Haikyuu Imagines, Headcanons, & Drabbles

When they realize they have a crush - ke, at, & sa

kenma kozume, miya atsumu, sakusa kiyoomi x gn reader

genre: fluff

warnings: atsumu & kenma's are post time-skip

word count: 1075

Kenma:

Kenma sat cross-legged on his couch, golden eyes flickering between the kitchen doorway and his phone screen. A part of him felt bad for forcing you to handle drunk Kuroo on your own, but on the other hand—

He flinched as a metallic bang echoed from the kitchen, and his eyes flashed up to see your figure bent over in hysterics; your laughter ringing out through his apartment.

But on the other hand, maybe you should not have befriended Kuroo in college.

He let out a sigh, shuffling to get more comfortable on the couch. There was no way you or he were getting Kuroo to sleep anytime soon; the two of you were in for a long night.

The muffled sound of your laughter reached his ears, his lips quirking up delicately. Emotion rushed through his veins, a feeling he was getting more and more intimate with. Kenma Kozume was not stupid, he knew what was happening, what he was feeling. He just did not know how to act on it.

Rapid, clumsy footsteps were his only warning before Kuroo charged into the living room, tugging you behind him by the wrist. He came to a graceless halt in front of the couch, grinning widely at his younger friend. Kenma rolled his eyes, resting his elbows on his knees and lifting his phone to block Kuroo's face.

No reaction.

Not what he was anticipating. He lowered it after a few seconds of silence, worried something may have happened to you or Kuroo. Instead of the bloody scene he was half expecting, you were... dancing?

Kuroo held onto your waist with one hand, holding your opposite hand to the side, dramatically outstretched in a mockery of some ballroom dance. He bounced and weaved you around the room to music only he could hear, his remarkable coordination leaving Kenma wondering if he was ever even inebriated. For your part you merely laughed, allowing your rooster-haired friend to drag you around Kenma's apartment.

After only a few minutes Kuroo collapsed to the floor with no warning, his theatrical tumble pulling you down with him. Yeah, he was definitely drunk.

Your eyes widened in desperation, arms stretching out to catch yourself. A groan slips from your mouth as the ground rushes up to meet you, and somehow Kuroo manages to land on top of you. Through the tangle of limbs, your eyes latch onto Kenma's in a silent plea for help.

He shrugged lazily, deliberately raising his phone again; although he continued to watch, peeking around the edge of the screen. Grumbling lowly, you look away without noticing his gaze. Kenma's lips twitch into a soft smile, his eyes crinkling near the edges, and he wondered if maybe you felt the same.

Atsumu:

When people heard 'Miya Twins,' they often thought of his brother, Osamu, and himself, Atsumu. But those who knew them well, knew they were really more of the 'Miya Triplets,' the way you stuck by their side. Although you were not blood related in anyway, 'Samu and he swore they had known you their entire lives. Birthday parties, relationships, and countless volleyball games – you were there through it all.

Even now, years after the three of you had graduated high school and moved on to different things, you were still in both of their lives. On some weekends he would find you helping Osamu in his restaurant, and over his time as a professional volleyball player he could count on his hands the number of home games you had missed.

That's why it hurts. You are a great friend. Friend, friend, friend, friend, friend. The word repeated itself over and over in his thoughts.

Atsumu flinched as the whistle blew, the ball-boy bouncing a volleyball to him. He caught it easily in one hand; walking passed the end line and the line judge. Calls of 'nice serve' rang out from his teammates and the crowd itself, but his thoughts were anywhere but on his upcoming serve. The noise of the arena washed over him in a wave, and Atsumu tried to focus on the noise, distract himself from the thoughts raging through his mind, but his eyes drifted instinctively to a familiar spot in the stadium – the seat he reserved for you every game.

It was empty.

Did he really think things would go back to normal after the argument?

"Why was he so god damn stubborn?" He could hear Osamu's words like he was next to him on the court.

Somehow it still hurt. The din settled into a dull roar that pulsed in his ears, louder than his heartbeat.

The whistle blew again and Atsumu knew he should be serving, should be focusing on the game, but all he could think about was you.

Sakusa:

"Sakusa!"

Your voice was at a softer pitch than he was used to hearing from you, and it surprised him to realize he enjoyed hearing it. At least you were not shouting anymore. If he was honest, the first time he saw you he thought you were a lost tourist or someone's fan. Maybe a... no you did not look old enough to be a reporter you seemed to be around the same age as him. And then you began calmly directing him and the other players into a drill, and he knew he was not the only one who was surprised by your presence.

He leaned against the corner as you approached, instinctively adjusting his mask. You slowed to a stop a few feet away, holding his water bottle in your hands.

"You forgot your bottle in the gym," You began to explain, holding it out for him to take. "But I know you don't like germs so—" you waved your free hand— "I wore gloves."

Sakusa stared at you in surprise. No one had ever been so considerate; most people just thought he was weird.

Hesitation flickered across your features, your smile drifting away. "That is okay, right? I can have it washed—"

"Thank you," He interrupted quickly, prying the object in question from your grasp.

"You're welcome."

You start to turn away but stop, wavering indecisively in the air for a moment before seeming to make a decision, "Would you mind if I stayed here? It's quieter. I like it," you ask softly, gaze coming back to rest on him.

No one ever wanted to stay, they usually left as soon as polite conversation allowed them to.

"No, I don't."

No, he did not mind at all.