive Ayurveda body scrub fills your nose and you almost tear up with how much you missed him.

Walking you backwards very carefully, Atsumu pushes his suitcase inside, while still holding you and closes the door, so the privacy between the two of you remains.

Remembering he got you flowers, he parts from you a little bit to hand them to you with a dazzling smile.

"Awww Tsumu, you shouldn’t have. They’re beautiful." You take in the beautiful smell of your favorite flowers but the usual lovely scent makes you nauseous.

The Setter sees your happiness turn into a wince and he immediately is worried again.

"Ya okay? Still feelin' bad from last night?"

"Yeah, uh the paella really did a number on me last night. I promise I’ll be fine." You chuckle, trying to convince him that it’s just the food making you feel bad and not the pregnancy.

"Mhm, okay, if ya say so." The Setter says unsure but doesn’t question you any further.

"I promise, I will be fine." You assure him once more with a long promising kiss and the Olympian practically sighs in bliss to feel your soft lips against his own after being apart from you.

The rest of the evening, you spend the time in each others arms, making up for being away from each other for so long.

Atsumu told you more stories about Argentine and his teammates, his stories make you laugh and appreciate that he is back home.

It’s late at night, due to Atsumu’s body still being used to Argentine’s time, he needs to get adjusted to Japan’s time again.

But not only the time difference is keeping the young Olympian up, your weird food eating habits, your extreme tiredness and your all of sudden sensitive smell to your favorite flowers is making him worried.

So he does what he always does, when he seeks out for advice, even if it physically pains him sometimes.

He texts his brother.

The next morning, you do feel a little bit better but for some reason, Atsumu is not his usual self.

He looks deep in thought, he looks very distracted since last night.

During breakfast, Atsumu pushes his food around a little bit, not really much eating any of it.

So you decide to break the silence.

"You’ve been awfully quiet, you okay?" You ask him in a quiet voice.

"Can I ask ya somethin'? An' promise ta be honest please." The blonde says, playing with his fingers a little bit.

For some reason, you have a feeling what this is about.

"Go ahead." You look at him and push your plate a little bit away.

"Are ya pregnant?" He looks at you with serious eyes, a small hint of fear behind those chocolate brown eyes of his.

You feel your breath hitch in your throat, surprised that he figured it out.

But Atsumu has always been direct, didn’t matter in what terms.

You gulp down nervously and you reply so quiet, that he barely hears it.

"Yes, I am." You confess.

Atsumu looks to the side shortly, shakily breathing before getting up and looking out the window, running his hand through his hair.

"I-I know we’re still young and y-you’re still focusing on your career… I am sorry this happened, I-I know this isn’t what you imagined when you got home, I will leave and I won’t bother you-" You start to panic, tears coming into your eyes, your hormones acting crazy.

Shocked by your sudden panic, he rushes to you in a heartbeat.

"Hey, hey… calm down okay? If anythin' we’re both at fault but we’ll get through this together kay? And honestly, this is the biggest and happiest surprise I have ever gotten home to. And I wouldn’t trade you or junior for anythin' in this world, my love. I love ya two more than anythin'."

"More than volleyball?" You ask teasingly with tears in your eyes.

"Maybe that’s pushin' it but yer high up there." Atsumu sticks his tongue at you cheekily.

You laugh with him, calming down that he looks happy about this pregnancy.

"How far along are ya?" He looks at you, intrigued as he caresses the lower part of your stomach.

"About 4-5 weeks I think? Still pretty early."

Atsumu takes your hand in his, still having his other hand on your stomach, indirectly asking you to stand up.

Following his lead, you get up and he rests his forehead against yours.

"I won’t leave ya side okay? I will stay by yer side and protect ya from any harm."

“satoru, are you really going to ignore me?”

“it’s gojo to you,” he corrects, mouth set in a thin line as he offers you a pointed look—narrowing his eyes at you even further when you roll yours in annoyance.

“it was one day,” you try to defend.

“it was one day,” he mimics. “whatever.”

he leaves you no time to respond, immediately standing up from the couch to stomp his way to your shared bedroom. like a petulant child, after slamming the door shut, he locks himself inside, prompting a heavy sigh from you.

truthfully (and unfortunately), you’re no stranger to satoru’s tendency to blow things out of proportion. and while it’s beyond you how you’ve managed to tolerate this frustrating habit of his, you know better than to chide him for it—it’s endearing to some extent, and it’s all out of love; you know that more than anything else.

so even with your entire body sore and racked with exhaustion, you’re hauling yourself to the room—because god, you’ve had a long day, and the last thing you need is your only source of comfort distancing himself from you because you forgot to kiss him this morning.

“satoru-“ you knock twice, feigning remorse in your tone. though, admittedly, part of you does feel a bit guilty. “-please don’t ignore me.”

“it’s gojo to you!” he yells back, but the sound is muffled. most likely because he’s got his head burrowed in your damn pillow. or maybe his own, who knew the extent to his pettiness? he might have even tossed yours to the floor, it wasn’t above him not to.

“satoru, open the door.”

“go away.”

“satoru.”

“leave me alone,” he demands, even though you both know it’s the last thing he wants.

“please?” you try once more. and this time, it seems to have worked. because as much as he wanted to, there was no way he could deny you when you’ve asked so nicely—again, a total sweetheart, always opening doors for you even when he’s upset. it’s not like he could ever turn you away either, not genuinely at least. he just wants you to chase after him a little, regardless of how immature that might make him appear.

you hear him spring off the bed, and the sound of footsteps grows increasingly louder with each step he takes. then he unlocks the door with a click, only he doesn’t open it. instead, he leaves it shut before dashing back to bed. incredible.

as you take a few slow strides to move closer to him, you wonder if he’s truly hellbent on carrying out whatever role he’s playing. for a split second you contemplate doing the opposite of what you know he wants you to do, but the sight of satoru is too humorous for you to brush aside; he’s turned back on you completely, facing the wall as he covers his entire form with a blanket.

“really?” you question.

he says nothing in return.

and you want to laugh—because all this just because you forgot to give him a kiss this morning? it was too hilarious, but also so fucking adorable; you can’t help but entertain this play of his. maybe that makes you both crazy.

“satoru,” you croon, leaning over to pull the blanket off of his figure as you make yourself comfortable next to him. he complies, but not without pretending he doesn’t want it.

“what?” he grumbles, sitting up but still refusing to look at you directly.

“don’t be mad, please? i was in a rush this morning. it slipped from my mind.“

“i’m not supposed to slip from your mind,” he counters, an eyebrow raised as he folds his arms against his chest.

“well the longer you’re angry at me, the less time i’ll have to kiss you to make up for it,” you reason, and that gets his attention.

he casts you a sidelong glance; hesitant, wavering, and dangerously on the precipice of giving in—would he drop it or not? the offer was far too tempting to turn down, especially for someone like him. though, at the same time, that would definitely wound his pride, so you weren’t sure—but when he looks at you, eyes gleaming and tail practically wagging, any trace of uncertainty you’ve previously had disappears.

“is that a promise?”

you nod, but he’s still sulking.

“you can’t forget next time, you have to promise me that. i really felt like i was going to die. you practically cast me aside like i was nothing!” he whines. “i’m supposed to be your everything!”

“you are my everything,” you refute. “i was just in a rush this morning, but i won’t forget next time. i’ll set an alarm for it if you want me to.”

“really?”

“yes, really.”

the things you’d do for this man is insane; the list goes on forever, but the smile that brightens his face when you tell him that makes you think it’s all worth it.

“would you let me name the alarm?” he asks.

you tilt your head to the side, a puzzled look clouding your expression at his request, but you don’t pry any further. knowing him, he’s serious about it, and you don’t think you have the energy to hear any explanation he might have.

“okay,” you say. “but later. it’s in my bag.”

he hums, then urges you in closer by tugging on your arm, trying to fill the ache of your short lived absence. and who are you not to follow? you sling your legs over his lap to straddle him, and he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead as you nestle yourself against him. he’s a snug fit, and even when there’s barely any space between you two, you can’t find it in yourself to care. you don’t think you’d have it any other way. you wrap around him even more, and he melts into your embrace.

“no forgetting me next time,” he mutters, eyes closing in contentment. you feel so good with him. ”i love you.”

“i love you even more, gojo.”

and then they open again, bulging out of their sockets as his mouth parts in disbelief. “what happened to satoru?!”

“dunno,” you mumble, hiding into the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent of his cologne and fighting back a smile because you know he’ll feel it.

“apparently it’s gojo to me.”

the next day, at exactly eight thirty in the morning, you’re woken up by the incessant ring of your alarm. despite satoru’s protests to keep you in bed for another five minutes, you untangle yourself from him to turn it off, and your heart swells with adoration when you see what’s on display: