“You can’t kick me out! It’s late and cold and I’m tired… besides, I know you want me”
You squinted up at him, blood boiling as you took in that smirk of his and the way he held his arms open invitingly. You didn’t expect to spend your saturday evening trying to convince a whining Miya Atsumu, one of your dormmates teammates, to go back to his dorm so you could work in peace, yet here you were.
“Atsumu, your dorm is literally a 3 minute walk. Aren’t you the same guy who went on a run after a 5-set match?”, you shuffled through your papers, pushing your sliding glasses up your nose.
“Yes I am”, he said proudly. He may or may not have puffed out his chest and flexed his muscles a bit more in hopes of you noticing.
“Which is why I deserve my rest”, he dropped down to his knees dramatically, resting his chin on the top of your laptop.
“So do I, and I don’t feel like telling Suna why his bed smells like, what he calls, ‘shitty hair dye and pig cologne’”, you didn’t bother looking up at him; you already knew he was frowning.
“But I’m doing this for you”, he drawled, rolling onto his back so his head was next to your thigh.
▭ timeskip!atsumu x f!reader ▭ genre/tags fluff, childhood friends to implied lovers, they swear a lot, i wrote this so long ago & forgot to post; 2.1k words
“As if I don’t see enough of you already,” you groan, rolling your eyes.
Atsumu clutches his hands to his chest in faux hurt, mouth curved into a little ‘o’. “What did I do to deserve tha’ from such a pretty little lady?”
You click your tongue in annoyance, “I’m not little.” You never admit it to him, but your heart flutters every time you hear him call you something sweet. You tell yourself not to get swayed by it though, because he’s been doing that to you since you two were little.
“Plus, you were the one who bugged me to come out here, remember?” He points his finger at you.
“Only because you never say no,” you joke, grabbing a french fry and tossing it in your mouth.
“Only because it’s you,” he shrugs, and you wonder at what point it was that he had gotten so comfortable spouting such clearly untrue nonsense to you that it just became second nature.
▭ one // two // part three to “the perfect fit” ▭suna x fem!reader, meian x f!reader ( all of you are in college! ) ▭ genre/tags angst, unrequited love, ex fwb suna, mutual pining, still two idiots!!!, love… square? at this point idk, college au, implied sex (very brief!!), sigh more miscommunication sigh; 2.1k words // thanks @suknua for screaming in the docs & giving me ideas <3
FRESHMAN YEAR; WELCOME DRINKS AT DEAN’S HOUSE
Yeah, that’s where you met Suna.
Those foxlike eyes you wouldn’t miss from a mile away. There’s something about him that always drew you in, somehow.
You didn’t have to ask; everyone here were either professors or students on scholarships. The ones the dean deemed “exceptionally gifted”, whatever that meant—and by the looks of him, he was probably here on a sports scholarship.
Needless to say, the stuffy and pretentious atmosphere here wasn’t either of your cup of tea. Students kissing up to the professors and fake airs everywhere—they could all kiss ass but both you and Suna were getting bored.
It wasn’t all that surprising then that you ended up fucking in one of the rooms.
Suna had tried to remind you.
“If we’re going to do this, don’t expect anything more than—”
“Fuck no,” was your assurance to him.
(Also, you almost got caught by the dean himself. Having to hide out in the (huge) closet while waiting for the right time to slip out? Not fun, nope. Especially not when Suna’s still having his way with you while you’re trying not to make a sound.)
Miya Atsumu was a man full of marvels, a diamond that never loses its shine despite the harsh beatings of reality - he was the epitome of the word beautiful, a sight to behold. One look can deceive others and make them think he was a perfect human being but you knew better than that. If anything, he was far from it… way too far. Beneath the “strong” mask he adorns is also a child who has yet to know more about the world he lives in, a lost soul seeking for the hand of his fated one, and a soft heart that gets hurt and hurts back so easily at the same time. Despite the eye-candy smile he initially sports in front of other people, Atsumu can be a raucous lad once he opens that rather foul mouth of his and spits the nastiest and most cruel words he can think of.
And even if it was never your plan to do so, that’s the very reason why you were here, feeling your heart break more and more each second that passed by, watching as your thread finally loses all of its color and life. It’s only a matter of time before your memories with him do the same.
𖥻 a companion fic to guardian angel(please read part one first or else it’ll be very confusing)
𖥻 atsumu x f!reader, osamu, 2k, angst
𖥻 while you’re falling apart at the seams by osamu’s grave, atsumu isn’t having a very good time either, but on an entirely different plane.
𖥻 warnings (for those of you who read part one, you already know) osamu is dead, atsumu is in a coma
𖥻 a/n; so i think a few of you who read ‘guardian angel’ were wondering what really happened & in all honesty this was how i viewed it in my head—so i finally decided to write it down. (i know it’s pretty short) it’s a lot of just me imagining stuff so i hope you guys like this <3 lmk what you think! thank you to @suknua for beta-ing <3
ATSUMU remembers pulling over by the road, reaching behind his seat for the small paper bag, with an even smaller velvet box inside. He grinned to himself, feet basically shuffling with excitement.
That night was the night—the night his life would change forever.
summary: gym trainer by day, underground fighter by night—Hajime Iwaizumi gives you a front row access to Tokyo’s biggest underground fight club after setting his eyes on you as his shiny new toy. little does he know, you’re there to infiltrate the illegal underground fighting scene with another purpose in mind.
Hajime nearly chokes, wiping the ‘potion’ dribbling down his jawline, he presses the back of his hand to his mouth in an attempt to keep the disgusting concoction from exiting his gut.
“…How was it?”
You try to pat his back sympathetically (he’s gagging now), but you’re the one that insisted he try the mystery remedy first, and you cautiously pull your hand away as he shoots you the most menacing glare he can while he’s coughing into his palm.
“It was made with weird mushrooms and fucking plants, how do you think it tastes?”
Terrible, you guess. And the effects were supposed to be instantaneous, according to a recipe dropped in one of the posts you found… not that you expected it to work.
“Ahh, and nothing happened.”
You rub your jaw semi-thoughtfully, before catching the look on Hajime’s face.
His expression is glaring, not unlike someone scheming for revenge. But that’s silly, Hajime wouldn’t blame you for the potion not working, right?
“It probably didn’t work because you didn’t try it with me.”
Breakups were supposed to be hard, it’s a well-known fact, but you couldn’t help but cry out of frustration as you looked at all the boxes you had packed in a rush. Even though your friends had offered to come help with moving out of the apartment you had shared with your ex-boyfriend, you refused. After all, you were stubborn, not even a breakup could change that. However, your plan on doing everything yourself was soon abandoned as you whipped out your phone, cringing at the lock screen you had yet to change.
Pressing the top number, you only waited for a few seconds before the other end picked up. You never had to wait with him.
“Hajime, I know I said-” he cut you off before you could finish your sentence.
“Yeah yeah, I’ll be right over with food.”
You smiled at the fact that he always knew what to do and what to say.
You met Iwaizumi Hajime just before leaving for the United States in order to study abroad. In contrast to your frantic and nervous behavior before flying, he was calm and put-together. By some miracle, the two of you were sat together, and you learned you were going to the same college in California. He told you how he went to Aoba Johsai, and you told him how you attended Fukurodani.
Over the course of a year, you and Hajime became best friends and saw each other at their worst. You would wear each other’s high school apparel and eventually would share an apartment in your last year before returning to Japan. Although others misunderstood the relationship between you two, it was defined as a familial bond. He was your older brother, and you were his younger sister.
Back to the present day, Hajime sat in your living room as you began to sort through your clothes. Snorting at a familiar old teal shirt, he laughed.
“What are you laughing at?” you scowled at the man who was sprawled across your sofa.
“Nothing, it’s just that I can’t believe you still have that! It’s not even mine,” he clutched his stomach, seeming like he was remembering something. You just narrowed your eyes before throwing the fabric at his face.
“Well if it’s not yours, whose is it?” you questioned the brunette boy. He sat up before opening his phone up to show you a picture of four boys at graduation. You had seen the picture before, it was framed in his bedroom. He pointed to a taller boy who had wavy hair and was holding up two fingers behind Hajime’s head.
“Oh, Oikawa right?” you asked Hajime, as he had told you about his high school friends before. He nodded before saying that the shirt belonged to him.
“I’m not even sure why I have it, especially because it wouldn’t fit me,” he questioned to himself. He set down the food container that was still on his lap and sat down next to you in order to help pack more efficiently. He seemed to be lost in thought before turning to you.
“Where are you going to stay after this?” you set down the skirt you were holding in your hands before letting out a sigh.
“I don’t know Haji. My sister said I could stay with her, but she lives in Kyoto, and that’s too far from everything.”
“I would offer you to stay with me, but Mattsun brings too many people over. It would just be uncomfortable for the both of us.” you laughed as he rambled on about his roommate’s antics.
Issei Matsukawa, another high school friend, was Iwaizumi’s roommate. You had met him many times, along with Hanamaki, another friend. The three of them made up ¾ of the Iwaizumi’s lock screen. The only person you hadn’t met yet was Oikawa, as he was living in Argentina as a professional volleyball player. Hajime was extremely proud of him, even though he wouldn’t admit it to his face.
“Maybe I should call up Kaori and see if she will let me crash at her-”
Your sentence was cut short as the Godzilla theme began to play from Iwaizumi’s pocket. He took a look at who was calling before excusing himself to the kitchen, although it was no use. The next words that fell from his lips were very loud and said with disbelief.
“You’re coming home?!”
Two weeks later, you were sitting in Bokuto and Akaashi’s shared apartment browsing through the apartment listings when Iwaizumi called you.
“Haji, what’s up?” your ears were met with an unfamiliar voice that was definitely not Iwaizumi’s.
“Haji?! Is that what she calls you Iwa?” you could hear Iwaizumi sighing on the other end, as Akaashi entered the room with tea and a glass of wine. You thanked him quietly before hearing an argument break out on the other side of the phone.
“Hajime? Everything good over there?” you asked as you sipped the warm tea. It was quite good, and you made a note to thank Akaashi later.
“Good? Yeah, no. Could you come and pick us up from the airport?” you could sense the frustration in his voice, but decided not to ask questions right now. Instead, you hopped in your car and drove towards the Tokyo airport.
Upon your arrival, you saw Iwaizumi standing near a taller male who had light brown hair. You immediately recognized him as the man from Iwaizumi’s lock screen, but wasn’t he in Argentina? You strolled up to the pair and raised an eyebrow at Iwaizumi’s angry demeanor. He just sighed and pulled the man and his bags towards your car. You just took his silence as a sign to just drive.
On the way back to Iwaizumi’s apartment you learned three important things about Oikawa.
He was very smart and handsome
He was back in Japan for a year at most
He easily was going to become one of your closest friends
His behavior towards you was light and cheerful, and you had no trouble keeping a conversation but Iwaizumi seemed to be lost in thought as you drove closer to his home. Oikawa sat in the backseat, telling you all kinds of stories, including the one where he decided to come home and take a break.
When you pulled up to Iwaizumi’s shared apartment, you watched as Hanamaki and Matsukawa gave the boy a large hug before asking about his life in Argentina. It was almost worrisome as you watched Iwaizumi hold back from rejoicing with the others, but he eventually gave in.
After a few drinks with the four boys, the conversation turned to where Oikawa would be staying while he was in Japan. He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck before setting down the drink he had been holding for a good portion of the night. Turns out, he stopped drinking heavily after a night in Rio that he refused to talk about.
“Ah, well I don’t currently have a place,” he gave a short laugh before Hanamaki spouted out that you didn’t either. You and Iwaizumi both slapped his head as Oikawa and Mattsun laughed.
“Is that so!” You turned as Oikawa placed his fingers on his chin, seeming like he was in deep thought. He then acted like he had discovered lighting.
“I got it, y/n be my roommate!” he grabbed your hands and begged you to stay with him, even though you had barely known each other for 6 hours. Iwaizumi interjected right away.
“No, absolutely not.” He crossed his arms and began to have to stare at Oikawa intensely before laughs broke from the tall boy’s lips. You hated to admit it, but you were very desperate, and shot Iwaizumi a pleading look. He eventually broke, much to everyone’s delight.
“That settles it! y/n tomorrow we go apartment shopping!”
As you and Oikawa talked over plans, and how things like rent would be handled, Iwaizumi stared at his friend in confusion. One thing had been bothering him since the phone call he received two weeks ago.
Oikawa Tooru did not take breaks. Ever.
a/n: y/n is very naive, i think we should establish this before we move one. second of all, y/n and her ex seemed to just fall out of love, but y/n DOES still harbor feelings for the mysterious man
“She’s a pretty one, isn’t she?” Rough and violating hands traced the hem of your dress, calluses brushing along your thighs as you shifted uncomfortably in the man’s lap.
Sitting across the table, his companion lifted a glass in a mocking salute, “Damn right she is.”
Laughter was shared between the two; drunken touches from the man beneath you traveling from your legs to your waist, splaying over your stomach, cupping a breast.
You had never intended to let this go so far, simply becoming desperate for quick money a few months ago and finding yourself spending time with this man in exchange for an envelope of cash after each innocent meeting. He’d told you he only wanted some company, a pretty face to tell him everything would be okay, a pretty hand to hold in public when he would treat you to lavish outings, a pretty mouth to compliment him, and a pretty ear to listen to his every word.
You stand in front of your apartment, sighing as you close your eyes, making your way inside your bedroom and begin to pick up the cardboard boxes with the help of your wand, moving them outside into the living room for someone(who is quite late, yet again) to take to your new home.
You tie your hair up, fixing your overcoat a little as you sigh, making your way to the smallest box, placed in the corner of the room. Just by looking at the stamp on top of it, you smile.
The memories of your time at Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
You carefully sit on your knees, your plaid skirt riding up just a smidge, as you open the carton in front of you.
To say that it was filled up completely was an understatement because right now, a few books and photographs fell out onto your lap, making you chuckle. You picked up the photographs, settling with your back against the wall and your legs stretching out, as you looked through them one by one.
synopsis: you’ve been in denial about your crush on your best friend miya osamu for the longest time–always saying you’d confess when the time is right. but you have a talent for being the human embodiment of ‘too late’, and unfortunately, or not, his best friend suna rintarou is always there to remind you of it. genre: slight angst, fluff (miya osamu x f!reader, a crumb of suna x f!reader) word count: 3k tags, warnings: pining, somewhat unrequited love, a smidge of making out, suna is just straightforward a/n: i just wanted to write for my two fave guys :> i hope y’all like it, and reblogs always appreciated <3 i’m still having a fair bit of writer’s block so tysm to all of you who read this!! ilysm
You will never forget the day you met Miya Osamu, no matter how everyday it was.
A regular day at Inarizaki high, your lunch break spent in the library, the hurried scribbles of your pen on paper thanks to some school work you so conveniently forgot about. Across from you, the grey-haired male mirrored your movements, except he was probably rushing an english assignment instead of math, judging by the book in his hand.
Crime and Punishment.
You huffed because yikes, that was a large book and a difficult one to write a review about, especially if he never read it before—which you assumed was the case, given how you knew the Miya twins were always spending their free time on volleyball and nothing else, what more a book with more than five hundred pages. Except where Atsumu was more brazen about failing to do his work, Osamu at least wanted to try to get them done.
So, being the ever helpful person you were (and the fact you were head prefect—which really just seemed like an excuse to talk to the handsome guy for the first time), you pulled out your own assignment out of your bag—neatly written and freshly-graded (with an A!)—and scribbled down a warning in pencil at the side that it was just supposed to be for reference, lest he wanted to get penalised for plagiarism, before you slid it across the table.
Osamu’s scribbling stopped as your paper slid into his hands, his grey eyes glossing over to your writing on the side. His smile came quick as he whipped his head up at you with an appreciative grin, a ‘thanks’ whispered across to you.
You don’t remember much else from that day, except for that bubbly, warm feeling inside of you when you left the library together with him, a new friend found.
𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: Y/n, a 22 year old successful model is tired of the tabloids shaming her about her dating status when she’s seen out with her friends. Unsure of what to do to stop the gossip, Oikawa suggests a fake boyfriend. Fortunately, Kenma knows the perfect person who’d go for an idea as stupid as that one.
The door shutting behind you didn’t ease the pooling guilt and sadness in your gut. Although, seeing the concern in Kuroo’s face alleviated some of your negative feelings. His arms wrapping around your waist to draw into a hug allowed the feelings to melt into a secondary concern.
“What can I do to cheer you up? Dinner should be here soon,” he reminds, mumbling against the shell of your ear.
A faint smile graces your lips, chin pressed against his shoulder.
“I already feel a little better, but you can choose a few funny movies and we can cuddle some?” you offer, head tipping back to look at him.
Kuroo’s face held an expression of adoration you’ve seen on him a few times, but it made you happier to see it deliberately aimed at you. Catching it in its rawest moment, his fingers holding your chin
“I’ll fire one up then,” he mumbles before kissing your nose and retracting himself from the embrace.
He chose the hangover to start with, a movie he enjoyed. Both of you laughing, making jokes about the movie only to be interrupted by dinner. The dinner itself was nice, you both enjoyed your selection of sushi rolls. You found yourself curled into his side afterward, head tucked against his shoulder as you ramble on about a scene; fingers gripping your chin to turn your head and Kuroo presses a quick yet soft kiss to your lips.
“I’ve been wanting to do that since I got here,” he mumbles.
Heat rushes to your cheeks, your body turning more to face him as your hand cradles his cheek against your palm.
“Kiss me again,” you whisper, nose nudging over his.
He leans in again, pulling you closer as the kiss changed from the previous quick one to a slower, sensual kiss. There isn’t a sense of urgency, it’s as if Kuroo wanted to take his time with his kiss. Keeping the pace slow as your lips moved together in sync. His tongue gliding against your bottom lip, only entering when your lips part for accessibility.
It’s a loss of time, the time spent kissing Kuroo. It felt like time froze yet blurred together at all once. You could only focus on the warmth of his hands as they dropped to your waist, pulling your body onto his lap. Your hands nestling comfortably on his shoulders, nose nudging over his. The movie fell mute in the background as your exhales clouded your mind. Kissing Kuroo felt like forever, an infinity you could get lost in, noses nudging against one another until one of you pulls back.
His lips are a cherry red, slightly swollen, your thumb brushing against his lower lip; watching a smile light his features. A yawn escapes your lips, turning your head as to not yawn in his face.
“Wanna lie down?” He whispers, and when you nod he turns off the TV.
“Carry me,” you mumble, tugging his shirt as you stay put on his lap.
A faint chuckle left his lips and slid his hands under your thighs to lift you. Your chin rested on his shoulder as he carries you into the bedroom, lying you down on the bed and getting in beside you. Your head rests against his chest, his arm slung over your waist.
“I really like you,” you whisper.
“I really like you too,” he whispers in return, “I’m all yours.”
“I’m only yours too,” you pause, hiding your face as a blush cloaks your cheeks, “I can’t wait to stop calling you my fake boyfriend and call you my real one.”
You miss the thoughtful and happy expression in Kuroo’s eyes.
𝐟𝐮𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭: Kuroo accidentally ate too much wasabi at one point during dinner and made his eyes water
𝐚/𝐧: yall are so pressed over tsumu BUT in other news, coconut mall is great writing music
part three to “on the surface” | previous chapter suna x f!reader x iwaizumi genre. there’s angst, there’s fluff warnings. just some mild cursing & misunderstandings synopsis. with everything that seems to be in the way, can the two of you finally talk it out? word count. 3.5k
author notes. hi there! this is the conclusion to the series, i didn’t want to be cruel and leave it in yet another cliffhanger so hehe, i hope you guys like this! especially the anon who requested with this prompt in the first place, i really hope you like this bby. let me know what you guys think! <3 also thank you to @akaashirin and @moonlitspring for betaing!
It’s 7pm the same night and Suna can’t believe he’s even considering this. No — that he’s actually doing this.
He takes a deep breath. A really deep breath as he stands outside the familiar mahogany doors to your family home. It’s dark out, you’re probably home… right? Suna tries his best to cast his doubts aside. Even if you aren’t, he’d wait for you.
After all, he’s decided to do this, to at least look you in the eyes and give it a try. He shuffles his phone out of his pocket as he feels the incessant vibration.
Rolling his eyes, he rejects the call and turns the airplane mode on. He doesn’t need his friend trying to convince him out of this one. Even his brother agrees that Suna should at least try. Besides, he hasn’t charged his phone since he got to Miyagi. It’s going to run out of battery if Atsumu goes on and on about how stupid Suna is being.
description: 3 years since the accident and you’ve regained most of your memories back, but there’s still one missing puzzle piece that only your boyfriend’s best friend can complete. the question is, will you let him?
genre: angst, past lovers, amnesia
a/n: my tooru mini-fic is here yay! hope u guys enjoy this one as much as remember, forever.
pairing: miya atsumu x f!reader summary: suna rintarou is the only one who can make your heart race and palms sweat. after overhearing you say this to your friend, miya atsumu offers his help in getting his friend to notice you, which you decline. he manages to persuade you though, and things only get complicated when you find yourself struggling to catch your breath around atsumu instead. genre: reluctant friends to lovers, fluff, some humor?? warings: cursing, atsumu. word count: ~5.1k
this was kind of long hehe but i really liked it and i hope y’all like it too!
as always, reblogs are appreciated <3
“so, suna rintarou?”
you furrowed your eyebrows as you looked up from your book, meeting the warm, brown eyes of none other than miya atsumu.
“i’m sorry?” you asked, tilting your head in confusion. atsumu chuckled lightly, booping your nose as he took a seat next to you.
“cute,” atsumu commented, snorting when you swatted his hand away. “but really? suna? he seems a little too boring for you, in my opinion. you’re kind of super out of his league.”
“i have no idea what you’re talking about, miya,” you said, carefully placing a bookmark between the pages of your book before closing it and setting it down next to you.
“you can call me atsumu, you know?” he said, leaning back on the grass and basking in the sunlight. you stared at him dully, still confused by the whole situation.
“what do you want, miya?” you asked, watching him pout at your use of his last name. he brought a hand up to his heart, wincing slightly at your tone before breaking out into a large smile. you looked away, slightly annoyed by the volleyball player.
“suna? rintarou?” he repeated, bringing up his hands to form air quotation marks. “you know, ‘the only one who can make my heart race and palms sweat’, that suna rintarou?”
your jaw dropped at his words, and you whipped your head up to look at him. he was wearing a smug smirk, one eyebrow raised in a way that let you know that he had heard everything you had said about the middle blocker.
summary: driven by the thrill of illegal street racing, an esteemed racer from Miyagi shows up and makes a tough bet against your abusive boyfriend in exchange for you.
genre: angst/fluff, street racer au
warnings: illegal street racing, mentions of physical and sexual abuse, mentions of suicide, reference to substance abuse, excessive swearing, gambling, guns, violence (please read at your own discretion)
a/n: it got hella dark in here lol i am sad but also excited to post the final part!! thanks so much for reading this street racer oikawa short fic i rly hope u guys enjoyed it <3 i might consider a lighthearted suna spinoff to this series :>
please note that atsumu is only villainized in this fic for the sake of the plotline.
I honestly didn’t expect this series to be so long. I thought it was just going to be a 2-part smut. So, I decided to create a separate masterlist for it just to make my blog clean (as if I create enough content to make it messy).
Thank you for reading my late night word vomit sessions ❤️
— iwaizumi hajime has always been nothing more than the man you’d exchange friendly glances with. but what happens when you suddenly find yourselves literally seeing a future wherein the two of you are married? Is this all a dream, or is it the start of something new?
↳ pairing: iwaizumi hajime x female! reader
↳ genre: fluff | angst | third year au | time-skip au | time travel au | acquaintances to lovers | sfw | rated 13
↳ word count: 12.5k+ (oof that’s 2.5k words over my goal lol)
↳ warnings: profanity | mentions of drinking | a ton of fluff | use of she/her pronouns
↳ love letter: and i’m finally done!! i’m like three days late but when am i not lol. anyways thank you so much to @plump-peach for sending in the request that inspired this baby hehe, i hope you like it!! let me know what you guys think, i’d be more than happy to read your feedback, whether it be in the comments or in my askbox!! also reblogs are appreciated hehe ily all!!
The beauty of morning lies in the serenity of its’ surroundings.
The rising sun painting the skies in beautiful hues of orange and yellow, the slightly chilly breeze that signals the end of a long, blissful night, and the quiet but calm atmosphere, free from the timbre of the busybodies of Miyagi, are just some of the aspects that make these mornings so much more enchanting.
Yes, no matter how troublesome mornings could be, it was still your favorite time of day.
If your name is missing please let me know! If your name has a strike through it, I wasn’t able to tag you! Tagging may be off on your account or if you’ve had a username change, please me know and I’ll update the taglist if you still wish to be on it
genre. angst, mostly BUT fluff somewhere there characters. osamu x reader x atsumu synopsis. what do you do when someone you used to love the most wants back in to your life? this is how atsumu tries his best for you. word count. 5.1k + a bonus scene ;)
author note. the way i don’t even want to part from this story </3 some parts of the bonus scene are intentionally left out hehe you all have my heart for being so supportive to lil ol’ me 🥺🤍 thank you very much for reading my works, every one of you!! side note. thanks again twinnie @animatedarchives for beta-reading my long-windedness hehe the way you stressed out over feedback ily <33 and also @aomineavenue my wife hope u feel better soon bby, i put you in here again ily <3
People change; sometimes they change in good ways, for the better. Other times they change completely — into someone we don’t even recognise anymore. Sometimes we close our eyes to this change, or we force ourselves to believe that they can still be the person they once were, or the one we made them out to be. Add love into the mix and you have Atsumu’s situation.
If you play it wrong, love is a losing game. And that’s something that he learns the hard way.
The night you let him go, the night he got who he thought was the girl of his dreams back into his life — he thought he was a champion. Why wouldn’t he? He got her back, and his assumptions have led him to think that you give them your blessing. (Did you? You probably weren’t even sure yourself.)
At that point, he thought he had it all — the volleyball career he’s worked so hard for, the fairytale ending with the princess he’s loved all this time, as well as a great, supportive friend like you, and his nonchalant yet caring brother.
He had it all.
In his head.
He didn’t realise that the moment you read his letters, the letters he didn’t send out — he’d already lost.
category: fic series (pt.5), fluff, mutual pining, manager!reader
warnings: there might be a curse word
word count: 2.7k+
a/n: yeah i changed the way i title my works hope u like this new format <3
That afternoon the setter’s moves were stiff, and he could barely focus. The coach had already called him out a couple of times, but the other players were surprisingly quiet about his slip ups. Knowing how this was the twin that was usually demanding and didn’t cut anyone slack when it came to volleyball, one would expect the others to treat him in the same way; but they figured he had too much on his plate already, the tension between the two of you being almost tangible.
The rest of the team didn’t really understand why you were being so distant. Wasn’t Atsumu apologizing earlier and confessing how he really felt? Why did it look like things had gotten even worse between you?
osamu x f!reader, atsumu tags/warnings. mostly angst, some fluff, assassin!au, amnesia, slight reincarnation au, blood, torture, deaths, kinda slow burn, i’m sorry atsumu, enemies and lovers synopsis. you are the daughter of a drug dealer, and osamu’s the assassin hired to kill you. except he can’t, and he doesn’t know why. but he’s going to find out through lost memories. notes. for @datech because she asked if i could do slow burn enemies AND lovers (this was hard but i hope you like it dia 🥺) hehe & thanks to @nikki–han, @akaashirin & @iis4d for beta-ing <3
FIVE MONTHS AND THREE DAYS.
The voice in his head tells him to trust his instincts, his intuition. Whenever in doubt, trust the latter.
He can’t remember where he’s heard this from, but it’s stuck in his head, nagging at him right at this moment.
It feeds his confusion to no end; the way his index finger rests on the trigger but he can’t summon the will to press down on it. This isn’t something that ever gives him hesitance, or not that he recalls for the past ten years. Killing is second nature to Osamu Miya by now, so what is he waiting for?
His target is lying unconscious in front of him, caught in the dark trap of a deep sleep, and no one else is around to stop him. This is what he was raised for, ever since he can remember, but there’s something about the way your eyes move beneath your lids, the way you’re so unprotected that in turn makes him want to protect you.
“she’s out cold,” iwaizumi mutters, staring down at your form: upper body spread on the table, bun loosened, make up faded, but the evidence of your drunken state obvious from the flush of your cheeks. matsukawa sighs, “at least she won’t have to puke in the car,“
hanamaki chuckles, tipsy, "she finished a lot… when she can’t even handle herself, what a lo~oser…"
iwaizumi frowns, lightly shoving hanamaki, who has to grab the nearest wall to prevent from falling face first on the floor. "you’re partly to blame. why’d you even challenge y/n to a drinking contest?!”
then, oikawa quietly makes his way towards you to drape his suit jacket over your shoulders, before he carries you on his back. the other two who were sober only watched as the setter says, “well, this can’t be helped. i think it’s fine for y/n to let loose, don’t you guys think?” his face was unreadable; yet they knew his words just then surely held meaning. “iwa-chan, y/n’s purse please?”
oikawa walks outside the KTV room ahead of everybody else. meanwhile, iwaizumi and matsukawa try to handle the drunk hanamaki. the three of them, especially iwaizumi, stole glances over to you and oikawa, making sure to keep their distance in an effort to give you and oikawa some privacy.
“you think this is gonna be okay? i mean, them…?” matsukawa murmurs, clear enough for iwaizumi to understand. iwaizumi’s shoulders slump as he sighs, “there’s nothing i can do but to hope so.”
’good thing her dress has a convenient slit,’ oikawa idly thinks to himself, feeling your steady breathing on his back.
’how long has it been since i last carried you like this, y/n?’ oikawa wasn’t going to deny it, he knew the alcohol’s in his system too, but it just didn’t hit him as hard as it hit you; perhaps, he was once again using another lame excuse for being sentimental, afraid of admitting to himself that it was you who made him feel these things, made him feel a certain kind of way.
he wished you too, were feeling the same. or, perhaps, could still feel the same.
the thought made oikawa’s hold on your legs tighten. not because he was afraid of letting you fall, but because he was afraid of having to let you go. again. he already made that mistake once, he wasn’t about to make that mistake twice. in the short time he has with you, he was going to savor every millisecond of it.
the walk to the parking lot was quicker than he’d expected. oikawa let his three friends go first, wanting to feel your warmth and presence a tiny bit longer.
“what are you waiting for, trashykawa? get in the damn car, before hanamaki explodes all over it,”
with a resentful sigh, oikawa carefully gets you settled in your seat.
the ride was quiet, no one spoke to one another until it was time to drop everybody near their respective homes. hanamaki was first, followed by iwaizumi then oikawa. however, the latter never got out the car. “i’ll take care of y/n. can’t just leave her like that…”
matsukawa looked at his former captain through the rearview mirror, who was simply looking out the car window, watching iwaizumi’s retreating back. without a word, he drove past oikawa’s house and went straight to yours.
meanwhile, iwaizumi stopped in his tracks, eyes following the departing car. he could only take a deep breath, and look up at the starless sky. as a friend, he could only sit back and hope that his best friends would figure out how to get along with each other from now on, finish what ever unfinished business they had with each other. he doesn’t let it show, but it is troubling for him to be stuck in the middle.
iwaizumi shook off the negativity from his mindset as he stepped foot inside his house. he trusts that they will sort things out in the long run, and he would be there for them both, no matter what.
the car stopped nearby your house’s entrance, and matsukawa stretched after pulling on the handbrake. “alright, captain. we’re here. do you want me to wait for you?”
oikawa was already standing by your side of the car, about to carry you, whilst rummaging through your purse to get your keys. “nah mattsun, you should go ahead. i told you i’d take care of y/n; she’s going to have a re~eally bad hangover from this,"
as oikawa picked you up from the front seat, matsukawa simply spared him a nod before lighting a cigar, then drove off, knowing you were in good hands.
soon as oikawa brought you inside, he laid you down on your futon. you groaned in your sleep, before turning over so your back was facing him. he only stared at your form once, watching the steady rise and fall of your bare back, before he sat on the floor by your feet. oikawa removed your heels and jewelry, and proceeded to tucking you in beneath the sheets. he even went so far as to get a towel to wipe your face clean, and loosened the bun you put your hair up in.
although he was tired, tipsy, and jet-lagged, oikawa still managed to do these things and when he was done, he left you in your room and slept outside, on the floor. ’it’s the least i could do,’ he thought to himself.
how he wished he could do more, if only… you were willing to let him.
then, he feels your phone vibrate on the main hall’s single table. he forgot about your purse, so he lazily reached for it, grateful for his long arms. oikawa took your phone out, and he was supposed to feel happy when he recognized your lockscreen being one of the sunset photos he’s sent you–but then the string of notifications on the screen with atsumu’s name on full display overruled that. luckily, you had your settings in a way that wouldn’t let anyone read the content of the message unless the phone was unlocked.
oikawa was sure he’s seen that name before; he knew it was volleyball-related but he just couldn’t put a finger on it. whoever it was, he mused that this person was very close to you; it was way past midnight and "atsumu miya” was still up to check on you.
he sighed–too bad you were drunk and passed out, stuck inside the house with your ex, back in miyagi;
so he cleared the notifications, while an unsettling feeling made its way in his chest.
the brunette pouted, he didn’t want to label that feeling with anything but… he was quite, sorta, kinda, slightly jealous.
jealous that a man other than him would be this willing, this persistent, to stay up late, just to make sure you were safe.
oikawa grabbed your phone again, swiped up to open the camera to check himself. his cheeks were still flushed, hair messy yet framing his face perfectly, eyes weary. “goddamnit, i’m so cute,” he took one lazy selfie before locking your phone once again, and bringing it to your room.
he went back outside, grabbed his own phone from his pocket while lying down to inform iwaizumi that you were still off in dreamland and that he was about to bang the tatami, before dozing off into a nap.
the next morning, oikawa was first to wake up. luckily, he wasn’t hungover. he went to check on you, and you were still asleep. so, just like the old times, oikawa heads straight to your kitchen as if he owned the place, looking for anything he could make for breakfast and for your headache.
he was troubled upon discovering that there wasn’t much there but eggs and some bread, so oikawa went out to make a quick trip to a nearby convenience store. the setter prepared for you a simple sandwich, readied a bottle of hangover cure, made some instant noodles just for you to have some soup.
the idle kitchen noise woke you up, your headache accentuated by confusion and panic. you were so disoriented, having nearly no memory of last night, ’at least i’m still in my dress,’ you consoled yourself, while you hurriedly grabbed both your heels off the floor–an action you regretted as the world around you was spinning–all this just to deal with who or what you thought was an intruder.
your arm was already raised up, about to throw a shoe at the person, about to throw up yourself too.
but then, you couldn’t believe your eyes. it took a while for the sight before you to register in your hung up brain.
oikawa’s sleeves rolled up to his elbows, tie loosened, and wearing dark, alien-designed socks, transferring soup from the pot to a bowl.
you didn’t know which throbbed harder: your head or your heart.
he had been making his way over to atsumu when he had bumped into you, knocking you to the ground and freezing when his eyes met yours. he had expected you to burst into tears, and he was surprised when you had stood up and shoved him to the ground as well.
he had looked up at you curiously before standing and walking up to you, introducing himself and sharing his gummy worms with you.
after that, the two of you had become inseparable.
osamu was thirteen when he began to cook for you.
he had always been a quiet individual, choosing to spend his time cooking and perfecting his recipes instead of interacting with others. being social was more atsumu’s thing, and although he could be quite the social butterfly when he wanted to, osamu preferred to stay in his own quiet corner with you.
he quickly got into the habit of bringing you a bento box everyday, his own special way of showing you how much he cared about you. he would smile softly whenever he would join you and atsumu at your usual lunch table, handing you the food and watching as you received it enthusiastically, gushing over how good the food was as atsumu teased him for always bringing you food yet always neglecting to bring one for his twin.
seeing atsumu’s pout would always make you laugh and the two of you would share the food, unaware of the way that osamu would look at you fondly. he was just happy that you seemed to enjoy the food that he made with love and care specially for you.
osamu was fifteen when he realized he felt something deeper than friendship for you.
it was when the two of you first got to inarizaki and he and atsumu introduced you to suna rintarou. he was a quiet boy and you did everything you could to make him feel comfortable, eventually managing to bring him out of his shell. the way you’d smile at osamu when you looked at him to help you continue the conversation would make his heart skip a beat.
that, combined with the way you would whisper in his ear whenever you brought up an inside joke or the way your eyes would sparkle whenever he said one of his deadpan jokes, made him think that one day his heart would give out because of how much it stuttered around you.
osamu was seventeen when he realized he was in love with you.
it was after they won the match that secured their spot at nationals that he finally realized just how deep his feelings for you ran. he couldn’t take his eyes off of you as you ran onto the court to congratulate the team, watching you with wonder-filled eyes as atsumu scooped you up in his arms and twirled you around.
you were laughing loudly, your head tossed back as you wrapped your arms around the sweaty setter. your smile widened when atsumu put you down. your eyes glancing around until they landed on the grey-haired twin and in that moment, he swore you were the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on.
“congratulations, ‘samu,” you whispered, coming to a stop in front of him. he wasted no time in wrapping his arms around you, a rare grin appearing on his face as he held you in his arms. “you better win nationals!”
“for you, i will,” osamu promised, tightening his hold on you just a little bit more.
osamu was nineteen when he experienced his first heartache.
“yeah, i think he’s cute,” you commented off-handedly, responding to suna who had asked if you would ever date atsumu. you were picking at your food, too engrossed in your phone to realize what you had just said.
“so you think osamu is cute too?” suna asked innocently, sending a sly glance to the grey-haired twin.
“well, yeah,” you snorted, laughing lightly. “they’re twins. if i think that atsumu is cute, then i think that osamu is cute by default.”
the conversation had carried on from there, the topic switching from your love life to suna’s next game. all osamu could think of, however, was how you had basically admitted that you wouldn’t mind dating atsumu. but you had also admitted that he was cute and he spent a lot more time with you than atsumu did, especially now that atsumu had his volleyball career to focus on.
even if you could see yourself with atsumu, osamu knew that there was something about the way you smiled at him, the way you looked at him, that was special only for him. he still had a chance with you, and he was going to do whatever it took to win your heart in the same way you had won his.
osamu was twenty-two when he finally found out what heartbreak felt like.
it was his weekly lunch meeting with you, and there was something about the way you were smiling at your phone that made him realize that there was something you weren’t telling him.
“what’s on your mind?” he asked, setting down a plate in front of you. it was your favorite dish of his, one that he had been making for you since the two of you were teenagers.
“it’s nothing,” you replied hastily taking a bite out of the food and avoiding his gaze. he rolled his eyes and slid into the seat across from you, a faint smirk on his face as he stare you down.
“we’ve never kept secrets from one another,” he teased, stealing a bite of your food. you swatted at him playfully, sitting up straight before lacing your hands together and leaning forwards eagerly.
“alright, no need to get grumpy,” you replied in an equally teasing tone. “if you must know, i have good news”
“and what is this good news?” osamu hummed, leaning forwards like you did in mock interest. his eyes were wide and his eyebrows were raised and you let out a small giggle at his exaggerated expression.
“atsumu finally asked me out,” you whispered, your voice filled with excitement. osamu felt his breath leave his lungs at your words and he swore he could feel his heart physically hurting.
he couldn’t help but run through all his memories of the two of you in his mind, remembering the way the two of you would always share your meals and the way that he had always been the first one you had congratulated after a game. he couldn’t help but think about how atsumu always seemed to glow in your presence, and how happy he looked whenever he hugged you and swung you around.
“oh? finally,” osamu replied, forcing a smile onto his face. “it’s about damn time.”
it took all of osamu’s willpower to keep his smile on his face, pretending to listen to you as you enthusiastically told him all about how atsumu had asked you out. all osamu could think about was the fact that he had waited so long to tell you how he felt, and now he was paying the price for it.
“…and he had tears in his eyes and he looked so nervous after confessing that i decided it was finally time to tell him i feel the same,” you finished, chuckling lightly. “he was so excited that he took me out on a date right then and there. he had to cut it short because he knew we had our weekly lunch date, but he said that i shouldn’t make any dinner plans for today.”
“you should have told me,” osamu spit out, trying to keep his composure. “we could’ve scheduled lunch for some other time.”
“don’t be silly, ‘samu,” you laughed, reaching out to grab his hand. “you’re still the most important miya in my life.”
osamu sat there with you for the rest of the afternoon, giving you a tight smile and an even tighter hug when you left for your dinner date with his brother. he sighed as he watched the two of you walk away, his heart feeling ten times heavier than it did at the beginning of the day.
heartbreak sucked, he knew that now. but if his heartbreak meant your happiness, than osamu knew that he would relive it over and over again. now matter how much it hurt.
Author note: I gotta nothing to say. This took me really long and I struggled a lot to write it. Thanks for being patient with me. Also, big shoutout to @neonghxst, who helped me a lot with this one. I love you bby 💕
Warnings: Cursing, mentions of anxiety and this chapter contains gore towards the end.
“I don’t wanna go” Your voice showed distaste at the invitation.
Since the fight with Sakusa, you avoided all human contact like the plague. The only ones that talked to you were the maids and, occasionally, Komori, who had warmed up to you since you saved his ass — to be honest, you weren’t very fond of his change of character.
“Listen, you’re the new lady of this household.” Komori explained in a tired manner.“This gala is held every year in some sort of diplomatics, to grant no family crosses the line. All the important members must make a presence.”
“Yeah, but I’m sure no one cares if I don’t show up.” You deadpanned looking at his face.
“It’s just a fancy ass party. I’ll take you to get a dress myself, but I gotta run some errands and find a suit too. If I’m late, then Izuna will take you.” Komori saw you stiffening when you heard the name. Ever since you arrived in Itachiyama, Izuna was the most hostile towards you. “Hey, don’t worry about him… He’ll be nice.”
“I gotta remind you that no one has been nice to me since I came here, Komori-san.” You stated the obvious and the male before you grimaced.
“Look, we’re not as bad as you think. Neither we are some sort of low life criminals, you know.” His voice sent shivers down your spine. The hazel-haired man has been treating you better, yes, but you could tell the words you said to Sakusa that day affected him too.
“Yeah. But you all did nothing to prove me wrong.” You stared at his eyes, the sincere tone meaning each world “If anything, all you did was make me miserable even though I’m not a threat. And you know it.” You saw when the hazel haired male shook his head, face softening a little.
“I’ll be back in a few.” And then, Komori left.
To your relief, it was Komori himself who showed up at your bedroom door. Now, you were at some boutique somewhere in the fancy side of Shibuya, trying a beautiful strappy off-white dress.
You loved how the silky cloth hugged your body and how the pearly color complimented your skin tone. Definitely, it was the propper gown for an event as important as a mafia gala.
Taking in the figure reflected in the mirror, you recalled the last time you wore something so fancy was at your wedding. Suddenly, you felt ugly — after all, you were a woman of surgical scrubs and white coats. Wearing something like this dress was a reminder of what kind of life you were living now.
“[Name]-san, have you decided?” Komori asked with an undecipherable look on his face.
“Ah, yes, I’m taking this one” You said to the salesperson, already getting back to the changing room.
From the inside, you heard a knock on the door. It was Komori.
“[Name], are you good?” He asked in a soft spoken manner, as if he was concerned.
You know it’s not the case, don’t let your guard down, you reminded yourself.
“Yes, Komori-san. Are we ready to go?” He hummed in agreement, saying he was going to do the payment.
The two of you had yet to arrive in Itachiyama. The silence was heavy inside the car and you could see the man opening his mouth as if he was trying to say something.
“I never asked, did you see a doctor?” You started, breaking the unnerving atmosphere.
“Ah, yes. I’m all good, no sequels or whatever.” He cleared his throat, side-glancing at you “Those guys took us by surprise that night, huh? We were lucky you were there to help us out.” You hummed, staring at his elbow, as if you could see through the material of his jacket.
“I shouldn’t have opened your arm that way. It was really irresponsible of me to do it and it was a miracle things ended up well."You said in a reflecting manner.
Does she regret saving me?, Komori couldn’t help but wonder.
"The doctor I saw said the surgery was perfectly executed, so don’t beat yourself over it. Besides, I can see the passion you have. You’d make it right anyways.” The male said truthfully and you frowned. You didn’t want his trust because he would never have yours.
You also didn’t like the appreciative tone he used. A doctor isn’t a hero, You reminded yourself everyday, to never let it go to your head.
“I’m passionate, but it’s about my personal ethics, you don’t need passion to be good at what you do. I think you know it very well.” You still frowned, not liking what he implied. You never wanted to be some sort of hero, much less to someone like him.
“Yeah, I don’t need to love the yakuza to be good at it. But I don’t think a passionless person would make a good doctor.” He argued, trying to prove his point.
“In my line of work, a mistake costs your whole career. Passionless and unethical people exist everywhere, a hospital isn’t a sanctuary.” You said matter of factly — it wasn’t about the romantic lenses people saw the health workers. After all, medicine was a field made majorly of people with the means and the money. You learned it the hard way when you made into med school.
“Why would you say that?” The traffic light signalled to stop. The Kobun used this opportunity to take in your figure, eyes roaming over your crossed arms and unfazed features.
Duty takes a toll in everyone, huh?, He internally stated.
“Because I know someone. And as passionless someone could be, he’s still the best at what he does.” And Komori didn’t miss the feeling displayed in your eyes.
It wasn’t merely passion. Something deeper resided in those irises of yours.
An awkward silence overtook the atmosphere as the car resumed its movement. He felt uncomfortable, trying to figure out what you meant.
“Well, what matters is that everything ended up well. Who would have guessed they would attack us that night?” Komori conceded, trying to break the unsettling quietness.
“Yeah, this whole yakuza thing is really scary.” You said looking through the tinted window, a pensive look in your face.
“You’ll get used to it. And it doesn’t happen on a daily basis either” He brushed you off, turning in a curb.
“Yeah, but ignoring the threat isn’t an easy task.” You retorted, tiredly.
“How do you know it? Besides, since you’re our lady, it’s not like we’ll let something happen to you.” The brunette said, in hopes of comforting you. It had the opposite effect, as a silent rage ran down your body.
“Komori-san, how do I know?” You bitterly laughed “My whole life, I was at the line. My mother didn’t want me to be born, Inarizaki wanted my head since I was in the womb and you guys will get rid of me at any given opportunity.” You saw him opening his mouth to argue “Your household won’t protect me if the order comes from Sakusa."
As if in a cue, the car approached the gates of Itachiyama. Komori was rendered speechless, knowing you were right.
Personally, you weren’t one to offend people and make them feel bad. You couldn’t help the pang in your chest every time you exploded at any of them. But by god, were you tired.
I just want my life back, you thought. After all, it was infinite times easier to be a target when you were somehow detached from the life inside the families. The Kobun said something you paid no mind to.
Banging the car door shut, you ignored his calling.
The nagging feeling was a constant in his life.
Roaming through his memories, he could never pinpoint a time he felt comfortable under his skin. He was too anxious and life never treated him kindly to do so.
Maybe he overreacted a lot, too. But it wasn’t his fault he had to be hyper aware of his surroundings.
The alert state was essential in an ambience full of people who could stab him in the back.
Fuck the diplomatics, he cursed.
It was one of those nights he hated the most. The suntuous ballroom was full of people going back and forth, bragging about futilities and throwing insincere flattery at each other. All because the ever so generous Karasuno was hosting a dinner at The Crow to assure no one disturbs the deal between the families.
Bullshit, he thought. It’s only Karasuno trying to show off their influence over this frail peace.
And, as much as he appreciated said peace, he hated how everyone faked they got along with each other.
Not that he cared about politeness either. And his signature scowl did nothing to keep people away. After all, everyone wanted a piece of Itachiyama.
"Kiyoomi.” The ravenette heard the deep voice from his back. A wave of relief washed over him.
At least, Wakatoshi-kun is here. I won’t die from boredom, He mused.
“Wakatoshi.” He responded, nodding at the other. From outside Itachiyama, Ushijima was the only one Sakusa considered a friend.
“I thought you wouldn’t come tonight, I know you don’t really like the crowd.”
“People would find weird if I didn’t, considering Inarizaki and everything.”
“Speaking of which, did you bring your wife?” Ushijima asked, looking around. Sakusa nodded before speaking.
“Yeah, she went to the restrooms. Komori is with her.” And speaking of the devil, you came into view.
He knew you had a fine taste for things, and he would be a fool to say you didn’t look good tonight. But he would never admit it.
A Miya isn’t worth you time, he repeated it like a mantra, observing as you made your way onto him.
Komori enthusiastically greeted Ushijima and you merely nodded out of politeness, looking at the bulky male with caution. Given Ushijima’s intimidating vibes, Sakusa couldn’t really blame you.
“I see you’re Sakusa’s wife. I’m Ushijima Wakatoshi.” He offered his hand at you “It’s a pleasure to meet you”
“Likewise, Ushijima-san” You introduced yourself as the Oyabun of Itachiyama watched the scene unfold before him, recalling how his friend was the blunt and introverted type. He couldn’t help but admire the way the two of you conversed smoothly; earning Ushijima’s sympathy required effort. You did it with ease.
“She’s a good woman.” Sakusa didn’t see when your conversation died down and Ushijima turned to him. He found himself dumbfounded at the other’s statement.
“She’s a Miya”
“She worked with Shirabu. He spoke highly of her” A waiter passed by offering them whiskey. The rich scent of Yamazaki reached his nostrils as he drank it, throat used to the burning sensation “And you know he’s not one to lie.”
“Still…” His retort was halted when he felt the weight of a gaze on him. In the far corner of the room, none other than Oikawa Tooru had all his attention turned to the general direction of you all “What is he looking at?” He squinted at the brunette’s direction, trying to make out his intentions.
“He seems to be looking at your wife” Ushijima bluntly spoke “But don’t worry about him, Oikawa may have his reasons. He is a reliable man, after all.”
“You’re indeed soft today. What happened?” The other opened his mouth to respond before being interrupted by a startled voice.
Your husband was doing a good job ignoring you while speaking to Ushijima — you wouldn’t complain, since you didn’t want any of his attention.
Listening to Komori speaking wonders of the whiskey he was drinking, you felt a little at ease. You imagined the gala to be much scarier than this, but all you could see was snotty people too full of themselves. It was almost comical hearring them bragging about things you couldn’t even dream of.
“This is a 25 years old Yamazaki. It’s a favorite of mine and Kiyoomi—”
“Is this real life?” A surprised voice cutted Komori’s middle sentence.
Before you, a handsome man looked appalled, staring at you with an emotion you couldn’t identify. You were feeling uncomfortable as everyone around you was paying attention to your interaction.
“I’m sorry, sir. But am I supposed to know you?” You asked, in hopes to remember if you knew him by any chance. He beamed brightly at you.
“Of course you wouldn’t remember me!” And he laughed again, earning a frown from your husband.
“Do you have any business to do with my wife?” Sakusa’s cold-steel voice asked. The pretty man ignored it. And, at this point, everyone in the area stopped their actions, watching the scene with interest.
“I’m Oikawa Tooru, the Oyabun of Seijoh. Two years ago, you saved my nephew’s life in an accident at the Dinosaur Bridge, only using a needle. After it, you held his hand until the ambulance came.” The man bowed deeply, and only now you noticed he was accompanied by another spiky-haired male, who was also bowing at you. Observing them, you faintly remembered saving a little boy in a traffic accident a couple of years ago “For that, I’ll be forever thankful. In return, I wanted to say you have Seijoh’s gratitude whenever you need it.” He stood tall again, staring at you dead in the eye to confirm he meant every single word he said.
You were speechless.
“I… sir, I’m thankful, but I did what had to be done. You don’t owe me anything.” You said uncertainly, glancing at the startled faces of both Komori and Sakusa. Ushijima looked fondly at you, as if he knew something.
“You had a choice that day, and you choosed to help us when we couldn’t do anything. And it’s enough for us to pay you back.” The spiky-haired man said. It was rare for someone to address you with so much respect and sincerity. You appreciated it wholeheartedly.
“I— thank you.” And you bowed at them, trying to show your gratitude to both males.
“Well, we won’t disturb you anymore. Please have a good night” The Oikawa guy said, handing you a business card which you secluded inside your clutch.
“See?” You heard Ushijima saying, but you were too stunned to register it.
You didn’t have time to process the event, as someone announced the dinner was about to be served.
“Seijoh’s favour, huh? You sure are skyrocketing this mafia thing.” Suna said, sitting on the chair on the opposite side of the table.
You all were addressed to a table with ten seats. It looked like Itachiyama was paired up with Inarizaki and another household you were yet to discover. The atmosphere was already stiff, as Sakusa kept throwing dirty glares at the twins.
“Impressive how you’re doing well inside the yakuza. I thought you weren’t going to last a month.” Atsumu snickered as Osamu and the others ignored everything around them, getting ready for the dinner.
You mimicked their actions before Izuna joined you; you tensed seeing him taking the seat by your left.
Sakusa sat by your right, side-glancing at you. It looked like he had a newfound interest since the interaction with Oikawa earlier.
To your surprise, Seijoh was addressed to your table. Though, both Oikawa and Iwaizumi — Suna let you know his name and the fact he was also a Kobun — said nothing, sensing the tension hanging in the air.
None of the men said anything as the food started to be served. Instead, they busied themselves with the entree, keeping the smalltalk inside their household circle.
You heard Osamu saying something about the wine but you didn’t register it. Soon enough, the waiters brought the main course in silver trays.
It smelled fabulous and your mouth watered at the scent.
“A lovely meal for the lady. Please enjoy it, I’m sure you won’t forget this occasion.” The blond waiter said, as he uncovered your plate. You took in the deep red sauce made of berries and the way the meat was perfectly cooked.
With fork and knife in hand, you went for it.
And indeed, you wouldn’t forget the occasion.
Sliding the meat over the plate, you noticed it hiding something. The scream was caught in your throat as you recognized the obnoxious structure, because years of unveiling the human anatomy would never fail you.
The cutlery clattered in the porcelain surface, spilling the sauce all over you. The white of your dress was now tainted with crimson, as if blood seeped out of your chest.
But you didn’t even feel it. All you felt were hands shaking your body, trying to draw some reaction from you. The screams also came in a white noise through your ears, because all you could register was the sight before your eyes.
In the middle of the plate, a finger rested limp and dirty. Dead.
In a similar manner, you did too.
Among the chaos, you sat there, also limp and dirty. At the end of a promise of death.