#u can tell bc I was knees deep in my hq phase

[wttcsms]

— excerpts of upcoming works;

i have nearly 90k words total in my google docs drafts, lol. i figured i would share some of my progress towards specific fics + to gauge overall interest in my projects. enjoy!

right now, it's just two atsumu fics + 1 kiyoomi fic because i'm still steadily looking through my drafts for anything halfway decent enough to show publicly lol

angel of the morning, atsumu miya x f!reader

soldier!au, nonspecific/fictional war, early 1900s setting * features first love, "you never answered my letters" "you sent letters?", breeding kink, lots of hurt, lots of comfort, happy ending * 3k words written, est. ~15k when finished

It’s been a rough day. 

A rough week. 

A rough month.

A rough life, really, but Atsumu Miya’s long past the days of whining and complaining about things he can’t control. For example, he no longer dwells on his father abandoning his mother right before she gave birth to him and Osamu. There’s still a bitter taste that gets left on his tongue when he mentions dear old pa, which is why, for the most part, he chooses not to discuss him at all. He can’t control the way the north and the south view each other; sure, the mandatory draft isn’t his definition of a fun time, but he honestly didn’t have many plans after school, anyway. He probably would’ve joined the cause, regardless of the law or not. It’s just… A choice is nice to have, y’know? 

Like, if he had it his way, he wouldn’t have gotten caught up in some ambush tonight. If only he weren’t just a lieutenant. If only his captain weren’t such a dumbass.

If he had a group to command, Atsumu’s certain that he wouldn’t lead his men into obvious traps, unlike some captains. But newly promoted Brigadier General Kita isn’t here to force people to listen to what Atsumu has to say. Kita has bigger problems to worry about, bigger troops to organize. 

Atsumu’s morning starts off bright and early with a five mile trek in the woods. The sky is overcast, and anyone with eyes is capable of predicting the storm that’s coming. Atsumu suggests building temporary shelter before the rain makes it too hard to walk; it’s already hard enough to navigate now, but Atsumu’s visited this town before, when he was a little boy. It floods easily, too easily. 

His captain doesn’t listen. Typical.

Around noon, they take a short break to eat. Rations are getting lower. Atsumu suggests that two or three soldiers turn around and head towards town to get supplies. His captain argues that their group is already small enough and sneers that Atsumu must be a northie lover since he’s trying so hard to sabotage this plan. 

The plan is shit, by the way. The captain swears his intel is good, that he’s just oh so certain that a troop of northern soldiers are planning to invade a series of small southern towns. They’re supposedly cutting through the woods to be discreet, and they plan on striking at night.

Atsumu thinks that the captain is just falling into their trap (spoiler: he’s right). There’s no way anyone would bother capturing small towns, just like there’s no way people ever want to listen to someone who’s just a lieutenant. Nobody thinks they have anything to offer, so it’s not worth the time to even pretend to care. These towns aren’t loaded with resources. They aren’t located in any coveted areas. There are only a couple of farms, but even then, they’re not big enough to justify wasting troops to terrorize the townspeople. 

But First Lieutenant Miya follows his orders anyway because what else is he supposed to do? Unfortunately, talking back comes to bite him in the ass because as nighttime starts to settle and the first drops of rain start to fall, his captain gives him a slimy smile before telling him, “Since you have such great ideas, Lieutenant, why don’t you go ahead and turn back into town to get us some of those supplies we needed?”

Well, Atsumu has a few choice words in reply, none of which will get him back into his captain’s good graces (not like he cares to be anyway). Atsumu can argue that it’s dark out, and no one in their right mind is going to be up at night. Atsumu can throw back his captain’s words and remind him that their measly team is already lacking in numbers. He can make the captain look dumb and ask him where the supposed enemy troops are at, since apparently they’re supposed to be capturing the town right about now. He can abandon the men, go back home, and enjoy a homecooked meal from ma. She wouldn’t care enough to scold him for being a dirty deserter; the lecture will come, surely, but she wouldn’t be too harsh with him. Atsumu misses home. He misses his brother, who belongs to a different troop. He misses Shinsuke, his former captain. He misses his mom. 

What he does end up doing, though, is biting back his tongue. He barely nods, clenches his teeth as he reluctantly says yes, sir, and treks off on his own. 

He’s about three miles in when the bullets start flying. 

Isn’t this just a lovely way to finish off the night, he thinks, before sprinting through the trees, weaving between them, trying to ignore how loud and how close the shots sound. He thinks he’ll probably go deaf by the time this damn war is over. A bullet narrowly misses his face, and then he starts to think he’ll probably be dead before then.

He can’t see. If he can’t see, he doubts the enemies can, either. That’s when he gets an idea. His legs are sore, he’s thirsty, and every step he takes is punctuated by a sloshing sound because the area is flooding, just like he predicted it would.

(Sometimes it’s a pain being right all the time.)

The shots are still coming at him in rapid succession, and he believes maybe it’s because they still think they have to shoot at him. If they think they got him, maybe they’ll leave him alone. It didn’t sound like anyone was bothering to chase after him, meaning they’re all probably perched in trees or hiding in bushes, shooting blindly into the night, hoping to land a lucky shot on a target. 

Before he can pretend to be hit, though, some bastard does get a lucky shot on him.

“Fuck!” He can’t help but yell out, the bullet piercing the side of his abdomen. A burning sensation begins to form on the spot where the bullet decided to make its happy home, and Atsumu can’t help but fall to the ground, clutching at the bottom half of his body. 

A minute goes by with no more shooting, and he’s glad he’s in enough pain not to realize that had he thought of his little plan of pretending to be shot sooner, he probably wouldn’t be in this predicament right now. 

It’d be so easy just to lie down and die. It’d be a slow death, sure. Painful, very much so. But no more fighting. No more captains belittling him. 

But if you a die, a tiny voice in his head reminds him, it wouldn’t just be you that dies. It’d kill ma. It would ruin Osamu. Don’t be a selfish bastard. 

He allows himself only one more minute to stay absolutely still. He thinks the adrenaline pumping in his system helps to numb the pain, which is saying a lot, considering the fact that death would be preferable over this excruciating sensation. When he’s certain the coast is clear, he struggles to stand and keep himself steady.

He cannot die like this. 

Atsumu Miya knows better than to get upset at things he can’t control. He can’t control flying bullets aimed at him. He can’t control enemy soldiers; hell, he doesn’t even have soldiers he can control, enemy or ally. He can’t control a lot of shitty things that seem to happen to him, but as long as his heart is still beating, Atsumu Miya controls his own fate. He decides what happens next. 

It’s only a matter of putting one foot in front of the other, he rationalizes. He walks all the time. It’s not such a hard task. The storm continues to rage on, and Atsumu pretends he doesn’t even mind the water. He pretends that he’s not freezing. He pretends that he doesn’t care that his uniform is sticking to his body, making the dirty fabric cling onto him as if to act as a second skin. 

There’s a white flag in his knapsack. During training, they said to use it as a last resort. Die before you wave it, or something like that. 

He knows the intended use for it, but right now, he needs it as a tourniquet. He tightens the flag around his waist, using all his diminishing strength to get it as tight as possible. He can trick himself into thinking it’ll stop the flow of blood leaving his body, but at least it’ll slow it down. It’ll grant him enough time to make it into town and get help. 

He doesn’t choose the first house he sees; he chooses the one he likes the best. It’s nothing all too impressive — certainly not the biggest, but from what he can make out in the dark, it looks quaint. It reminds him of home, almost. There’s a porch with a bench outside and flowers on a window sill. It seems to glow in the darkness of the town, its paint a much brighter shade than the surrounding houses. A nice family must live here then. 

He knocks on the door, and there is no answer. Atsumu Miya did not walk this far with his life literally draining out of him to only make it this far. He knocks and knocks, and because he is too stubborn, even to the very end, he doesn’t quit. Someone must answer the door. It doesn’t cross his mind that perhaps this lovely family he’s envisioning might not even be home. It feels like ages since he first started banging on this door, and he thinks this might be it.

And then the door swings open, revealing a young lady with a certain glow about her. Maybe it’s the blood loss talking, but right now, you look like an absolute angel. His bright beacon of hope. 

“Finally.” He swallows hard, trying to remember what he’s supposed to tell you. The proper words are evading him right now. Honestly, even standing is a struggle now. He thinks he does a good enough job, but then he blinks, and his eyes don’t open back up after that.

no more keepin' score (now i just keep you warm), kiyoomi sakusa x f!reader

womanizer/playboy!sakusa x maneater!reader, celebrity reader * features meeting your match, the girl plays the game better, banter, sexual tension, * 2k written, est. ~25k when finished

Three mimosas in, and you haven’t flirted with a single volleyball player yet, even though Sober You thinks they’re totally hot, and Tipsy You thinks they’re just the hottest.

Bokuto and Mai are lost in their own conversation, leaving you to talk with the infamous teammates that Mai was so certain you would want to make your flavor of the week. There’s the faux blond sitting on your left, the ginger sitting diagonally from you, and next to the ginger — Shoyo — is probably the reason why Mai begged you to be good for once. Curly black hair, the most intense set of dark eyes, and the jawline of a god — he’s the very definition of tall, dark, and handsome. You’re kind of already regretting your promise not to play with Bokuto’s teammates. Almost.

Atsumu, the blond, is funny. Shoyo has a fun energy that’s easy to reciprocate. And Sakusa… 

Sakusa hasn’t spoken to you once, and you’re nearing forty minutes into this lunch. You’re wondering how long this vow of silence is going to last before turning your attention to Atsumu.

“—haven’t been to a volleyball game before?” He’s staring at you, mouth turning up into a boyish grin that’s surprisingly cuter than you expect it to be. During the whole entire introduction stage at the beginning of lunch, you played dumb, as if you couldn’t identify some of the most famous professional athletes in Japan. You don’t like letting people know that you’re aware of their existence; it gives them too much of an ego boost. 

You know what he’s about to offer — the best seats in the house, probably to the upcoming game next week. He’s probably the type to send you a jersey — one brandishing his name and court number, of course. 

“Nope.” Then, tilting your head curiously, you ask him, “Why? Am I missing out on anything?”

His grin only grows wider. 

“Ya know, we have a game next week.” Well, you do know, but since you’re playing the role of ‘ditz to all things volleyball’, you let him continue his little sales pitch. “Each player gets to invite whoever they want.” 

How cute. He wants you to make the next move. 

“Oh, that’s great! Y’know, Mai mentioned something like that to me earlier today. I think she says I can be her plus-one, so I’m really excited to be able to finally experience a match.” You smile at him, acting as if you’re oblivious to the fact that he is readying himself to offer a ticket to you. 

“I heard ticket processing for a guest’s plus-one is kinda tricky. I’d feel really bad for ya if you couldn’t catch the entire game because you got held up trying to get in.” The excuse is obviously flimsy, but you find it a bit cute the lengths he’ll go to beat around the bush.

But you can’t score if you never shoot, and if Atsumu isn’t going to directly invite you, you’re not taking his ticket. 

“Hm, well, I’ll probably just sit this one out then. I think there’s a charity baseball game happening the same night, and a couple of the players are pretty good friends. I’ll just watch that if you’re sure it’s going to be an issue for Mai and me to get in.” You give Atsumu your bright mega-watt smile, the one you’re used to giving for ad campaigns. 

“I mean, you could always use my ticket.” 

Your smile only grows wider, and this time, just the slightest bit genuine. 

Mai asked you a while back why you do it; flirt and have your fun with guys but refuse to commit to anything serious. At first, you told her it was because you wanted to focus on your modeling career and couldn’t afford a constant distraction. Now, at the height of your career, you can admit the other half.

You like being wanted. 

Because right now, Atsumu is staring at you like he’s afraid you’re going to disappear, and he won’t know what to do with himself if you did. Bokuto stares at Mai like that too, and for her sake, you hope it lasts.

(It never does for you, and you’re tired of hoping the next boy will be the one to break the pattern.)

“I might take you up on that offer.” You tell him, knowing that you won’t. “Baseball’s been my go-to sport for years. Don’t wanna break that tradition just yet.” 

“Why baseball?” Shoyo asks, between forkfuls of extremely overpriced Eggs Benedict. 

“Mm, probably because I’m rumored to be dating about half the league’s roster and fucking the other half.” You laugh at Atsumu and Shoyo’s wide-eyed expressions. You discreetly glance at Sakusa, only to find him more interested in the food on his plate than your admission. “Emphasis on rumored.” 

And then, just because you’re now sipping on your fourth mimosa of the afternoon, you find the confidence to give them a cheeky grin. “Besides, I took a vow of celibacy.” 

Now Sakusa’s staring right at you. 

“You? Celibate?” Eyebrow raised, tone not quite incredulous but not entirely flat, either. It doesn’t take a psychologist to detect Sakusa’s obvious disbelief. 

“Yeah, me, celibate.” You say it slowly. “You seem surprised to hear that.”

“Since when?”

“Hmm…” You pick up your phone, pretending to check the time. “Let’s see… Since twelve hours ago, give or take.” 

“Wow, I’m surprised E!News hasn’t reported this breaking news.” 

Is it just you, or did he sound a little bit rude when he made that comment?“Probably ‘cause their reporters are too busy writin’ about your little — what d’you call ‘em? — indiscretions.” Atsumu jumps to your defense almost immediately, and while you’re perfectly capable of biting back at Sakusa and making a jab about his headlines, you’re glad Atsumu’s here. Sakusa seems smart, and if you reveal that you’re aware of his “indiscretions”, he’ll certainly call you out on pretending to not know of him.

atsumu miya's guide to escaping from the friend zone, atsumu miya x f!reader

third year au, enemies to lovers, shoujo manga vibes * features romcom elements, knowing each other since childhood, he falls first AND he falls the absolute hardest, getting together, miscommunication as a means to be comedic not for poorly manufactured drama/angst, lighthearted with a happy ending, no angst 1k written, est. ~10k when completed

STEP ONE: ACTUALLY GET TO THE FRIEND ZONE FIRST

You’re in love with Atsumu Miya — you just don’t know it yet. 

At least, that’s what Atsumu claims as he speaks with his mouth full, bits of rice flying out of his mouth, leaving everyone in his immediate vicinity disgusted. 

“She doesn’t even know you exist, idiot.” Osamu doesn’t look amused as he pulls his bento box closer to himself, trying to avoid the hailstorm that is Atsumu’s half chewed grains of rice. 

“She does!” He’s awfully indignant when he replies, looking like he’s about to make a move to slap his brother but thinks better of it. As captain of the Inarizaki Boys’ Volleyball team, he has to learn to behave lest he lose the title altogether. 

“Wanting you dead isn’t the same thing as loving you,” Rintarou is quick to chime in, and the first and second years on the team snicker.

“It’s a work in progress.” Atsumu snaps, failing to mention that you loving him has been a ‘work in progress’ for the past decade and counting. 

(Not like he’s, you know, obsessively keeping track. Definitely not.) 

The two of you have been attending the same school since your elementary days. On the first day of class, your teacher made everyone hold hands with the person next to them, and a five year old Atsumu just so happened to be the person seated next to a five year old you. 

“This person is going to be your buddy for the rest of the school year!” Your teacher exclaimed, clapping her hands together and smiling too cheerfully for so early in the morning. 

Then, someone had exclaimed that boys had cooties, and every girl buddied with a boy immediately took back their hand, either on the brink of tears and dramatically turning up their nose in disgust. 

Atsumu likes to claim that this is where things went wrong (never minding the fact that you had been the only girl not to drop a boy’s hand), but what really started your dislike for him (that has since spiraled into his closest friends thinking you want their captain dead) happened in middle school. 

As fate would have it, you were seated in front of Atsumu for math. He had (still does) a bad habit of chewing gum as loudly and obnoxiously as possible (from your perspective, anyway; truthfully, Atsumu just lacks self-awareness). He made it hard to concentrate during lectures and tests, and midway through the year, you complained to your teacher. 

(“Why do you not want to be seated close to Mr. Miya, hmm?” Your teacher smiled at you, his tone light and teasing. “Is it because of a crush?” 

“Gross! No! I do not have a crush on Miya!” Your eyes were wide, and you were shaking your head. “He just gets on my nerves. He’s always stealing my pencils and smacking on him and hiding my textbook-“ 

“You know, Miss [Surname], middle school boys are mean to girls they like. I’m afraid that my seating charts are always permanent, but even if they weren’t, I think I would make Mr. Miya very upset if I moved you.” 

“Who cares about that? He’s so annoying. Let him bother someone else!” 

“Ah, [Surname], class is only in session for a few more months. If it gets worse, then we’ll see to adjusting the seating arrangements. For now, let’s get you back to your desk and focused on these fractions.” Your math teacher doesn’t bother hiding a smile as he jokes with you. “You better be careful; he might yank your hair and think it’s a proper declaration of love.” 

Your math teacher never tells you that Atsumu spent two weeks of summer break cleaning this classroom to get seated next to you.) 

The complaining didn’t work, and you were still stuck in the same seat in front of Atsumu. Then, one day, while he was ignoring the teacher’s lecture and giving his attention to something more worthwhile (such as the back of your head), Atsumu noticed a spider crawling from your back and aiming upwards, towards your hair. He watched in morbid fascination as the spider made its way into your strands of hair, and he reacted quickly, not quite thinking things through. 

He grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled, forcing you to tilt back with a yelp, which then caused the entire class to turn and stare at the two of you. 

The spider was nowhere to be found, at least, but your teacher had to stop his lesson, shaking his head while he walked to the classroom phone. 

“Honestly, Mr. Miya, what goes on in your head?” The teacher sounded like he was holding back laughter as he dialed the principal’s office. 

Meanwhile, you straightened yourself out and turned to glare at Atsumu, who could only give you a sheepish grin in return. 

“Sorry,” he told you, not sounding the least bit sorry. “Ya should be thankin’ me—“ 

“Thanking you?” You practically yelled it out. “I should be beating you. What is your problem with me, Miya?” 

And that was the moment when Atsumu Miya realized that getting you to fall in love with him might be a bit of a struggle. 

But that was then, and this is how. Now, you’re both in your third year of high school. Now, Atsumu is the captain of a team that’s an absolute powerhouse. Now, Atsumu is a box blond and despite his harsh attitude, girls are still vying for his attention. 

He figures it’s only a matter of time before you come to your senses and join them. 

You never do, though, and now he’s stuck rethinking his master plan. His friends are no help whatsoever, and the school year is going to fly by if he’s not careful. He knows you’ve been accepted to Tokyo U, and he knows that he’s probably not heading to college — not when professional scouts are watching his games and have the power to sign him right after graduation. He’ll never have a chance to be this close to you ever again, and he has to act now. 

“Work in progress, my ass.” Rin snorts. “You’ll be lucky to even be her friend at this point.” 

Now, Atsumu doesn’t like to consider other people as geniuses, but he’ll settle for considering Rintarou his muse. All this time, Atsumu’s been trying to get you to love him, completely disregarding the fact that you have to like someone before that can happen. 

And people like their friends. For the most part. 

“Ya know what, Rin? You might actually have a point.” 

“There was no point. I was making fun of you. Whatever you’re thinking about doing, here’s actual advice: don’t.” No one on the team is particularly surprised when Atsumu doesn’t take that advice.