#OSAMU AND ATSUMU LOOKING AS SHARP AS EVER IN THEM HOODIES

[emmyrosee]

Hiii how are u todayyyy could I request y/n coming home finding osamu crying??… i dunno I just want to see y/n comfort him etc etc love ur writing btw byeee🫶🫶🫶

I changed this slightly mwah mwah 🫶🏻🫶🏻

-

“You know what I could go for right now?”

Osamu’s had a hard day. Between guests telling him off about food they didn’t enjoy and the line that had been wrapped around the building all day, it’s a miracle he’s even still awake and cognizant enough to talk to you. His anxiety has been building for the past four days in a catch up of bills, coupled with a fight with Atsumu over something small that’s now been blown up to where the blonde told him not to come to his wedding. An empty threat, maybe, but it doesn’t help the mountain of things against your man right now.

He’s having a hard time accepting Atsumu’s threat.

You’ve been an escape, yes. But this is far more than he’s ever been thrown in such a short amount of time.

You raise your head from his chest with a soft hum, “what, baby?”

He looks up at the ceiling with a small smile, “just some nice, hot fries from McDonalds and a coke. It just sounds so good right now.”

You smile and plant a kiss to his jawline, “after the week you’ve had, I’ll get you anything you want, Osamu.”

“Yeah?” He chuckles. “How ‘bout a kiss?”

“Well that’s a definite,” you snicker, leaning up to press a sweet kiss to his lips, your hand coming up to gently caress the sharpness of his jawline. He mewls happily, and you pull back with a playful bite of his lip. "I'll get you nuggets too if you do the dishes."

"I mean, how could I say no to that?"

You laugh some more before planting one more kiss to him and getting up and off the bed, tugging on a pair of sweats and hoodie to combat the chilled night sky. He follows you out of the room and settles at the sink, watching you fondly as you grab your keys and blow him a kiss.

“Drive safe,” he reminds you as you close the door.

You barely make it five feet to the car before you groan, forgetting to ask him if he wants sauce or anything else after his hard day.

You spin on your heel and make your way back inside, “stink, do you want sauce-“

There’s a sob that stops your question dead, and a pained pout crosses you. Osamu stands at the sink, hands gripping the edge so tight, his knuckles lighten from the force. One of his them comes up to cover his mouth and muffle himself as you come back in, his shoulders trembling as he desperately tries to pull himself together.

“What?”

You clear your throat, “do you want sauce, baby…? With your fries and nuggets?”

“B-barbecue,” he whimpers, hand immediately coming up to scrub his eyes. “Yeah. That’d be great.”

You let him have a moment of silence before stalking into the kitchen, wrapping your arms around his waist, resting your head against his shoulder that shakes under you. "I know," you whisper, your thumb stroking his side lovingly. “I know, Osamu.”

"Why would he say that?" He sobs, shaking his head in his hands. "What did I even do?"

You don’t say anything, letting him cry it out and letting his shoulders heave and wail. You press a kiss to his bicep, squeezing him closer to you while he continues to cry in his hands, sniffling and trying desperately to catch his breath.

“I don’t deserve this,” he manages, fingers pressing into his eyes. His breathing starts to hyperventilate, and you pat his back softly.

"You need to focus on breathing, Osamu."

At your reminder, he sniffles and twists his body to wind himself around you, only for a particularly loud wail slips through his mouth, and his knees buckle under him. You guide him to sit on the floor and into your arms, which cradle his pounding skull. "I have to go to this wedding," he explains. "He's my brother, h-he's my best friend."

"I know, baby, I know..."

The dam breaks and out comes every worry and despair plaguing his mind, flowing in incoherent babbles and wheezy cries that stain your hoodie in hot tears. You screw your eyes shut to keep your own tears at bay as he fists the fabric of your pullover and squeezes you impossibly closer.

"I'm so tired," he chokes, his breath coming out short and forced.

"I know, Osamu,” you assure. “I wish I could take it away from you, I do…”

But you can’t. All you can do, all you can offer him, is all the love in your soul, all the patience and tenderness he deserves that the world hasn’t been giving him lately.

And in a few minutes, you’ll ask him if he’s still hungry, or if he wants to call Atsumu to figure this out. If he’ll want to close the restaurant tomorrow, or if he wants to just go back to bed and let the harmful thoughts be stilled.

But for now, you let him cry, wailing into your skin while he trembles in your grasp.

It’s the least you could do.

[zohanimenthusiast]

New Haikyuu illustrations from the Haikyuu x Right On collab!!!

THEY LOOK SO FREAKING AMAZING IN CASUAL CLOTHES I CAN NEVER GET ENOUGH OF IT AHHHHHH

(I reblogged this with Kita and Konoha because I couldn't fit all 12)

[doctorspencereid]

Under the Moon

Pairing: Suna Rintarō x reader

Warnings: angst to fluff, swearing

Word count: 2.5k

Part 1

Songs to listen to: moon n sun by juneyear, like real people do by hozier, and mr.loverman by ricky mongomery.

_______________________________________________________________________

You’d gone a month since the breakup with Suna Rintarō. It’d been a month of heart ache and late night sobs choked into the soft plush of a pillow that still smelled like him. A month of forcing back tears every time your eyes connected during practice. A month of getting used to the empty passenger seat on the ride home from school, because after giving him rides to and from school every day for two years, seeing that seat go unoccupied by him felt so abnormal. That being said, you’d expected more absence from the breakup. To feel the emptiness in your life like a void that would never be filled. That wasn’t the case.

Afterall, you were still the manager, the breakup didn’t change that. While you did your best to turn down any invitations the twins provided to group hangouts, you didn’t go out of your war to drop him all together. That would be unfair to the team, to whom you’d promised your commitment. In the month since the breakup, you’d gone through your room and collected everything that was his. Including the flannel he’d lent you so long ago and forgotten about. Every hoodie, shirt and crewneck he’d ever abandoned to your car was retrieved and washed and handed over with shaky hands. That was the only direct confrontation you’d initiated with the brown haired boy you so dearly adored. He hadn’t wanted to accept the clothing, feeling that you were closing a door he didn’t want to close. But he swallowed hard and took the bag from you. His lips parted to say something, anything. You didn’t give him a chance to though, before swivelling on your heel and darting down the hall before his choked words could reach your ears. 

Traces of him no longer lingered in your personal space and yes - this was the absolutely empty aspect that you’d been dreading. His scent wasn’t there now, there was no warm comfort that his hoodies provided anymore. You used to slip them on during the nights he’d leave you alone, pretending you had him in your arms. His shirt as your pillowcase while the moonlight illuminated your room through the slats of your blinds. Your room was finally void of the man you’d loved so intensely. Suna had gotten you accustomed to his absence in the months he’d spent neglecting your relationship. The months he’d sent you through withdrawal, you’d learned to cope with not being around him. That didn’t mean you didn’t miss him. Of course you did. Even in your relationship you had missed him. The distance between the both of you is what had doomed you to begin with. But now, you missed the availability you were still afforded when you were his girlfriend. While it was limited and often selective, it still wouldn’t have been odd for you to reach out for his hand and grasp it close back then. That option was no longer available to you. 

Yes, you chose to break up with Suna Rintarō. But you never made the choice to end things, that was a choice he made when he neglected you - whether or not he was conscious of his choice was another matter entirely. However these days, it seemed Suna was all too conscious of that choice. Of every choice he made in your relationship.You’d called him a ghost, he remembered, and he was indeed haunted by the mistakes he made. At night, sleep never came to lull him away; instead he was consumed by thoughts, memories, the look on your face when you’d told him it was over. The tears brimming in your tired eyes. The way you’d told him you still loved him, and the way that it wasn’t enough. Because he’d drained you and left you dry. 

Yes, Suna was aware of every mistake he’d made. Only now it seemed too late. He knew now that the comfort he’d always found in you was immense. Part of it was because you were always there. Always available and willing.Your love was constant and unwavering. And he was always there to gluttonously accept. He’d grown comfortable in your attentive behavior, figuring it was okay if he didn’t reach out. If he didn’t twine your fingers together. If he slacked off a bit. Because you’d still love him. You’d still be there, waiting like you always were. You’d be there, familiar and warm and eager to pull him into your grasp and warm his cold hands no matter how far he strayed. Until you weren’t. He’d let you slip so far, let the rope that tethered you fray and snap. Now he had lost you. 

You didn’t block him. Of that much he knew. When he called you, it would ring and he could hear your voicemail. He listened everytime, though whether or not he left a message depended on the day. Sometimes he couldn’t muster the right words, sometimes his hope wavered and he figured you wouldn’t listen even if he did leave a message. He was right, you wouldn’t. You didn’t block him, no, but you didn’t answer his calls either. You used to have your read receipts on. If you still did, he couldn't tell - either you didn’t, or you did and you just weren’t reading his texts.

It was funny almost, how he was reaching out now that he had lost you, more than he ever had in any of the years he’d known you. Now that you were gone he missed you more than anything. Not that he didn’t see you. He did. He saw you every day at practice. Every day, he tried to make you look at him. You only ever looked at him by accident, and every time the pain that flashed in your eyes took him back to the day you ended things. Fuck, has it only been a month? He’d tried to go up and talk to you the first two weeks, but the twins had stopped him every time. They’d always stepped into his path, blocking his way to you. Never physically aggressive, but more passively distraught. Their identical faces held stern expressions and for once they actually united on an issue. 

“Suna, ya need to let her go,” Atsumu had told him.

Osamu had agreed, chiming in with,“She needs to heal, and if ya go over and reopen the wound, that’ll never happen.”

His jaw had clenched. Fuck, he couldn’t let go. Not if he could fix this. You said you’d loved him. You love him. He could fix this. He could be your Rin again. He wanted to be. His amber eyes pleaded with the twins, begging them to let him pass. They didn’t budge. 

So his access to you during practice was effectively shut down. You were his manager and nothing more. You only talked to him when necessary. You handed out water bottles and towels, you paid attention to their matches. And then you’d drive away in your car without him. Fuck, he even missed your car. It’d been your father’s once, but it was yours now and you’d affectionately named it something he’d found both horrendous and hilarious at once. What he wouldn’t give to drive with you in that car late at night, a playlist he’d curated for you lilting through the speakers.

Instead, here he was, a month later and he was driving his mom’s car through the streets of Hyogo. It wasn’t too late. Only around seven. You’d be home by now. He probably should be too. But it was a Friday, so he wasn’t all too concerned. The car was silent, which he’d usually detested, but he couldn’t drive and listen to music without thinking of your quiet hums harmonizing with his favorite songs. The moon was rising into the sky, beaming down pale light on the houses he passed. He hadn’t realized he’d driven down your street. He’d never driven here before. Suna gnawed at his lip anxiously, seeing your car tucked nearly beside your parent’s cars in the drive way. Fuck. I should go, he thought. 

No. Fuck that. He’d spent too much time letting you go, it was time to put the fucking work in. Suna parked beside the curb. He still had the bag of clothes you returned to him. He’d never taken them back into his room. Suna slipped on a sage green hoodie and walked up to your front door, hesitantly standing there for a moment. It took him a moment before he could muster the courage for three sharp knocks against your door. 

He didn’t know what he was hoping for or what he’d say. Shit - what if your parents opened the door? Did they know he fucked up? Would they hate him? What if they slammed the door in hi- Oh. You stood there, mouth agape and eyes wide. He had a feeling he was mirroring your expression. 

“Suna?” Fuck. That still hurt. His heart ached in his chest, like a wave of sharp bitterness overwhelming his heart and lungs. He swallowed dryly, unable to figure out what he wanted to say. Until finally, something tumbled out of the empty basket that was his lovestruck brain. 

“Do you want to go on a drive with me?” he asked wryly, eyebrows flitting together in distress. A surprised scoff escaped your lips, and then your expression scrunched a bit and he knew what you would say so he rushed to get his next words out before you could say no. “Please. I need to talk to you.”

You took a moment to chew your lips, thinking and staring at him as if you weren’t sure. Then at last, your resolve crumbled. “Fine. Let me get my keys-”

“No need,” he said quickly, showing off the keys dangling from his pointer finger. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“You drove here? Since when do you drive?” Your voice was still reserved, though you sounded both equal parts impressed, dubious and incredulous. He smiled tightly, it was all he could give at that time. 

“I could always drive you know, I just.. I was used to you always driving.” A silence fell between you then. You pressed your lips together, nodding simply. He figured he might as well walk you to the car. It was odd, him in the driver’s seat and you in the passenger’s. But he supposed change was necessary if he had any hope of somehow garnering your love again. No - not garnering it, he had it - what he hoped for was you. It was only when you clicked your seatbelt did he play his music - a playlist he’d made for you. Part of him hoped it would feel like old times, and that maybe you’d find yourself slipping into old habits again, but the smarter part of him knew that it wasn’t that easy. 

Once he’d turned away from your street you finally spoke. 

“So…” you started, peering up at the moon through the window, “You said you wanted to talk?” 

He nodded, “I.. yeah.” A sigh. A beat. A sharp breath. “I’m sorry.” When you didn’t say anything, he took at his nod to continue. “I’m so, so fucking sorry, Y/N. You deserved better than what I offered you. I got so used to you always being there for me, I got lazy. I let myself neglect you, I let you slip away. I let you fade away and fuck, I didn’t even notice.” 

You were definitely looking at him now, and tears were slipping down your face. He pulled over, incidentally outside the same apartment complex where he’d realized how much you liked him. Shaky breaths hurried past your lips and he wanted nothing more than to reach over and sooth them until they steadied out, to wipe your tears and tuck you into his arms. But despite being only a few feet away, there was still so much distance he needed to cover and reclaim if he wanted to do that. “I miss you. So fucking much. I can’t fucking sleep and shit, this isn’t about me - this.. I’m sorry I made you feel like this.” 

Tears were slipping down his own cheeks now. He was facing you, and while you were terrified of the way your heart was slamming against your chest, you also couldn’t force yourself to move. “I know how badly I fucked up, how much I don’t fucking deserve you. But please. Give me one more chance. To make up for what I did and give you the love you deserve.” 

You stared at him, hearing him say the words you’d wanted to hear from him for months. His amber eyes were glossy with tears, and the withdrawn volleyball player was bared and vulnerable before you, pliable to the touch. 

“Rintarō..” you said finally, the traces of pain in your words so sharp and clear, “You hurt me so fucking badly.”

He nodded, looking down. His tears spilled in thick drops against his jeans. Fuck. 

“I love you so much, loved you so much, it hurt. I felt ignored and forgotten, it felt like you didn’t want to see me half the time. I.. I don’t know if I can do that again. I don’t know if it’s worth it.. I can’t go through that pain again.” 

He couldn’t let you slip away again. He couldn’t. He wouldn't. Every fibre that made up his being refused to let you go. His brown hair fell across his vision as he shook his head vigorously. “I won’t let you go through it again, I promise. I’ll be so much better - for you. I’ll make more time for you, I’ll drive us wherever you want to go, fuck I’d go anywhere for you. Please. Give me this one chance to show that I can be better for you.” 

Suna shifted forward, his cold fingers moving to cup your cheek, smooth against the dampness of your face. He could feel the heat surging beneath his touch, you still reacted to him at least. Your breath shallowed out, thoughts racing through your mind. You nuzzled into his touch gently, still unsure. “I want to believe you,” you admitted. His forehead wrinkled in distressed earnest. 

“I want to be someone worthy of your trust, I want you to be able to believe that I’ll be there for you.” He told you, his words unwavering now. His amber eyes connecting with yours for an intense moment. “I’ll be a person you can rely on, if you’ll have me.” 

Your hand moved reflexively, ignoring your better judgement and tangling with the silky strands at the nape of his neck and tugging him forward. The shift connecting your mouth to the soft press of his lips. Part of your chest panged with the way it missed the familiarity of him, the shape of him, the taste of him. You’d missed him so much. The kiss was brief, and when you’d parted, it was with a single word carried on a breath. 

“Rin,” You breathed out. He grinned like an idiot, a hopeful idiot. Your eyes connected with his once more, wide and open - vulnerable. “Last chance. Don’t fuck it up.” 

“I don’t intend to.” 

[soranihimawari]

the truth is...

“Kindness is free. Love is free,” I said triumphantly raising the bottle of sake in the air.  Today was one I didn’t see coming at all. As fate would have it, running into my high school crush was not particularly high on my to-do list when I left the cafe I worked in earlier in the afternoon. I was hired on as one of the patisseries which specialized in parfaits and seasonal tarts during my last year in culinary school. Tonight, I was drunk on celebrating this latest turn of events.

“Of course,” my company teases me right as he raises my hand to his lips. he lets go of my hand with a cheshire cat like grin. “How could I ever forget that. C’mon, let’s get some food in you before you suffer the worse hangover in your life. I know a great place not too far from here.”

I took another swig of the sake bottle before I nodded.

“Lead the way Atsumu-san.”

I swore those hazel eyes never looked so inviting as they did at that point in my life. I recalled my coworkers’ conversation earlier in the middle of our shift:

“Say, y/n-san,“ the interning barista, Haruna, began.

“Hmm?” I hummed my response. “What’s up Haru-chan?”

“I was, well we were all wondering about something,” she said.

I picked up a towel to dry another cappuccino mug beside her. The other members of our cafe were within earshot when their senior intern asked her question.

“How come your boyfriend only comes in after we leave? When are you gonna introduce us?”

“Boyfriend? Haruna, I hate to break to you, but I don’t have one.”

“No, you do,” she begins to state her case. Haruna nervously twiddled her thumbs while our other coworker, Senna, approached us. “Tell her Senna-senpai.”

“We didn’t want to say anything, but there’s this hot blond guy who looks eerily similar to Miya Atsumu, y’know. From the MSBY Black Jackals? Anyways, he stops in here every once in a while right at closing time when it’s Erina’s turn to lock up the cafe. And apparently there was one day he asked me if you worked here,” Senna confesses. “You went to Inarizaki too, right?”

“Yeah, so?” I asked. My small smile was caught by both of them before I picked up the next mug to dry.

“You should of seen the relief on his face when Senna told him that you did and now he hasn’t stopped coming by on random mornings, but you’re never here when he comes by,” Haruna says with a dreamy sigh.

“Listen,” I said. I placed the second mug upside down on the drying rack and folded the drying towel before continuing. “The next time that blonde pretty boy walks in here is the day I will need to buy a bottle of really strong orange flavored sake to get through any sort of time with him.”

“You liked him didn’t you?” Haruna giggled.

“I do not.” Oh fuck, they’re both going to pick up on that slip, I thought.

“You’re blushing really hard now, Senpai,” Senna teased. “You still find him really hot don’t you?”

***

A couple of days go by without Miya stopping by the cafe. I had reminded my fellow cafe employees the MSBY team had a few away practice matches while promoting a newly signed member of their team. Even with this knowledge, their collective curiosity got the better of them inquiring about my relationship, or lack thereof, with the good looking setter. 

It wasn’t until two weeks later Miya Atsumu stopped in for his usual. Apparently there were perks of his frequent visits one of them being on his social media account pages tagging our cafe location with the quote “she always makes the best parfaits”. Business actually had been steady since then. After all, it helps when your three coworkers all had conversed with him once or twice before.

One Saturday around four forty-five in the afternoon, I was in the middle of setting my fudge in a star mold when Erina, Haruna, and Senna texted me to come out of the kitchen saying that there was a regular who had a question about the menu. Judging by the messages I received, I rolled my eyes. 

“Unbelievable,” I muttered before patting my hands on the apron; I had a coy smile on my face when I opened Haruna’s photo message. Damn Atsumu, you still are as handsome as ever. I pushed through the swinging kitchen door walking toward where my former classmate was standing on the opposite side of the display counter.

“Miya-kun?” my voice maintained its curious tone.

The blonde professional athlete stood in the middle of the cafe reading the menu wearing a casual sponsored street attire that included a hoodie with his team’s logo stitched on (along with a pair of cotton jersey shorts and running shoes). Compared to me being dressed in a humbling combination of tapered royal blue jeans and a sunflower yellow blouse paired with nonslip ebony ballet flats, the setter looked like he was in athleisure campaign.

“Hey there dollface. Long time no see.”

I folded my arms over my chest when he sat down in front of the short counter space near the espresso maker. I was skeptical of his presence here, but my brain kicked into fight or flight mode ever since I heard him poke fun at the odd shaped friendship chocolates I left for him on his desk when we were fifteen (to be fair, it was my second attempt at making sea salt chocolates at home, but apparently, the Miya twins were going through their high school jerk phase). I watched Atsumu from afar trash them without even tasting one in favor of his fangirls’ fancier box saying something about how he had to avoid excess sweets for a week because of some stupid bet he had going on with his twin.

Does he need to know he was the reason why I wanted to perfect my sweet making skills? No. Absolutely not. Because if he did, that ego of his would skyrocket and I’m actually ok with not letting that bit of info reach his ears. Damn it Miya, why are you still as good looking as I remembered you being? The fuck was I thinking when I was fifteen...Gods do I need a drink. I thought.

“What’re you doing here? Shouldn’t you be off training or at practice or something?”

“Nope. I got the day off and thought I should come by to see what’s the newest parfait my favorite old classmate made for me.”

“Bold of you to assume it’s for you, ‘Tsumu.”

Me saying his nickname caused him to raise an eyebrow at me before he closed his eyes and I watched his lips draw back into a wider smile.

“Erina, Haruno, mind staying behind to help Senna clean and lock up tonight? It seems the owner of this cafe and I have dinner plans.”

“You’re not their boss Miya, so you can’t tell them what to do.” I pushed my finger against his shoulder which caused a chortle to come from him. I turned around to face my coworkers with an amused stare.

“Erina, Haruno, mind helping Senna out tonight? I’m leaving early. Apparently I have plans with the starting setter for the MSBY volleyball team.”

That was at five-thirty that afternoon...

---THE NEXT DAY, 9:56a.m.---

The soft chirping of an alarm located on the nightstand next to the plush king sized bed where I found myself waking up in. I am by no means a rich lady and for the life of me, I couldn’t even afford a place like this with a killer view of the neighborhood. Suddenly, as I hoisted myself up from the sheets, my memory came back in little flashes. Memories ranged from me getting drunk with Atsumu at the local pub next to his brother’s restaurant to Atsumu’s declaration on which onigiri his brother makes was the absolute best in town and how not one of his ex-girlfriends could ever replicate it properly.

I don’t recall much of what we talked about at Onigiri Miya when Osamu left us to ourselves for a little bit, but I could of sworn Atsumu tell me how he was searching for the cafe I worked at trying to formally apologize about dumping out the chocolates I had made when we were in high school:

“I heard you made them at home, right?” he asked, watching my nose twitch before I rested my head in my palm on the table. When I nodded, I didn’t notice he was pouting when he muttered an, “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, hah. I did. It was my second batch too. I made them look like stars because those were the only molds I had. If I had known they’d wind up in the trash, I wouldn’t have tried to make you feel better after the results of the spring tournament that year,” I said exhaling a sigh. I leaned my head against Atsumu’s shoulder gently reassuring him I had long since forgiven him. “But it’s in the past. Don’t worry about it so much, ‘tsumu. C’mon, the night is still young and I need at least one more bottle of sake before the convenience store stops selling them.”

---

“Oh my god,” I groaned when I flung the blanket off my top exposed body. My bra was still on, which was a good sign I guess, but instead of wearing my sapphire slacks, I noticed they were replaced with an older pair of white with black striped sweatpants (the color combination of the sweatpants reminded me of my high school’s volleyball team). I snatched the closest shirt I could find, yet I didn’t have enough time to throw that over my shoulders since I heard the bedroom door creak open.

“Good, you’re awake,” a disembodied voice called out from behind me. Give me a damned minute, I thought. I know that voice; it belonged to one of my classmates whom I recalled walking into my cafe yesterday asking me to spend the evening with him. Inhaling a sharp breath when I felt the mattress dip behind me, I barely remember him telling me to confess about something when I was sober in the morning and for some reason I had agreed.

“You’re really pretty, y’know.” Miya stretched his arm around my shoulder before he stood up to help me to my feet. I was a bit skeptical at his compliment, yet he squeezed my shoulder twice allowing me to know that he said was true.

“You flatter me, Miya. Why don’t you try complimenting me when I’m sober, yeah?” I tapped the left side of his cheek when I hopped off the stool. 

“Fine,” he chuckled. “You’re drunk enough as it is. Let’s go. Later ‘Samu.”

I shook my head right as I felt his arms wrap around me from behind, I let out a shaky laugh when he pulled me to lean back into him. I was quick to notice the soft fabric of his shirt when my head came into contact with it. There’s no way in hell we’d ever sleep together because I might have let it slip we should try to avoid a publicity scandal...

“How’re ya feeling dollface?” his voice whispers into my ear. A shiver ran up my spine when he did this, allowing me to focus on anything else besides the sun peeping through the blinds of the window.

“Better now that I’m here, ‘tsumu,” I replied in a groggy tone, my voice was barely above a whisper. Honestly, I’m not as hungover as I thought either, so he must have coerced me into eating some left over onigiri he had when he offered his place to me to crash, I thought. Then, I made a mental note to add a few extra half dozen macaroons for his brother when I see him next time. What Atsumu said next threw me for a loop:

“That’s good because I want you sober to remember this,” his voice taunted me right before I felt his lips press into the sides of my neck, down my back, and onto my shoulders.

“Mmm,” my voice hummed. “’Tsumu, you’re~aah~gonna leave a mark.”

My lips curled in amusement at the map his kisses left behind. He mentioned something like he wasn’t going to stop until I properly forgave him, to which I replied with a resounding, “If I didn’t did you think I’d have accepted your offer of spending the night out on the town with you?” I held onto his hands when he paused for a moment to think.

I raised my head up when he stopped, a smug smile tugged his lips upward. I felt my eyes blink a few times processing what he was trying to ask me to do. Thankfully my partner was a patiently affectionate person this morning because he didn’t leave out much for me to figure out when I twisted around his hold to plant my lips over his own. Yet although I claimed I was sober, I was already drunk off this warmth radiating from him.

You would think that after all the hours I'd spent with Atsumu last night - watching him talk, laugh, and frown (and the same with the way I noticed his stolen glances for a few seconds when he wandered into the cafe I worked in)- that I would know all there was to know about his lips, but I hadn't figured how kind they would feel pressed up against my own just yet.

When I pulled away first, I watched the way Atsumu looked down at me, his face a little flushed from my kiss. He smirked before pressing his lips on mine again and this time, the kiss was just as invigorating as before; his calloused hands roaming every inch of my body and with one of his hands becoming lost in my hair. Eventually I crawled into his lap, using his shoulders to steady my balance when he hoisted me up prompting me to straddle his upper body. My arms looped around behind his neck, running my fingers through his hair in a coquettish manner. I blew short streams of air onto the side of his neck causing his breath to hitch in his throat right before I burrowed my face in his neck kissing the space under his ear, causing me to feel his chest rumble when I heard him chortle. I seized the opportunity to guide Atsumu’s lips back onto mine. 

We were both lost in a sea of bliss after that because from what we both could tell, this was the starting point of a hard-earned love that took it’s sweet time to develop and gods be damned was his love worth it.

[doctorspencereid]

Loving a Ghost

Pairing: Suna Rintarō x reader

Warnings: angst and swearing, that’s about it

Word count: 4.6k

Songs to listen to: moon n sun by juneyear, like real people do by hozier, and mr.loverman by ricky mongomery.

A/N: Let me know if you guys want more this kind of thing? I haven’t written in ages, but Suna brainrot killed me and I’m an angsty mf

Part 2

___________________________________________________________________

Looking back, you should’ve been prepared. Suna Rintarō had been a constant in your life from your first year of Inarizaki. You’d made easy friends with him, finding comfort in his casual, quiet nature. Him finding solace in your easy moods and malleable temper. 

If it was rainy and dark, he’d likely be with you in your car; the heat blasted and his phone connected to the blue tooth while one of his many playlists lilted over your car stereo. 

Warm summer nights were in your room too, the only light coming from the LED’s against the ceiling, illuminating the room in a wash of whatever color fit the mood Suna was in that day; usually purple. Winters were at his place, when he was too frigid to crawl from under the blankets and he’d just call you to ask if you wanted to provide some company for the withdrawn middle blocker. You’d swallow your excitement and always agree with some laid back voice that didn’t portray the way your nerves were igniting with joy, jumping at any opportunity to spend time with him. 

The night that your feelings for him became clear to you was in your second year. The both of you bathed in the dim glow of the purple lights of your bedroom. Some movie droned in the background, only there to provide some noise to filter off the silence. He had slid off your bed and nuzzled on the floor, his too large hoodie swallowing his lanky frame. You lazed across the comforter, on your phone and occasionally peering at the boy you’d come to call a good friend. As if sensing your eyes on him, he craned his neck back to peer at you, curiosity bubbling in those amber eyes, his eyebrows perked in a silent question. 

Maybe it was the way that the lights casted shadows on his sharp features, or the way that his eyes seemed to glow, but the way that Suna Rintarō looked at you made the air in your lungs freeze. Your lips parted, silence engulfing the two of you for a brief moment while you basked in the languid fragility that was Suna’s beauty. Had he always been this beautiful? Heartbreakingly beautiful and intoxicating to look at.. oh my god. He broke the moment first, brows dipping quizzically. 

“Hm?” Suna hummed, angling his torso to peer at your more clearly, incidentally shifting closer. You were immensely grateful for the low light that hid the way your cheeks had surely turned scarlet. A cough cleared your throat and you shrugged, peering down at your blanket, picking at the pattern idly. 

“Are you staying the night or heading out? It’s almost eleven.” You spoke casually, hoping that your sudden awareness of Rintarō’s beauty hadn’t impacted your ability to speak too much. He darted his attention to his phone, surprise etched on his traditionally nonplussed features. 

“Shit! Already?” He hissed, “Fuck. Can you drive me home?” 

His eyes were pleading when they glanced back to you. Your heart hammered at the way they seemed to engulf you, looking at you with necessity. A smile spread at over your lips, “Of course.” 

You clambered off the bed, stretching a little while you waited for him to stand and collect his things. A satisfying pop in your back forced you let out a contented sigh, relaxing in your posture you peered at Suna, who had yet to move. He looked at you with the hint of a pout and extended his arms out to you limply. With a snort, you reached out, sliding your palms into his to guide him to his feet. The feel of his hands against yours was something you tried to ignore, but it was impossible. 

The drive to his house was short. In truth, Suna didn’t live too far, but walking in the cold night was something he hated doing. And why would he when he knew that all he had to do was ask and you were ready with your keys? You parked the car outside his house, shifting to face him with a signature half smile. “Don’t get caught, alright?” You told him with a short snicker. He rolled his eyes. 

“When have I ever been caught?” And with that he was gone. 

You pined after Suna in silence for months, nearing the end of your second year before the day came that Suna realized that you liked him. Though whether or not a piece of him had always known was up for debate. You were in the car, pulled over on the curb of some apartment complex that neither of you knew. The only light was a nearby lamppost that did little in the way of actually allowing either of you any visibility. The car was filled with the aroma of fast food. It was late, and Suna had invited you to sleep over. Only, around three a.m. he realized he was hungry and asked you to drive him to go get something. You obliged almost immediately, like he knew you would, and here the two of you were. Suna, indulging in fries that were slathered in such an ungodly amount of sauce that it might as well be a war crime, and you lazily sipping at what was left of your soda. Looking back now, if you tried to remember what exactly he said, you wouldn’t be able to - but whatever it was, it had you choking on your soda with such heavy laughter. 

Suna had always found your laugh to be hilarious, but that coupled with your choking fit had him cackling. So much so that he missed his mouth with the fry he was trying to eat and got some of his abomination on his cheek. He reached over to clap his hand on your back, trying to get you to return to normal breathing, all while dying of laughter himself. 

“You idiot!” He managed in between chuckles, “If you die, I have no way of getting home.” 

Your eyes widened in mock horror at the suggestion, shaking your head while trying to get your laughter under control. You coughed a few times before finally forcing out some gravelly response, “Oh, glad to know my death would be inconvenient for you only because you can’t drive!” You fell back against your seat, slapping a hand against your chest, deep breaths still heaving out of you from your near death experience, “Not like I’m your friend or anything. That hurts, Suna.” 

The volleyball player rolled his eyes at you, snorting and shovelling down another fry. “I can drive - but why would I when I have a personal chauffeur?” He jested, nudging your ribcage with his elbow. A scoff flew past your lips as a response, but that was all you said before taking another sip from your straw. 

A comfortable silence settled in as Suna ate, his music echoing quietly in the speakers, a soft level. Upon finishing, he set his food down and turned to look at you. He almost seemed expectant. You eyed him from the corner of your vision, realizing he was facing you. Still high off humor, you turned quickly to stare back, chin resting in the palm of your hand. It was only when you turned did you realize how close the two of you were. The now familiar feeling of your heart slamming against your chest returned. Fuck. You could smell the residual wafts of his detergent from this close. Looking at him from this close you could see the sauce he had yet to wipe off from his cheek. Carefully, you reached out with your thumb, swiping the sauce off his cheek gingerly. The feel of his skin beneath your touch burned at your fingers. 

Suna’s lips parted in shock, and you could see the surprise in his eyes. The way you looked at him, like he was the world. The warmth radiating off you and the color of your cheeks. Fuck, he could practically hear your heart beating a million miles an hour. Did he like you back? You were fun to be around, and he liked spending time with you. You were always there for him, even when he didn’t ask you to be. He didn’t know. That was the minute Suna knew he had you whipped. Unfortunately for you, Suna was not good with emotional moments and instead of simply backing away, chose that moment to burp - right in your face. 

You threw yourself back, face scrunched in disgust as you swatted at him. “Ughhh! You are so fucking gross, Suna!” You whined, covering your face with your hands as if to erase the moment from your memory. Suna chuckled half heartedly, sinking back into his seat. A hesitant tension still lingered even though the moment was broken. He shrugged, resting one arm behind his back. 

“Maybe, but you love me anyways.”

Yeah, you did.

______________________________________

The day your prayers were answered was near the start of your third year. The day you began dating Suna Rintarō. You’d decided to become a manager for Inzarizaki at the start of your third year, at the behest of the twins. With Kita gone, they needed someone to rangle the team in - and though you were hardly the one for the job, you figured there was nothing to lose in spending a few extra hours with your friends.

What you didn’t realize was that the twins had ulterior motives. During the time between second and third year, they’d come to realize that a certain someone had grown rather affectionate with their dear middle blocker. And Atsumu being Atsumu, suggested that a little meddling couldn’t hurt. Osamu figured that Suna liked you back, so what was the harm in setting the both of you up? No harm, no foul. 

They’d bided their time carefully, peppering their plan into the first three weeks of third year. Both of them taking their turns in stealing your attention from Suna. Though Atsumu figured it would seem less like a joke if Osamu took more of the action. So he did. For weeks, the gray haired boy would flirt idly and chat you up in Suna’s line of sight. They hoped to invoke some reaction from their friend, to no avail. Save for the occasional eyebrow lift or eye roll, Suna didn’t offer much in ways of jealousy. 

Until week four. 

Suna had asked if you wanted to catch lunch with him that Friday after practice, like you guys often would. Unfortunately, the twins had caught on to this pre-weekend ritual and decided a little intervention was necessary. Osamu had begged you for help with a subject he claimed to be no good at. Being a good friend, you obliged with a smile - and as team manager, you needed to ensure these boys kept their grades up if they were going to be eligible to play. However, the only time Osamu could study just so happened to be that Friday after practice. So you’d declined Suna’s offer regretfully, and rather vaguely if he was being honest.

While he wasn’t owed an explanation, he was certainly curious as to what had come up that led you to cancel. So he watched you during that practice, keeping his precise stare on you in between plays. As manager, you were distracted by the game and didn’t have a chance to spare him a glance. Huh. It wasn’t until after practice however that everything clicked together. Instead of approaching him like you usually did, you sauntered over to Osamu with a sheepish smile. The way it softly turned up the corner of your lips made his stomach churn. Something in him burned. Like angry vomit or something.

He watched as you linked arms with ‘Samu, ‘Tsumu laughing on the other side of you. This was ridiculous. You were all friends. You always laughed with them. This wasn’t weird to see. So then why did it hurt so fucking much? He was so used to you doting on him. Even in a room full of people, he was still the center of your universe, Even in a group of friends, you were always making sure that he knew he was seen. But here you were, avoiding his eyes and walking out the gym doors with the miya twins in tow. Your arms linked with one of his best fucking friends. Why the fuck did it hurt?

He couldn’t sleep. Suna stared at his ceiling and imagined shapes in the texture. It was past midnight and he knew that you weren’t with Osamu anymore. But calling you felt difficult. What if you were asleep? Or maybe you were still hanging out with the twins. Fuck that. Suna reached for his phone, finding your contact at the top of his list and calling immediately. He waited for your answer, but it never came. Voicemail. You didn’t call back. And he didn’t sleep. 

At nearly noon he was awoken from the lightest of sleeps by a call. Your call. If he was less upset then he might’ve been embarrassed by how quickly he answered your call. 

“Hey,” he said quickly, sounding breathless. He was. This time his heart was hurting and he felt like he couldn’t breathe, like the air in his lungs was ripped out. Fuck. Was this how you felt all the time? It sucked ass. 

“Hey, Suna - sorry I didn’t answer last night. Osamu left late last night and I kind of crashed immediately.” You explained, and he could practically hear your smile. It twisted his heart. “Was there something you needed?” 

You, he thought, I needed you. 

“ I uh,” he stammered, “Can we hang out today? If you’re not busy?” Don’t be busy. 

“Yeah of course! I’ll pick you up?” 

“Sure.” He agreed quickly, and immediately ended the call. A fresh wave of oxygen supplied his lungs - but it was temporary relief. He needed more air. He would get it. As soon as you came by. 

If you were being honest, you were surprised at how haphazard Suna looked when he slumped into your car. He was lazy sure, and generally disheveled - but Suna looked so exhausted it almost broke your heart. The way he looked like a sharp wind would snap him made you want to wrap him in the flannel you wore; it was his flannel, but it’d been in your possession for so long that it hardly fell under his ownership anymore. Suna was quiet when he got in, not saying anything until you started driving. He didn’t even play his music. 

Huh. Okay? Did I do something wrong? 

You let the silence hang there for a minute before deciding to say something.The uncomfortable tension hanging between the both of you was not something that was common between you and Suna, the faster you could alleviate it - the better. 

“Suna-”

“I like you.”

You slammed on the breaks, and Suna jolted forward with a wince. With an apologetic mutter, you pulled over, parking the car. Quiet had settled again, only now the tension had doubled. Shifting in your seat to face him, you found that he was already staring at you. 

“I like you and I know you like me too.” Suna said again, his stare even and cool despite the slight waver to his words. A blush rose to your cheeks. How could he possibly know that??

“I- What do you mean? Are you serious?” You asked, brows furrowed in concentration. Suddenly, you peered up at him, eyes pleading with him in a silent display. “Please don’t joke with me.” 

“I’m serious.”

It was like breathing air for the first time in your life, feeling the rush of oxygen was enough to make you dizzy. Euphoric even. A hazy smile clambered over your lips and you probably looked like a goof but holy shit. Suna noticed your grin and matched it with a smirk. 

“Good.” 

______________

The first three months with Suna were absolute bliss. The twins had celebrated their successful attempt at getting the two of you together. And despite their explanation that Osamu flirting was only a ploy catalyze the relationship, Suna still eyed Osamu warily anytime he neared you. 

In the first three months, Suna seemed energized. Invigorated. He sparked with some unseen electricity that left you captivated by him; or more so than you had been. You were enthralled by the energy he seemed to have, though it was a subtle change, it was noticeable to you. His eyes were lit with a soft light that had you surrendering to the smallest of glances. In truth, not much had changed between the two of you, only now the two of you were willfully affectionate with one another. You were still best friends, but now you were best friends that went on dates and made out in your parked car. He would lend you hoodies and alternate jerseys to wear to his games, and when you wore them on the bench he seemed to play that much better. 

In the first three months, Suna was more attentive than he had ever been. Pliable under your touch, soft to the gentle coo of “Rin”. He swore he felt a rush like no other when you called him Rin. If he’d known he could get serotonin this easily, he would’ve begged you to call him that years ago.

For three months, you had his attention and energy. You had his affection and effort. For three months, you were soaring in the clouds with Suna Rintarō. 

And then the fourth month came. 

As long as you’d known him, Suna had always been relatively low energy. It was why he’d gravitated towards you, you’d been a refuge for when he was exhausted. You were like a battery, always there with enough energy for the both of you. Except, he hadn’t realized that he’d been draining your battery. In the first three months of your relationship, Suna had been invigorated with a type of energy he’d never expressed before. While it wasn’t a colossal change, it was something you’d noticed. You’d gotten drunk off his affection. Addicted to the soft touches and gentle smiles. The way he’d reach for your hand first. So maybe that was why you noticed when it stopped.

Nothing had changed between the two of you, or at least nothing that you were aware of. But slowly, he stopped reaching over to tangle your fingers together. He stopped calling you. Not that you’d minded much. Your boyfriend was busy, so were you! But you still made time for him. 

You always had. 

Maybe you just needed to put in some more initiative, it was what you had always done in your friendship. You’d always poured more of yourself in, coming to Suna’s beck and call for a chance to spend time with him. So you texted him more. And he’d respond sometimes. 

When you called, he would answer on occasion. At least you still had your midnight escapades. Suna in your car, his nickname on your lips, and soft secrets exchanged under the light of the moon. The soft warmth of your heater enveloping your moments with a cozy haze. 

But the months went on and those midnight escapades were few and far between. You’d stay up late, hoping he would call you to hang out. He was too busy for you during the days, spending more time with the team than he did with you. If you asked him to grab lunch together, he would smile apologetically and press a chaste kiss to your forehead before explaining he was having lunch with the twins at a new spot. He wouldn’t invite you, and you didn’t invite yourself. So your only chance was under the blanket of stars. 

He rarely called. And when he did, you jumped at the phone. You were always on call. Always ready for him. You would stay awake all night with the way your heart panged and yearned for air, and his ringtone provided you with that relief. For a few hours every few weeks, you’d have your Rin again. Where he would nestle himself in your arms and press his lips to your temple. He’d call you love and show you a playlist he’d made, ask you your thoughts. For those few hours on those few nights, you were content. You’d get your fix before the next withdrawal started. 

During practices he hardly acknowledged you, even though you were the manager. He’d return a smile or two with a lazy tilt of his lips, but hardly anything else. Even the rides you gave him home were silent, him lazing his head on the window and giving you hums as a response to any conversation you attempted. 

You were used to Suna being quiet and unresponsive, but even as friends he had given you more. But it seemed as though he simply didn’t care. 

Suna Rintarō had always been a constant in your life. Until he wasn’t. He was sparse now, despite claiming his affection for you and calling you his girlfriend, he was largely absent. Finding that he hardly had any motivation to reach out to you. Why would he when he knew you would always be there to pick up the slack? He had no need to reach out for you when you were only an inch away. All he had to do was mutter a soft ‘babe’ and you were there. You were consistent. He’d never considered that could change. You’d always come whenever he’d call. 

At school you were exhausted, late nights and hard work as a third year and a manager for a powerhouse volleyball team kept you busy. You’d been making less of an effort to contact Suna, finding that your time was being spent elsewhere. Parts of you prickled at the thought of contacting him. If he wanted to talk to you, then he could reach out. You didn’t have anything left in you to try. You were glued to your clipboard during practices, writing down notes and and marking habits throughout the plays. Your eyes only flashed to Suna when necessary. When he did catch your eye, you felt it like a stab at your chest; a gash torn through your heart. He didn’t even notice you looking now, when he used to feel your eyes on him so easily. He didn’t spare you a thought now. 

You handed Atsumu a water bottle during break, but instead of his usual grin, his face contorted into one of concern. His brown eyes narrowing quizzically. “Y/N, Have ya been sleeping at all?” 

You smiled shakily, shrugging and offering Osamu a towel as he approached the conversation. “I try to, but it’s a bit difficult. I’ve got a lot going on, y’know?” 

Osamu glanced at Atsumu slyly, arching a brow at you. “Oh yeah?” He inquired, head cocked sideways. “What does Suna think of all this?”

They could see the way you tensed, the way your eyes flashed with a pang of sadness. Emptiness. “Rin’s been busy,” you murmured simply, offering a shrug you’d hoped might ease the edge off your explanation. 

“Well yeah, we all are, but he can’t see what goin’ on with ya?” Atsumu tried again, crossing his arms against his chest. 

“It’s nothing, Atsumu. Like you said, we’re all busy - it’s nothing.” You tried to reassure, but it sounded more like you were convincing yourself. Maybe it was the exhaustion, or the sudden tight feeling in the air from the conversation at hand, but you hadn’t noticed your boyfriend’s approaching presence. 

He walked up alongside Osamu, a halfway gone water bottle in his hands. “What’s nothing?” Suna inquired, looking between the twins. You didn’t speak, instead you stood there, waiting for some sort of acknowledgement from him. The last time you’d spoken had been fleetingly in the hallways. He only spared you an upturned corner of his lip. 

“Don’t worry about it, Rin, it’s really not important.” Your words were quick, a rush to get them out before one of the twins could say anything. You forced a sweet smile, glancing down at your clipboard, “Break is almost over.” Those were your departing words, swiveling on your heel and starting off back towards the coach. 

Suna turned a curious glance to the twins, silently asking his question again. Osamu pressed his lips together tightly, very clearly conflicted. Atsumu was anything but. “She’s fading, Suna. Yer girl’s exhausted. How can you not tell?” 

Suna’s amber eyes flashed to you, but you weren’t looking at him. He couldn’t see your face. “If it was that serious, she would tell me.” He said simply, shrugging a bit and taking a sip of his water. She would. Right.

“How can she tell ya if yer too busy for her?” Atsumu retorted, maybe a little too harshly. Confusion etched the delicately sharp planes of Suna’s face. 

“Too busy?” He peered again over his shoulder, half hoping you would look at him. You didn’t. “Is that what told you?” 

Osamu finally spoke, looking between his twin and the middle blocker, “Look - how is it that you’re in a relationship and you don’t even notice when yer girl’s falling apart?” 

Suna’s jaw tightened at Osamu’s interference, he’d never been fond of the gray haired twin’s input when it came to his relationship. This was no different. “Why don’t you mind your business, alright? If it bugged Y/N, she would tell me.” 

_____________________________

Suna settled into your car with an awkward silence.Your hands seemed to grip the wheel so hard your knuckles were white. Fuck, now that he was seeing you up close, he could see the sickly palor coloring your skin. The deep shadows under your eyes. The way you were running on empty was so clear. He hadn’t noticed. Hadn’t taken the time to see the way you were running yourself into the ground. You were hardly a block away from school before he tried to speak. 

“Y/N-”

“I think we should break up.”

His breath caught in his throat. He never thought you would say those words to him. Never imagined that you would be the one to put distance between the two of you. “What?” His eyes snapped to you, soaking you in for the first time in months. Truly seeing you. Missing you now that you were slipping. “Why?”

You sighed, and he could hear just how shaky it sounded. “I’m tired of being in a relationship by myself. I’m the only one here. You’re a ghost, Suna.” Suna. Not Rin. Not even Rintarō. Fuck. FUCK. Your voice wavered with emotion, and though he knew he should be looking at you, he couldn’t bring himself to look at you and see your tears. “I can’t keep this up. I have too much to deal with and I can’t keep myself open and waiting for someone whose never going to be there.” 

It felt like you were splashing cold water on him. Like he was finally sobering up after being drunk for so long. He hated the feeling. The cold, biting clarity that came from realizing your mistakes a second too late. 

“Please don’t do this.” He bit out. Fuck. He felt like he was suffocating and the way his eyes stung gave away every indication that this was too real. 

“Suna-”

“I’m Rin. You call me Rin,” The brown haired boy pleaded, turning to you. But you were turning onto his street. 

“Suna.” You said finally, parking outside of his house and shifting to face him. “I love you. So fucking much.” Part of him hoped this would give him a chance, something to work with - to fix this. But you didn’t give him the opening he needed. “But it’s exhausting to love someone who can never love you back. Who isn’t there. I can’t keep loving a ghost.” 

You unlocked the car door. He got out. You waited until he went inside, but as he turned desperately one last time to look at you, you were looking away.