part one|part two | wc: 3.6k | gn reader | arranged marriage au | fluff & angst | warnings:physical/emotional abuse from parents, manipulation, intoxication.
it was almost startling how much things had changed since that confrontation three months ago. you truly meant it when you said it would be a fresh start and kiyoomi was grateful. he did his best, albeit awkwardly, to make amends for how he treated you in the past.
‘platonic marriage’ or rather, being friends with you wasn’t difficult at all, it came almost as effortlessly to him as playing volleyball. though it quickly became clear that he knew almost nothing about you, once you told him something he made sure to never forget it.
it wasn’t enough for you to not hate him, kiyoomi wanted you to like him for who he was. he had always wondered what that felt like.
kiyoomi wasn’t sure when exactly he started considering the penthouse to be home. he used to think of it as a prison, yet before he knew it, he found himself looking forward to returning to whatever you were making for dinner and the questionable music you were blasting on the speakers. he’d tell you all about his day and you did the same. he didn’t rush off to practice first thing in the morning anymore. instead, kiyoomi made breakfast for you both.
you’d tell him his green smoothies were disgusting and he’d tell you to stop drinking coffee, but he still made sure that a cup was ready for you— exactly how you like it— before he went for a run. there were many moments like that, where kiyoomi caught himself forgetting all about your circumstances. it was nice. being with you was nice, he thought.
and he wasn’t sure what came over him three weeks ago when he’d called your mother and asked her to send your belongings from your old apartment to the penthouse. your mother had been pleasantly surprised and agreed happily, even keeping him on the phone for another 45 minutes to chat. he didn’t even speak to his own parents for that long, not about anything good. he thought that was nice too.
“what’s all this?” you stared down at the boxes when they arrived.
kiyoomi rubbed the back of his neck. “well, i asked your mom to send the stuff from your old place.”
you blinked at him, clearly surprised.
“kiyoomi… i- that’s so nice of you. thank you,” you murmured.
“you live here too so… ugh it’s really not a big deal. just don’t make a mess when you put it all away, y/n.”
he had been so flustered that he walked away, completely missing the fond look on your face. why had he been embarrassed after simply doing a friendly gesture? it was the fair thing to do after all. it wasn’t like he wondered what it would be like to be surrounded by your things. or what they would look like next to his own.
“was that y/n in the stands?” atsumu, his teammate, jogged up beside him on their way to the locker room. “didn’t think i’d ever see them again.”
“i’m surprised you had time to look in the stands at all with how much you were running your mouth at our opponents,” kiyoomi replied.
“well actually~ i only noticed because i saw how you kept looking at them all night.”
kiyoomi let out a disinterested hum, ending the conversation before atsumu could pry any further. despite the teams overwhelming victory that night, kiyoomi had been on edge. just knowing that you were there had him feeling nervous on the court for the first time in years. he thought he had been more subtle about it.
kiyoomi had never been one to talk about his private affairs. all the team knew was that he had gotten married and he refused to say any more about it. they had all seen you only once before over a year ago when you attended a game with his siblings but kiyoomi didn’t introduce you. the team hadn’t even been invited to the wedding. back then, the whole arrangement only made kiyoomi resentful and he refused to talk about you, desperately wanting to keep his volleyball life separate. even though things between you two were better, he never bothered explaining it to anyone, sparing himself the headache from their endless questions.
would there even be any point in telling them? neither you nor kiyoomi knew where things would eventually lead. he still wasn’t sure about your reason for staying. did you plan on only staying for the remainder of his career? you could have left him and moved on with your life but you stayed because you probably felt sorry for him. surely you’d get tired of it eventually, right? the thought of you deciding to leave made his stomach sink. not that he would have any right to be upset if you did.
you deserved better, but he hoped you didn’t care anyway.
kiyoomi took longer than usual in the showers, trying to alleviate his nerves. the night wasn’t over for him yet, unfortunately. when he finally emerged from the locker room, he spotted you among the families and friends of the team. but much to his dismay, you were in the midst of a conversation with atsumu, who seemed to be getting a little too familiar with you.
“omi-omi!” atsumu noticed him approaching.
kiyoomi frowned as he came to a stop in front of you both.
“i was introducing myself properly to y/n. we hadn’t officially met yet thanks to someone… i was just saying how i’ve heard so much about them!”
“you haven’t,” kiyoomi’s eyes narrowed at the arm atsumu had draped around your shoulders.
atsumu grinned down at you and pointed to his teammate. “see what i have to deal with, y/n? i can never catch a break.”
"why do i get the feeling that it’s the opposite?” you joked.
something bitter swelled in kiyoomi’s throat as he watched your exchange. not that long ago, he wouldn’t have cared less about who touched you. but now, it felt strange… and wrong.
the setter reared back, feigning hurt at your words. "so that’s how it is, huh? omi, what did you tell them about me?”
“only the truth.” kiyoomi grunted before turning to you. “we have to do some interviews but it shouldn’t take long. will you be alright here?”
“yeah, i’ll be fine.” you smiled up at him. “and great job out there tonight, kiyoomi.”
a blush threatened to crawl up his neck. he would blame it on his exhaustion if you noticed. “thank you.”
now beside him, atsumu let out an exaggerated sigh. “what about me, y/n? those were my amazing sets after all.”
you playfully rolled your eyes. “i guess you were amazing out there too, miya.”
kiyoomi’s jaw ticked. amazing? seriously?
“ah, don’t be so formal! call me atsu—”
“let’s go.” kiyoomi interjected, his tone sharper than necessary.
you waved them off. “i’ll see you in a bit!”
as the two players made their way down the corridor, atsumu noticed kiyoomi’s slightly reddened face. a devilish grin spread across his lips before he nudged his grumpy teammate and turned back to you.
“y/n! make sure you come to lots of games so omi-omi can do his best for you!”
the post-victory high kiyoomi felt slowly drained from his body as he pulled into the parking lot of an extravagant restaurant. after months of excuses, he couldn’t avoid it any longer. that night you both had plans to meet his parents for dinner. unsurprisingly, they had opted not to attend his game earlier.
kiyoomi thought he did a good job of disguising his discomfort, but you quickly sensed his shift in mood. before walking inside, you gently tugged on the sleeve of his coat to bring him to a stop. he looked down at you and was almost taken aback by the concern on your face.
“kiyoomi, are you alright? we can just go home if you’re not up for this tonight.”
in that moment, kiyoomi knew that he never wanted you to leave him. the feelings he had been trying to ignore for months threatened to spill out. he couldn’t put into words how you made him feel. it was almost too much, but he didn’t want to lose it. maybe one day he’d be brave enough to tell you, but how could he after everything? he remembered the divorce papers you had drawn up, tucked away somewhere in the penthouse.
you had seen him at his cruelest, he almost drove you away in tears, and you were about to face the people that had manipulated him into your marriage in the first place. he couldn’t possibly ask any more of you. maybe things would have been different if he had given your marriage a chance, but he couldn’t think about that anymore.
kiyoomi took your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, already feeling a little bit better.
“i’m fine. let’s just get this over with.“
you nodded warily.
he was grateful when you didn’t press him further. he was even more grateful when you didn’t ask why he still hadn’t let go of your hand.
it didn’t take long for kiyoomi to regret not taking you up on your offer to go home. things had begun decent enough, with the conversation flowing easily despite the tension. his father said very little as usual, busy checking business emails on his phone and nursing a glass of scotch. kiyoomi knew he should have seen it coming and cursed himself for thinking the night might end without any problems.
it all started while you were telling them about how well he had played earlier. kiyoomi smiled shyly as you recapped some of his plays, trying not to let his pride swell at your words. for a moment, he was so happy he almost forgot where he was, but his mother made sure to remind him.
"so kiyoomi,” she began, shamelessly interrupting you. “how long will you be doing that for?”
there was an awkward drawn-out silence before he replied, “what do you mean?”
“volleyball.” she said as if it were obvious. “your father and i were discussing it a while ago and we were thinking we should start considering your other options.”
kiyoomi visibly tensed at her words. next to him, you were rendered speechless, the shock on your face clear as day. kiyoomi himself wasn’t surprised in the least, but you had never seen this side of his mother before. until then, she had been almost sickeningly sweet to you. but after what kiyoomi had revealed, you were able to recognize that it had all been an act. to her, you were simply a means to an end.
“volleyball is my future, so i’m not sure what you’re getting at.” kiyoomi ground out, trying his best to keep his tone even.
his mother sighed. “be realistic, boy. you’re almost thirty now and most players retire before thirty-five with nothing else to fall back on. sure, you’ve found a little success but then what? a volleyball salary isn’t going to cut it forever. you should put that degree of yours to use sooner than later and do something meaningful with your life like your siblings.”
her every word felt like a weight on kiyoomi’s chest, squeezing the air from his lungs.
“i’ve let you carry on with this far too long. i thought that getting married would set your priorities straight but i see that it hasn’t,” she gave you a quick, disapproving glance. “i’m not asking you to retire today, but i’ll need you to start meeting with your father twice a week to learn the business and then—”
“and then what?”hespat.“i’ll do as you say, and then you’ll just find some other part of my life to manipulate? until i’m good enough?”
as he stared into his mother’s eyes, kiyoomi saw nothing. her face conveyed neither concern nor guilt. she only stared back at him as if he were nothing but a stranger speaking to her about the weather. it didn’t matter what he did, kiyoomi realized. she would never be proud of him for who he was. she would never see him as her son who worked hard his whole life to achieve his dreams. try as he might, kiyoomi couldn’t allow himself to ignore the reality of the situation any longer. to her, he was still a mistake that needed to be corrected.
“i know you never wanted me. so just do us both a favor and forget that i exist.”
for over an hour, you drove up and down every street surrounding the restaurant searching for kiyoomi before deciding to return to the penthouse. it was your last hope since you had no way of reaching him. in his rush to leave, kiyoomi had left behind his jacket containing his phone and car keys. you were so worried that you even called his cousin, komori, and begged him to tell you if he heard from kiyoomi.
you didn’t mean to cry, but the adrenaline from your outrage had worn off and you didn’t know what to do. you regretted not immediately going after him. instead, back at the restaurant, your feet had been planted in front of the table as you glowered at his mother.
“what is wrong with you? he’s your son!”
unaffected by your words, she raised an eyebrow in amusement.
“darling, don’t overstep.”
you were losing your composure.“you have no right to—”
“oh! i see what this is. have you deluded yourself into thinking he’d love you? you poor thing. the reality is that kiyoomi has always been a selfish little boy. as long as he can play that little game- he’ll use you until he has nothing left to gain from it.”
her words stung but you refused to give her the reaction she wanted.
“you should be more appreciative. i put you where you are, you would do well to remember that, y/n.”
not giving yourself a chance to reconsider, you swiftly lifted a wine glass off the table and threw its contents in her face.
under different circumstances, the way her expression became deadly in a mere second might have chilled you to the bone.
“you’re a pathetic excuse for a mother. i almost feel sorry for you.”
her tirade of insults sounded throughout the restaurant as you made your exit. you didn’t bother to listen, the only thing on your mind was getting to kiyoomi.
when you finally arrived back home, you were relieved to find his oxfords carelessly discarded in the entryway.
“kiyoomi?”
after no response, you began making your way through each room, cursing how needlessly big the penthouse was. when he wasn’t in the kitchen, master bedroom, or even his training room, you started to panic. had he gone back out before you arrived? as you raced back toward the elevator, you noticed a light down the hall. there was only one other room you hadn’t checked.
after clearing the air months ago, you moved into the guest room, feeling slightly awkward about continuing to share a room with kiyoomi. he was hesitant about your decision and insisted that you take the larger room but you refused. if you were being honest, a large part of you didn’t want to stay in that room because it would only remind you of what never was. you needed the distance.
to your surprise, kiyoomi was splayed across your bed on his back, polishing off a bottle of liquor you suspected was from your old stash. he looked a mess. his previously styled hair was in disarray, shirt untucked from his slacks, and his tie almost completely undone around his neck.
you let out a sigh of relief. “thank god you’re okay,”
he said nothing as you made your way inside and sat down. his eyes remained fixated on the ceiling.
“you know, i think we should consider getting a smaller place.” you tried to joke.
kiyoomi looked over at you then, his eyes softening briefly before he turned away again.
“i’m sorry for leaving you at the restaurant,” he said slowly.
“it’s okay. i was really worried about you.”
“i didn’t mean to… what happened was—”
“you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” you stopped him as he struggled with his words.
there was so much you wanted to ask him. why was his mother so cold to him? what did he mean when he said that she didn’t want him? and what would she do now that he didn’t want anything to do with her? did he mean what he said? but it wasn’t the time for any of that. you were just glad he was home.
neither of you said anything for a long time but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable like it used to be. it was almost peaceful. as if both of you understood that proximity was enough. you wondered if it would remain that way for the rest of the night before kiyoomi spoke again.
“my mother… she used to always tell me that i was lucky to even be born. my parents didn’t want any more kids but then i came along. i was nothing like my siblings. i tried to be for a long time. but when i decided that i wanted to pursue volleyball, everything got worse. i told my mother and she slapped me right across the face. it was like i had betrayed them. they were so angry at me and i couldn’t understand why. i loved volleyball instead of what they chose for me. was that so bad? for them to do all this? to hate me?
"i thought that i had finally convinced them that they could be proud of me when i went pro but of course they weren’t.” he chuckled bitterly. “when i got silver at the olympics, it was like that was the last straw for them. they married me off and put me in this penthouse so i could at least keep up the appearance of a responsible and successful son. what a joke.”
horrified at his words, you bit the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from crying. you knew the last thing kiyoomi wanted was for you to feel sorry for him. but you didn’t feel sorry for him, you loved him. you loved him and hated everything he had gone through with his family.
though you tried to get rid of any lingering feelings for him over the past few months, they only returned a little more every day. with each meal you shared and every little moment together, it was easy to forget it all. but you were only there to help him now, nothing more. you knew he didn’t want more and it was painful. some days the reality of your situation hurt so much you wondered if you should have left after all… but you knew that you would have regretted that even more.
noticing your watery eyes, kiyoomi sat up. “hey, what’s wrong?”
“nothing, i’m fine,” you squeezed your eyes shut, accidentally letting a few tears escape. “shit. sorry. i’m just—”
your eyes shot open when you felt two large hands on either side of your face. kiyoomi was looking back at you with glazed, almost pained eyes. “i wish you didn’t have to see that. don’t cry for me or my family. it’s not worth it, y/n.”
“you are though.” you held his gaze even as more tears fell. “we’re in this together remember? i’m glad i was there with you. and i’m glad you can talk to me about it. i don’t want you to have to keep it all in all the time. i care about you… so much.”
kiyoomi’s eyes seemed to intensify and he opened his mouth to speak but closed it just as fast. suddenly, his face was inching closer to yours. you froze. was he going to…?
your panic quickly subsided when kiyoomi’s hands fell from your face and his body slumped against yours, his face landing right against your chest.
“k-kiyoomi?” you spluttered, quickly gripping his shoulders to keep him from completely falling onto you.
he groaned but still didn’t move. “fuck, my head…sorry…i’m slightly more inebriated than i thought.”
you exhaled slowly, unsure if you were more relieved or disappointed. but you were glad you hadn’t said too much at least. when kiyoomi started feeling heavier, you carefully slid off the bed and helped him lay down properly.
“alright stay here, drunky, i’ll be right back. and don’t fall asleep.”
you returned from the kitchen a moment later and made him drink an entire bottle of water. “lay on your side in case you puke later.”
“i never puke, that’s gross.” he giggled. the liquor had clearly caught up with him by then. you briefly wished you were devious enough to record him in his current state.
kiyoomi was softly snoring almost immediately after his head met your pillows. you couldn’t help but smile down at him and before you could stop yourself, your hand made its way to his face, softly wiping at the dried tear stains on his cheek. he had been crying before you found him.
“it’ll all be okay, kiyoomi. i promise.” your fingers were in his hair now, gently carding through his curls.
“…imnahgonna…”you froze when he began to stir, but he remained asleep, even letting out a content sigh when you resumed.
after twenty minutes, you were sure he was out for the night and wouldn’t need any more help. carefully, you draped a blanket over him and got up to exit the room.
as you opened the door, kiyoomi began mumbling again but his words came out clearer.
“…i know i’m not good enough…” he slurred. “…but i don’t want them to leave me…”
confused at his words, you paused. you wondered if he was referring to his parents.
“who?”
“y….y/n…”
he was talking about you? leaving?
“kiyoomi, i don’t understand,” you said softly. “do you need more wat-”
“…i know it’s too late…
but i love them…”
A/N: uhh this wasn’t supposed to be over 3k words and i have no self-control i’m sorry (;﹏;) but i didn’t take two months to finish a part this time!! i really struggled with this part though because i wanted to include how y/n and kiyoomi adapted to their new arrangement, kiyoomi’s complicated feelings for y/n, introduce his parents, and set them up for the ending without rushing everything. i already have a bonus chapter in my drafts and part four isn’t even started yet yikes…
part one|part two | wc: 3.6k | gn reader | arranged marriage au | fluff & angst | warnings:physical/emotional abuse from parents, manipulation, intoxication.
it was almost startling how much things had changed since that confrontation three months ago. you truly meant it when you said it would be a fresh start and kiyoomi was grateful. he did his best, albeit awkwardly, to make amends for how he treated you in the past.
‘platonic marriage’ or rather, being friends with you wasn’t difficult at all, it came almost as effortlessly to him as playing volleyball. though it quickly became clear that he knew almost nothing about you, once you told him something he made sure to never forget it.
it wasn’t enough for you to not hate him, kiyoomi wanted you to like him for who he was. he had always wondered what that felt like.
kiyoomi wasn’t sure when exactly he started considering the penthouse to be home. he used to think of it as a prison, yet before he knew it, he found himself looking forward to returning to whatever you were making for dinner and the questionable music you were blasting on the speakers. he’d tell you all about his day and you did the same. he didn’t rush off to practice first thing in the morning anymore. instead, kiyoomi made breakfast for you both.
you’d tell him his green smoothies were disgusting and he’d tell you to stop drinking coffee, but he still made sure that a cup was ready for you— exactly how you like it— before he went for a run. there were many moments like that, where kiyoomi caught himself forgetting all about your circumstances. it was nice. being with you was nice, he thought.
and he wasn’t sure what came over him three weeks ago when he’d called your mother and asked her to send your belongings from your old apartment to the penthouse. your mother had been pleasantly surprised and agreed happily, even keeping him on the phone for another 45 minutes to chat. he didn’t even speak to his own parents for that long, not about anything good. he thought that was nice too.
“what’s all this?” you stared down at the boxes when they arrived.
kiyoomi rubbed the back of his neck. “well, i asked your mom to send the stuff from your old place.”
you blinked at him, clearly surprised.
“kiyoomi… i- that’s so nice of you. thank you,” you murmured.
“you live here too so… ugh it’s really not a big deal. just don’t make a mess when you put it all away, y/n.”
he had been so flustered that he walked away, completely missing the fond look on your face. why had he been embarrassed after simply doing a friendly gesture? it was the fair thing to do after all. it wasn’t like he wondered what it would be like to be surrounded by your things. or what they would look like next to his own.
“was that y/n in the stands?” atsumu, his teammate, jogged up beside him on their way to the locker room. “didn’t think i’d ever see them again.”
“i’m surprised you had time to look in the stands at all with how much you were running your mouth at our opponents,” kiyoomi replied.
“well actually~ i only noticed because i saw how you kept looking at them all night.”
kiyoomi let out a disinterested hum, ending the conversation before atsumu could pry any further. despite the teams overwhelming victory that night, kiyoomi had been on edge. just knowing that you were there had him feeling nervous on the court for the first time in years. he thought he had been more subtle about it.
kiyoomi had never been one to talk about his private affairs. all the team knew was that he had gotten married and he refused to say any more about it. they had all seen you only once before over a year ago when you attended a game with his siblings but kiyoomi didn’t introduce you. the team hadn’t even been invited to the wedding. back then, the whole arrangement only made kiyoomi resentful and he refused to talk about you, desperately wanting to keep his volleyball life separate. even though things between you two were better, he never bothered explaining it to anyone, sparing himself the headache from their endless questions.
would there even be any point in telling them? neither you nor kiyoomi knew where things would eventually lead. he still wasn’t sure about your reason for staying. did you plan on only staying for the remainder of his career? you could have left him and moved on with your life but you stayed because you probably felt sorry for him. surely you’d get tired of it eventually, right? the thought of you deciding to leave made his stomach sink. not that he would have any right to be upset if you did.
you deserved better, but he hoped you didn’t care anyway.
kiyoomi took longer than usual in the showers, trying to alleviate his nerves. the night wasn’t over for him yet, unfortunately. when he finally emerged from the locker room, he spotted you among the families and friends of the team. but much to his dismay, you were in the midst of a conversation with atsumu, who seemed to be getting a little too familiar with you.
“omi-omi!” atsumu noticed him approaching.
kiyoomi frowned as he came to a stop in front of you both.
“i was introducing myself properly to y/n. we hadn’t officially met yet thanks to someone… i was just saying how i’ve heard so much about them!”
“you haven’t,” kiyoomi’s eyes narrowed at the arm atsumu had draped around your shoulders.
atsumu grinned down at you and pointed to his teammate. “see what i have to deal with, y/n? i can never catch a break.”
"why do i get the feeling that it’s the opposite?” you joked.
something bitter swelled in kiyoomi’s throat as he watched your exchange. not that long ago, he wouldn’t have cared less about who touched you. but now, it felt strange… and wrong.
the setter reared back, feigning hurt at your words. "so that’s how it is, huh? omi, what did you tell them about me?”
“only the truth.” kiyoomi grunted before turning to you. “we have to do some interviews but it shouldn’t take long. will you be alright here?”
“yeah, i’ll be fine.” you smiled up at him. “and great job out there tonight, kiyoomi.”
a blush threatened to crawl up his neck. he would blame it on his exhaustion if you noticed. “thank you.”
now beside him, atsumu let out an exaggerated sigh. “what about me, y/n? those were my amazing sets after all.”
you playfully rolled your eyes. “i guess you were amazing out there too, miya.”
kiyoomi’s jaw ticked. amazing? seriously?
“ah, don’t be so formal! call me atsu—”
“let’s go.” kiyoomi interjected, his tone sharper than necessary.
you waved them off. “i’ll see you in a bit!”
as the two players made their way down the corridor, atsumu noticed kiyoomi’s slightly reddened face. a devilish grin spread across his lips before he nudged his grumpy teammate and turned back to you.
“y/n! make sure you come to lots of games so omi-omi can do his best for you!”
the post-victory high kiyoomi felt slowly drained from his body as he pulled into the parking lot of an extravagant restaurant. after months of excuses, he couldn’t avoid it any longer. that night you both had plans to meet his parents for dinner. unsurprisingly, they had opted not to attend his game earlier.
kiyoomi thought he did a good job of disguising his discomfort, but you quickly sensed his shift in mood. before walking inside, you gently tugged on the sleeve of his coat to bring him to a stop. he looked down at you and was almost taken aback by the concern on your face.
“kiyoomi, are you alright? we can just go home if you’re not up for this tonight.”
in that moment, kiyoomi knew that he never wanted you to leave him. the feelings he had been trying to ignore for months threatened to spill out. he couldn’t put into words how you made him feel. it was almost too much, but he didn’t want to lose it. maybe one day he’d be brave enough to tell you, but how could he after everything? he remembered the divorce papers you had drawn up, tucked away somewhere in the penthouse.
you had seen him at his cruelest, he almost drove you away in tears, and you were about to face the people that had manipulated him into your marriage in the first place. he couldn’t possibly ask any more of you. maybe things would have been different if he had given your marriage a chance, but he couldn’t think about that anymore.
kiyoomi took your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, already feeling a little bit better.
“i’m fine. let’s just get this over with.“
you nodded warily.
he was grateful when you didn’t press him further. he was even more grateful when you didn’t ask why he still hadn’t let go of your hand.
it didn’t take long for kiyoomi to regret not taking you up on your offer to go home. things had begun decent enough, with the conversation flowing easily despite the tension. his father said very little as usual, busy checking business emails on his phone and nursing a glass of scotch. kiyoomi knew he should have seen it coming and cursed himself for thinking the night might end without any problems.
it all started while you were telling them about how well he had played earlier. kiyoomi smiled shyly as you recapped some of his plays, trying not to let his pride swell at your words. for a moment, he was so happy he almost forgot where he was, but his mother made sure to remind him.
"so kiyoomi,” she began, shamelessly interrupting you. “how long will you be doing that for?”
there was an awkward drawn-out silence before he replied, “what do you mean?”
“volleyball.” she said as if it were obvious. “your father and i were discussing it a while ago and we were thinking we should start considering your other options.”
kiyoomi visibly tensed at her words. next to him, you were rendered speechless, the shock on your face clear as day. kiyoomi himself wasn’t surprised in the least, but you had never seen this side of his mother before. until then, she had been almost sickeningly sweet to you. but after what kiyoomi had revealed, you were able to recognize that it had all been an act. to her, you were simply a means to an end.
“volleyball is my future, so i’m not sure what you’re getting at.” kiyoomi ground out, trying his best to keep his tone even.
his mother sighed. “be realistic, boy. you’re almost thirty now and most players retire before thirty-five with nothing else to fall back on. sure, you’ve found a little success but then what? a volleyball salary isn’t going to cut it forever. you should put that degree of yours to use sooner than later and do something meaningful with your life like your siblings.”
her every word felt like a weight on kiyoomi’s chest, squeezing the air from his lungs.
“i’ve let you carry on with this far too long. i thought that getting married would set your priorities straight but i see that it hasn’t,” she gave you a quick, disapproving glance. “i’m not asking you to retire today, but i’ll need you to start meeting with your father twice a week to learn the business and then—”
“and then what?”hespat.“i’ll do as you say, and then you’ll just find some other part of my life to manipulate? until i’m good enough?”
as he stared into his mother’s eyes, kiyoomi saw nothing. her face conveyed neither concern nor guilt. she only stared back at him as if he were nothing but a stranger speaking to her about the weather. it didn’t matter what he did, kiyoomi realized. she would never be proud of him for who he was. she would never see him as her son who worked hard his whole life to achieve his dreams. try as he might, kiyoomi couldn’t allow himself to ignore the reality of the situation any longer. to her, he was still a mistake that needed to be corrected.
“i know you never wanted me. so just do us both a favor and forget that i exist.”
for over an hour, you drove up and down every street surrounding the restaurant searching for kiyoomi before deciding to return to the penthouse. it was your last hope since you had no way of reaching him. in his rush to leave, kiyoomi had left behind his jacket containing his phone and car keys. you were so worried that you even called his cousin, komori, and begged him to tell you if he heard from kiyoomi.
you didn’t mean to cry, but the adrenaline from your outrage had worn off and you didn’t know what to do. you regretted not immediately going after him. instead, back at the restaurant, your feet had been planted in front of the table as you glowered at his mother.
“what is wrong with you? he’s your son!”
unaffected by your words, she raised an eyebrow in amusement.
“darling, don’t overstep.”
you were losing your composure.“you have no right to—”
“oh! i see what this is. have you deluded yourself into thinking he’d love you? you poor thing. the reality is that kiyoomi has always been a selfish little boy. as long as he can play that little game- he’ll use you until he has nothing left to gain from it.”
her words stung but you refused to give her the reaction she wanted.
“you should be more appreciative. i put you where you are, you would do well to remember that, y/n.”
not giving yourself a chance to reconsider, you swiftly lifted a wine glass off the table and threw its contents in her face.
under different circumstances, the way her expression became deadly in a mere second might have chilled you to the bone.
“you’re a pathetic excuse for a mother. i almost feel sorry for you.”
her tirade of insults sounded throughout the restaurant as you made your exit. you didn’t bother to listen, the only thing on your mind was getting to kiyoomi.
when you finally arrived back home, you were relieved to find his oxfords carelessly discarded in the entryway.
“kiyoomi?”
after no response, you began making your way through each room, cursing how needlessly big the penthouse was. when he wasn’t in the kitchen, master bedroom, or even his training room, you started to panic. had he gone back out before you arrived? as you raced back toward the elevator, you noticed a light down the hall. there was only one other room you hadn’t checked.
after clearing the air months ago, you moved into the guest room, feeling slightly awkward about continuing to share a room with kiyoomi. he was hesitant about your decision and insisted that you take the larger room but you refused. if you were being honest, a large part of you didn’t want to stay in that room because it would only remind you of what never was. you needed the distance.
to your surprise, kiyoomi was splayed across your bed on his back, polishing off a bottle of liquor you suspected was from your old stash. he looked a mess. his previously styled hair was in disarray, shirt untucked from his slacks, and his tie almost completely undone around his neck.
you let out a sigh of relief. “thank god you’re okay,”
he said nothing as you made your way inside and sat down. his eyes remained fixated on the ceiling.
“you know, i think we should consider getting a smaller place.” you tried to joke.
kiyoomi looked over at you then, his eyes softening briefly before he turned away again.
“i’m sorry for leaving you at the restaurant,” he said slowly.
“it’s okay. i was really worried about you.”
“i didn’t mean to… what happened was—”
“you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” you stopped him as he struggled with his words.
there was so much you wanted to ask him. why was his mother so cold to him? what did he mean when he said that she didn’t want him? and what would she do now that he didn’t want anything to do with her? did he mean what he said? but it wasn’t the time for any of that. you were just glad he was home.
neither of you said anything for a long time but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable like it used to be. it was almost peaceful. as if both of you understood that proximity was enough. you wondered if it would remain that way for the rest of the night before kiyoomi spoke again.
“my mother… she used to always tell me that i was lucky to even be born. my parents didn’t want any more kids but then i came along. i was nothing like my siblings. i tried to be for a long time. but when i decided that i wanted to pursue volleyball, everything got worse. i told my mother and she slapped me right across the face. it was like i had betrayed them. they were so angry at me and i couldn’t understand why. i loved volleyball instead of what they chose for me. was that so bad? for them to do all this? to hate me?
"i thought that i had finally convinced them that they could be proud of me when i went pro but of course they weren’t.” he chuckled bitterly. “when i got silver at the olympics, it was like that was the last straw for them. they married me off and put me in this penthouse so i could at least keep up the appearance of a responsible and successful son. what a joke.”
horrified at his words, you bit the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from crying. you knew the last thing kiyoomi wanted was for you to feel sorry for him. but you didn’t feel sorry for him, you loved him. you loved him and hated everything he had gone through with his family.
though you tried to get rid of any lingering feelings for him over the past few months, they only returned a little more every day. with each meal you shared and every little moment together, it was easy to forget it all. but you were only there to help him now, nothing more. you knew he didn’t want more and it was painful. some days the reality of your situation hurt so much you wondered if you should have left after all… but you knew that you would have regretted that even more.
noticing your watery eyes, kiyoomi sat up. “hey, what’s wrong?”
“nothing, i’m fine,” you squeezed your eyes shut, accidentally letting a few tears escape. “shit. sorry. i’m just—”
your eyes shot open when you felt two large hands on either side of your face. kiyoomi was looking back at you with glazed, almost pained eyes. “i wish you didn’t have to see that. don’t cry for me or my family. it’s not worth it, y/n.”
“you are though.” you held his gaze even as more tears fell. “we’re in this together remember? i’m glad i was there with you. and i’m glad you can talk to me about it. i don’t want you to have to keep it all in all the time. i care about you… so much.”
kiyoomi’s eyes seemed to intensify and he opened his mouth to speak but closed it just as fast. suddenly, his face was inching closer to yours. you froze. was he going to…?
your panic quickly subsided when kiyoomi’s hands fell from your face and his body slumped against yours, his face landing right against your chest.
“k-kiyoomi?” you spluttered, quickly gripping his shoulders to keep him from completely falling onto you.
he groaned but still didn’t move. “fuck, my head…sorry…i’m slightly more inebriated than i thought.”
you exhaled slowly, unsure if you were more relieved or disappointed. but you were glad you hadn’t said too much at least. when kiyoomi started feeling heavier, you carefully slid off the bed and helped him lay down properly.
“alright stay here, drunky, i’ll be right back. and don’t fall asleep.”
you returned from the kitchen a moment later and made him drink an entire bottle of water. “lay on your side in case you puke later.”
“i never puke, that’s gross.” he giggled. the liquor had clearly caught up with him by then. you briefly wished you were devious enough to record him in his current state.
kiyoomi was softly snoring almost immediately after his head met your pillows. you couldn’t help but smile down at him and before you could stop yourself, your hand made its way to his face, softly wiping at the dried tear stains on his cheek. he had been crying before you found him.
“it’ll all be okay, kiyoomi. i promise.” your fingers were in his hair now, gently carding through his curls.
“…imnahgonna…”you froze when he began to stir, but he remained asleep, even letting out a content sigh when you resumed.
after twenty minutes, you were sure he was out for the night and wouldn’t need any more help. carefully, you draped a blanket over him and got up to exit the room.
as you opened the door, kiyoomi began mumbling again but his words came out clearer.
“…i know i’m not good enough…” he slurred. “…but i don’t want them to leave me…”
confused at his words, you paused. you wondered if he was referring to his parents.
“who?”
“y….y/n…”
he was talking about you? leaving?
“kiyoomi, i don’t understand,” you said softly. “do you need more wat-”
“…i know it’s too late…
but i love them…”
A/N: uhh this wasn’t supposed to be over 3k words and i have no self-control i’m sorry (;﹏;) but i didn’t take two months to finish a part this time!! i really struggled with this part though because i wanted to include how y/n and kiyoomi adapted to their new arrangement, kiyoomi’s complicated feelings for y/n, introduce his parents, and set them up for the ending without rushing everything. i already have a bonus chapter in my drafts and part four isn’t even started yet yikes…
Your transfer into Karasuno High School comes a week and a half late.
It comes to no surprise to you—your surname change and school transfer took a good three weeks to occur. Fast, apparently. You had, after all, been informed of the possibility that it would take longer to process through. And you knew that if that was the case, you would refuse to attend school at all… Only travelling back and forth after hours to collect any homework and textbooks required.
For some reason, the Vice Principal had permitted you to do so for the week you were absent.
(You think it’s because he’s a closeted fan of your aunt’s—the person who had been taking you to and from school during your week of absence. You’ve seen the lingering gazes and maybe the magazine stuffed haphazardly under a pile of paperwork and books on his table in his office. You hope he doesn’t attempt to garner any favours for you by allowing you to do this.)
So the first time you turn up to class—you don’t show your face at all. You don’t particularly consider yourself a goody-two-shoes, but you’re dressed elegantly for class, clothes ironed out and crisp against your skin. Your hair is neat, and you turn up 20 minutes early to class. Your seat, labelled, is in the third row of the classroom and by the window facing the courtyard. It’s clichéd, but it works for you because the view beyond the window isn’t spectacular, but it’s incredible all the same.
(It’s easier to imagine everyone as ants—insignificant, until they bite. The view from the window only helps to prove your point.)
Academically, your grades are only slightly above average—excelling in only two classes aside from Phys. Ed, as expected from a volleyball nerd.
One by one, your classmates trickle in, finding their seats and preparing for the day. You’re glad they don’t notice you. Or maybe they do, but they’re refusing to approach you, given that you’re wearing a Calvin Klein cap and a black Adidas mask—Not your choice of clothing, but you unfortunately had nothing else less illustrious. You had only been in Miyagi for less than three weeks after all.
(You had purposely selected something less pricey to wear—You clearly had other expensive clothing from more expensive brands, given the black Balenciaga sneakers you had worn on the way to school. Not that anyone needed to know, of course.)
You dreaded the lone self-introduction that came with new beginnings. Words didn’t come easy to you—it never had. And it was even more difficult now that you were forced to hide your identity. Nevertheless, when the bell toils to indicate the beginning of class and your name is called to the front, you immediately remove your cap and set it down on your table, rising to introduce yourself. The stares of your class are unnerving, and you take several moments to ground yourself before speaking up in your usual, quiet voice.
“Satō (Y/N). 15. From Osaka.”
And you promptly sit back down, not willing to interact with any of your classmates. You hope your somewhat cold attitude brings a sense of “please don’t talk to me” to your peers. Your time in high school would pass by much quicker if they did so. But it’s unfortunate that not everything goes your way. In fact, it’s safe to say that barely anything does, and you wonder how long you’re able to keep up the facade you’ve put up: You’re wearing contacts. Purple ones that make you stand out amongst your classmates. Your face mask. Your unwillingness to speak.
It’s really only a matter of time before they find out who you are.
So when lunch rolls around after a handful of classes, you’re not surprised to suddenly find yourself surrounded by your classmates. They’re loud, and your introverted self can’t handle them, slowly shrinking into yourself as they continue to bombard you with questions.
There are some you’re willing to answer, and there are some that you can’t.
“You’re from Osaka, right? Why don’t you have the accent?”
“Why the contacts, and why purple?”
You don’t mind the questions, but—Your breaking point is when one of the boys attempts to tear your mask off. And the change is instant. You immediately slap his hand away and rise abruptly, taking your packed bentō with you to somewhere much more quiet.
The rooftop.
Technically, you’re not supposed to be there—the door was locked, after all. But you’re more than experienced in picking locks: you used to do it all the time to enter your middle school’s gym early in the morning, until the supervising teacher was fed up with you and gave you your personal key.
(You still have that key—It’s a good luck charm of sorts now.)
The gentle Spring breeze of mid-April brushes through your hair, carrying the sounds and scents of your classmates and fellow school students as it brushes past. You take a seat on the edge of the building, legs swinging over the side despite the existing railing. You’re well aware that you’re bound for trouble, but the thought flies directly over your mind as you uncover your bentō and relish in the ‘silence’. The little plastic lunchbox carries your favourite dish, spread neatly over rice and you unhook your face mask.
You devour the meal at a leisurely pace, savouring the taste with a slight hum and watching a certain pair pass a volleyball to one another in a set-receive motion.
……Which reminded you that you were supposed to go to Shiratorizawa—the school your parents had a share in finances in…
…And a building, you sigh to yourself. One of the five gyms on campus, named after my family from their sponsorship.
And naturally, you refused, knowing that your fame would never dissipate if you ever went there. After all, Shiratorizawa was a prestigious school known for both it’s sports and academics. You had no interest in prestige—which is the sole reason why you had selected Karasuno over even Aoba Josei.
(Totally not because of some guy named Oikawa Tooru. Nope. You refused to even become acquainted with him. You’ve heard the rumours and you flat out refuse.)
Sighing, you take a sip of your water bottle and close the lid of your bentō. And—
—The rooftop door swings open with a bang.
“What are you doing here?!”
It’s the vice principal and you baulk, face paling slightly. But all you do is rise to your feet and bow. The vice principal stares back and pales slightly, not expecting you to immediately wordlessly request for forgiveness. And he panics.
(It’s admittedly amusing.)
“Alright, alright! I get it. I won’t punish you for sneaking up here.”—was he trying to gain favour from you?—“Instead, I will say that you must sign up for a club by the end of tomorrow. Submissions end this week for the beginning of year applications, but I can make a special exception for you.”
Club activities at Karasuno were compulsory for half a year, at least. But applications received at the beginning of the year tended to indicate some kind of semi-permanent position. Permanent, unless something serious occurred.
Like the events that led to your downfall in your final year.
The vice-principal gives you no other options. You sigh dejectedly, despite knowing your ability to seek trouble accidentally, and shut your bento. You follow the vice principal down the narrow stairwell and into his office, receiving the application paper and the booklet with the list of available clubs.
Instinctively, you seek for the volleyball clubs.
The vice president, well aware of your identity, grins slyly and taps the space between the two volleyball teams.
“The girls team is seeking for more members, and the boys team is looking for another manager to take over from their third-year when the year is over.”
You deadpan and shut him down immediately, leaving the room.
“I’ve given up on volleyball.”
He visibly deflates at the tone of your voice, wig almost slipping from his head.
(Silently, you wonder how it stays on his head in the first place.)
In the end, you wander outside during the free study line you’re given and into the crowd of clubs seeking their final applicants. Accidental, of course, but you’re caught up in the crowd anyway. And after several moments of being jostled and shoved around, you end up in front of the school gym—a place you had yet to explore. But you pause for several minutes, listening to the sounds arising from the gym in curiousity. And it barely takes you 30 seconds before you sigh once again.
(Fate was cruel to you, wasn’t it? Because the thumping sounds you could hear from outside the gym didn’t belong to the basketball club. They belonged to the volleyball club—the boys one, because you could hear the deeper voices call “alright!” from within.)
You do, however, linger at the entrance, mostly because you have no idea of the direction back to your classroom or the library—another place you have yet to explore—and partially out of curiosity. And as it goes, you get caught by a grey-haired upperclassman who approaches you with ease.
“Are you…. maybe looking for the girl’s volleyball club?” he questions you with an air of friendliness, unlike those you had experienced in your classroom, and a smile, “Sorry, but you’ve just missed their captain.”
You shake your head gently, nervous beneath the mask.
(Nervous, because you hadn’t expected him to appear from behind you. Nervous, because he was holding a pair of red and white volleyball shoes. Nervous, because he was obviously a member of the boys volleyball team.)
“I, um,”—was caught up by the crowd of people looking for members to their clubs, swallowed up by them, spat back out and—“got lost.”
“I see.” The pretty male chuckles politely, taking note of your dishevelled appearance and taking a polite assumption of your situation, “They do become quite ravenous when it comes to the last few days. I’m glad you got out of there safely.”
He’s kind, you notice, and you relax slightly. You also notice he’s about to say something else, when—
—“Suga! You’re finally here!”
The voice comes from the barred window just behind the silver-haired senpai and he jolts with a loud “Geh!”, face paling in shock. The corner of your lips curl upwards ever so slightly. It’s somewhat nostalgic, you suppose, that excitement that comes with playing the sport you love.
Mr. Kind steps to the side and turns to Mr. Head-in-Window.
“Daichi! Don’t scare me like that!”
But ‘Daichi’ no longer pays attention to ‘Suga’. Instead, his intense expression is directed to you—the you who’s slowly yet subtly withering beneath his intense gaze. Naturally, Daichi notices and relaxes, lowering himself from the window quickly. He disappears for several moments, before the door to your left swings open to reveal the said senpai.‘Daichi’ greets you, an expression now equally as kind as ‘Suga’ who was still recovering from his shock. You pat the grey-haired senpai on the back, silently amused. ‘Suga’ tenses from your touch, however, but says nothing and turns to watch your interaction with the captain.
“Can we help you?”
You tilt your head slightly, violet eyes glinting in the shadow of the alleyway. “Sorry. I got lost.”
Suga chuckles at your blunt statement and decides to elaborate in your place. “She got caught up in the crowd of people recruiting for clubs and found her way here.”
Like Suga, Daichi laughs. “I should’ve known,” he teases, “your hair is quite a mess—“
You panic. Scrambling to fix your hair using the glass screen of your phone. And it takes you several moments before you freeze and flush in embarrassment, realising you don’t even know their names properly and they’re already teasing you. And even then you can think of nothing more to do than to deadpan at his words, running your fingers through your hair to calm it down.
But Suga just stares at you. Your violet contact lenses and face mask intrigue him. It wasn’t everyday that someone adamantly went out of their way to break the school rules, and violet wasn’t a common colour for contact lenses anyway—the main reason why it intrigued him in the first place. But the grey-haired male seemed to understand that if he were to question your reasons for wearing them, that it would result in you promptly leaving.
And something told him you didn’t want to leave.
The two third-years had heard of the rumours, of course. Rumours that had spread rather rapidly within the two hours between the time you had left your classroom indignantly and now. They were rumours that spoke of a rich girl. Haughty and rude.
But watching you adorably and frantically fix your hair in the screen of your phone made them think otherwise.
(It was painfully obvious that the rumours were about you. After all, there was only one person in the school now who would constantly be wearing a face mask, had violet eyes, and wore a pair of black Balenciagas outside of the school building. And the rumours weren’t kind either. Suga hopes the rumours don’t bother you at all.)
Suga glances at Daichi, catching his eye. The taller of the two nods, and turns to talk to you once more. He smiles warmly.
“Would you like to come inside? We’re just having ordinary practice, and those guys,” he points over your shoulder at the cord behind you, “won’t be done for another two hours at least.”
There is no judgement in his voice. You know of the rumours and they downright terrify you. But you can’t help but maintain that hope that it wouldn’t move past just that. Rumours.
Your hesitation is obvious but you nod anyway, knowing that you were taking up their precious practice time.
(You knew there was another way to get into the school without passing through that crowd, but you can’t help but be curious anyway.)
Suga senses your hesitance and he, too, smiles at you brightly. “You won’t be imposing or anything if you sit on the sidelines and spectate, you know? The only thing you might have to watch out for is flying balls.”
Your hesitation ceases. You nod once again and follow them inside.
“So….” you begin nervously, “S-Suga-san and Daichi-san, was it? You’re both third-years.”
Daichi flushes bright red and Suga just laughs at his expense, completely unfazed by the fact you’ve just called him by an affectionate nickname of his. He slaps Daichi heartily on his back. You, however, begin to wonder if you’ve done something wrong, given the bright flush on his cheeks. And as you open your mouth to ask, Suga beats you to it.
“That’s right,” he grins brightly, “I’m Sugawara Koushi, a third-year setter for this volleyball team. You can call me Suga though. And this is Sawamura Daichi, our captain.”
Your face, or at least what was visible of it, flushes equally as red as the third-year captain almost immediately. Flustered, you promptly bow at 90-degrees, stuttering out apologies at the fastest possible pace you could manage.
“I’m so sorry Sawamura-senpai—“
The male in question holds out his hands and waves it around frantically.
“There’s no need to apologise—“ he begins, only to be cut off by another voice. The voice is gravelly, teasing and very much rough. In a yankee-street gang-yakuza style. You don’t particularly hate it though—it’s a change from the two kind ones that you had spoken with.
—“Oya?” The voice begins, the sound nearing with every millisecond, “What’s this? Daichi has made a kouhai apologise to him?”
You rise and promptly point your gaze at the newcomer. Yankee, indeed…. Or perhaps not, but his appearance certainly gave the impression of one. With a buzzcut and an aggressive-yet-teasing look on his face. And that saunter too. But the expression of curiosity and the saunter disappears a split second later however, when the male in question realises that you’re of the opposite gender to him. And he comes practically crying to Suga, pulling him away so you can’t hear him.
…. Except that you can, because he’s not exactly the quietest of people, so you can hear every word he’s saying.
“Agirl?” he whisper-yells to Suga, “I didn’t know you were bringing one today?!”
And of course, Suga whisper-yells back, slapping the yankee-esque male on the back of the head. “You idiot, Tanaka! Of course not! She got lost and I found her at the door!”
Daichi, also watching them intensely, sighs and apologises for their idiocy. You don’t mind it though–it’s amusing to watch. But Daichi glares at them once again and yells at them to return to practice.
(Your lips are curled up again in response to their terrified reactions. Though you do have to admit that the banter is a heavy reminder of the male volleyball team you were good friends with, back in middle school.)
“Tanaka…-san, was it? He’s very wild.”
Daichi hears you of course, and agrees, though he does mention back that the male in question is a good guy. You can’t help but agree with him too, because he was polite enough to apologise after. Because he was polite enough to pull Suga away before talking to him… Even if you can hear him.
You take a seat at the edge of the stage watching the boys play in a three-vs-three game. It’s an effective form of practice, you think, as the other second-year students greet you. They’re bench players, but they’re not too bothered by that.
Somehow, you notice, they’re almost relieved. Nevertheless, you greet them in return, introducing yourself politely.
(You realise that Tanaka and the two third-years don’t know your name yet, but you’ll just have to remember to introduce yourself later.)
You’re somewhat hyper-focused on the game in front of you, watching the ball and the player’s movements with interest. Of the six players on court, two are first years—both in your class. You don’t exactly remember their names, but what you do remember is that neither of them had approached you during the lunch break earlier. The only one you vaguely recognise is the one with glasses—because he’s incredibly tall, and because he was the first to arrive in class after you did. The green-haired male, however, is almost equally as tall as his friend. But his timid appearance and freckles leaves very little presence in a social situation.
(You learn, not long after, that their names are Tsukishima Kei and Yamaguchi Tadashi respectively, both middle blockers whilst in middle school.)
Mid-game, the gym doors open once more to reveal a pretty, third-year female, obviously the manager of the team. And once more does Tanaka swoon. You chuckle quietly at the disruption of the game, and she hears you, greeting you with a wave
“The vice principal was looking for you, I think,” she mentions after approaching you. And you sigh quietly.
“Did you get in trouble on the first day already?” Suga asks you quietly and you sigh again, feeling exhausted.
“Yes and no.”
(Yes, because you did get in trouble for sneaking out onto the rooftop without permission, but no, because you weren’t being punished. Well, not exactly anyway.)
“Come to think of it,” the blue-haired senpai wonders aloud, “didn’t he ask for you to join a club by the end of tomorrow?”
“Geh.”
You slump on the spot. Too immersed in the earlier game, you had completely forgotten about the not-punishment the vice principal had given you. A troublesome assignment, considering you didn’t exactly like talking. Particularly in front of those you weren’t comfortable with, or if you were forced to begin the conversation first. Your reaction doesn’t deter Tanaka though. His eyes sparkle and your mind instinctively thinks ‘oh no’ and before you can even react properly, he grabs your hands and pleads with you.
“Please be our second manager!”
You pull away almost immediately, dusting your hands against your skirt. “Sorry. I refuse.”
(You’re breaking Tanaka, of course, with your denial. But you’re fleeing from everything volleyball related so your response was only a given.)
And then Tsukishima speaks up, after watching and analysing you for minutes straight.
“Why not?” he teases, “You were watching the game quite intensely only moments ago.”
You realise he’s quite like you in this way. Observant and blunt. Though he’s obviously not quiet and awkward, unlike you. And he’s tall,the perfect height for volleyball… Or at least, that’s what your middle school’s boy’s volleyball coach used to say. Granted, you were at average height for your age—perhaps 159 centimetres tall—and your coach still complained. That still didn’t deter you from becoming the best all rounder in the country though. Not to mention that your team also came second in the middle school regional competition after an incredibly close loss to the Nagano Prefecture middle school.
(The fact that you had even gotten that far was a shock to you. Your team wasn’t exactly the most close knit of them, nor were they particularly skilled. You just like to think that every other school in the prefecture that year sucked because they didn’t take the sport seriously…. Or perhaps your expectations were too high? Who knows.)
Beside you, Suga hums, deep in thought. “Why not though? By this time of the school term, most good positions in the clubs are gone already.”
Your skin visibly pales at the sound of your senpai’s words. This was certainlynot going to your plans. It was also unfortunate that you didn’t have any other plans, and joining the girls volleyball team was not an option at all.
So with great hesitance and much to your displeasure, you’re forced to agree.
A/N: I told myself I would post this once I reached 10 chapters. Apparently, I have no self control. No Haikyuu Characters yet, but this is just a prologue…
TW: Mentions of the word sex/Angry sex, but nothing explicit. Also the MC is sad/lonely.
(Please do let me know if you want to be tagged in this series!)
It’s always the darkest nights that plague the thoughts of the unwilling. Fleeting impurities, flickering against unsuspecting souls and incinerating those who come too close. There are those who flee, out of fear; out of danger, but there are those who linger and remain, out of fear, out of curiosity and out of hope.
You are one of the few who remain. Not in the literal sense, but emotionally; it’s still the same. The decision’s admittedly painful, but as for regrets? You would have none.
You’re moving from Osaka to Miyagi—alone—at the age of 15.
Your parents don’t approve of your decision. Neither does your older sister, the family’s resident bijin, or your clingy younger brother.
Butbecause volleyball is your life, you don’t spiritually leave. Your soul is tied—tangled—in red around the patterned ball and the sport’s all that you know.
And for you, that second tangle of ball and string resides in Osaka.
(Don’t worry about the first—You moved from Hyogo to Osaka at the age of eight. Your initial tangle resides there.)
Granted, the only person you regret leaving behind is your younger brother. Little Yuki-e doesn’t deserve his parent’s mistreatment. You feel very little for your elder sister, whose bijin-ness often led to her picking on you to make her appear more likeable.
(Pathetic, really.)
It took months of pleading. Months of pleading and pledges and near-perfect behaviour to convince your parents to allow you to move to Miyagi with your Aunt Rin, who regrettably lived alone following the death of her husband two years prior. Of all members of your admittedly small family, she was the kindest.
(You vaguely remember the times of your childhood when you got along with your sister. A time before your four-year-old brother was born. A time when your parents smiled and frequently visited Miyagi for weekend getaways, and you smile wistfully at the last framed photograph on the small, decorated table by the door.)
You leave all your countless awards and trophies in your room, now padlocked four times over to prevent your money-hungry sister from laying her grubby hands on them in exchange for more cosmetics and make your way down the hallway of your childhood home, memorising the creamy colour of white on the walls, the countless paintings and wall decorations that screamed wealth; and the dusty, elaborate Bohemian crystal chandeliers that hung over you. Your fingertips trace over the small coloured markings on the kitchen door frame, blinking quietly at the lowest, dated ‘5 years old’ in your messy handwriting.
(110 CM.)
Your gaze slowly rises and lands on the highest mark on the doorframe—’10 years old’, it states, ’136.1 centimetres’. Your lips curl up quietly again.
(You remember arguing with your father that the one millimetre was still a part of your height, and not to make you shorter than you already were. You remember your father laughing at you with his eyes crinkling, and his warm hand ruffling your head; your then-15-year-old sister huffing in defiance.)
And you reach into your coat pocket, feeling for the four-coloured pen you had stuffed in there and measure yourself once more. Turning, you write two final lines just beneath the one you draw.
A/N: I told myself I would post this once I reached 10 chapters. Apparently, I have no self control. No Haikyuu Characters yet, but this is just a prologue…
TW: Mentions of the word sex/Angry sex, but nothing explicit. Also the MC is sad/lonely.
(Please do let me know if you want to be tagged in this series!)
It’s always the darkest nights that plague the thoughts of the unwilling. Fleeting impurities, flickering against unsuspecting souls and incinerating those who come too close. There are those who flee, out of fear; out of danger, but there are those who linger and remain, out of fear, out of curiosity and out of hope.
You are one of the few who remain. Not in the literal sense, but emotionally; it’s still the same. The decision’s admittedly painful, but as for regrets? You would have none.
You’re moving from Osaka to Miyagi—alone—at the age of 15.
Your parents don’t approve of your decision. Neither does your older sister, the family’s resident bijin, or your clingy younger brother.
Butbecause volleyball is your life, you don’t spiritually leave. Your soul is tied—tangled—in red around the patterned ball and the sport’s all that you know.
And for you, that second tangle of ball and string resides in Osaka.
(Don’t worry about the first—You moved from Hyogo to Osaka at the age of eight. Your initial tangle resides there.)
Granted, the only person you regret leaving behind is your younger brother. Little Yuki-e doesn’t deserve his parent’s mistreatment. You feel very little for your elder sister, whose bijin-ness often led to her picking on you to make her appear more likeable.
(Pathetic, really.)
It took months of pleading. Months of pleading and pledges and near-perfect behaviour to convince your parents to allow you to move to Miyagi with your Aunt Rin, who regrettably lived alone following the death of her husband two years prior. Of all members of your admittedly small family, she was the kindest.
(You vaguely remember the times of your childhood when you got along with your sister. A time before your four-year-old brother was born. A time when your parents smiled and frequently visited Miyagi for weekend getaways, and you smile wistfully at the last framed photograph on the small, decorated table by the door.)
You leave all your countless awards and trophies in your room, now padlocked four times over to prevent your money-hungry sister from laying her grubby hands on them in exchange for more cosmetics and make your way down the hallway of your childhood home, memorising the creamy colour of white on the walls, the countless paintings and wall decorations that screamed wealth; and the dusty, elaborate Bohemian crystal chandeliers that hung over you. Your fingertips trace over the small coloured markings on the kitchen door frame, blinking quietly at the lowest, dated ‘5 years old’ in your messy handwriting.
(110 CM.)
Your gaze slowly rises and lands on the highest mark on the doorframe—’10 years old’, it states, ’136.1 centimetres’. Your lips curl up quietly again.
(You remember arguing with your father that the one millimetre was still a part of your height, and not to make you shorter than you already were. You remember your father laughing at you with his eyes crinkling, and his warm hand ruffling your head; your then-15-year-old sister huffing in defiance.)
And you reach into your coat pocket, feeling for the four-coloured pen you had stuffed in there and measure yourself once more. Turning, you write two final lines just beneath the one you draw.
Your sister is once again out of the house, likely at the nail saloon or on a date with one of the numerous boys she’s picked up from who knows where. Your father’s in his study, and the scent of his expensive cigarettes wafts from the small gap of the open door as you pass by. You don’t recognise the brand, but you know it’s expensive all the same. And all you do is peer through the gap and stare, memorising his facial features with ease. Your father sits upon the kingly study chair, wine glass in one hand, and a nib-point in the other. His pile of paperwork sits on the mahogany desk before him, and you turn away.
(The reason why your family’s falling apart.)
Your mother is in the bathroom—you can hear the shower water running—and you sigh quietly. This was the third night in a row she was heading out. And she probably wouldn’t be back until at least 3AM. Like she did the previous three days. Like she did whenever she went out. You never bothered finding out where exactly she was headed on most nights, but you knew your sister knew.
Machiru. The pride of the family. Your mother’s confidant.
Not that it mattered to you anyway.
The room you do enter is Yuki-e’s. Your younger brother. The product of your parent’s angry sex. The child they never wanted. It wasn’t as if you were appreciated either, but Yuki-e was far too young to need that experience. That sense of uselessness. That sense of being unwanted.
Knocking quietly, you mutter out to Yuki’s nanny.
“May I come in?”
The responding voice is sweet and gentle. Not quite like your own.
“Young master Yuki-e is sleeping, Lady (Y/N). If it doesn’t bother you that he is, you can come in.”
You open the door as quietly as you can. The nanny, Lana or Rana, is a half-Japanese, half-American woman of roughly eight years Machiru’s senior. And she smiles at you.
“You’re leaving tonight aren’t you, Lady (Y/N)?”
It’s a terrifyingly quiet statement and all you can do is nod mutely. Your eyes don’t leave Yuki’s bed however, and she places a gentle hand against your back to usher you closer. Your head turns and you meet her eyes in a silent thanks, reaching into your backpack for the Bulbasaur plush you know he’s always loved. It’s a gift for him. And the letter too, which you pass over to Lana with a murmur of, “No need to address me with the term ‘Lady’. I am, after all, as far as possible from being one.”
Lana says nothing as you lean over Yuki-e and press a soft kiss to his smooth cheek. And as predicted, the boy doesn’t awaken. Sitting up, you smooth the hair from his forehead.
“He’ll be sad when he discovers you’re gone, (Y/N)-san.”
You don’t say anything about the suffix added to your name. You know. You know better than anyone in the household that Yuki-e would be upset. You just hope that the sadness doesn’t become anger. But you can’t say that aloud. Instead, you say—
—“Look after him. I’m sorry I can’t take him with me.”
You don’t look back as you leave the room, volleyball spinning in your hands.
(What you don’t hear are her last whispered words, “I hope your time there is better than your time here.”)
The chauffeur at the gate greets you and you nod back, loading the few bags and the suitcase in the rear of the black Bentley.
Seiji is a man in his 60’s, a chauffeur, a grandfather and a soon-to-be retiree. This is the final time he’ll be serving the (L/N) household. Like you, he’s headed back to Miyagi to live out his retirement with his son, who’s name you’re not acquainted with. The Bentley is to be a gift for your aunt. Seiji’s gift is something far grander—His own property on the edge of the countryside town, close to one of his high school friends.
It still amazes you that he’s managed to keep in contact for that long.
Your father’s a good person at heart and he cares for his employees. And Seiji’s a good man; kind and gentle and loving. Like Lana. So it’s only natural that he’s rewarded. But it leaves you slightly bitter, wishing that your father was just as kind to you and your younger brother as much as he cared for his employees and your elder sister.
(Silently, you wonder where your mother sits in this broken hierarchy. Regrettably, she seems much like a trophy wife now.)
You take the passenger seat at the front.
It’s a long drive to Miyagi from Osaka. More specifically, just beyond 10 hours of continuous driving. The trip with Seiji is silent, aside from the quiet, no-nonsense music in the background and the frequent beep-boopingof the game you’re playing. But it has always been like this between you and Seiji, and the ‘silence’ never bothered you. And for that you were thankful, because the noise from your family was enough.
(Arguments between your elder sister and your father. Between your mother and your father. Your father really was the centre of all things, wasn’t he?)
Seiji was—is—your personal driver. One you would no longer need once you arrived in Miyagi. But he understood that you were not simply tossing him aside. You needed a change of pace. A change of location where ‘no one’ would recognise you. But Seiji would forever be your grandfather figure. Because of all the thousands of people in the world, Seiji was the one person you trusted. Countless times he had driven you to places with no destination in silence while you cried. You trusted him with all your quiet places; you trusted him with your darkest secrets, and you trusted him with your silence.
You fall asleep as the car drives past the dusking sky, forehead leaning against the window.
The Bentley pulls into Tokyo six hours later and Seiji wakes you, informing you that you would be spending the night in a hotel while he slept in the car.
(It was something he insisted on. And there was no arguing against Seiji when he was like that.)
The black, fabric face mask you wear is your new signature style.
You refuse to allow your identity to be revealed, and you check into the hotel this way. The receptionist hardly spares you a glance as she directs you to your hotel room and passes you your key. Not that it mattered much to you—you would be out of there by 9AM anyway.
(It’s a mid-range hotel. There was never a need for anything higher quality when you were only to stay for the night. Was high quality even a factor for anything? You were grateful enough if there was running clean water, a clean bed, and a roof over your head. You didn’t need the grand splendour of the riches and wealth your family had.)
And at 9AM did you check out with nothing more than the shoulder bag you brought with you the previous night.
It takes another five hours to arrive in Miyagi (or rather, to reach the sign that calls you home—“Welcome to Miyagi!”), and another 10 minutes to reach your aunt’s home, close to the epicentre and shopping district of the country precinct. But the minute your aunt’s house comes into view is when you’re finally feeling the nervous fear that comes with moving alone to another place—even if that place is just a measly 10-and-a-half hours away from where you had come from.
(You try to ignore the fact that you had practically moved halfway across the country; to a place you hadn’t been to for over five years, but details.)
Your aunt greets you at the driveway, excited at the prospect of someone living with her.
“Welcome home, (Y/N)-chan!”, is her over-the-top greeting, warm smiles and a bouquet of flowers in her hand. You smile wobbly. Nervously.
‘Welcome home’, she says, as if you’d been living with her your entire life. She hands you the bouquet of flowers, and your wobbly smile becomes less wobbly.
Aunt Rin ushers both you and Seiji inside, suggesting that the older man take a break while she directs you to your room. Your aunt owns a modest two-storey home, with a balcony hanging off the side of the two upper bedrooms—one of which now belongs to you. It’s cleaned up nicely, obviously a job of a few days’ worth and you feel the appreciation slowly creeping in.
Between you and Aunt Rin, your five bags are brought upstairs with ease and she leaves you to unpack and rearrange, calling—asking—Seiji if he wished for a cup of tea.
(He agrees, of course. Anyone can get Seiji with a cup of tea. The man himself once called himself a ‘tea connoisseur’, much to your amusement.)
Aunt Rin knows of the reason for your move to Miyagi. She understands the pain of being in the spotlight. Like you, she shows no appreciation for the media and the hype up of an individual. And she knows better than anyone of the pain of being in the spotlight.
After all, she’s a retired model for several famous companies.
You’ve seen her work—Aunt Rin has always had this kind of ethereal beauty, one that doesn’t particularly stand out but somehow manages to steal the spotlight anyhow. And she had once described your fashion of beauty in the same way.
Once, when you saw her two years ago following your uncle’s death.
(To quote her indirectly, she had mentioned to one of her model friends that your beauty was very similar to her own, quiet and calm, whilst Machiru had the beauty of your mother—loud and exuberant. You’re not offended—you’d rather be like Aunt Rin than your mother anyway.)
And so when she returns to your new room moments later and hands you a new sim card for your phone, you accept immediately. And she gathers you into a hug and you melt into her arms.
“Thank you,” you mutter quietly, tearing up at the warmth.
“You’re welcome,” she responds before pulling away several moments later, and holds you by your shoulders, “I’m gonna look after you from here on out, so look after me too, okay?”
Sniffing, you nod and wipe the tears from your eyes. And she smiles gently.
You’re far too young to have all this pressure placed on you.
Despite barely knowing you, Aunt Rin knows you better than your closest family members do. Perhaps it’s because she sees herself in you. Perhaps it’s because she knows that the older members of your closest family don’t treat you the way you deserve. And yet she knows you’re wildly different from her. You’re emotionally stronger than her, after all. And she admires that part of you—even if you don’t notice it.
“I’m going to take Seiji to his new home now, okay? Feel free to set up your room and wander around the town when you’re done. Don’t worry about getting lost—I know my way around this area, so don’t hesitate to call me if you get lost, alright?”
You nod, and she leaves once again, passing you a key to the house when she does so.
Aunt Rin’s house is eerily silent without her prescence.
You honestly don’t have many items aside from the handful of clothes you had brought to Miyagi. After all, a new start was a new start, right? Because aside from your volleyball and the colour of your bedsheets—a patterned cat quilt cover, red in colour—your room was rather bare.
Nevertheless, you exit your room to wander the house several times over, memorising the layout in a couple of rounds.
And then you stare at the house door. Nervously.
Leaving the house meant communicating with others, and you quietly sigh, slipping your sneakers on and your mask to your face. Returning to your room, you spy the house key upon your table and sigh.
You’d have to buy a keychain if you wanted to ensure that it’d always be with you.
He’s in a bath late at night trying to convince himself it hasn’t been two months since you’ve broken up. He doesn’t want to believe that you’ve moved on so quickly from him, but there you are in your new partner’s arms looking happier than you ever were with him.
And he hates that he can’t say that he wasted his time with you because everything he’s ever accomplished- you were always there to build him up.
From the first time he picked up a volleyball, you were there helping him practice in his backyard. To the last game of his you attended, where you were standing in the crowd cheering for him just a little louder than everyone else.
He wishes he could say that he’s glad it’s finally over.
But the promises and the vows said under the covers at dawn tell him it wouldn’t be true.
Atsumu had thanked you when you broke up with him. But he couldn’t decide if it was because you weren’t going to lead him on, or if he was thanking you for the moments he shared with you.
Well, he just says both.
He remembered being the happiest he’d ever been on that day in summer, when you were seated in his lap shuffling through old pictures from when you were little.
And he knows you remember it too, there isn’t a doubt in his mind.
DISCLAIMER: I am not fluent in Japanese and the translations are not 100% accurate, so there may be lots of inaccuracies. Please let me know if there’s any mistakes I made in the translation!
Please do not repost my translations anywhere else!
A Shoyo Hinata and a Lev Haiba story from the HQ FBS △ University Student series
Read below!
The last panel is the artist’s information!
In the last page, it’s styled like an otome game! It says something like: “Lev was looking forward to seeing you! Would you like to give him some chocolate?” “→Yes” “No”
waaaahhh finally!!! i missed this!!! i did this chapter a pretty long time ago but i never found the time to upload it to my computer and post it!! o(；△；)o and then my acc got terminated which im still salty about i wanted to do kuroo’s chapter first buuuut i wasn’t finished and i figured i might as well post something!! it’s been a long time since i looked back on this so please let me know if i made any errors in the translation! (or just the grammar in general )
DISCLAIMER: I am not fluent in Japanese and the translations are not 100% accurate, so there may be lots of inaccuracies. Please let me know if there’s any mistakes I made in the translation!
Please do not repost my translations anywhere else!
A Tadashi Yamaguchi story from the HQ+Kareshi Idol series
Read below!
The last panel is a short Q&A from the artist!
I believe the text in the picture of the A/N says something like “A serious game of tag. A man who can be a beacon.” (maybe relating to how he’s in a horror movie…?) how many times have i said i love yamaguchi answer: NOT ENOUGH HES SO PRECIOUS AND ADORABLE AND CUTE AND I JUST - BARKBARKBARKAFJOEFJS i noticed how he has bracelets in both the onsen and idol chapters,,,hmmm,,, me: i got you a bracelet in return! *handcuffs him to me* JK JK AIJSLKFJ:SLDKFJ
DISCLAIMER: I am not fluent in Japanese and the translations are not 100% accurate, so there may be lots of inaccuracies. Please let me know if there’s any mistakes I made in the translation!
Please do not repost my translations anywhere else!
A Tadashi Yamaguchi story from the HQ+Kareshi Onsen series
Read below!
The last panel is a short Q&A from the artist!
small text: i’m not sure what he exactly said but he says something among the lines of “___ said so!” i think,,,eeee
AAAAAA *more screaming* AAA welcome to my ted talk where i will discuss why i love yamaguchi- and uh,,,i know what it looks like in the 4th page but im certain it’s his stomach or sm i love everything about this man
i liiiiiveeeee!!!! i wanted to do this chapter for a while but my computer broke ;; i had him for so long and now he’s dead RIP ️fly high, borle️ 2016 - 2021 yes i named him after christian borle i got a new one, dw!! his name is keanu (after keanu reeves lol)
Keiji Akaashi - Mukiryoku Marriage (First Meeting/Encounter)
DISCLAIMER: I am not fluent in Japanese and the translations are not 100% accurate, so there may be lots of inaccuracies. Please let me know if there’s any mistakes I made in the translation!
Please do not repost my translations anywhere else!
A Keiji Akaashi story from the HQ FBS Mukiryoku Marriage series
sup it’s me again the first MM rotation is done! next chapters will be about them/you confessing! (except kenma for some reason idk he built different) something about being the senpai…is…empowering also love how like a puppy in the 6th page awww- it’s like any chapter about him is beautiful ALSO HOW HE JUST STARES AT US IN THE BEGINNING AHSDHFSDF
DISCLAIMER: I am not fluent in Japanese and the translations are not 100% accurate, so there may be lots of inaccuracies. Please let me know if there’s any mistakes I made in the translation!
Please do not repost my translations anywhere else!
A Koushi Sugawara story from the HQ+Kareshi Childhood Friend series
once again yibs is a complete [MEOW] for the cleanup- AMBULANCE WEE WOO SUGA TOO FINE HEART RATE WENT UP WEE WOO AMBULANCE seriously how does this guy wake up and look SO FINE- me and my friend at the foot of his bed takin pictures- HIM IMMEDIATELY GETTING EMBARRASSED AFTER HE GOT BOLD IS ASGDJHLFD …suga yawning…is everything to me…no i will not explain further… ik lots of people say asahi reminds them of jesus but THE A/N FROM THE ARTIST REALLY WENT ALL FOR IT- speaking of asahi i’m looking forward to his CF chapter-
DISCLAIMER: I am not fluent in Japanese and the translations are not 100% accurate, so there may be lots of inaccuracies. Please let me know if there’s any mistakes I made in the translation!
Please do not repost my translations anywhere else!
A Koushi Sugawara story from the HQ+Kareshi Childhood Friend series
In the first page, he calls you “mom” because you two are playing house (idk how to word it i never played house when i was little) AAAAA HES SO CUTE ARRGHGHHHH I WANNA KIDNAP HIM hey buddy hold still *cursed grab emoji* nobody: babie suga: ✨️️✨
Tobio Kageyama VS Tooru Oikawa - △ University Student
DISCLAIMER: I am not fluent in Japanese and the translations are not 100% accurate, so there may be lots of inaccuracies. Please let me know if there’s any mistakes I made in the translation!
Please do not repost my translations anywhere else!
A Tobio Kageyama and a Tooru Oikawa story from the HQ FBS △ University Student series
Read below!
The last panel is the artist’s information!
hello everyone (yet again, i hope?)!! as usually im skeptical of some of the words in here so feel free to correct me kags is just mumbling in the 2nd page kags is so cute fhsdfasdf yes ill take u home get in the van- also,,,uhhh,,,500 followers?!?! as in,,,½ of 1k??? can i math?? THAT’S CRAZY!!! m literally so touched thank you all for indulging in my nonsense and thank you to those who were so helpful to me THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE SUPPORT!!! have an edited panel as a token of my appreciation
^ ARTWORK DOES NOT BELONG TO ME Credits: Nejimaki Kagyu (By Atsushi Nakayama)
DISCLAIMER: I am not fluent in Japanese and the translations are not 100% accurate, so there may be lots of inaccuracies. Please let me know if there’s any mistakes I made in the translation!
Please do not repost my translations anywhere else!
A story from the Kuroo+Kareshi series
Read below!
The last panel is a short Q&A from the artist!
ahhh another day another chapter in the page where he says “did you come to hear my beautiful voice?” there’s literally a little “ニヤ ニヤ” in the corner, which means “grin grin” and idk if that’s just an effect or not but i can imagine him saying “grin grin” out loud like a dork aww <3 probably the type to say “hint hint wink wink nudge nudge” out loud in the a/n where he says “oh! finally…” i think he’s referring to you [finally] smiling (…?) there’s nothing like doing a totally tame hobby while violent DOOM music plays - just does something y'know i am personification of that one comic that goes “that girl is so cute, i wonder what she’s listening to…” bwahahahaha- he’s so sweet protecting us…when his neck goes red made me go “awww” out loud his nape looked so soft and cute and squishy i want to poke it- why can i imagine him singing “sucker” by the jonas brothers- my friend and i had a whole discussion on zoom about a conductor kuroo serenading you with his whole orchestra (and flutist kenma-) but that’s a story for another time (it’s not as romantic as i put it BUT IT’S HILARIOUS) maybe one day i will make a post about our dms and all of the wonderful/cursed ideas we spew (they’re GOLD i promise you)
Atsumu isn’t stupid he’s known he should ask about Haruka’s mother.
Yet he couldn’t do it he distinctly distracted not only himself but Haruka as well.
He always found topics to avoid it and it was a miracle those annoying paparazzi weren’t around the reason for that was because of Yuina.
That’s why attention surrounded him by nosy Paparazzi who could post something online that could cost him his career.
He stared at the little boy who was happily smiling eating his ice cream.
Haruka noticed Atsumu staring at him so he turned around showing him a cheeky smile
“The ice cream is good!”
Atsumu smiles patting his head.
“Alright bud.”
……..
He turned the TV off Laid next to the little boy who instantly breathes a sigh of relief knowing his Idol/Temporary dad was there to make him feel safe.
Atsumu looked at the sleeping boy who resembled him so much.
Flashback
Papa can we go get so icecream?
“It’s a bit late ain’t it?”
Haruka’s pout stabbed Atsumu in the chest.
“Alright bud lets get to the sto-”
“Uncle Tsum-Tsum!”
Atsumu froze and turned around noticing his brother who raised his eyebrow looking at the little boy.
“He’s not my kid I swear!”
Atsumu said frantically trying to explain the situation.
“Woah! Papa he looks like you!”
Atsumu looked at Osamu who had a serious look on his face.
“Meet me tomorrow at work and ya better explain yerself idiot.”
“Don’t call Papa and idiot ya idiot!”
Haruka stomped his foot trying his best to glare at Osamu.
“Not yer kid huh.”
Osamu said to himself.
“He’s not!”
Atsumu said picking him up.
“We’re going home.”
“What about the icecream?”
“I have cake at home.”
Haruka’s eyes sparkled.
“I like strawberry cake!”
“Atsumu nodded and walked away leaving a frowning Osamu.”
“Tsumu yer so stupid the kids the splitting image of ya.”
……
The Next Day
Explain Yerself idiot.
“W-What is there to explain.”
Atsumu said not facing him.
“That.”
Osamu pointed at the little boy who happily ate the Onigiri.
“It’s just some kid.”
“Some kid?! What the hell are ya doin’ with just some kid?!”
Atsumu looked away.
“I don’t know it’s just I can’t get rid of him.”
“What do ya mean?”
“I don’t know! I tell myself to drop the brat off at the police station but I just can’t do it!”
“Idiot! What if his parents are looking for him!”
“That’s the thing…”
Atsumu looked away.
“He doesn’t have a dad and his mom is away.”
“Why do ya care don’t ya apparently hate kids!”
“I know I just don’t hate this kid for some reason ok!”
“That ridiculous!”
"He reminds me of someone I know.”
“What yer not making any sense!”
“He reminds me of..”
“Spill it! Already they’re obviously important if yer keeping around a kid!”
“He reminds me of (Y/N)! Are ya happy idiot!”
“W-What?”
Osamu said a bit confused.
“(Y/N)?”
His eyes widened.
“(Y/N)?!!?!”
“Papa!”
As if on cue the little boy ran to him.
“What is it bud?”
“Well this onigiri is so good! It’s like the one mama makes!”
Atsumu nodded while Haruka turned around.
“I’m gonna go play with Yuji”
(Haruka was so excited because Yuji was the name of the cousin he was supposed to meet for the first time!)
“Hang on a minute.”
He turned to Osamu and tilted his head.
“If this is actually him.”
Osamu mumbled.
(I can’t just tell the kid it’s me and Yuji over the phone it’ll be a dead giveaway.)
“Yes Mr.?”
“What’s yer name?”
“Haruka!!!”
The boy grinned and then dashed to Yuji.
“H-Haruka?”
Osamu felt confused then looked at Atsumu.
“Why is he with ya?!”
Atsumu glared
“Why are ya yelling!”
“Answer the damn question Tsumu.”
“I just ended up with a kid! Alright I don’t know what exactly happened!”
“So a kid just showed up are yer door and called ya papa.”
“No! The thing is..”
……
TimeSkip
“Well how are ya gonna deal with this.”
“He’s not my kid that’s all I know!”
“Really.”
“Yeah watch!”
“Haruka!”
Atsumu called causing the little boy to rush to him with a big smile.
“Look at this Samu.”
Atsumu picked haruka up holding him while both faced Osamu.
“Doesn’t look anything like me yeah?!”
Osamu raised his eyebrow noticing them.
(Is he an idiot.)
“Papa!”
The little boy looked at him excitedly.
“Tomorrow can you show me how to serve the ball?!”
Haruka’s eyes sparkled while atsumu nodded.
“Alright bud.”
“Yay!”
Haruka’s eyes sparkled while atsumu nodded.
“Alright bud.”
“Yay!”
“I’m so happy to be taught by the best setter!”
“I know right!”
They both went to Lala Land while Osamu just rolled his eyes.
(He’s in denial that must be it.)
My brother isn’t that stupid.
………..
Osamu sighed standing up.
“Well my wife is probably getting angst that we’re not back so we’re gonna head out.”
“Atsumu nodded”
“Ya know Samu I don’t see why ya got married I mean domestic life suits ya but it’s just don’t ya get bored?”
“No I don’t.”
Atsumu shook his head.
“Man having to deal with an annoying wife well at least she’s hot but still with a kid?”
“What’s that supposed to mean.”
“No don’t get me wrong I love my nephew it’s just I don’t wanna deal with an annoying brat.”
“Seriously.”
“I mean it!”
He shook his head annoyed.
“How can parents stand kids I would go insane dealing with a brat!”
“Really.”
“Yeah! I mean I hate kids! I don’t want those little gremlins near me!”
(He can’t be that stupid)
“I see.”
“Yuji let’s get going.”
The little boys rushed to greet the twins.
“Now little Haruka right?”
Haruka nodded and smiled
“I’ve decided I’m gonna take ya to yer mom’s hotel.”
Haruka’s eyes widened as he smiled.
“I get to see mama?!”
Osamu nodded.
“Alright go pack yer stuff so we can get go-”
“Hold on a second!”
Atsumu said picking up Haruka.
“What are ya doing Samu!”
“What’s wrong Tsumu?”
“Ya can’t just take a kid!”
Haruka looked at Atsumu and smiled hugging him.
“Tsumu the kid has to go home.”
“I know but I haven’t finished teaching him volleyball!” Osamu walked closer. “I’ll take better care of him and teach him.”
“No! He’s staying with me!”
“I thought ya hated kids.”
“Well not him!”
“Idiot ya said in general!”
“Haruka’s different!”
“How is it different.”
“I don’t know I..”
“Ya need to expl-
"It’s different when he’s my kid!”
Atsumu paused realizing what he said shocking both twins.
“Well now.”
“I meant it’s different if he’s a lot like me!”
“Sigh, are ya sure about this?”
“Yeah! When I’m done I’ll give his mom an autograph and problem solved! Besides what kind of mother leaves her kid alone!”
“Especially Haruka.”
Atsumu rubbed Haruka’s back. “He’s sensitive and needs to be constantly taken care of.”
(My brother is an idiot.)
……….
Atsumu POV
He sat in the kitchen confused at his words.
“Samu was right I should have just handed the kid over.”
Atsumu gripped his hair. “It’s not that he doesn’t wanna get rid of him well maybe a little bit.”
He walked to the kitchen and opened the cabinet staring at the results.
“Is he really my kid?”
Atsumu shook his head.
“No, it can’t be I’m always careful.”
“Then why….”
He gripped the paper.
He always took precautions…
……….
“Papa!”
The little boy ran to him knocking him out of his thoughts.
The familiar chocolate brown eyes stared at him with a wide grin. Atsumu couldn’t lie that this was starting to worry him.
“What if Haruka was his son?” No I was set up she took advantage of this and must have given me a fake paternity test.
Sigh… What the hell was with my reaction earlier
Atsumu furrowed his eyebrows and sighed. “Oi Haruka.”
“Hm?”
“So if I had a kid I’d become a dad.”
“Well yeah!”
“Do you think I’d make a good dad if I had a kid?”
“No not really!”
“Ha!” Atsumu felt a irk mark appear. “Just kidding.” Haruka giggled and ran to hug him. “You don’t need a kid!”
“Why is that?”
“You already have me!”
“You’re my Papa!!”
Atsumu’s heart swelled as he picked the boy up spinning him. “There’s not way in hell yer my kid.”
“I know but we can pretend for a while!“ They laughed at each other.
….
Atsumu felt at home and his heart beat once again just for a little while he’ll enjoy this.
Warning: Smut, fool’s in love, unrequited love, unplanned pregnancy, best friends, heartbreak, fluff, Atsumu is an oblivious bastard, Childhood friends
Warning: Smut, fool’s in love, unrequited love, unplanned pregnancy, best friends, heartbreak, fluff, Atsumu is an oblivious bastard, Childhood friends
“Wait here brat and go to sleep.” He looked at the little boy telling him to stay put. “Go to bed.”
Haruka nodded walking to the bed
“Are ya gonna be with me?”
“No I have someone coming over so no matter what ya stay here! Go to sleep so yer stomach doesn’t hurt.”
“Who’s coming over?” Atsumu flicked the boys forehead. “Don’t ya worry about that and go to sleep.” The boy got up in the bed. “Are you gonna read me a bed time story?”
“Seriously?”
“Yer a big kid right do ya need one?”
Haruka pouts “I like when mama reads them to me”
“I ain’t yer mom kid and from what I can tell she spoils ya to much now shut yer tap and sleep got it?”
Haruka nodded a small frown was plastered on his face. “Will you tuck me in?”
“You’re a big boy get to sleep.”
“Please I get scared if you don’t..”
“If I do it will ya shut up and give me peace the rest of the night?” Haruka nodded as Atsumu tucked him in.
“A kiss?”
“No ya already asked to much! Get to sleep like ya promised.”
………
(Y/N) POV
“Where is he! I thought that was him! Shit!”
I stepped into the dark alley using the walkie talkie
“I think I just missed him go left!”
I put it away rushing to meet my partner
“Let’s catch him.”
“He’s stupid to stay in Hyogo in the abandoned buildings. It won’t take months it’ll only take a few days this guys and idiot.”
“Well he may be stupid but what does that make us?!”
I yelled at him. “Ah dumb I guess?” I face palmed.
“It makes us look like fools running around letting him get away after chasing him!”
“We’re doing good we found him earlier than expected!” I sighed
“You have a point I mean they said we’d probably take up to a year if we missed him but he’s still here so we’re fine I suppose.”
“You’re a bit stressed out why don’t you calm down?”
“I just wanna see my son as fast as possible I don’t like the idea of him being in Osaka to long.”
……….
Meanwhile
“Miya…”
The woman moaned as he kissed her neck when she started to unbutton her shirt falling on the bed they both continued their session.
“You know you’re an even bigger turn on with your bruised body.”
“Shut up and get on yer knees show me a good time.”
She unbuckled his pants and revealed his member.
“You’ve got yourself quite the stress reliever now let me take over big boy.” She took him as he grown touching the back of her head and thrusted.
……
The little boy turned around and woke up having a nightmare noticing the unfamiliar dark room.
“Mama?” There was no response realizing he was alone in the unfamiliar room that now seemed scary and started tearing up.
He got up and heard noises across the room.
“Mama I miss you..”
He poked the side of his tummy and winced.
“Ouch my tummy hurts.”
He started crying clutching his stomach feeling the stitches and lifted up his shirt and noticed them for the first time.
“What is this it’s something scary at it’s making my tummy hurt.” As his eyes adjusted to the dark he saw dried blood around the stitches.
“Papa..” He said without thinking in the moment Atsumu was his day of hope from the scary dark room.
He began to wail and scream sobbing stepping out of the room looking for Atsumu.
…….
Meanwhile
“Did you hear that? She said as he laid her on the bed standing over her
“Son of a bitch.” Atsumu muttered under his breath.
“I didn’t hear anything” he said trying his best to ignore the little brat in the room across the hall.
He leaned in and kissed her slipping his hand under her shorts but before he could remove them the sobbing grew closer.
“Shit.”
He said under his breath annoyed he got up. “I’ll be right back.” She nodded while he pulled up his pants.
……..
He opened the door walking into the hallway noticing the sobbing boy.
“Waaaaaah” He wailed “I wanna see Mama!!!”
“I wanna go home!!!”
“Oi brat!” Haruka noticed him and ran to him hugging his leg.
“Papa! I wanna see Mama!!”
“Dad?”
“What the fuck?”
He kicked the boy. “Get off me!” Haruka fell back hitting his head on the wall and wailed even louder.
“Waaaaaaah”
“I’m trying to have sex here and I have to deal with ya.”
“That hurt!” The boy clutched his head
“What’s wrong now?!”
Haruka touched the back of his head. “It hurts… I wanna go home!!!” He got up and looked at Atsumu. Papa I’m scared please don’t leave me…”
He sobbed.
“Stop calling me that.” Atsumu said sighing walking closer picking him up and Haruka instantly fell into his embrace sobbing quietly.
“Just get to bed alright?”
“I promise tomorrow I’ll take ya to get some ice cream”
(Then I’ll get rid of ya dumping ya at the police station since Samu can’t even take care of his own kid how was he supposed to take care of Haruka)
Author note: Osamu takes good care of his son.
“Why didn’t I just do that to begin with.” Atsumu sighed
“Let’s go to bed M’kay?”
Haruka nodded and instinctively wrapped his hand around his neck tightly snuggling into him.
“Oh my what is this?”
Another fucking headache. He turned around and noticed what was supposed to be his fling for the night she had her clothes on and smiled.
“I didn’t know you had a son.”
“He’s not my kid.”
“You don’t have to lie don’t worry your secrets safe with me she walked closer looking at the little boy who noticed her the turned his head hiding into Atsumu’s neck.
“Isn’t he just so cute! He looks just like you!”
“Here let me hold him.” She tried to grab him but Atsumu back up. “He’s fine here don’t touch him.” She raised her hands “Okay I won’t touch your son.”
“He’s not my kid for the last time.” Atsumu said getting annoyed
“What ever you say baby!” She blew a kiss
“Call me whenever you’re free so we can finish what we started babe!” She leaned in kissing his cheek and was about to pat Haruka but Atsumu backed up.
(Don’t touch him with yer filthy hands)
She laughed. “You just make sure your son’s asleep this time!” She walked out and left.
Sigh, he walked to the guest room.
“Here get to bed ya ruined my night are ya happy now.” Atsumu’s glare softened as he noticed the boy
“Let go kid.”
Haruka clung to him.
“No please don’t leave stay.”
Atsumu sighed giving up setting the boy in on the bed and layed next to him.
“Thank you papa..”
He said clutching onto his shoulder snuggling into him.
“There’s no way.”
“I had a baby with someone..”
…………
Tsumu! The boy turned around noticing the five year old who ran to hug him.
“Let’s go play!” Atsumu nodded
“Yes! I brought my toys!” She smiled pulling him away from the other kids who bullied him.
“Later we can play volleyball!” He said while she nodded
“Yes let’s play!”
The little boy hated whenever someone else took the (H/C) girl away from him.
Couldn’t they see he belonged to her and she belonged with him.
Hence forth Atsumu practices his glared to scare off the boys who even dared to walk to her and talk to her.
“I love ya Tsumu”
“I love ya too (Y/N).”
…….
He forgot everything when he was with her.. She was his escape from all the irrelevant things in his life.
With their confession their lips met.
……….
“Tsumu! The older girl hugged him while he hugged her back.”
He smiled noticing her engagement ring and then looked at his own hand which also had an engagement ring.
“Tsumu!!!” She whined while he laughed and hugged her tighter.
“Hey darlin’ what’s up?” She blushed looking away kissing his cheek
“Well I was thinking we should name our baby Atsumu Jr..”
Yeah no sweetheart our baby can’t have my name he’s gonna take after his mommy.
“What do you suggest then!” He touched her slightly swollen stomach.
“Haruka..” He smiled
“Of course I love it..”
He kissed her lips and hugged her tightly
“Thank ya for loving me and giving me a chance to make a family with ya..”
Wait just a minute
“Haruka? Isn’t that the name of the brat?”
“Atsumu?”
He looked at her shocked
“What’s wrong?”
“Yer pregnant?!”
“Yes I am pregnant why are you acting so weird.” She giggled.
“You’re gonna be a dad aren’t you happy?”
……
His eyes snapped open to meet similar chocolate brown eyes.
“The fuck!”
He threw the little person who fell.
“Mr. Atsumu!!” He ran and jumped on his stomach.
“Ugh.” He winced feeling his bruises ache.
“Haruka yer crushin my organs!”
“Sorry…” He grinned hugging him.
“I’m glad you stayed with me and didn’t leave me alone here!”
“Whatever brat let me sleep.” He fell back on the bed and plopped his head on the pillow.
“I made you breakfast!”
Don’t tell me.
…..
Ya seriously wasted my whole gallon of milk and my cereal is all over the floor.
He looked at Haruka meeting the little boy’s smile.
He walked to the park and noticed the little boy sleeping on the bench shivering from the cold as his tears slipped.
“Mama, where are you.”
Atsumu sighed feeling relief picking up the boy who instantly wrapped his arms around his neck
“My tummy hurts really bad.” Haruka wimpered.
“Alright I owe ya a favor for trying to protect me it’s just this once.”
He headed back home
…..
He set the boy on the couch and covered him which a blanket.
“My tummy hurts.” Haruka sobbed in his sleep quietly.”
“What’s wrong with the kid?”
Atsumu noticed Haruka’s shirt had a bit of blood so he lifted his shirt a little exposing the patch that covered the stitches.
“That’s gotta hurt.”
Flashback
“Mr. Miya!” The nurse put on a fake smile and handed him a little bag.
“What’s this?” He looked at her confused.
“Here is the prescription for your son!”
“Ha?!”
The little boy stepped out and walked to Atsumu clutching to his pants. “Mr. Atsumu I found you.”
“He’s not my son damnit so shut yer trap!”
He glared at her and threw the prescription pills on the floor.
“Keep him here! I don’t want this kid near me!”
“Sir I’m going to call security and you’re going to get arrested for child neglect.”
She smirked which ticked him off.
“You’re son needs to be taken care of.”
“How is he my kid!”
She took out a paper that confirmed it
“The test matched your blood as father and son.”
He glared and grabbed the papers reading then.
“The heck.” His eyes widened as he looked at the results then looked at her shocked seeing her smirk.
“Bullshit! I’m being set up!” He pointed at the boy who didn’t understand anything of their conversation.
“This brat isn’t mine I tell ya!”
“Take the kid or we’ll make sure you’re arrested.”
“Fine! I don’t care!”
“You’re going to just abandon your child? Seriously? It’s your own fault for not keeping your dick in your pants.”
She said disgusted
“How cruel take him or I’ll ruin your reputation!”
“I’ll make sure everyone knows!”
He looked at the nurse.
“It’s non of yer business! Leave him here and I’ll get outta here!”
She looked at him frowning.
“Remember me?”
“No I don’t just take this brat.”
“Pfft figures.”
“I told you not to play with women now face the consequences!”
She pointed at the little boy who spaced off looking at the tv which was on the cartoon channel while he clutched onto Atsumu’s pants.
“He’s so cute congratulations Miya Atsumu you’re a dad.”
“Yer a bitch.” He spat.
“You’re stuck with your son now take him and leave.”
“He’s not my son ya planned this!”
“He’s your child take him and go or I’ll ruin your reputation like I said.
“Fine!” He grabbed Haruka taking him outside.
“Keep up kid or I’ll leave ya behind!”
……
End of flashback
“Shit I left yer prescription pills at the hospital.”
He walked outside and took out his car taking the little boy laying him in the back.
“Don’t fall.”
“Dad don’t go and leave Mama.”
He said clutching on to Atsumu’s long sleeve sweatshirt.
Atsumu frowned pulling away. “I’m not yer dad kid.”
…..
He walked to the hospital and entered the office and noticed the nurse who smiled.
“How can I help you?”
“I uh… left some prescriptions earlier and a kid needs them.”
He said embarrassed
“Name please?”
“Um my name?”
She nodded
“Atsumu Miya.”
“Atsumu Miya the volleyball player?!.”
“Shh.”
“You were here earlier!”
“I’ll go to the back and get them!”
…
She walked back handing them to him
“Here! They’re for your son right?”
“No! He’s not my son!”
He said startling her and sighed annoyed giving up denying it at this point.
“He’s my brothers son”
“Ok then!” She smiled handing them to him.
…..,,,..
He walked back to the car holding a water bottle that he bought in the hospital he got the boy from the backseat sitting the kid in the car who opened his eyes
“Mr. Miya my tummy really hurts.”
He teared up
“Alright here I got the medicine take it.”
He handed the boy his medicine and took it drinking water with the pill.
“It’s gross.”
“I know I hate taking pills to they taste awful.”
……..
He grabbed the sleeping boy and set him in the guest bedroom.
“Kids are such a pain.”
He walked back and noticed the time.
“I’ll hand the kid to Samu tomorrow and he’ll find his parents.”
…..
Atsumu opened his eyes slowly to find out a similar pair of brown eyes staring right into his.
He jolted and the little boy giggled.
“Your awake!”
“What the hell kid ya almost gave me a freaking heart attack what are ya doing here!”
“Well I remembered you brought me here! Your house is really nice! I made you breakfast!”
“What?”
……
“Ya have to be kidding me.”
He looked at the mess in his kitchen and looked at the boy who handed him the cereal Which was actually fine.
Ya made all this mess for just two bowls of cereal!
Haruka raised two fingers
“One is for me!”
“This is why I hate kids.”
He walked to the table which had spilled milk.
“I hate cleaning.” He usually had his flings do it.
Speaking of flings he had one set up tonight.
Why you ask? It’s because he’s trying to forget about the boy in front of him.
