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Taking a sip of the milk, he pressed his lips on yours as your eyes widened at the contact. Was this happening for real? 

“It’s your favorite, chocolate milk and I used the straw already so…” He trailed off, letting the embarrassment set it. 

“Sorry-”

Posted work : Milky Way - Kageyama Tobio

Milky way- Kageyama Tobio

Sometimes you would curse your luck on finding yourself in such an awkward situation. In all honesty, you were ready to pull out your hair at the frustration you felt. You were having an exhausting day. All you wanted was a cool milk box to at least pull you through the rest of the day at school. You found yourself in front of the vending machine. Having already inserted the money for your milk, but the machine decided that it, too, would make your day more difficult than it already was. Kicking the side of the machine, you hoped that whatever luck you had left would pull itself together and just roll out the damn milk. As embarrassing as it was, only to make it worse, it seems, your crush, the first year volleyball player with blue eyes, walked in your direction.

“No, no, no,” you whispered to yourself. Not here please, you prayed soundlessly and as expected, he walked in the same direction as you. Of course, the boy would want his daily share of milk for his lunch. Pressing your forehead to the glass of the machine, you were ready to give up on your milk.

“Excuse me,” Kageyama said rather feebly. As loud as he could be, he had seen your defeated figure kick the machine. Not that it was discreet, but he didn’t want to add to your frustration or at the least not be subjected to it. He would often see you around the vending machine at lunch. He wouldn’t admit it but he did like it better when you were around here sipping on your milk as he would. Even having shared a few conversations which would end short because he was still a little shy around you.

Kicking the vending machine, he tried to help you get your deserved milk hoping in his head that he wouldn’t embarrass himself and the milk would just come rolling down. Well; it didn’t but before he could feel embarrassed by it; you kicked it too. Glancing at your face, he could see a soft smile adorn your face, a blush creeping up his neck as he turned back to the machine.

“Two would be better than one, right?” you said.

“Yeah,” he said blandly, although his face, too, now held a slight smile.

After a laborious time of kicking and shaking the machine. The milk came rolling down. As a smile of relief spread across your face, Kageyama could only watch your face light up as he handed you the milk box. In what felt like a moment of fleeting excitement, you threw your arms around him, hugging the tall boy who stood frozen at the affection.

“Oh- I DIDN’T, oh I am so sorry” you quickly regain your composure, all the while bowing to the boy blushing a bright red.

“Yeah, um- excuse me,” he said before sprinting away from the place.

‘The day took quite the turn, huh?’ you thought, turning around still giddily, poking your straw into the milk box as you drank your drink.

And from that day, you kept an eye out for the boy who helped you; you wanted to thank him and what better than milk for the milk-obsessed boy. That day, you brought two milk boxes, one for yourself and one for him. Waiting for him near the volleyball court, you saw the boy converse with the orange head. Waving slightly when he glimpsed you behind his teammate, he hurried towards his bag, grabbing it while pulling something out.

“Here” “Here”

You both said as you held out milk boxes for each other. Chocolate milk for you, as he had seen you buy every so often and plain milk for him as you had observed him drink. As you awkwardly exchanged the milk boxes you had bought for each other, you glimpsed the same box in his other hand. He too, had bought two milk boxes just like you. Looking back at your hands that now held two milk boxes,

“Uh- I wanted to thank you for that day,” you said.

Kageyama felt panic fill him as he realized. You had a reason to give him the milk, but he didn’t? What was he supposed to say now, he bought the milk for you because he noticed it was the last one and he wasn’t sure if you had bought yourself any and he didn’t want anyone else to get it before you could lay your hands on it so he bought it?

“Me too,” he hurriedly spat out, voice reaching new levels of loud as you jumped slightly at the voice.

“I will get back to my practice, let’s talk later,” Running back to his snickering teammate.

“LATER!! There is going to be a later,” your brain screamed as you completely disregard the ‘me too’ he left you with.

“LATER???” Hinata yelled, jumping up and down while pushing Kageyama down by the shoulder. Before Kageyama you could pull him off and yell at him, he paused at something the orange head had said.

“Girlfriend, you have a girlfriend”

He should have denied it, he should have, but the warmth filling up his chest didn’t allow that so,

“Shut up, boke or else I won’t toss to you anymore” He said before leaving the court. He didn’t have any practice to get back to. Their practice for the day was over with, but Kageyama just needed an excuse to hide his blushing face.

He doesn’t remember how, but the ‘later’ came and honestly, he was better than he thought, he didn’t embarrass himself, he even though he was so flustered the whole time you talked and from that, it became a daily thing for the two of you to meet at lunch, holding on to your milk boxes, you bought for each other.

Last one, one milk box. Only one milk box was in the vending machine.

“You can have it,” both said. Bending down to reach for the milk you paid for, you passed it to Kageyama while poking the straw in.

“But -,”

Before he could complete his sentence, the straw was in his mouth. And for a moment he froze, his mind taking him back to the first time he froze, in your embrace over the glad relief of having your milk. Taking a sip of the milk, he pressed his lips on yours as your eyes widened at the contact. Was this happening for real?

“It’s your favorite, chocolate milk and I used the straw already so…” He trailed off, letting the embarrassment set it.

“Sorry-” He was cut off before he could back out, with your soft lips finding themself on his again.

“Just checking the flavor again, don’t mind me. Maybe we could share it after all,” you said cheekily. While Kageyama could only wonder how this was even real.

Let's talk about how Suna is either headcannoned as either someone who hates physical affection with every fiber in his body, or someone who is attached to his s/o by the hip and can't live without "kissies"

Now, here's my take on this.

I don't think he loves physical affection or pda, I think Suna likes his space and values it a lot. But, that doesn't mean I agree with him hating it either.

Yes, he doesn't accept physical affection from anyone and everyone and often tries to avoid it, but again, I think that's just him valuing his personal space and not feeling comfortable receiving affection that way, and/or being that close to people.

But that does not mean Suna feels the same way towards you, too. Being close to you doesn't make him feel awkward, it doesn't make him feel like his privacy is being (baltalanmak). Suna doesn't resent the feeling of you in his arms, against his chest, your breath tickling his neck, your fingers tracing shapes on his skin, the feeling of you under the pads of his fingers as he caresses your cheeks.

Did it take him a while to get to this stage of the relationship? Yes.

It's because trust isn't something simply given, one has to earn it, even when it's harder to earn from people like Suna. Skeptical, doubtful towards other people.

Because of this, Suna hadn't let anyone get close to himself before you. No one could get past his cold demeanor, break the shell. It's because physical affection is something out of his comfort zone, he doesn't want it.

Physical affection never sounded too appealing anyway, so he used a cold demeanor to keep people as far as possible.

Because people don't miss what they never had or felt, Suna never understood the crave people had towards this. That led him to never actively seeking for physical affection.

But with you? When he first met you, even when it made him feel strange, unsafe, he still craved your touch, wanted you close. It's by time you ease him to it.

So no, Suna neither hates nor loves physical affection, I think he's just head over heels for you.

Suna calls you ugly.

Lovingly.

"Hey, ugly." He always greets you with a teasing smile; kisses the fake pout off of your lips at his choice of words. You try to suppress your smile when you feel his smile against your lips.

He calls you baby when he's frustrated, darling when you fight, love when you're sad, babe when he's teasing.

His camera roll is full of pictures of you doing random things. You say they're ugly; delete them, rin! He agrees; they are ugly, he tells you with the smallest, lovesick smile on his lips as he looks at the picture.

"Hey, asshole."

He gives you an airy chuckle, placing his backpack on the ground. "I come bearing gifts."

"Snacks?" You ask; he watches with amusement at how your eyes sparkle. "Yes, ugly, snacks." Suna rolls his eyes, throwing his arm around your shoulder. "You don't get this excited when you see me."

"Shut up and give them to me already." You try to wiggle out of his hold, but his arm closes around you tight before you can. Suna pulls you back to his chest, pressing you to himself as hard as he can. You can feel his laughter in his chest as you shout for your life. You can hear his heartbeat doubling against your ear.

Whenever he sees you getting ready for a date or coffee plans with friends, "you look ugly." is the first thing he would say. But the words come out of his lips a smitten smile, pinching your nose, his hand squeezing yours affectionately as he says it.

He sends you fish memes, "Look, it's you." He captions it. You tell him to fuck off, knowing he's smiling widely on the other side of the screen.

And when he's away for volleyball tournaments, Suna always sounds down on the phones. You know he gets tired easily, you know he finds solace in your voice, but it's because of the time difference he doesn't let you talk with him often. "Good night, ugly." He says before hanging up. It sounds more like an I miss you.

He knows you understand that he doesn't mean it. He knows you know it's just him telling you, "You look pretty."

"I'm really grateful you're with me."

"You're the most beautiful thing that ever happened to me."

Everyone has different ways of saying things, showing feelings, and for someone not used to showing affection, this is Suna's way of saying, "I'm in love with you."

And you wouldn't want it any other way.

》 Fool me once, fool me twice

a/n: holy fuck, it's here. It's finally here. writing this might be the hardest thing I did- sucked my soul right out of my body. If it flops I'm going to be very, very sad.

synopsis: fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me. For someone so terrified of heart breaks, both you and Atsumu sure play the part of the fools well. 

part one

genre and warnings: angst. post-break-up, cursing, tw:drinking

There's something about Miya Atsumu; it breaks your heart.

As you watch the ball flying over the court, screams erupting in your ears, you find your hands holding on the bars shaking. It's not one of the important games Inarizaki is playing that year, but it is going to determine if they can keep playing in the tournaments, so the whole school is there to watch.

Unfortunately for you, of course.

Looking at the blonde standing in the middle of his side of the court, Atsumu Miya looks heartbreakingly beautiful.

He looks jittery, unlike his usual self; Atsumu's nervous gaze keeps glancing at the bleachers, eyes scanning his audience. To find you, you know.

You check the time by tapping your phone screen twice; you find your hands shaking as you try to stuff it back in your pockets. The urge to run away is unshakable, but you can't- you won't run away.

You roll your lip between your teeth, biting on it slightly to focus on the pain instead of what will happen after the match. Your gaze once again finds him, the court falling into a deep silence as Atsumu Miya serves. He looks unaffected and smug as he always does, but you can see the nervousness running down his back.

You wonder if he feels the same as you do.

Does he wish the game would never end, as well? Does he hope you'd be gone by the end of the game so he wouldn't have to hold his promise? As if he feels your thoughts, Atsumu's eyes finally locate you in the crowd. It's the first time since you've seen that gaze since the break-up. It feels nothing foreign; the heaviness of his eyes lingering over you as you see his brows pinch together, his face for a second giving away his hurt.

You missed him. You knew that already- but all this time, you were so focused on how to hurt you were going to feel that you forgot how much you had missed him.

Ironically, it's the small details that remind him of you, the minor things that you miss the most. Like that one time, he had smiled at you when you took a bite from his cookie. The way he would trace hearts on your back as he had you between his arms, resting his head on your shoulder, thinking you didn't notice the shapes he drew.

You really missed his voice, whining at you when you said you were too tired to watch him train, missed how he would secretly add sugar to his tea when he thought you weren't looking because you had once told him drinking tea with sugar was a crime.

You missed feeling safe around someone, feeling anything other than alone, feeling like you didn't have to keep this facade of a guard up.

After all, it wasn't just him who had broken your heart, who had lied to you, misled you, let you fall in love before their eyes, knowing it anything but genuine; but your friends as well.

They love to tell you they're here for you if you need them, love to repeat that ugly sentence, "time heals everything."

Time heals nothing.

It only blurs the feelings a little, gives you new things to think about, but it doesn't heal. When you look, the hurt is still there.

What you hate even worse is to hear them apologizing- oh, that constant fucking apologizing that everyone seems to think they owe you now that the cat's out of the bag.

People think everything goes back to normal with a simple apology and a kind smile. Well, surprise, it doesn't.

Not when you still remember that night you walked back home alone, cold, shivering, and shaking with tears, emotions you couldn't handle.

You didn't remember much about the walk itself; you'd think you'd remember every detail in a moment like that- but all you could remember was how heavy everything felt, like the whole night, the world even, was crushing down on you.

You remembered how rapidly your heart was beating, how a constant stream of thoughts screamed that this was a nightmare- not true, now you'll wake up in his arms and plant a kiss on his lips.

You remember not crying, not even a single drop until much later into the night. Your hands trembled as you reached for the door- mind in a frenzy of "please, no, this isn't true!", it took you a minute to get the key into the lock.

You remember. Only you remember how your knees buckled, how your body refused to carry you any longer, how you threw yourself in when the door finally opened, not finding the energy to pull yourself back up and sitting there on the cold surface for hours.

You try to process what you're feeling, but they're too much.

There's a feeling of wrongness that coils in your stomach, presses on your lungs; it makes you feel dizzy; the room spins around you as you so desperately try to focus on staying awake, on breathing.

Hopelessness keeps you sane; it tells you this isn't happening, denying anything and everything the logical part of your mind tells you. An empty feeling sits heavy on your chest; that one's the worst, consuming your thoughts with the sticky sense of desperation.

Desperate for him, for comfort, for someone to be on your side, someone to tell you that it's okay, you'll get through this, you're going to be okay.

And despite everything, every lie he had told you, despite him playing with your heart so cruelly, you know there's but one person you'd accept those words as the truth.

You can't believe how vulnerable you are for him, how ready you are for him to break your heart once again if it means you can talk to him one more time.

You feel tears of pity run down your cheeks, pity at yourself, pity at the girl who sobs with her head in his hands, alone and broken because she was fool enough to believe she was precious for one.

What's worse is that, even when you know everything was a lie, was planned just to watch you make a fool of yourself; even when you know Atsumu Miya lied to you for the expense of your heart, right then, you find yourself crying because you wish he'd lie to you once again.

~

The first few days are the worst.

Waking up is harder than it's supposed to be. Sleep doesn't show up easily.

In your dreams, a honey-colored pair of eyes twinkle with amusement when you ask him if he loves you. He hugs you with a light laugh; it feels more real than when you're awake. "Why would you even ask that?" He kisses you tenderly, "Of course, I love you."

He's cruel, even in your dreams. It's unfair, it's brutal, you have every right to be furious and heartbroken, but there's a question that plagues your mind.

What now?

What are you supposedto do now?

You know you shouldn't thinking of the way he would caress your cheek before leaning in for a kiss, the way he would smile on your lips when your hands buried themselves in his faux blonde locks.

You know you shouldn't torture yourself looking back on your photos and texts you exchanged, seeing how many more lies he told you, how easy it all came to him. All while you opened your heart, stood there vulnerable for him.

It's like venom going through all your memories with him, blacking them all out as lies, lies, and lies, all for the sake of breaking your heart. His boyish smiles, the smallest acts of affection, the butterfly kisses he would press on your head when you fell asleep, the jokes he would make to make you smile.

Looking back, they still feel anything but.

~ People are worried about you. They have no right to be, you think.

"We're here if you need help!" They say, desperate to fix something. After all, they are your friends, and they are people who are there for you.

It's funny how genuine they try to sound. Do your friends think they can fool you as well? They knew all along, and still, let you do it. In your eyes, they were at least as at fault as Atsumu.

It's no easy thing one can handle, losing everyone dear to you in a blink of an eye. Or in your case, at the expense of a few words.

You're blunt about your distrust, your feelings. You have nothing to lose, anyway. You don't try to fake trust and let them in; you let them knock on your door and beg for you to talk to them.

You don't.

You don't let anyone in; you don't plan to do it any time soon, either. But after the one-week mark, something changes.

It's a knock on your front door, more persistent than anyone else.

You let them bang on your door for almost 15 minutes, frustration bubbling inside you when you find they won't leave. You're not emotionally stable anyway, and that obnoxious knock on the door has you running over there with fury.

"What? What do you-"

As soon as you realize who stands before you, your voice drops, your body reacting to shut the door even before your mind realizes.

Oh.

Oh no.

"Y/N, open the door." His voice is calm; you see the tip of a sneaker peaking through the gap he created between the door and the wall. You know he can just push through the door, and it would be easy to overpower you, but you keep trying to close it anyway, hoping his foot would hurt enough for him to pull it back.

"Stop tryna crush my foot and open the door already!"

"No- get out, Osamu." Your voice comes out as a strained cry, making him wince with the pressure- when did you get this strong?

Any other person would have left; he knows this, especially someone in his position, but as calm as he is, Osamu is still a Miya, and Miya's always get what they want.

You know this the best, don't you?

Your hands fall to your side, giving up trying to push him out. The sudden change in force makes him stumble, but before you know it, Osamu enters the room.

You don't look at him as he stands there, eyes fixated on the small mountain of empty cups of noodles and coffee. You know what Osamu's thinking as he looks at you. You expect him to tell you you look sick, terrible, even, but to your relief, he doesn't say a word as he makes his way to your kitchen.

"Do ya have a roommate?" You keep your quiet as he reaches for the fridge, pulling anything remotely edible out, and you try to look away; you really do, but he looks so much like his brother.

It's a moment of vulnerability you gift yourself, your gaze fixed on Osamu as he starts cooking something, a moment of vulnerability where you let yourself think of Atsumu, imagine it was him, instead.

Not once does Osamu glance your way. You're not sure if it's his courtesy not to make you feel uncomfortable or because he can't bear it himself.

"Why are you here, Osamu?" You dare to speak once; it's when he brings you the food he had cooked, a bowl of soup and rice with meat.

"Eat." He won't look at you.

"I won't." You can't.

Even when you know you need it, you can't eat it- not when it's him who cooked it for you. You're not a charity case; you can take care of yourself.

Even when you can't.

"You obviously haven't eaten anythin' in a while," Osamu tells you, annoyingly calm. "Nothin' worth eating, at least. So eat before ya pass out." You catch him sending a disgusted look to the boxes of pizza and junk food hanging around.

Your eyes narrow into slits- who does he think he is, forcing his way through your door and judging your room? Especially when he's part of the reason for it- and does he think a bowl of fucking soup will make it all okay? Is that his way of saying, "sorry, I let you make a fool of yourself to everyone and get your heart broken?" You grit your teeth, finally finding the courage to look him in the eyes. The grey gaze far too familiar, the urge to turn your gaze away eats you away, but your stubborn nature wouldn't let you.

"I already said, I won't." You snarl. "I don't wan't anything from you, not your pity, not your help, not your food. I'd rather starve than get anything from you." Osamu hears the strain in your voice, well aware of how you're starting to tear up despite your efforts trying to hide it. "And stop trying to act like you give a fuck," you go on, "you sure didn't when it was still going on, so what, you feel guilty now?"

"Of course I feel fuckin' guilty!" He shouts back, his grip hardening around the white ceramics he's holding. It's a short-lived fire that ignites in him, eyes widening and the anger dying immediately, but it's still enough to have you flinch. "What, ya think 'm heartless enough not to?"

You stay silent; Osamu gets his answer.

The worst part is, there is no reason for you not to think he isn't, and he knows that.

You're taken aback by his shout, but not by the quiet apology that follows it. "I shouldn't have raised ma voice." He mutters. "I'm sorry."

You hate it when people apologize, you think. But for some reason, Osamu's apology is the only one that doesn't make you want to carve your ears out- rather it makes you feel... relieved. seen. cared.

"Okay."

"I can- I can go if you want to." Osamu presses his lips together, gritting his teeth, angry at himself as he places the food full of plates in front of you. "You should eat."

You contemplate on it for a few seconds- it smells godly, almost dizzyingly so, but you did say you'd rather starve than eat it. You curse how proud you are- it was that proudness that brought you here, your ego that refused to see the bright red flags dangling before your eyes. You've been humiliated enough already; nothing would change if you went against your ego this once, would it?

You bite your lip, deciding to eat. When you don't answer, Osamu plops back on the couch, leaving distance between you still on the couch. His gaze follows your trembling hand as you raise the spoon to your lips- the soup is the first thing that makes you feel warm in a while now.

It takes you a while to finish with it, but he was right about you not having eaten anything worth eating, so even that bowl of soup has a role in making you feel at least a bit more alive.

And with the feeling of aliveness comes the feelings you've been trying to suppress. You can't do this here- no, you can't cry in front of Osamu fucking Miya but-

"D'ya want more?"

sniff.

Osamu doesn't seem startled at the sudden stream of tears down your cheeks, unlike you. You don't know why you're crying, and you don't want to, not in front of him.

You don't know why you nod when he gets a bit closer to you, or why you lean towards him when Osamu pulls you to his chest, why you let him suppress your sobs with his hug- the hug that reminds you of his brother. You do know, however, that it makes you feel safe.

His hand rubs your back, trying to console you without knowing how so he just lets you cry it all out. Cry it out; you do.

All those times you were alone- you couldn't let yourself sob so freely. There was always a stream of thoughts nagging you- you were too proud to cry even by yourself.

Whenever you did, it was tears of pity- at yourself, tears for the foolish girl that you were, tears for falling for a lie. You didn't let yourself cry your hurt, of how much your broken heart ached, how much it stung to be betrayed like this.

But sitting there, between the hold of Osamu Miya, it's different. You shake like a leaf; your breaths get shallower by each passing second, so much that you can't breathe; the one thing that prevents you from a state of frenzy being Osamu's steady pats on your back.

When you let it all out, he's still there, and you hate him for it.

You sometimes wish he wasn't, but ironically, he's the only one you let in, let console you. For some reason, his apology is the only one that feels genuine.

He's always there. When you don't go to school the first while, he's there to cook for you. There when you muster the courage, there when you walk through a stream of people, all eyes on you.

When nobody is, you can always trust to see his dyed-grey locks in the corner of your eyes. Despite the snarky remarks you keep throwing his way, despite everything you do to push him away, Osamu keeps staying right beside you, helping you.

Somehow, despite you trying your best not to, Osamu gains your trust.

You know it must be a mistake; that you're letting yourself get fooled once again- but you need someone to trust. Everyone does. Even if you wouldn't admit to it, you're secretly glad you're not alone.

Too bad you always pick the wrong person.

~

"Fell 'sleep again." A hand touches your upper back, not enough to wake you up; it's comforting, instead.

You hear someone mutter beside you.

There is a faint smell of dust and old books, you have your arms crossed under your head as a makeshift pillow, and your back aches. You feel a jacket of sorts gets placed on your shoulders, and the smell of it almost lulls you to sleep.

A content sigh finds its way out of your lips as you bring your face closer to the material. It's an act made unconsciously to get closer to the scent you'd came to love a little too much, one you had fallen asleep with countless times, and it has an effect of making you feel safe.

Long fingers meet and caress your hair, twirling through your locks, careful not to wake you up. It reminds you of the time you were here with him, when you'd done this- for Atsumu.

The hand eventually lowers to your back, and you feel the warmth from over the jacket.

Osamu had told you he had to retrieve a book; maybe it was him, he must've sprinted his way over and back.

You're half asleep; you don't want to open your eyes and lose your precious sleep since you don't get to do it often, anyway. Or maybe you don't want to open your eyes to see the truth and face the consequences, as you always do.

You shiver.

It must be Osamu; you probably just fell asleep for a few minutes; that's why it felt like he had just left. It's Osamu, you think. It's Osamu, you tell yourself.

But the soft traces of hearts on your back tells you otherwise.

~

"Come on, wake up." A hand shakes you awake for you to realize you're still at the library.

Atsumu?

The name appears on your mind as soon as the fog in your mind starts to disperse, and your head jerks up so fast you think you hurt your neck. But instead of the warm-brown pair of eyes, you meet the cold-grey ones, looking at you with confusion and then- guilt.

"You've been asleep for a while now. It's getting late, let me drop you to your house."

You nod compliantly, gathering your bag as something slides off of your shoulders. It's Osamu's volleyball jacket.

"Thanks for the jacket." You tell him, handing it back. Maybe it's because you just woke up, but you don't notice how Osamu hesitates as he takes the jacket from you, stiffening when he realizes.

You don't notice any of those or that he's holding two of the same jackets.

~

"Ya know, Y/N," One day Osamu tells you, hands tapping on the table nervously. His eyes are unfocused, voice soft and shy as if afraid to scare you away. "Atsumu did love you."

You know what this is about- it's about the fight you had with him a few days before, when he had told you why he hasn't been going to his volleyball practices.

"Playing with Atsumu isn't that easy anymore."

You didn't want to hear it, but he told you anyway. How heartbroken his brother was. You scoffed. "Because he lost the bet?"

"Because he loved you, too, and you know it."

You deny it, deny it with all your heart, but it's no easy feat when his twin is always by your side.

"Don't," You choke out, "don't lie to me, we had this fight. I told you I don't need comfort, not lies, at least, I had my fair share of that. I already know it was- was all a lie." Osamu hears you speak, but it sounds like you're trying to convince yourself, instead. "It was all a lie." You repeat.

"It wasn't all," Osamu tells you calmly, but the way his knuckles are slightly whitening tells you he isn't as comfortable, either. "Maybe in the beginning, but not all of it."

"I don't care." You hiss from behind your teeth, trying to stop him from talking anymore and- giving you hope- but Osamu seems hellbent on speaking his mind. "I don't care even if all he did was lie to me once- it's still enough to break everything."

"Why are you so insistent on discarding all of it, Y/N?" Osamu suddenly raises his voice, taking you by surprise. "Are you actually mad at me for-"

"Look, I get it- I get you're heartbroken, you have every right to be, but-" He pinches the bridge of his nose, "Think what ya wanna think. You have every right to hate him, hate me- but I can't let you say his feelings were lies, as well."

"Good thing I'm not asking for permission." You hiss back at him. "Why do you care anyway? Why do you have to make sure that I know he loved me at one point? The hell, do you want me to do, pity him for that?!"

"No! I'm just-"

"I don't want to- I don't want to know, Osamu!" You sob. "He lied to me- the end, why're you doing this now, now that it's all over?"

"Because," he shouts back, "because- 'Tsumu's never going to feel like this for anyone else. Never again. I know he won't- and I'm not saying that's your fault, it's his dumbasses' fault."

"But," there's a tense silence as he waits for you to wipe your tears. "He's still my brother. And as selfish as it is, even if I'm not asking you to forgive him-, I can't watch you take his feelings as a lie. It's the one time he'll get to- to love anyone."

His words hit hard, and for a moment, you want to believe him, and you do, too. But not again- you can't let yourself get fooled by him again. So instead, you smile softly at the man. "Well," you whisper, "too bad for him, then." but is there any guarantee that you'll get to love anyone, too?

~

Too bad for the winner of the bet.

It seems Atsumu's the only one who thinks that.

He's the winner, and he should be proud, right? No one thinks there's anything wrong with coming up to him, congratulating with that asshole of a smile on their faces.

"Didn't expect less from you," one tells him with a pat on his back. Atsumu despises himself for being one of them.

Didn't expect less from him.

The words haunt him every night. Was he that evil of a person that people didn't expect less from him to be able to fool an innocent girl, make her fall in love and break her heart so cruelly?

And Atsumu hates how he proved them right too.

But he's a man with faults, and Atsumu's ego, selfishness, and pride are not even a quarter of them.

So he hides. Atsumu hides his feelings and thoughts, anything that could give away that he's missing you out of his mind. That he loved you- loves you, that he's the biggest fool of all.

It works most of the time. Atsumu fools many thanks to his scrutinizing smirk and mocking words, just so no one gets close enough to see how hurt he really is.

Even he himself thinks he's okay. He doesn't cry, doesn't hurt; it's just numb as if you weren't there at all. All back to where it started; he's back to the jerk he is, loneliness a constant feeling that it's numb, this time mixed with longing.

It takes him a while before the break-up hits. He breaks down one night.

It's the night before an important game. He's just back from training, but ever since he stepped into the gym, there's been a disturbing feeling boiling in the pit of his stomach. He feels sick, he feels drained- Atsumu feels terrified.

Almost anyone around Atsumu can see he hasn't been well lately, but he's always been the one to forget everything but the passing ball during games. He demands silence with his serves; otherwise, it breaks his focus. This time, it wasn't the noises that disturbed his serve but the silence.

You weren't there.

Why weren't you cheering his name?

It's when he realizes you won't be there- you won't, ever again that it hits Atsumu that he lost you. He will never hear your voice suppressing the others' in games to cheer his name. He will never see your bright smile waving at him, never feel you squirm between his arms after a game because- don't hug me, you're sweaty!

He won't ever feel your hands in his as you walk back home after his match; listen to him as he tells you the different strategies he saw in the game- we must try them with 'Samu, he always smiles excitedly. He will never hear you laugh at his jokes, never feel your fingers run through his hair, never feel your kisses against his skin, he will never be there to listen when you speak of your day with a smile.

He will never, ever make you smile again.

You will smile, but he will never be able to feel that swell of pride inside of him when Atsumu knows it's because of him you have that beautiful smile on your lips. Now, it's his fault you're crying.

"Fuck." He mutters as he feels his eyes stinging, a warm lump forms behind his throat. The thoughts wouldn't leave him alone- why are his hands shaking? He wishes you were there to hold them. It reminds him of that time you had kissed his knuckles when he had a bad game. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

He can't cry- no, he can't! He hasn't cried at all, so why is he... now of all times, too, months later-

Why is Atsumu crying?

He's crying at how selfish he is. Even now, with his phone in his trembling hands, Atsumu Miya dials your number.

~

When he comes home, Osamu isn't too surprised to find Atsumu drunk. His brother never was the kind to deal with feelings.

A deep sigh disrupts the silence Atsumu has created in the room, but he doesn't bother to open his eyes or look at him. "Yer alive?"

"Fuck off." The blonde hisses from behind his teeth, twirling the drink in his hand before gulping it all down. It burns.

"C'mon," Osamu approaches his brother, who seems like he can't even take a step, let alone go to his room by himself. "Go to yer bed."

Atsumu doesn't protest when Osamu kneels beside him, throwing his brothers' arm over his shoulder and pulling him up. "Fuckin' hell," he mutters, "how much do ya weigh?"

Atsumu stays silent at that, and only when he stops walking can Osamu tell he's crying.

"You smell like her." Atsumu's voice a mere whisper, but even Osamu feels a jab in his heart with the raw hurt lingering in his tone. He shivers.

Why were you with her?

Atsumu stops walking, stops trying to carry himself as he slides down the wall to the ground, pulling Osamu with himself, his head buried in his hands. "Why'd ya smell like her, 'samu?"

For the first time in a long while, Osamu has no answer.

"It's not what you think." He tells the blonde instead.

Even if it was, Atsumu has no right to say a word about it- and he hates himself for thinking that might be one of the most hurtful side of a break-up. "I heard you called her." Atsumu doesn't answer. "How is she doing?" He asks instead; Osamu takes note of how he avoids your name, as well.

"Good." no thanks to you. The words hang heavy in the air, but both know Osamu has no right to speak them.

"Good." Atsumu repeats when his brother plops him in his bed, leaving and coming back with a glass of water and a bucket for the night.

"If ya throw up anywhere else, 'll kick yer ass." He warns the now half-asleep blonde, about to leave the room before he hears a broken hum coming from the bed.

"I fucked up." Atsumu mutters a few seconds after. Osamu sighs, his voice laced with something Atsumu's drunken mind can't pick, but Osamu is grateful to it since he doesn't want Atsumu to be aware of his guilt. "Ya threw up already?!" Osamu scolds.

Atsumu laughs softly at that, his eyes still shut closed, but he looks sad. "I don't wanna lost her 'Samu." The blonde mutters so low; Osamu would've missed any other night. His brows pinch together immediately, gaze finding his brother, his eyes closed, the only indication he's still awake being the fresh tears in the corners of his eyes.

"I'm terrified of losing her."

"I'm not the one you should be telling this." Osamu shrugs, voice slightly sharp from the lump in his throat. Whatever happens, they're still brothers, and it's no easy sight to see. "I know," Atsumu sighs, seemingly calmer. "I know."

A few seconds of silence pass between the twins as Osamu finally reaches for the light.

"Goodnight, 'Tsumu."

"Goodnight." His brother answers.

~

You knew you shouldn't have come to the game.

It feels like people are watching you more than the game itself. Glares that are sent your way, unfiltered whispers, and laughs of mockery never fail to follow you wherever you go.

Stop it, you want to scream, but you keep your eyes fixed on the game. It's not my fault- I didn't want this to happen.

You wince when Atsumu misses yet another service- flying over the net at lightning speed and falling out of the court, again. "Atsumu pull yourself together!" Someone in the team screams, and you shiver only by seeing his responsive glare.

You shouldn't be here, you know it, everyone else does, too. The game is going terrible, and it's all because of the obnoxious setter, standing in the middle of the game, first time in forever letting the control slip from his fingers.

As you watch his tired form set the ball, you can't help but notice how out of it Atsumu looks. It reminds you of his broken voice the night before on the phone.

"Please, just- just listen to me one last time." You can't help but remember how he sounded the night before on the phone, when he had dialed your number with trembling hands. "I have to tell you."

You had promised yourself that night, the one you had learned it was all but a lie; you had promised that you would never be the fool again. You would never listen to him again, never let him lie to you, never, never, never.

But you couldn't reject his request when he sounded so... helpless. Almost as broken as you yourself were.

So you listened, even when it hurt when you did, listen to what he had to say, listen to his strained voice, raw with emotions.

This might have been the first time you'd seen Atsumu so vulnerable. For someone so scared of vulnerability, you never thought you'd see Atsumu begging anyone, let alone you, the fool.

"I want to make this right," he whispers, your grip on the phone tightening as you realize he was crying. "I love you, I really do- and I want to make this right."

He takes a shaky breath like it was the hardest thing he had ever done. "I can't lose you, Y/N."

Even though I know I don't deserve you, I can't lose you.

"Atsumu-"

"I'm begging you," he whispers, voice shaking, gasping slight hiccups, the strain in his hoarse voice makes you shudder. "I'm begging you to give me a chance to make this right."

The silence you gift him gives the broken man his answer.

"I can't."

Atsumu squeezes his eyes shut on the other end of the line; his eyes burn with tears, he wants to hang up and cry, tries to hold himself together, the feeling of his nails digging into his flesh reminds him to answer you.

"Why isn't it enough?" He speaks, this time doesn't even try to hide his cry, "you love me and I love you, why isn't it enough for a second chance?"

"If you think it's only about love, I have a question for you, Atsumu."

"Yes?"

"Did you- did you love me while we dated?" Atsumu cringes at the question. He has told you he loved you many times, and all it took was one lie for you to believe he didn't- and you had every right to, too.

"I did," he answers, "I know you don't believe me, but I really did-"

"I do- I do believe you." You cut him off; you sound bittersweet. "I believe you, and that's why I can't do it again."

You bite your lip, trying to collect your thoughts, trying to keep yourself from crying anymore.

"I can't be with someone who used me and knowingly- willingly broke my heart even when he loved me."

"If you didn't love me, this would've been easier. But you did, Atsumu, you cared for me, you loved me, and you still purposefully hurt me. That love means nothing to me."

It isn't about a lie he told you that broke your heart; it's this. And this is why it only hurts you more whenever someone tells you Atsumu meant it; he did love you.

Atsumu wants to beg, wants to cry, wants to shout- he wants to tell you anything that would make you take him back, try again, he wants to tell you that he can't live without you, but he can't.

He can't, because if he did, it would be a lie. And he promised both you and himself that he would never lie to you again.

"Okay," he speaks after a long silence, a silence he tries to process what you said. "Can we talk one last time after the game tomorrow?" "What else is there left to say, Atsumu?" "Nothing." Atsumu admits. "I just want to see you one last time."

~

You really wish you could try again.

As Atsumu stands before you, eyes wide and glassy with tears he's too proud to cry, you really wish you were strong enough to try again.

"I never thought I would've ended up here that night when I approached you at the party." He laughs bitterly, wiping his tears away with the back of his hand.

"I just hope you can accept my apology." He whispers to you; his brown gaze the prettiest you've ever seen, you just wish they weren't so sad. "I hope you can heal-" he laughs bitterly. "From me."

"I accept your apology." You mutter at him, not knowing what else to say. It seems he doesn't expect anything, either.

"Fuck," he laughs as he cries, fingers pulling on his dead-blonde hair, pain so raw on his face you don't think you can endure it any longer. "I really thought we could try again." "Atsumu, I-"

"I know- don't worry, baby, I'll be fine." He assures you, teary eyes looking at you longingly. He stares at you for a few long seconds, as if he's trying to remember every little detail on your face. "I just think I need some time."

"Okay."

"I'll go, now, okay?" Atsumu chuckles, packing his gym bag, almost rushing away. "And- thank you, Y/N."

"It's okay," you smile, "it was nice to see you again."

Those words seem to hurt him even more, you think he might break down crying. You wonder what he's thinking. "It was nice to see you, too."

Such a pretty smile, he knows it's probably the last time you smile at him. Now, for the rest of his life, Atsumu can only stare at your pictures to see that smile again.

a/n 2: I know I said I was going to make it a happy ending, but as I wrote this paragraph: "I can't be with someone who used me and knowingly- willingly broke my heart even when he loved me. If you didn't love me, this would've been easier. But you did, Atsumu, you cared for me, you loved me, and you still purposefully hurt me. That love means nothing to me." I knew there was no way I could make Y/N forgive Atsumu. This is also the very reason this piece took me so long because I tried so hard to make it a happy ending, I literally fought with the characters, but I couldn't.

hi lila!! congrats on your milestone, we’re all vvv proud ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

for your event: 02:33 - “turn on the lights!” with suna please :33

thank you and have a safe flight!!!!

a/n: I swear I was going to sleep but my mind said daddy suna and had to write this lil drabble,I hope you like it!

warnings: mentions of,,, a child. daddy. Suna.

check out my 900 event!

"Rin- Rin, you have to wake up!"

Your voice hushed down into a whisper-yell, minding of the baby sleeping in the next room. You know when Rintarou sleeps, there is very little existing in this world that could wake him up, but you really, really need him to open his eyes.

"Rin!" You repeat, chewing on your lip as you try to shake the man awake, "Suna Rintarou, wake up this very sec- oh, good, you're waking up." You let out a relieved sigh as you see a peek of his green gaze from his fluttering open eyes, annoyed glare focusing on you as you grin down at your husband.

"I was so scared you wouldn't wake up." You tell him, hands pushing his brown locks away from his face. When you notice him lean into your touch, face nuzzling into your palm and falling back into a deep slumber, you can't help but let out an airy chuckle.

"No- you can't go back to sleep, Rin!"

"Oh my god," he groans, stressing the last word as Suna finds the covers and pulls them to his head. "Leave me alone, dammit."

"Can't." you laugh, mirth pulling your lips upwards when he once again opens his eyes to send a cross glare at you.

"Why the hell not- what time is it anyway?"

"Because!" You answer, "I can't find lumberjack!"

Ah, lumberjack, your son's favorite toy that he would havoc chaos on all humanity if he doesn't have it with him at all times. He had it with him as he went to sleep, of course, but now you can't find it, and if he wakes up at night only to have it missing, god have mercy on you all.

"Oh my fucking god, woman," Suna finally gives in, letting you pull the warm covers from his body and sit upright, "I swear I'm gonna bite that shitty toys' head off, someday."

"I'll bite your head off if you do that." You tell him, leaning in to give a peck on his lips. "Now help me find this toy."

Suna brings his hand up to his face, rubbing his sleepy eyes as you reach for the light-

"No, don't-" he shouts, but he's too late as you've already clicked the button, "turn on the lights." He finishes his sentence defeatedly.

"What- you were gonna look for it without the lights?" You tease him when he whines with his head in his hands. "Come on, Rin, if we don't find it now, he won't let us sleep the whole night."

For a few seconds, Suna doesn't move from his position, face hidden in his hands, body slouched forward, eyes closed-

"Rintarou!" Your voice chimes in the room as you notice he's falling asleep again, how, you don't know. "Come on, wake up already." You frown, whining as you walk over to your husband slouching on the corner of the bed, sleeping sitting upright.

"You were the one who put him to sleep so- hey!" Your shriek bounces off the walls as two arms wrap around your waist, pulling you so fast your feet loses touch with the ground and you find yourself flush against the bed with Suna hovering over you, face inches away from yours.

"Rin-" You sound breathless, his body pressing over yours slightly, making you gasp as you laugh, "what are you doing?"

He plops over you, head resting right on your chest, his cheek smushed against you as a peaceful smile rests on his lips. "Sleeping," he tells you, "it's almost 3 am, worry about all that later."

"Can't because-"

"Shut up." His hand flies over to your mouth, missing a few tries and accidentally patting your face over. "Talking time over- close your mouth and sleep."

You take a deep breath, his head lolling over your body- you notice he's falling asleep already. "The lights are on," you whine, "at least let me turn it off."

"No. I'm comfortable."

You sigh once again, knowing there's but one thing that would wake him up and that is-

"Oh, no." You mutter as you hear your son's cries coming from the room across yours. You notice your husband's eyes flying open.

-his son.

for your random sentence angst drabbles :3

“what time does the (game, show, etc) start?”

thank you n have fun 😵

a/n: aha remember this game? it's my fav thing to get out of writers block so here's one more with Osamu miya <3

warnings: a lil toxic Osamu, fake dating au

synopsis-like: "And, what do you say?" His smile had you feeling your first real heartbreak- never the last with Osamu Miya in your life. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

You know exactly when the game will start.

This game is the one where your deal ends, where you promised each other from months back that this game would be the day you would leave each other.

Osamu looks stoic, his eyes not giving a single emotion away as he watches you try to hold your tears back, chew on your lips he kissed once before- he still remembers the feeling, your eyes that always look at him with adoration now clouded with something darker.

"1p.m." He answers finally, not looking you in the eyes as he clears his throat when the words he tried to speak came out choked. 

1 pm.

As you bring your shaking hand up to check the time on your phone, you can't help but feel the tears collecting behind your eyes; you try to hide it with a smile. 

It's a little embarrassing on your side, not to him but yourself, how until then- till the very last hour, you thought you might have a chance. But a deal was a deal, and you had mere minutes before Osamu Miya leaves you, for good.

For another girl. 

The thought alone has your heart hammering your chest in pain, a feeling that has you feeling dizzy bubbles in your stomach, makes you think you might be sick. 

You knew this day was going to come- why are you crying now? You knew it was inevitable, the day you'd bid the man goodbye, without as much as hugging him, you knew it from the day you agreed to his deal.

Play the role of Osamu Miya's girlfriend until his fans stop harassing the girl he actually likes.

It was- is unfair how stoic and uncaring he was as he spoke the words that night, the night you had confessed to him, admitted to your feelings you couldn't hide- it's unfair how his lips had quirked so slightly as he stressed the word actually, how beautiful he looked as the tinted moonlight reflected off of his hair. 

"And, what do you say?" His smile had you feeling your first real heartbreak- never the last with Osamu Miya in your life. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

It was unfair; despite knowing it all, how he couldn't care less about what you felt, how he was only saving his ass and the girl he actually liked, you had agreed.

"Only till the end of the semester, till my last game."

And you knew you did, only because of your stupid little heart, hiding that belief that you might- somehow, maybe, perhaps- make Osamu Miya fall for you, instead.

How naive, how stupid.

You thought you could have your happy ending- make the prince fall for the slightly awkward main girl. And you couldn't help but smile as you thought your situation resembled cinderella's just a little.

After all, despite it being all but a rotting lie under the glamorous love of Osamu Miya, he still made you happy. You had what you wanted, you had what you wished for, and as prince Charming found cinderella in the end, you had hoped, so secretly, that maybe your lie would come true, as well. 

But as he starts packing his bag, getting ready for the game, you can only laugh at that hope.

Cinderella your ass, you really want to be Mufasa from lion king right now, as you watch Osamu leave the room without as much as glancing at you- his fake girlfriend of a few months, as you knew he was going to the game, where he was finally going to announce his real relationship with the pretty girl, waiting to cheer his name, as loud as she can.