Atsumu Fluff - Blog Posts

omg hi eumy could u do rating the pet names u call him with atsumu pls pls pls ily 🤍🤍

MIYA ATSUMU ✰ RATING THE PET NAMES YOU CALL HIM: A THREAD

SEUMYO © 2024, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

𖦹 AM I THE SAME GIRL? ⇆ atsumu miya

┆︎summary ┆︎you've taken up two new interests―geology and unearthing the truth behind atsumu's new cryptic behavior.

┆︎tags┆︎getting together, friends to lovers. reader is oblivious. atsumu is predictably, a loser in love.

┆︎wc┆︎3.7k

┆︎an┆︎it is the beginning of winter and for some reason i always think of summer. and also this 100% an excuse to research further about something that has always interested me. half of what i learned didn't even make it into the fic but just know i have about 3 hours worth of stuff lodged in my brain now.

okinawa is a long thirty-six hours from your home in hyogo. you've already vowed to visit once your curator job takes off―and you actually have enough money to stay there. but anyway. the reason you want to visit so badly is because of the hoshizuna no nama―or the star sand beach. where sand is typically made up of tiny rocks and particles, the sand is made of tiny star-shaped little particles.

you know this, and other odd things about rocks you've never heard of before, thanks to your monthly subscription to the petrology society journal. the part time job you've gotten at onigiri miya doesn't allow much for extra expenses, but the journal is one of the things you don't mind dipping into your budget for.

it's nothing something most people would expect from you (and certainly not something you thought you would enjoy so much) but you had caught the tail end of a documentary on the history of the earth while studying for yet another exam.

you're reading the latest issue now, or you're trying to. it's more like you're pretending to read it, as your eyes scan over the same paragraph seven times. in reality, you're way too interested in watching osamu and a few of his friends play a friendly (?) game of volleyball. and more specifically―watching atsumu play volleyball.

osamu had asked if you wanted to join, or maybe if you wanted to keep the score but you had declined. these were osamu's friends, and you felt more than a little out of your element just by being there. you attended the inarizaki high, same as osamu and his friends, but to say you were friends then was a generous statement.

at most, you and osamu partnered together often to work on projects or study. classroom friends. not the sort that hung out together outside of school hours. and when you started working part-time at onigiri miya, you assumed it would be the same. it isn't, and as a result, the two of you have struck up a tentative new friendship.

atsumu, osamu's twin, is an entirely different story. even in highschool, he was never someone you were able to understand. and nothing about him ever made any sense. even after all the time that has passed, that remains the same.

it's like he pays too much attention to you, but at the same time―none at all. you don't get it.

suit yourself atsumu had said, putting his hands on his hips as his eyes traced over you―watching keenly as you found a place to sit off to the side. you can just be my cheerleader instead.

your scowl had been instantaneous. feathers ruffled, you planted yourself down on your beach chair and forced yourself not to give atsumu the time of the day. a challenge, when he's possibly the hottest person you've ever seen. he carries himself differently than osamu, and you wonder if that's what makes you so drawn to him.

you aren't sure if you want to know the answer. what does that say about you, being attracted to boys with bad attitudes and piss colored hair?

"i don't hear any cheerin" atsumu drawls out, when he catches you staring for maybe the third time in a row. you scowl again, and cross one long leg over the other, body language clearly expressing your displeasure.

the star sand, in the end, isn't made up of anything mythical―not like you had been expecting. you know magic isn't real, but still your mind had conjured up the idea that the star sand was made of remnants from magical stars. sand, star shaped or not, are made up of decomposed organisms.

your eyes slide once more towards atsumu. for once, he isn't looking back at you. people, famous volleyball athletes or not, are made up of the same things.

--

today had been taxing in a way it hasn't been in a long time. you woke up on the wrong side of the bed, plastered with heat and sweat. class fared no better, and you forced yourself to trudge through the lessons―completely fumbling when a professor suddenly cold-called on you.

the one time you decide to give yourself a few extra hours of sleep instead of keeping up with the reading, you make a fool out of yourself in front of everyone. you're sure no one even remembers it, or gives it a second thought. but you wouldn't know how to stop being so mean to yourself, even if you wanted to.

your day hadn't gotten any better. you spilled a cup of iced coffee all over yourself, tripped and skinned your knee, had a disastrous shift at onigiri miya (to the point where osamu sent you home early)―and to top it all off, passed out the moment you arrived back at your apartment, instead of working on a paper that was due the next day.

never again will i take a summer class, you think to yourself, as you stand sleepily in line at the nearby convenience store.

"you seem tired" a voice says, next to you. and you turn blearily to face atsumu miya himself. "you're in grad school, right?"

it's totally and completely unfair that he gets to walk around looking that perfect. if there is a god, it's clear that he has favorites. and you are most certainly not one of them. atsumu, on the other hand, is.

"i'm regretting taking summer classes" you explain, tracing the floor pattern with the toe of your beat-up sneakers. you don't want to delve too deeply into your issues, and you're unsure if atsumu even cares to listen. "it's―challenging. at times"

"it might be a busy day, but try to make some time for yourself. any time spent settling your mind is time well spent. staring pensively into that cup of tea for a few moments can be equally beneficial" says atsumu, reading off of his phone, tone unusually wise. "calm your mind, and your heart, and make it an at-peace day"

it's night. your brow arches, thoroughly concerned.

"what?" is all you say, looking at him.

"it's pretty straightforward you know" atsumu pouts―pouts. this whole infatuation...thing, would be a lot easier if he weren't so pretty to stare at. "just, keep it in mind, okay?"

"...okay" you promise, because what else can you even say at this point.

a grin spreads across his face, surprisingly genuine. you don't even want to begin to unpack what that might mean, so you don't. you pay for your things, and part ways outside of the entrance of the store, going in opposite directions.

you get back to your apartment. and you make yourself a cup of tea, staring at it in the snoopy shaped mug.

it does help you feel a bit better.

--

your favorite shifts at onigiri miya are the morning ones. well, late morning and the beginning of the rush hour. you and osamu typically chat politely, where he asks about the different events happening in your life. neither of you seem to have many friends and you're all the more glad for the easy friendship you have with him.

this morning had been passed in comfortable silence, both of you in separate parts of the shop, working.

that is, until osamu sticks his head to the front of the shop and throughs a wrench in your entire life. "you know you could just talk to him"

"huh?" you say ineloquently, serving spoon held above the rice. it dawns on you pretty quickly, what osamu is saying and you don't have to look at him to know that he knows. still, you lie and reply with, "i have absolutely no clue what you're talking about"

"really? because 'tsumu's standing right there" your head snaps up. atsumu is not there. you turn to glare at osamu, who only laughs loudly at your expense. "god you're easy"

"i'm going to quit" you threaten, though both of you know that isn't the case. osamu only laughs louder. "i don't deserve this treatment"

the bell jingles overhead. "what treatment?" atsumu says, in the flesh this time―fresh from a jog. both you and his twin look surprised. speak of the devil, they say, and he shall appear. "osamu you better be treating your best employee with the utmost respect!"

"i don't even treat you with the utmost respect" osamu drawls, before heading into the back of the shop so he doesn't have to hear his twin's response.

atsumu, thoroughly annoyed, stalks to the front. he stares down at you through the separation glass and smiles. "good morning. doing better?"

"uhhh" you say, awkwardly, staring at him. or trying not to stare at him. he's wearing a tank top today and you can feel your brain shutting down. eventually, your brain reboots itself and you remember what it is he wanted to know. "yes―the tea helped. thanks for that"

"no problem" atsumu replies, and rattles off his usual weekend morning order. two spicy tuna and two yaki. he watches you make them with eerily focused eyes―like it's his first time ever seeing anyone make onigiri or something.

you make your way to the cash register, and atsumu follows. his eyes land on your latest issue of the petrology society journal. "you've been reading those a lot."

your eyes, naturally, also track to the magazine. you usually like to read to pass the time when there's no customers in sight. but being noticed, perceived, by atsumu of all people, makes you feel suddenly too-conscious. you try to remind yourself of the star sand, and how it's just like regular sand. atsumu is just another person. no need to get so worked up about it.

"every time i see you, your nose is usually in it" atsumu says―unaware of the effect it has on you. he points to the cover. "do you know what kind of rock that is?"

"basalt" you gurgle out, avoiding his stare.

atsumu's eyes light with understanding. "looks kinda like gravel to me" he lifts his gaze to you once more. "is that a rock? gravel?"

you pretend to think on it―like you haven't covered that topic on one of your earlier issues weeks ago.

"gravel's made up of a lot of other crushed rock" you explain, eyeing him. he's looks genuinely interested. "usually limestone, sandstone and basalt"

atsumu smirks, victorious, and snaps his fingers. "i knew it"

he did not 'know it'. you hand him onigiri with a small smile and a shake of your head anyway.

--

osamu, atsumu, their friends and a handful of new faces you don't quite recognize are playing volleyball in an indoor gym. once again, osamu has extended an invitation to you―but you learn that atsumu has asked that you be there as well.

this time, you bring along an ice cooler, stashed with water bottles. you don't really know what volleyball players eat to conserve energy and after classes sucking the joy from your body, you didn't feel too up to making anything. but they seem overjoyed at the snacks you've brought anyway.

what excites a bunch of grown adult men about mere trail mix and greek yogurt, you'll never understand. but if it means everyone likes it, then you're happy. you're chatting with a few siblings and close friends of the players and you're having so much fun you haven't bothered to pick up your magazine once. but its tucked into your crossbody bag, pressing up against your side as a gentle reminder of its presence.

watching them play volleyball is fun all on its own, too. atsumu and his brother play on the same team, playfully bickering with one another. and then atsumu's eyes search through the small gathering of people watching until they land on yours. he slaps the back of osamu's shoulder and jogs off the court before he can retaliate.

"give me your hands" atsumu says, instead of greeting you like a normal person.

you, predictably, do no such thing. instead, you shoot him a cautious look, cradling them to your chest. "i'm not doing that"

atsumu rolls his eyes. "just do it"

he holds his hands out, expectant. side-eying him, you comply. he takes hold of them―touch surprisingly gentle. his hands are warm, but aren't sweaty like you'd expect. he turns your palms over, and his eye's scan over them, studying them.

there's not much else for you to do, but join him. you look at your palms, trying to see what he see's. if he's seeing anything at all.

"you know, by looking at your hands, i'd say you would make a pretty good spiker" he says, and then, cryptically―"a twist in your plans will lead to unexpected joy. embrace the change"

"what are you, miya-san, you aren't making much sense at all" you say, trying not to give away how much you like it when he gently starts to trace over your palm lines with his thumb.

atsumu holds up one of your hands, comparing it to his own. "your palms and your fingers are proportional―see? signs of a good hitter they say"

that sounds like you made it up, you want to say, but don't.

"and the last part―it was your horoscope this morning" he says, continuing to make less and less sense. why does he know your horoscope in the first place? does he check it periodically, or is this a spur of the moment thing? the two of you are still holding hands. what does any of this mean?

i didn't know atsumu was into this kind of stuff, you think to yourself, as you stare at his hands in return. you suppose you aren't the only one with new, emerging interests.

"and what do your hands say?" you reply instead, hoping that he doesn't pull away.

atsumu snorts, and this time, places his in yours. "well i guess you can check. not that you know what you're looking for"

"well explain it to me then" you retort with a roll of your eyes, turning his palms over in your hands, like he had done with yours. you hear the hitch of breath that follows, before you see it.

"well my fingers are slightly longer and that means they're unproportioned to my palms" he explains, matter of factly. you stare more pointedly at his hands, so you don't have to look up into his face. "so you could say i would make a good middle blocker"

"but you're not" you say, frowning.

"i'm not" atsumu confirms, smirking at you―like it's a fond secret the two of you share. someone laughs in the background, surely not at the two of you, but he pulls away anyway, running a hand through his hair.

"is it really that hard for you to want to cheer for me?" he asks suddenly, staring at you.

confusion falls upon your face. every time it seems that you finally have a handle on the conversation, atsumu has to flip them so that you remain ever puzzled. "huh?"

"i always ask you to. cheer for me, i mean." he explains, uncharacteristically looking away. "but you never do. you cheer sometimes for osamu, or suna. oran especially."

you wish for the contact of his hands again. "i didn't think you were serious. i'm sorry"

it dawns on you then, that he has. nearly every time they play, in fact. he asks without fail. but you assumed it was a joke, or something.

"try it next time?" he asks, 100% serious, ignoring the way his team calls out for him. you have a feeling this isn't about the cheering anymore. but it's like you're missing several pieces of a particularly large and complex puzzle. in other words. you have no idea what it is that atsumu means behind his words.

"okay" you say, because what else is there to say?

atsumu beams, and jogs back onto the court.

--

osamu says he's going to head out to go pick up some supplies. he returns forty-minutes later with no supplies and with atsumu in tow, flanked on the other side by suna.

"hi atsumu, hi suna" you greet, waving, closing your magazine. "are you guys getting anything?"

suna and osamu look to be in much higher spirits than atsumu, who looks seconds away from puking. he doesn't. suna leans close to whisper in his ear, and atsumu glares at him fiercely―trying to turn around to leave the store. osamu doesn't let him, looking all too cheerful to push him towards you.

you decide you really don't want to know what shenanigans the three of them are up to.

"your usual, miya-san?" you ask again, putting on a pair of serving gloves.

atsumu spares another look at his brother, before shuffling forwards half-a-step. he rubs nervously at the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze. "there's a market. for crystals and stuff, about an hour from here in osaka. it's here for two weeks and i wanted to know if you wanted to go with me"

then, looking up at the ceiling of all things, continues. "it'll have other stuff too. like horoscopes and fortune telling."

you don't really need the extra information. you figured that sort of thing would be there. but horoscopes are kind of atsumu's thing. you're pleased he wants to share it with you―even if you find it a little cool as well.

"sure" you smile "sounds fun"

atsumu looks as though he could faint. or puke. or maybe do some combination of the two. but his color improves, and he gives you a small smile in return, shockingly bashful.

he peers down at you, shedding all of his strange behavior. "okay. great. tomorrow? i'll pick you up"

"tomorrow works for me, miya-san" you reply, good-naturedly.

atsumu turns and leaves onigiri miya without another word.

"you should dress nice" suna says, oddly, once he's completely gone. osamu's too busy typing madly on his phone to interject, so you look at him strangely. now he is starting not to make sense.

--

you do dress nicely. so much so, that atsumu compliments you on it at least four different times before you can even make it to the marketplace. i like your hair, it's cute. pretty, like your skirt. things like that. you don't know what to make of it.

"are you excited?" you ask, once the security guard hands the two of you wristbands.

atsumu clasps his on deftly, but signals for you to hold out your wrist once he notices you struggling. you try not to jerk in place every time his fingers graze your skin―but you aren't sure how successful you are at keeping a straight face.

"shouldn't i be asking you that?" he asks, raising his brows in confusion. he doesn't wait for you to answer, tugging you along by the hand in the direction of one of the booths.

"oh i recongize this one" you tell him, pointing down at a jagged stone. "its called chalcedony. i read about it a few days ago. it's a type of cryptocrystalline"

"a what?" atsumu asks, shoving his hands in his pockets as he stares down at the stone with a puzzled expression. it's cute on him, the casual bewilderment. he looks at it like he's trying to place where he's seen it before.

"a cryptocrystalline" you repeat, smiling at him. much easier to do when he isn't looking at you. "it means you can only tell that it has the structure of crystalline when its under a magnifying glass"

atsumu hums, pleased. "cool", he says, and browses the rest of the booth with you. once you're done with that one, poiting out all of the stones and rocks you've read about―atsumu pulls you along to the next one, eager to repeat the process. he's seems interested in what you have to say, asking questions to pick your brain for more information when he senses you might be holding out on him.

"i'm glad i heard about this" he brings up, as you walk away from a food stall―matching bowls of yakisoba in hand. "i read yesterday that opportunity only seizes those who are ready to take it and that i need to take the fearful leap"

you stop a stray noodle from landing on your crisp yellow cardigan, looking over at him. "what?"

atsumu's eyes are on yours. "my horoscope" he says, like it means something important.

"oh!" you exclaim, once realization hits you "i'm surprised you've gotten so into horoscopes and fortune telling"

a odd look crosses his face. "i'm not―you are"

"no i'm not" you tell him. "why would you think that?"

atsumu's face heats. "well, you're always reading about the rocks. the crystals and gemstones"

"i like petrology. not crystals and gems" you explain, unable to hide your smile. "it's about rocks in general. like their origins or what they're composed of"

you remember all of atsumu's cryptic words, odd, strange ways of speaking. the sage advice in the store that one time. they were horoscopes. before you can stop it, you burst out laughing. you try to muffle it into your arm, but the sound escapes anyway.

"that's what you were meaning with all those weird things you kept saying?" you ask, once you've managed to stop laughing. "i thought you were trying to―i don't know, warn me of my ominous and impending doom!"

"i wasn't" atsumu pouts, tossing his unfinished yakisoba into the trash. "i was trying to find something to start a conversation with you. i didn't know how else to tell you i liked you"

your amusement dries up and your throat closes up. your eyes look around, at everywhere else but him.

"...are you going to say anything?" atsumu asks, looking like the boy you remember from highschool.

"i―uh. i like you too" you stammer out, staring down at your shoes. it's shockingly easy to do. logically, you knew there was always a small, small chance that he would reciprocate your feelings, always in the most pleasant of dreams.

in them, atsumu would blush (much like he is now) and ask "are you sure?" much like his is now.

and in your dreams, you would throw your arms around his neck and kiss him. or confess your undying love and attraction to the most strangest boy you've ever known. but like the star sand, and so many other rocks you've learned about, reality does not end up like your wistful imagination.

"i'm sure" you nod, and gingerly reach for his hand. "do you want to keep looking around?"

atsumu beams. squeezes your hand in his own. it feels better than any of your dreams could have ever conjured up. "'course i do"

© amalainse -- do not copy, steal or plagiarize my works.

COMPARING HAND SIZES — ft. osamu miya, atsumu miya, akaashi keiji, iwaizumi hajime

warnings — reader/you is implied to be shorter because of hand size difference, also let names (baby & love)

⨳OSAMU was confused as to why you wanted to compare hand sizes. you’ve held hands a million times so you both knew your hands were smaller. “do you just wanna hold my hand?” he asked with a skeptical look across his face. “maybe, maybe not.” you shrugged with a cheeky smile. letting out a sigh the man held up one of his hands and you pressed yours against it immediately. “would’ve never have guess your hands were bigger,” you joke before he interlocks your fingers. “yeah i bet,” osamu says sarcastically, rolling his eyes before leaning in and planting a quick kiss to your lips.

⨳ATSUMU would’ve suggested it not you. he thinks he’s so slick about it too. “baby let me see how different our hand sizes are,” he sort of asks before grabbing your hand and putting it right on his. “tsumu are you being serious right now?” you scoff when you feel him pull your hand to his. “you’ve got small hands,” he notes out loud as if you weren’t already aware. “good observation tsumu.” you roll your eyes pulling your hand away. “you’re no fun,” he pouts from beside you. without saying anything you grab his closest hand and interlock your fingers. “look we can hold hands,” you say holding up your hands. atsumu smiles at your hands and leans in to kiss your cheek.

⨳AKAASHI knew you were up to something when you asked for his hand. “why?” he asked cautiously as he held out his hand to you. “comparing hand size,” you responded while putting your palms on his. “wait, lowkey we have the same hand size.” you giggle at the sight. akaashi furrowed his eyebrows and blinked at your hands. two different sizes—completely different. “you think you’re funny.” he told you as he got a firm grip on your hand and puked you close to him. “completely different hand sizes love,” akaashi added before kissing the top of your forehead. “nice try though”

⨳IWAIZUMI always feeds into your antics and lets you do whatever. he can tolerate your nonsense because it’s second nature to him. “why are we comparing hand sizes like we’re in junior high?” he asked while holding his hand up to you. “i need an excuse to hold your hand.” you admit while placing your pal on his proudly. the brunette’s eyebrows are drawn together in confusion for a moment. “you don’t need an excuse,” he tells you and you smile. “i know i know, let me have fun for once,” you dismiss before interlocking your fingers with his. “fine,” he shakes his head lightly before kissing the top of your head.

reblogs are appreciated

𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟑, 𝐌𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐀𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐮

KITA VERSION HERE

pairing: miya atsumu x reader (strangers to lovers—fake dating)

genre: fluff

word count: 1.4k

summary: number 13, miya atsumu seems like a nice man, but his little dilemma he ropes you into seems to show you he’s much more than that

“Hey, you’re Miya’s date, right?” Turning, you frown, staring at the MSBY player before you with furrowed eyebrows. Atsumu had mentioned his name to you before, but you can’t seem to recall it, having been a part of a list of far too many names to remember only fifteen minutes before reaching the gym.

“Um, n—yes! Yes, absolutely. I am,” you catch yourself at the last second, nodding furiously with a large (probably more than necessary) smile. He stares at you for a moment before nodding slowly, awkwardly smiling back.

You’re not sure if he’s completely convinced.

“Oh, okay. Well, uh…see you after the game, then,” he offers before quickly walking away.

Number 13, Miya Atsumu. He’s a nice man—from what you can tell at least. He’s helped you carry groceries to your car before—somehow always managing to be at the store at the same time as you. He’s paid for your drink at the local coffee shop that one morning—you’d forgotten your wallet in the car—and his smile seemed genuine enough. It was a little cocky for your taste, but his eyes were sincere, the saccharine honey of his orbs seeping with warmth when you looked into them.

And when he approached you, hands stuffed in his pockets and eyes downcast as he kicked a few pebbles around, claiming he’d needed a favor, you couldn’t find it in you to say no.

“I had a one night stand and a few photos got out to the press o’ me walkin’ out. Told ma manager I was datin’ someone so she wouldn’t get onta me,” he’d mumbled sheepishly, and though it seemed like a lot of trouble, you’d still agreed to be his date.

And here you were. His date, with him nowhere to be found.

The sudden poke to your hip makes you jolt, turning to face the source of your scare, hand unconsciously ready to shove it away when a smooth chuckle and a warm, callused hand on your wrist makes you pause.

“Woah, there,” Atsumu flashes you a grin, tugging you flush against his chest. The proximity makes you swallow, looking up at his face with wide eyes. He smirks slightly. “Yer here as ma date, wouldn’t look too believable if ya shoved me two seconds in, would it?”

Your voice seems to find itself as you frown, huffing before you look him in the eye more determined this time. His smirk only widens.

“You shouldn’t scare your date on the first one, it’s not very gentlemanly of you.” He offers you a sly grin, hand wandering down lower till it reaches the small of your back. Your breath hitches at the way he starts rubbing small circles into it.

“Well, I s’pose ya gotta point,” he mumbles, head dipping down lower till his breath is fanning lightly against your face. He smells faintly of cologne, cool yet spicy, but definitely expensive. “Can’t let people get the wrong idea, can we? Come on, angel, we gotta convince em.”

Eyes widening as you realize what he means, you press your palm against his chest, a futile attempt to push him away, really—the sturdiness of his muscled chest was enough to distract you instantly.

“I…y-you…here? You want to—here? In front of all these people?”

And he chuckles once more, making you start to wonder how the smooth and adorably sweet guy from the grocery store and coffee shop had become so smug.

“‘S just a kiss. Never had a kiss before?” You scowl, finally shoving at his chest this time, but his grip only tightens.

“Of course I have, you moron. Just not with a star athlete in front of all his fans,” you mutter.

“Ya keep up with me on the media?” Scoffing, you turn your head away to the side, not willing to admit that perhaps you’d searched his name in google once or twice. It was strictly informational.

“As if,” you huff. “This is not a very great first date, you know.”

“‘S not real, thought we went over that. Don’t tell me yer attached already?”

Number 13, Miya Atsumu seemed more a handful than you’d initially anticipated. With pursed lips and narrowed eyes, you glare daggers at him, making his eyes sparkle with amusement.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’m the one doing you the favor here. Be a little grateful.”

“Well ya gotta play yer part for me ta be grateful, angel. Gotta give em a show. Kiss me,” he puckers his lips slightly. “I’ll be grateful.”

You shove his face away when he leans down, making his lips curl into a pout. Staring at him in disbelief, you look around to see if anyone is staring at the show Atsumu is so hellbent on giving. To your dismay, it seems the entirety of the stands has their eyes cast specifically on you, making you sag into his hold.

For the millionth time, Atsumu’s snicker rings in your ears.

“Atsu—Miya, I’m not kissing you here in front of—”

“Ya can’t call yer boyfriend by his last name!”

“Fake boyfriend. Fake.”

“But they don’t know that,” he grins. Groaning, you sigh in defeat, glancing around the gym a few more times before ultimately caving. Atsumu’s grin couldn’t be any wider, and if it was, you’d have half a mind to smack it gone.

Perhaps your good deed was a bite that was much more than you could chew at the moment.

“Fine, if I give you a quick peck on the lips, will you be satisfied?”

“Oh, I’d be ecstatic,” he smirks. So, with an exasperated sigh, you usher him closer—to which he obliges much to quickly, and much too happily.

“Okay, but remember, it’s just a quick peck, okay? Don’t—” he cuts you off before you can finish your sentence.

And it most certainly isn’t a quick peck.

Atsumu presses his lips firmly against yours, molding against you so perfectly, you can’t help but close your eyes shut. His arms tighten their grip around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, and the scent of his cologne wafts through your nose once again, much stronger this time. And he swallows the strangled noise you let out, only kissing you deeper. The hand that lay flat on his chest a moment ago grips his shirt tightly, and your other hand subconsciously wanders past his shoulders to play with the hair at the base of his neck. He smirks against your lips.

Pulling away, he places one delicate, tiny, quick peck to your slightly swollen lips, huffing out yet another chuckle at the dazed expression on your face.

Except this time, it’s not cocky or smug. It’s purely one of glee, and it matches his expression. He looks almost as giddy as a child at an ice cream shop.

“A quick peck, as promised,” he winks.

“Atsumu! Everyone’s watched that! What’re they gonna say? It’ll be all over the media if we’re never seen together after a kiss like that! And—”

“Then I guess we’ll just have to be seen together after that, angel,” he cuts you off. Sputtering, you do a double take at his words, watching as he all but rolls on the balls of his feet in excitement.

And it clicks in your head, finally, that this was just number 13, Miya Atsumu, MSBY’s star setter and your resident smooth talker’s elaborate plan to set you both up to see each other over and over again.

You roll your eyes as you mumble “you could’ve just asked me on a real date like a normal person.”

“Well, I did actually tell ma manager I was datin’ someone,” he mumbles sheepishly, and you catch a small glimpse of the same shyness you’d seen when he first approached you with his dilemma. “But I thought it was a good opportunity ta dazzle ya,” he offers a toothy grin. Your heart does a 360 in your chest at the sight.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“And yer unbelievably cute when yer flustered.” The whistle blows, and his attention turns to his coach who’s ushering him over sternly, making him turn to you with a smile. “I’ll see ya after the game, kay, babe? Cheer for me real loud.”

And with another stolen peck on the lips, Atsumu jogs to where his team is waiting, glancing over his shoulder and winking over at you. You cover your mouth with your hand and stifle a chuckle when he stumbles slightly, ramming into a raven and curly haired man who scowls and shrugs him off.

Number 13, Miya Atsumu seemed quite the handful, but you think you can manage to deal with him somehow.

reblogs are really appreciated !!

aaa i’m having exams this week but i cant stop thinking abt atsumu .. ur tongue lolling out to the side as he grips hard on ur thighs, spreading them apart for u while he fucks u stupid. “like that, huh? ya like me fuckin’ yer cunny stupid? lil bitch.” nd HE JUST HAS THAT FERAL LOOK IN HIS FACE AWOOOAGWHW u cant even form a sentence.!! just constant humphs nd moans of atsumu’s name. the exam sheet u were studying has been discarded onto the desk nd atsumu has u sitting on his lap on the leather chair. its not long before ur yelling out “tsumu, tsumu, tsumu!” bc ur walls begin to clamp around his cock n tears well out of ur eyes. “what? gonna cum already? pathetic whore.” despite his harsh words, he fucks harder into ur cunny, one of his fingers playing w ur sensitive little nub down there and its not long before ur gushing all around him, entire body shaking ...

Rivalry: Atsumu Pt. 6 (NSFW)

The last thing you needed was to entertain whatever ridiculous emotions Hana had planted in your head. This was nothing—casual, meaningless, irrelevant. So what if Ayumi had her sights set on him? That wasn’t your problem. That wasn’t supposed to be your problem.

You tightened your grip on your bag as you pushed through the thick crowd flooding the hallways after the final bell. Students jostled past in waves, the air thick with chatter and the slamming of lockers, and you kept your head down, determined to get outside, to breathe fresh air, to put as much distance as possible between yourself and whatever stupid feelings were currently threatening your sanity.

You almost succeeded.

Until you caught sight of him.

There, just a few lockers down, leaning lazily against the wall like he didn’t have a care in the damn world—Miya Atsumu.

Your feet slowed before your brain could tell them not to. And when you lifted your gaze, your stomach dropped.

Of course she was there.

Ayumi Tanaka.

Standing far too close, laughing far too brightly, her hand reaching out to graze his forearm like she had every right to touch him.

You should have looked away. You wanted to look away. But your gaze locked onto the scene like a car crash—horrifying and impossible to tear your eyes from.

Atsumu, for his part, didn’t seem bothered. If anything, he looked downright amused, his trademark smirk tugging at his lips, golden eyes glinting with some private joke as he leaned in just slightly, replying with something you couldn’t hear but Ayumi clearly found hilarious.

Your jaw clenched.

It was nothing. You told yourself that firmly. You had no claim, no right, no reason to feel anything other than mild, passing irritation.

And yet—your fingers curled tighter around the strap of your bag, knuckles whitening.

Because he didn’t move away when she touched him. He didn’t look annoyed or uncomfortable. He looked entertained.

And that hot, bitter feeling you refused to name burned a little brighter.

You stood frozen for a moment longer than you should have—long enough that Ayumi’s laugh floated through the hallway and Atsumu’s eyes, lazy and unbothered, drifted up—

And met yours.

The second your gazes collided, it was like being struck.

His smirk faltered. Just slightly. But enough.

Your breath caught.

You whipped your head away, face burning, shoving your way through the crowd with sudden, frantic urgency.

God. What the hell was wrong with you?

You ducked your head and walked faster, heart pounding in your ears, as if you could outrun the flush creeping up your neck. As if you could outrun the way your chest was tight, painfully so, with something ugly and irrational you refused to name.

You weren’t jealous. That would be stupid. Ridiculous. Absolutely insane.

And yet, you could feel the slight prickle of irritation rising beneath your skin, your jaw tightening as you watched their all-too-pleasant exchange. It was short—nothing more than a few words, a soft laugh from her, an amused smirk from him—but it was enough.

Your feet carried you toward the gym building, the familiar path offering some sense of normalcy. Volleyball practice was soon, and you just needed to focus on that, not whatever unnecessary emotions had latched onto you.

But just as you stepped onto the school grounds, a voice cut through the air.

"Hey!"

You barely had a second to react before Atsumu jogged up to you, his usual smirk in place, golden eyes flickering with something far too amused for your liking. His easy stride barely looked like he had exerted any effort catching up to you, as if he knew you wouldn’t be able to outrun him even if you tried.

"Damn, ya bolted outta there fast," he said, tilting his head, watching you closely. "Didn’t even wait for me."

You barely glanced at him, keeping your face carefully neutral. "Didn’t think you’d notice."

His smirk widened, a low chuckle escaping his lips. "I notice a lotta things about ya."

You rolled your eyes, fighting the sudden prickle of heat rising up your spine. "Don’t start."

Atsumu ignored you completely, falling into step beside you, rocking back slightly on his heels as if he were debating something in his head. Then, with an air of mock innocence, he said:

"So, I’m free tonight. If ya wanna hang out."

Your jaw clenched before you could stop it.

"Maybe not tonight, I'm a little busy," you bit out, the words tumbling from your lips before you could think them through. Then, before your brain could stop your mouth from making an absolutely catastrophic mistake, you added, "Why don't you ask if Ayumi Tanaka is free?"

Atsumu blinked, his smirk momentarily faltering. "Why on earth…?" His brows furrowed in genuine confusion—until something in his expression shifted.

And then, his smirk stretched into something completely insufferable.

"Are you jealous?"

Your spine stiffened. "What is there to be jealous of?" you scoffed, but you could already feel the warmth creeping up your neck.

Atsumu wasn’t buying it. "Oh, I dunno," he mused, tilting his head, watching you like a predator playing with its food. "Maybe ‘cause ya got a front-row seat to Ayumi flirtin’ with me and now ya can’t stand the thought of someone else takin’ your place?"

Your teeth ground together, a sharp flash of irritation lancing through your chest. "You're absolutely delusional if you think I’d ever feel threatened by some 2nd-year girl batting her eyelashes at you."

Atsumu let out a short laugh, full of nothing but mockery. "Right, ‘cause ya definitely didn’t look ready to rip her head off earlier."

You exhaled sharply through your nose, turning your gaze forward like you could force this conversation to be over. "Believe whatever lets you sleep at night, Miya. I don’t care."

"Oh yeah?" His voice was taunting, relentless, as he stepped in closer, his shoulder nearly brushing against yours. "Then why’re ya actin’ so weird? Feels like someone’s a little… bothered."

You whirled to face him, scowling. "The only thing that’s bothering me is you and your incessant need to make everything about yourself. Not everything is about you, Atsumu."

"Nah, see, that’s where yer wrong," he shot back, his smirk widening, his eyes flashing with something dangerous. "When it comes to you, sweetheart, I think everything’s about me."

Your hands curled into tight fists, your nails digging into your palms, irritation crawling beneath your skin. He was impossible.

Just as you opened your mouth to snap back, another voice interrupted the moment.

"Oi! What are you two doin’ over there?"

Aran’s voice cut through the air, sharp and expectant.

Your heart lurched as you immediately shoved Atsumu back, blurting, "Nothing!"

Atsumu barely stumbled, laughing as he shot you a look that screamed this isn’t over before turning toward Aran. You, on the other hand, were left standing there, pulse thrumming, trying desperately to ignore the heat still buzzing beneath your skin.

Aran’s eyes flicked between the two of you, his brows furrowing slightly before he shook his head. "Well, practice is startin’. Get a move on."

"Yeah, yeah," Atsumu muttered, still too damn smug as he turned back toward you, the teasing look in his eyes shining.

You glared at him, lips pressed into a thin line, before storming ahead, putting as much distance as possible between you and the walking migraine that was Miya Atsumu.

__

Practice went on as usual, the sound of sneakers squeaking against the polished gym floor, the rhythmic thuds of volleyballs being set and spiked filling the air. Yet, beneath it all, something felt off.

Atsumu, despite his best efforts, was being completely ignored.

And that was entirely intentional.

You were still fuming from earlier, his words grating against your skull like nails on a chalkboard. When it comes to you, sweetheart, I think everything’s about me.

Fine.

If he thought it was all about him, you’d make it impossible for him to think that.

You knew exactly how to get under Atsumu’s skin, how to piss him off in the most excruciating way possible. It wasn’t yelling, it wasn’t fighting—it was silence. He thrived on your reactions, fed off your irritation like it was oxygen. And you were going to starve him of it.

He tried everything. A few jabs at your form when you walked past, some pointed remarks meant to get a reaction, even purposefully setting the ball too high and glancing your way to see if you’d scowl at him.

Nothing.

You didn’t so much as spare him a glance.

The rest of the team noticed. It was impossible not to.

"Since when was she too high and mighty to bite back?" one of the first-years muttered, watching the scene unfold like it was some strange phenomenon.

"Are you honestly complaining?" Hitoshi responded flatly, shaking his head as he bent down to pick up a stray volleyball. "If anything, this is the quietest practice we’ve had in months."

Suna watched with mild amusement, his sharp eyes darting between the two of you. Atsumu, visibly simmering, and you, acting as if he didn’t exist. Fascinating.

By the time practice ended, Atsumu was pissed—more so than usual. The tension rolled off him in waves, his usual post-practice confidence completely overshadowed by the frustration bubbling beneath his skin.

Osamu, ever the observant twin, didn’t miss it.

As they left the gym, Osamu glanced over, catching the permanent scowl etched onto Atsumu. "What’s with your face?" he asked, a teasing lilt in his voice, expecting the usual smart-ass response.

But Atsumu wasn’t even looking at him.

His gaze was locked ahead, fixated on you, watching as you took the keys from Kita, nodding as you prepared to lock up the gym. His jaw tightened, fingers curling into his bag strap.

"Don’t wait for me," he muttered, voice clipped.

Osamu blinked, looking between him and you—you, walking away, completely unbothered. And Atsumu? Absolutely bothered.

Osamu exhaled sharply through his nose, his expression shifting into something vaguely amused before he shrugged. "Alright…?" he said, but his voice held a knowing edge.

He didn’t need to say it out loud.

He had a pretty good idea of what was about to happen.

Atsumu stormed after you the moment Osamu walked away, his footsteps heavy, purposeful, his irritation practically radiating off him. You had just slipped into the supply closet, stacking away the last of the gear, when his gritted voice reached your ears from outside the gym.

"Are ya fuckin’ kidding me?!"

You couldn’t stop the smirk that pulled at your lips. Oh, he was livid.

Taking your time, you walked out of the closet, not bothering to acknowledge him right away. He stood at the entrance of the gym, chest rising and falling, his golden eyes sharp with anger, his fingers twitching at his sides like he was barely holding himself back.

"I’m talkin’ to you," he bit out as you stepped past him toward the doors.

Still, you said nothing.

You pulled the doors shut with a slow deliberation, the sound echoing through the empty gym, and locked them behind you. Then, finally, you turned, meeting his gaze.

Atsumu’s face was furious, his lips slightly parted as if he was trying to rein in everything he wanted to say. His hair was tousled from practice, damp at the edges, his skin flushed from exertion. The way his arms tensed, his stance rigid, the way his breathing came a little too sharp—all of it sent something thrumming hot in your stomach.

The heat only grew when you noticed the way his jaw ticked, his fingers flexing at his sides, like he didn’t know whether he wanted to shake you or pin you to the nearest wall.

You smiled. Sweet. Taunting. "Night. See you tomorrow."

You barely took two steps before his hand caught your wrist, yanking you back toward him. The movement sent you stumbling slightly, your body colliding with his, the force of it stealing the breath from your lungs.

His voice was low, rough, his breath hot against your cheek. "You think I don't know your game?"

You arched a brow, playing it off as coolly as possible, though instinctively, your spine straightened, your back arching slightly, pushing your chest forward. You hated how your body reacted to him, the heat swirling deep in your stomach, and for a split second, the thought flickered through your mind—why am I so turned on by this?

"What game?" you said, your voice smooth, controlled. "I told you I wasn’t free tonight."

Atsumu let out a sharp scoff, his grip on your wrist tightening just enough to make you hyperaware of how strong his hands were. "Bullshit. You’re pissed at me for flirtin’ with that girl."

Your jaw locked, your teeth clenching. But you refused to give him the satisfaction of reacting, so instead, you blinked up at him, expression unreadable, and said, "Are you going to let me go?"

Atsumu didn’t flinch. If anything, his hold shifted, his other hand coming to rest against your waist, fingers digging in just enough to pull you flush against him.

"Do you want me to?" His voice dropped, dark and teasing, and before you could snap back, you felt it—the hard press of his arousal against your stomach.

You gasped, a sharp inhale betraying the last shred of control you had. Fuck.

Atsumu smirked, catching the way your lashes fluttered, the way your body momentarily tensed before you steadied yourself, fighting the reaction. But it was too late—he felt the shift.

Without another word, you glanced around, ensuring the coast was clear before grabbing his wrist and dragging him toward the back of the building.

"Take your pants off," you ordered, voice tight, breathless, already unraveling.

Atsumu didn’t need to be told twice. His fingers worked quickly at his belt, the sharp clink of metal and the rustle of fabric loud in the quiet night. You turned, pressing your palms flat against the rough brick wall, heart hammering against your ribs. Your breath came in uneven bursts, every inhale feeling too shallow, too hot. His body heat was suddenly right there, an overwhelming presence against your back, making your skin prickle with anticipation.

His hands found your hips, large and possessive, squeezing once before slipping beneath the hem of your skirt, his fingers grazing the soft skin of your thighs. With one swift motion, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and dragged them down, the night air rushing against your exposed skin, sending a sharp shiver up your spine. The contrast between the cold air and the heat pooling between your legs made you suck in a sharp breath, pressing your forehead against the brick, trying to steady yourself.

"You thought I was gonna fuck that other girl?" His voice was a low growl against your ear, hot, dangerous, all-consuming. "This pussy is mine. Mine alone. You're mine."

Your breath hitched. A spark of indignation flared in your chest, instinct demanding you push back, to scoff, to tell him to fuck off—

But then he was pushing inside.

A sharp gasp tore from your throat, your body jolting forward, hands splaying against the wall as he filled you slowly, deeply, completely. Your nails scraped against the brick, legs trembling as you adjusted to the overwhelming stretch. The sensation was too much, his cock pulsing inside you, pushing against that perfect spot that sent white-hot pleasure sparking through your veins.

Fuck.

Atsumu let out a low, guttural groan, one hand wrapping tightly around your waist while the other braced against the wall beside your head. He was breathing hard, his forehead nearly pressing against your shoulder, like he was barely holding himself together. His fingers flexed against your waist before gripping tighter, his hips pulling back only to slam forward again, forcing another cry from your lips.

"You feel that?" he rasped, his voice rough, unsteady, his pace already picking up. "Ain't nobody gonna fuck you like this. Ain't nobody gonna make you feel this good."

Your mouth opened, but nothing came out except a strangled moan. His hands were everywhere—gripping, branding, making sure you felt him in every possible way. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin echoed into the night, mingling with your breathless gasps and his sharp groans.

He set a brutal rhythm, pounding into you with a desperation that left no room for thought. Every thrust sent you higher, pleasure knotting too quickly, your body already struggling to hold itself together. His fingers dug into your hips, dragging you back against him, making you take all of him, forcing you to feel just how much he was losing himself in this.

"Shit—" he groaned, his voice nearly breaking. "You fuckin' love this, don’t ya?"

His hand slid down, fingers finding that sensitive bundle of nerves, rubbing tight, punishing circles that had you whimpering, your body jerking forward from the intensity. Your hands clawed at the brick wall, nails scraping against the rough surface as heat coiled in your core, winding impossibly tight.

"There—right there—fuck, don’t stop," you gasped, voice ragged and desperate, each word punctuated by his relentless pace. Your legs trembled beneath you, your entire body taut with anticipation, every nerve on fire.

Atsumu groaned, low and guttural, his hips snapping forward harder, sharper. "Yeah? That’s the spot?" His grip on your hip tightened, holding you in place, refusing to let you squirm away from the overwhelming pleasure. "Feels so fuckin’ good takin’ me like this."

Your head dropped forward, eyes squeezing shut as your body burned under his touch. Every thrust, every flick of his fingers, sent you spiraling closer to the edge. The pressure in your stomach coiled tighter, tighter, until you were gasping, eyes rolling back.

"Tsumu—I’m—" You barely got the words out before your body seized up, pleasure detonating inside you, shattering through every nerve. A sharp cry ripped from your throat, your walls clenching tight around him, milking every inch as your climax ripped through you.

Atsumu cursed sharply, his thrusts stuttering, becoming frantic and sloppy as he chased his own high. His grip on you tightened, his pace desperate, his breath coming in uneven groans until finally—

He buried himself to the hilt, his entire body shuddering as he spilled inside you, his teeth sinking into your shoulder, muffling the wrecked moan that ripped from his throat.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, your bodies pressed together, trembling, still trying to come down from the high. Your own breathing was ragged, your forehead pressed to the wall, your legs barely holding you up. His grip on your hips slackened slightly, but he didn’t pull away—instead, he leaned into you, his breath hot and uneven against your skin, his lips brushing the back of your neck as if he was too lost in the aftershocks to fully regain himself.

And then—

Reality hit.

Your eyes snapped open, your breath still ragged, heart still hammering in your chest. But something was wrong.

A sudden wave of realization crashed over you as you felt the sticky warmth between your legs. Your stomach dropped.

"You came inside me, asshole!" you blurted, twisting your head to glare at him over your shoulder.

Atsumu was still holding onto you, his forehead resting lazily against your back, his grip loose but unwilling to let you go. His chest rose and fell in heavy, sated breaths, completely lost in his own bliss.

It took him a second to even register your words. When he finally did, all he managed was a dazed, "Huh?"

You groaned, your forehead knocking lightly against the brick. "I swear to god—" You sucked in a deep breath, willing yourself to stay calm. "You're buying me Plan B."

Atsumu, still catching his breath, let out a low, breathy chuckle, his lips curling into a lazy smirk. "Babe, I'll buy ya anything ya want if ya let me do that again."

You sighed, exasperated, exhausted, and somehow still too weak in the knees to shove him off you properly. His hands lingered on your hips for a moment longer before finally releasing you, but even as you adjusted your skirt and tried to gather yourself, you could feel his gaze burning into your back.

You refused to acknowledge the way your body still thrummed with heat, the way your legs still trembled, the way your pulse still jumped every time he spoke. Instead, you turned, fixing him with a glare.

"You’re taking me to the pharmacy.”

Atsumu grinned, looking way too pleased with himself. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever ya say, sweetheart."

Pregnancy: Atsumu

You’re two months pregnant and absolutely glowing. There’s a nervous excitement in your every breath, your hand constantly drifting over your still-flat belly as if to check that it’s real. That there’s really a little life growing inside you. A little Miya, curled up and getting bigger by the day.

You’re in the passenger seat of the car, heading toward your very first ultrasound appointment. The windows are down, and the soft spring breeze is curling through your hair as the late morning sun streams through the windshield. Everything feels light. Hopeful. Surreal.

Atsumu is driving one-handed, his other resting on your thigh, thumb tracing idle circles against your leggings. He hums quietly to the radio, lips twitching into a smile every time he glances over at you.

“Y’know,” he says after a moment, “I been thinkin’ about what kind of nose they’ll have. Hopefully yours. Mine’s too pointy.”

You let out a soft laugh, the kind that bubbles up without effort. “As long as they don’t have your drama.”

“Hey!” he protests, though he’s still smiling as he squeezes your leg. “They’re allowed a little flair. They are mine, after all.”

You roll your eyes fondly, fingers tangling with his at the next red light. He lifts your joined hands to press a kiss to your knuckles before driving on.

When you pull into the clinic parking lot, your nerves start to set in—low and creeping. It’s your first time seeing the baby. Hearing a heartbeat. It makes everything feel suddenly, painfully real.

The waiting room is quiet, with soft instrumental music playing and the smell of hand sanitizer hanging in the air. You’re seated beside Atsumu, your knees bouncing ever so slightly as your mind races ahead. His hand is still in yours, firm and grounding.

When the nurse finally calls your name, you squeeze his fingers a little tighter.

The exam room is dimly lit, calm, with a monitor beside the table and soft instructions given as you lie back. You wince slightly at the cold gel, heart pounding in your ears as the technician glides the wand over your stomach.

She squints at the screen. Tilts her head.

Then her eyes widen slightly.

“Oh.”

You stiffen. “What? What is it? Is something wrong?”

She’s quick to reassure you. “No, no—everything looks good. It’s just... you’re having twins.”

Silence.

Atsumu leans in closer, eyes squinting at the screen. “Twins?”

“Twins,” the technician repeats, pointing to two distinct little shapes. “You see here? Two sacs. Two heartbeats.”

Your gaze locks onto the screen. Two. Not one. Not the tiny flutter you’d been preparing for, but two.

A sudden wave of panic crashes over you.

“Two?” you echo, your voice a shaky whisper. “Like... two babies? At the same time?”

The technician gently clears her throat. "Well, it’s a little early to know for sure if they’re fraternal or identical, but yes—twins."

You feel your breath hitch, the room growing smaller around you. “That’s two car seats. Two cribs. Two births. Two newborns crying at once—”

Your hand grips Atsumu’s forearm, eyes wide as your mind races. “I don’t—I wasn’t ready for two. I barely wrapped my head around one.”

You’re still staring at the screen when Atsumu shifts closer to the bed, his hand still resting lightly on yours.

“Hey,” he says softly. “Breathe for me, okay?”

You turn toward him with wide, overwhelmed eyes. “Tsumu... that’s two babies. That’s two of everything. What if I can’t—what if I’m not enough for both of them?”

“You are,” he says instantly, without hesitation. “You will be. We will.”

But your hand flails toward his forearm like it needs something to latch onto. “This is your fault. You and Osamu. You cursed me with twin genes!”

He stares at you, stunned. “What?! How is this my fault?”

“Because you’re a twin! That’s how!”

The technician offers a gentle smile, still watching the monitor. “Actually, twins are likely influenced by the mother’s genetics. So if anyone ‘passed it down,’ it’s likely you.”

You blink slowly. “So... it’s me?”

Atsumu exhales—relieved. “See? I didn’t do this! You doubled down on your own.”

Your head snaps toward the technician, eyes wide and blinking rapidly, a storm of disbelief swirling behind them. You don’t say anything—but your look says plenty.

The technician catches the expression immediately and offers a placating smile, lifting her hands lightly. "I’ll give you two a minute," she says gently, already stepping toward the door, and quietly slips out of the room, pulling it closed behind her with a soft click.

You drop your head back onto the exam pillow with a muffled groan. “I don’t know how to do one baby. Let alone two. That’s double the crying. Double the diapers. Double the college funds.”

Atsumu leans down until his forehead presses softly to yours. His hand finds yours again, grounding you with the warmth of his palm and the way his thumb strokes soothingly across your skin.

“Hey,” he says, voice low and gentle. “Breathe. We’ll figure it out.”

You don’t answer right away, eyes still locked on the monitor where two flickering heartbeats pulse in rhythm.

He kisses your forehead, slow and reassuring. “We’ll go one diaper at a time. One bottle at a time. One late-night rocking session at a time. We’re gonna be okay.”

Your lip trembles. “Are we?”

He smiles, brushing your hair back from your forehead. “I’m not lettin’ you do this alone. You’re stuck with me, baby. Me, and the two little monsters we made.”

You laugh wetly, a mix of shock and affection tangled in your chest. He leans down and kisses you again—cheek, then jaw, then temple—before turning to look back at the screen.

And in the glow of that monitor, with two tiny heartbeats tapping out the rhythm of your future, Atsumu squeezes your hand and whispers:

“They’ve already got the best mom in the world. The rest’ll be easy.”

You sit up slightly and reach for him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a hug, your chin resting against his shoulder. “Thank you,” you whisper, voice thick with emotion. “I needed to hear that.”

Confessions: Atsumu

You’ve known the Miya twins for as long as you can remember. They were the loudest boys on the playground, all scuffed knees and sunburned cheeks, their laughter carrying across the schoolyard like a war cry. Atsumu, the loudmouth with a cocky grin that drove teachers insane, and Osamu, the quieter one who always seemed two seconds away from dragging his brother out of trouble. You were caught in the middle—sometimes willingly, sometimes not—but you never complained. Being with them was easy. Natural. Like breathing.

“Yer too slow!” Atsumu had whined once, standing at the edge of the sandbox with his hands on his hips while you struggled to keep up. “Then go ahead without me!” you’d huffed, kicking sand in his direction, cheeks flushed and breathless.

But he never did.

No matter how many times you fell behind, no matter how many times Osamu rolled his eyes and threatened to leave you both behind, Atsumu always waited. And somehow, that pattern never changed.

Years passed. Middle school turned into high school. The three of you didn’t hang out as much anymore—between club activities, exams, and life pulling you in different directions, it was harder to find the time. But you still showed up. For them.

You never missed a game, sitting in the stands with Osamu’s mom and cheering as loud as the rest of the Inarizaki fans. You watched Atsumu serve with impossible precision, eyes narrowing with focus before the ball left his hand. You watched Osamu spike with terrifying accuracy, his smirk barely contained afterward. You were proud of them both, proud to see them rise, proud to be part of the crowd that supported them.

“Yer comin’ to the next match, right?” Atsumu asked one afternoon after practice, leaning against the fence with his bag slung over his shoulder. His hair was damp, a few stray strands sticking to his forehead, and his uniform was loose, hanging casually over his broad frame. The sun was dipping lower, casting warm orange hues across the field where a few stragglers still kicked a soccer ball around. You glanced up from your phone, pretending to be nonchalant. “I always do, don’t I?” His grin stretched wide—cocky and confident, just like always—but there was something in his eyes. Something… uncertain. Hidden beneath the bravado. “Just checkin’.” He kicked at the dirt, scuffing his sneaker against the pavement. “Ya don’t gotta, y’know. Betcha got better things to do than watch us all the time.”

Osamu was the one who noticed it first, the subtle shift in Atsumu’s behavior. It was after another win, and the three of you had gone out to grab a bite. Atsumu was unusually quiet, barely picking at his food while you and Osamu bickered over the best dipping sauce for karaage. “Oi,” Osamu had muttered under his breath when you went to the counter to grab more napkins. “What’s with ya?”

“Nothin’,” Atsumu had mumbled, poking at his plate, but Osamu’s eyes had narrowed. “Ya never shut up. Now yer quiet? Somethin’s up.”

“Nothin’s up,” Atsumu insisted, but Osamu didn’t look convinced. He shot his brother a look but didn’t press further. Later that night, as you waved goodbye and promised to see them at the next game, Osamu lingered behind. “He’s actin’ weird,” he muttered, watching Atsumu walk ahead. “Ya notice?”

You had laughed, brushing it off. “When isn’t he weird?”

It wasn’t until you started talking about someone else—Takahiro, a guy from your class—that things started to change. He was smart, funny, and polite in a way that seemed almost too perfect. You didn’t even realize how often you were mentioning him—how your eyes lit up when you talked about how he made you laugh during group projects, how he texted you after class to ask if you understood the material. At first, Atsumu barely reacted. Just a quirk of his brow and a half-hearted, “Huh. Cool.” But then it happened again. And again. And suddenly, Takahiro’s name was slipping into conversations more often than not, and Atsumu noticed. Every. Single. Time.

He didn’t say anything to you about it. But he did talk to Osamu.

“He likes her, don’t he?” Atsumu had muttered one afternoon, his voice low, barely audible as they sat in the back of the gym after practice. His knees were drawn up, elbows resting loosely on them while he picked absentmindedly at the tape around his fingers, pulling at the frayed edges like they held the answers to his problems.

Osamu raised a brow, glancing sideways at his brother. “Who? Takahiro?” His tone was neutral, but the way he looked at Atsumu was anything but.

“Yeah.” Atsumu’s jaw clenched as he peeled another strip of tape from his skin, eyes fixed on the floor. “She’s always talkin’ about him lately. Laughin’ at his dumb jokes. Her face lights up when she talks about him.”

“Since when do ya pay attention to that kinda thing?” Osamu’s tone was teasing, but there was something careful underneath it, something that probed deeper.

“I don’t.” Atsumu’s answer was too fast, too defensive. His fingers stilled against his knee, tape forgotten as he shifted, posture rigid.

Osamu tilted his head, watching his brother closely. “Right.” Silence stretched between them for a beat, thick and unspoken. “So, why do ya care?”

“I don’t.” Atsumu’s voice was quieter this time, almost too quiet. But his jaw was tight, his eyes dark with something Osamu didn’t need to ask about.

Osamu exhaled softly, leaning back and folding his arms behind his head. “Yer full of shit, y’know.” He didn’t push, didn’t ask any more questions. But his words lingered in the air, hanging heavy between them. Atsumu didn’t respond, and Osamu let it go—for now. But the silence that followed spoke louder than anything Atsumu could’ve said.

You started noticing the shift after that. Atsumu was different—quieter around you, shorter with his words. His usual sharp remarks didn’t carry the same playful edge anymore. They were clipped, like he was forcing himself to stay distant. At first, you thought he was just tired. Volleyball took its toll, and with nationals approaching, it wasn’t unusual for the entire team to be running on fumes. But this was different. His usual warmth was gone, replaced by something colder, something heavier that settled in the pit of your stomach. His eyes didn’t linger on you the way they used to, and when they did, there was something in them you couldn’t place. Frustration? Hurt? You weren’t sure, but it left a bad taste in your mouth.

It all came to a head during the next game.

It was an intense match—one where every point mattered, the air thick with anticipation. You were in your usual spot in the stands, cheering louder than most of the crowd, but this time… you weren’t alone. Takahiro was beside you, leaning in close, his shoulder brushing yours as he whispered something in your ear that made you laugh. You didn’t notice the way Atsumu’s eyes flicked toward you, sharp and fleeting, but he saw it. He saw the way you smiled—soft and genuine, eyes crinkling at the corners—and it knocked the air out of his lungs.

It burned.

Atsumu’s jaw tightened, his fingers curling a little too tightly around the ball as he lined up his serve. He tried to shake it off, to focus on the game, but your laugh echoed louder than the roar of the crowd in his ears. His heartbeat pounded in his chest, faster, harder, until it drowned out everything else. The whistle blew. He tossed the ball, went through the motions—but his mind wasn’t in it. His focus was shattered, replaced by a tangled mess of emotions he didn’t know how to deal with.

The ball sailed too far.

Out of bounds.

By a mile.

The murmur that rippled through the crowd was deafening in his ears. Atsumu’s jaw clenched so hard it hurt, his teeth grinding together as he forced himself to breathe through the frustration. He didn’t look at you after that. He couldn’t. But he felt it—your eyes on him, concern etched into your features, even as you turned back to Takahiro. The tension settled like a weight in his chest, suffocating and inescapable.

Throughout the rest of the game, Atsumu was off. His sets were technically perfect, but they lacked their usual precision. His timing was a second too late, his movements a little too forced. The fire that usually burned in his veins, the one that made him relentless on the court, was barely a flicker. And no one noticed but Osamu.

“Get yer head outta yer ass, ‘Tsumu,” Osamu muttered under his breath during a timeout, his voice low enough that only Atsumu could hear. “Yer messin’ up, and I know why.”

Atsumu didn’t respond, eyes locked on the floor, jaw clenched. But Osamu wasn’t done. “If ya don’t fix it, we’re gonna lose. And if we do, it’s on you.”

By some miracle, Inarizaki still scraped by with a win—but barely. Atsumu was the first one off the court when the final whistle blew, not bothering to stick around as the team lined up to thank the crowd. His skin was crawling, frustration boiling beneath the surface as he tore off his sweat-soaked jersey and tossed it into his bag. He needed to clear his head. He needed to breathe.

And you? You noticed.

“Where’s Atsumu?” you asked, concern lacing your voice as you turned to Osamu while everyone congratulated the team. Osamu’s eyes flickered toward the gym, his expression neutral but his tone softer than usual. “Needed some air,” he muttered, his voice quiet but knowing. “Ya know how he gets.” And that was all it took.

Your chest tightened. Something told you this wasn’t just about a bad game.

“Oi, Miya!” Takahiro’s voice broke through the hum of post-game chatter as he stepped forward, flashing a bright smile. “Hell of a match out there. You guys pulled through in the end.” His words were polite, his tone smooth, but the second they left his mouth, the atmosphere shifted.

Ginjima, who was standing nearby, narrowed his eyes, barely masking his distaste as he gave Takahiro a once-over. His lips pressed into a thin line, and for a second, it looked like he was about to say something. "So, ya think—"

But before he could finish, Aran stepped in, his usual easy-going demeanor firming up as he gave Takahiro a curt nod.

“Thanks,” Aran cut in smoothly, his tone polite but clipped just enough to send a message. “Appreciate it.”

Takahiro, oblivious to the silent exchange, just smiled and gave a thumbs-up. “No problem. You guys really pulled through.”

You felt the tension rolling off Ginjima, and even Kita’s usually neutral expression was unreadable as his eyes flickered between Takahiro and the team.

You lingered with the team for a little while longer, standing by Aran as he exchanged a few polite words with Takahiro, who was blissfully unaware of the underlying tension. You nodded along, adding the occasional "yeah" or "for sure" as Takahiro talked about how intense the game had been and how impressed he was by Inarizaki's performance. But your mind was elsewhere.

Atsumu’s absence gnawed at you. The way he’d left the court so quickly, the frustration rolling off of him in waves—it didn’t sit right. Something was wrong, and no matter how much you tried to focus on the conversation happening around you, the pit in your stomach wouldn’t go away.

Eventually, as the crowd began to thin out and the post-game buzz started to fade, Takahiro turned to you with that same easy smile. "We’re all gonna grab something to eat after. You coming?"

You hesitated, your heart tugging you in a different direction. "Hey… I think I’m gonna head home," you said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "I’m kinda tired."

Takahiro’s brow furrowed slightly, concern flickering across his face. "You sure? We were all gonna hang out for a bit."

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you replied, offering him a quick, reassuring smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

He hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Alright… text me when you get home, yeah?"

“Of course.”

But you had no intention of going home.

As Takahiro rejoined the group, you slipped away, weaving through the crowd without a second glance. Your feet moved on instinct, carrying you back toward the gym, where you knew exactly where Atsumu would be. Something gnawed at your gut, telling you this wasn’t just about a bad game. You could feel it, a weight settling in your chest, making it hard to breathe.

As you got closer to the gym, the familiar sound of volleyballs slamming against the floor echoed through the quiet night. The steady thump reverberated through the empty halls, each hit carrying a frustration that was almost palpable. Your steps slowed as you approached the entrance, the muffled grunts of effort and the sharp sound of rubber meeting wood growing louder with each step.

When you reached the doorway, you stopped, heart hammering in your ears as you took in the sight before you. Atsumu was there, just as you’d known he would be. Sweat dripped from his forehead, his hair damp and sticking to his skin. His jersey was clinging to his back, soaked through, and the gym floor was littered with scattered volleyballs, some rolling lazily across the surface after missed targets. But Atsumu wasn’t slowing down.

His jaw was clenched, his eyes locked on an invisible target as he tossed another ball into the air, his muscles flexing as he jumped, body coiling with raw power. The crack of the ball echoed through the gym as it slammed into the floor, and a grunt of frustration escaped his lips, reverberating off the walls.

You stood there, frozen for a moment, watching him pour every ounce of frustration and anger into each serve. He didn’t notice you. Not yet.

“You're gonna break the damn floor at this rate.”

Your voice echoed across the empty gym, but Atsumu didn’t stop. He tossed another ball into the air, his muscles flexing as he jumped, slamming it with a grunt that reverberated off the walls. The ball ricocheted off the floor and hit the back wall with a loud thud. His breathing was heavy, shoulders rising and falling with each ragged inhale.

“Go home.” His voice was clipped, laced with exhaustion and something sharper. He didn’t turn to look at you, eyes locked on the next ball he was already lining up.

“Atsumu,” you said softly, stepping further into the gym. “Talk to me.”

“There’s nothin’ to talk about.” He tossed the ball, and another loud thwack echoed through the gym as the ball hit the floor. “Go home.”

But you didn’t move.

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong.” Your voice was firmer this time, crossing your arms as you stood your ground. But then, as Atsumu lined up another ball, ready to serve, you couldn’t take it anymore. Your feet moved before your brain caught up, and you stepped forward, planting yourself right in front of him.

“Atsumu, stop.”

His eyes widened in surprise, the ball still gripped tightly in his hand, but you didn’t back down. You stood your ground, heart pounding as you met his gaze head-on.

“Move,” he muttered, his voice low, but there was no real heat behind it.

“No,” you said firmly, your voice unwavering. “I’m not moving until you talk to me.”

“Why even bother?” His voice was sharper now, but there was something raw beneath the anger. “Go back to yer boyfriend. Bet he’s waitin’ for ya.”

You blinked, stunned by the venom in his words. “Boyfriend? You mean Takahiro?”

“Yeah, him.” He finally turned, eyes blazing with something you couldn’t quite place—hurt, frustration… jealousy? “Bet he’s real smitten with ya, sittin’ in the stands, watchin’ ya smile at him like that.”

Your brows furrowed, confusion flashing across your face. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Atsumu snapped, his voice rising. “I saw ya. Laughin’ at his jokes, lettin’ him get close. Ya looked real happy. Real fuckin’ happy.”

“That’s what this is about?” Your voice sharpened, anger bubbling to the surface. “You’re pissed because I was talking to Takahiro?”

“Oh, I dunno,” Atsumu drawled, his tone dripping with mock sweetness as he dropped the ball and crossed his arms. “‘Takahiro’s so nice,’” he mimicked, his voice going higher, mimicking yours in an exaggerated, sing-song way. “‘Takahiro helped me with my assignment.’ ‘Takahiro said the funniest thing today.’” He scoffed, his expression darkening as he took a step closer, his eyes flashing with something dangerously close to jealousy. “Ya never shut up about him.”

If you weren't pissed before, you sure as hell were now.

Your jaw clenched, heat rushing to your face as your hands balled into fists at your sides. “What the hell is your problem?”

“What’s my problem?” He let out a bitter laugh, eyes narrowing. “Maybe I’m just sick of listenin’ to ya gush about him like he hung the damn moon.”

“Are you serious right now?!” You raised your voice, the frustration bubbling over. “You’re actin’ like a damn child, Atsumu!”

“Maybe I am!” Atsumu’s voice shot up, matching yours as his face flushed with anger. He stepped forward, closing the distance between you, his eyes locked on yours with a heat that made your pulse race. “But at least I’m not the one actin’ blind to what’s right in front of me!”

“Blind to what?!” You threw your hands in the air, voice sharp and cutting as you took a step toward him, closing the space between you until there was barely any room left. Your chest brushed his as you tilted your chin up to meet his fiery gaze. “Why do you even care so much, Atsumu?!”

“Why do I care?!” He was practically towering over you now, his breath hot and ragged as his jaw clenched, his eyes burning with frustration. “Because ya never stop talkin’ about him! ‘Takahiro this, Takahiro that!’ It’s all I ever fuckin’ hear!”

“Maybe I wouldn’t if you didn’t act like you don’t give a damn about me!” Your voice cracked, but you didn’t back down, standing your ground even as the tension between you became suffocating.

“I don’t give a damn?!” Atsumu’s voice was louder now, the frustration bleeding into his tone as he stepped even closer, his chest brushing against yours. “You’re the one who’s been actin’ like I’m invisible! Like I’m just—just some guy while yer out there with him!”

“Then why didn’t you say something?!” You screamed, voice echoing through the gym, your frustration boiling over. Your hands were trembling now, knuckles white from how hard you were clenching them at your sides. “Why do you even care so much?!”

“Because I love you!”

The words erupted from him, loud and raw, his voice breaking as the confession echoed through the gym and filled the space between you. His chest heaved, his face flushed from a mix of anger and desperation, and his eyes—wide, vulnerable, and filled with something you hadn’t seen before—were locked onto yours.

You froze, the weight of his words crashing down like a tidal wave, leaving you breathless, your heart pounding in your ears. The world went silent, and for the first time since you’d stepped into that gym, neither of you had anything left to say.

Your heart hammered against your ribcage as you stared at him, his chest still heaving from the force of his confession. The air felt thick, suffocating, as your mind raced to process what he had just said. Seconds stretched on, but you didn’t move. You couldn’t.

Then, without thinking, without giving yourself a chance to second-guess it, you stepped forward. Your eyes locked on his, your expression unreadable, and before he could say another word, you grabbed the front of his jersey, yanking him down.

"You’re so fucking stupid," you whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear.

And then you kissed him.

It wasn’t soft or hesitant. It was fierce, fueled by weeks—no, months—of pent-up frustration, confusion, and feelings you had pushed down for far too long. Your lips crashed into his, and Atsumu froze for half a second before he was kissing you back with just as much desperation. His hands found your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, and the world around you blurred until nothing else existed.

The anger, the yelling, the unspoken words—they all melted away, leaving only the two of you, tangled in the heat of the moment, finally giving in to everything you’d both been too stubborn to admit.

Jealousy: Atsumu

The celebratory buzz of victory still lingered heavy in the air, blending seamlessly with the steady hum of the dimly lit bar. Neon lights glowed softly overhead, reflecting off half-empty glasses and illuminating faces flushed from laughter and excitement. The MSBY Jackals had just secured another victory, and the night was young—filled with endless possibilities for celebration.

You excused yourself briefly, slipping away to the bathroom to freshen up, confident Atsumu would manage fine for a few minutes without you. After all, he was your boyfriend, and everyone on the team knew it.

But apparently, not everyone in the bar did.

Returning a few moments later, your eyes instantly zeroed in on your boyfriend, who was leaning against the bar, drink in hand, politely nodding at something a pretty brunette was enthusiastically telling him. Her gestures were exaggerated, her smile bright and flirtatious, eyes gleaming with undisguised interest.

Atsumu, ever the people-pleaser, was wearing his usual easy smirk, clearly indulging the conversation while keeping it just polite enough to not be rude. He wasn’t uncomfortable—just looking for the right opportunity to leave without making a scene. You, however, were not nearly as patient.

The sharp twinge of jealousy that shot through your chest was unexpected, hot, and immediate, intensifying further when the girl boldly reached out, her delicate fingers lingering on his bicep as she laughed at something he said. Your eyes narrowed sharply, irritation prickling beneath your skin, making your pulse quicken.

You moved forward before you fully processed it, steps deliberate, chin held high. Without hesitation, you reached Atsumu’s side, sliding your arm firmly through his and pressing yourself close, your chest intentionally brushing against him. You felt him tense slightly in surprise before relaxing instantly when he recognized your touch.

"Hey, babe," you purred softly, voice dripping honey as you leaned up, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss just beneath his jawline, lips grazing the warm skin of his neck. Atsumu stiffened again, but this time it was from something entirely different, a shiver rippling down his spine as you let your lips linger just a bit longer than necessary.

Pulling back with a possessive little smile, you turned your attention to the woman whose hand had fallen awkwardly away, eyes wide in stunned silence.

"Oh," you said innocently, tilting your head just slightly. "Who's your new friend, 'Tsumu?"

Atsumu cleared his throat, clearly biting back an amused grin. "Honestly, I didn't catch her name."

The woman laughed awkwardly, cheeks flushing pink as she waved a hand in embarrassment. "Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize you were... together."

"Oh, no worries," you smiled sweetly, your eyes glittering with playful sharpness. "He’s a pretty polite guy, isn’t he? Almost too nice for his own good sometimes." You chuckled lightly, your fingers tracing gentle circles along his arm. Then, as if remembering something, you turned to Atsumu, voice light and casual, "I think I’m done for the night. Wanna head out?"

Atsumu barely hesitated before flashing you a lazy grin. "Yeah, sounds good."

You turned back to the woman, still smiling as she swallowed thickly, her face now a shade darker. "Are you a fan? It's always lovely to meet his fans."

The woman opened her mouth—then closed it, nodding mutely.

"Well, we’re heading out. Hope ya have a great night!" you chirped before steering Atsumu toward the exit, satisfied with how quickly the situation had turned in your favor.

The second she was out of sight, Atsumu glanced down at you, eyebrows raised, a mischievous grin slowly spreading across his lips. "Ya okay there, sweetheart?"

You sighed, lips pursed in annoyance. "I’m fine."

His grin widened knowingly. "Ya sure? Seemed a little territorial back there."

"I was not territorial," you huffed defensively, fingers tightening unconsciously around his arm.

Atsumu chuckled warmly, leaning in until his lips brushed teasingly against your ear, breath warm as he whispered, "Sure felt like it."

Heat spread across your cheeks as you shoved at his shoulder lightly, embarrassment mixing with lingering irritation. "Shut up. You weren’t exactly doing a good job of making her leave."

He laughed, the rich sound rumbling through his chest as he wrapped an arm securely around your waist, guiding you gently toward the exit. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever helps ya sleep at night."

Rolling your eyes fondly, you leaned into him, smiling despite yourself. "You're impossible."

"Mhm," he hummed, pressing a teasing kiss to the top of your head, his voice dropping to a low, amused murmur. "But ya love it."

Then, in a lower, rougher tone, he added, "And, not gonna lie, kinda turned me on."

You blinked, heat spreading to your ears now as you gave him a side glance. "Are you serious?"

Atsumu smirked, tugging you just a bit closer as his lips barely grazed the shell of your ear. "Wanna head home and find out?"

The weight of his words settled between you, thick and charged. You exhaled softly, your fingers brushing along the hem of his jacket. "You’re really impossible."

"Mhm," Atsumu hummed, mischief dancing in his golden eyes as he leaned down, lips hovering just over yours. "But I’m yours."

Hiii!!!! I cant tell you how much I absolutely love your writings! I was wondering if you could do a part two for managerial duties for Inarizaki!! Maybe where the manager has serious bruising and the team finds out... and theyre genuinely worried! Id be cute if Atsumu would apologize too!! But you dont have to! Hehe, thank you for making my day! I appreciate your writings so much!

YES I LOVE THAT IDEA! And you've made my day with your kind words <33 thank you so much for reading!! Here we go :D --

You had expected some bruising.

What you hadn't expected was for your forearms to turn into a full-blown patchwork of dark purple and deep red, an angry mess of tender skin that ached every time you so much as brushed against something. It had started subtly enough—just a faint soreness the day after the bet. But by the time midweek rolled around, it was impossible to ignore. Even writing with a pen sent sharp pangs up your arms, and carrying the team’s water bottles felt like lifting bricks.

Which is why, in a moment of sheer desperation, you’d dug through your old volleyball gear and fished out your compression sleeves. They weren’t a fix, but they helped stabilize your arms and dull the constant ache, allowing you to function without wincing every time you existed. The compression kept the swelling down, made the bruises feel less noticeable, and at least provided a thin barrier between your damaged skin and the outside world.

You hadn’t really thought much of them beyond that.

Until you pulled off your jacket in the middle of practice and heard the gym fall silent.

The first thing you noticed was that every single pair of eyes had locked onto your arms. It took you a second to realize why—black compression sleeves, pulled taut over your forearms, standing out starkly against your skin.

"Uh…" you started, blinking as the weight of their attention settled on you.

"What’s with the sleeves?" Aran asked first, brows furrowed. "Didn’t know you wore those."

Your brain short-circuited. "Oh. Um. They’re just… comfortable."

"Comfortable?" Osamu repeated skeptically. "Since when do ya need sleeves to be comfortable?"

Suna, who had been lazily leaning against the wall, suddenly pushed off from his spot and started toward you. "They look kinda tight." Without hesitation, he reached out, fingers brushing over the fabric. "Lemme see."

Atsumu, who had been drinking from his water bottle, glanced over and smirked. "Damn, manager, if ya wanted to show off yer arms, ya could’ve just—"

Before he could finish, Osamu smacked the back of his head hard enough to make him stumble. "Read the damn room, ‘Tsumu."

"Ow! What the hell?!" Atsumu grumbled, rubbing the spot Osamu had hit.

The moment Suna applied even the slightest pressure, a sharp, searing pain shot through your arm, and you yelped, whipping your hand to your chest as if you’d been burned. "Shit!" you hissed through clenched teeth, eyes squeezing shut as the sting radiated up your arm.

The reaction was instant.

"What the hell was that?" Osamu frowned, his teasing dropping immediately.

"What’s goin’ on?" Ginjima asked, concern lacing his voice.

Atsumu, still rubbing his head, now had his attention completely on you. "What'd you scream like that for?"

"I-It’s nothing," you stammered, holding your arm protectively. "Just—Suna caught me off guard."

"Bullshit," Suna drawled, eyes narrowing. "Take ‘em off."

"No! I mean, really, it’s not a big deal—"

"Take. Them. Off." Kita’s voice cut through the chatter, calm but final.

You hesitated. His gaze didn’t waver. And you knew, knew, there was no getting out of this. With a resigned sigh, you slowly rolled down the sleeve, flinching slightly as the pressure eased off your skin.

A collective gasp rippled through the team.

"Dude…" Osamu muttered, voice even quieter than usual.

Even Suna, usually unfazed by everything, looked taken aback. "Holy shit."

Ginjima let out a low whistle. "That’s gotta hurt."

The bruises looked worse under the gym lights, the deep purples and reds blending into a mess of tender skin, mottled and swollen in some places. It was bad. You could feel how bad it looked, just from their expressions alone.

Atsumu visibly paled. "That…" He swallowed thickly. "That’s from me?"

Kita exhaled slowly, his posture rigid. "You should have said something earlier."

"It’s fine," you tried. "I asked for it. I knew what I was doing."

"That’s not the point," he said, voice eerily even. "You let it get this bad and didn’t bother telling anyone? How exactly is that taking care of yourself?"

You opened your mouth, then closed it. Because, honestly? He had a point.

"Go home," he ordered, folding his arms. "You’re done for the day. And don’t come back until that heals up."

"What? No, I’m fine—"

"No, you’re not." Aran frowned. "That looks painful as hell."

"I can still help—"

Kita said your name like a father would, the tone alone made it clear there would be no arguing. "Go. Home."

You huffed, crossing your arms—then immediately regretted it when pain flared up again. Scowling, you turned on your heel, grabbing your things and storming toward the clubroom.

The moment you stepped inside and shut the door, you let out a long breath, flopping against the lockers. Your arms throbbed. Maybe they were right. Maybe you should take it easy.

You had just started gathering your things when the door cracked open.

"Oi."

You turned, only to find Atsumu standing awkwardly in the doorway, eyes flickering between you and the floor. He looked… unsettled. Which, for him, was weird.

"Uh. Hey?"

His mouth opened, then closed. He shifted his weight. Fidgeted.

You squinted. "Are you… okay?"

He exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. "I—uh. Shit. Look, I didn’t—ya know—mean to…" He gestured vaguely at your arms, as if that explained everything. "I wasn’t tryna actually hurt ya."

You blinked. "Atsumu. I asked for this."

"Yeah, but—" He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Ya look like ya got run over."

You let out a short laugh. "Well, your serves do feel like getting hit by a truck."

Atsumu winced. "Shit."

For a moment, he was quiet. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, he muttered, "I’m sorry."

It was quiet. Stiff. A little clumsy.

But genuine.

You raised an eyebrow. "Wow. Never thought I’d hear you apologize."

He scowled. "Don’t make it weird."

You smiled, shaking your head. "It’s fine. Really. I’ll be okay."

Atsumu eyed you, lips pressing into a thin line. "Yeah. Just… don’t be dumb about it next time."

Then, after a brief pause, he exhaled sharply. "You know you could've just told me you played."

You snorted. "Yeah, right. Where’s the fun in that?"

Atsumu groaned. "Yer impossible."

You grinned. "And yet, you all keep me around."

With an exasperated sigh, he turned on his heel, muttering something about stubborn idiots as he left.

You exhaled, shaking your head fondly.

They were all idiots. Loud, nosy, exasperating idiots. But maybe, just maybe, they were your idiots. --

The next morning, you woke up feeling slightly better, though the soreness in your arms still lingered like a dull throb. The bruises were darkening, but at least the swelling had gone down. You figured that maybe—maybe—you could get away with showing up at morning practice. If you just sat on the sidelines, surely Kita wouldn’t make a big deal out of it… right?

You stretched, rolling your shoulders, before heading to the door to grab your shoes. But the moment you opened it, you froze.

Sitting right outside was a neatly arranged little basket. Ice packs, your favorite snacks, a tube of aloe vera gel—and a folded note resting on top.

Your stomach twisted as you picked it up, already knowing exactly who it was from. Unfolding the paper, your eyes skimmed over Kita’s neat handwriting.

Rest. I meant it.

Take care of yourself first. We’ll be fine until you’re back.

P.S. Don’t make me come over there.

You sighed, rubbing a hand down your face before looking back down at the basket. It was thoughtful. It was so Kita. You let out a quiet chuckle, shaking your head before stepping back inside and closing the door behind you.

Guess morning practice would have to wait.

Husbandry: Miya Atsumu

Atsumu had absolutely no qualms with his life at the moment. In fear of jinxing it, he could say it was damn near perfect. He had accomplished his professional dream, being on Japan's Olympic Volleyball team, alongside teammates who have known and played with almost half his life. The people he considered to be the highest of the high. To make things better, he had you by his side, the greatest gift he's ever gotten (He'd tell you but you'd laugh at him for being too cheesy). You two had quite the blissful marriage, and with finding out a few weeks ago that you were pregnant with twins, he couldn't be happier with you.

Atsumu had been checking his hair out in the bathroom, prepping it for a luncheon he, and subsequently you, were invited to by the Japan Volleyball Association.

"Fuck!"

Atsumu hears you shriek out of frustration from the other room. He jumps almost immediately, rushing in to see what was causing you alarm. Whipping around the door frame, arms up to defend his wife, his adrenaline dissipates as he finds you in front of your vanity mirror struggling to zip up what was your favourite dress, but has recently become your most hated. Your bump stretched the dress, making it hard for the ends to come around let alone the zipper. Your face is red with effort, and with a lot of emotion swirling in your eyes. "Hey, hey, you okay?" He calls out your name softly, which usually made you calmer, but in this mood, your temper only flared. So of course, you begin to cry. "No, I'm not okay! I wanted to wear this dress and it doesn't fit! Nothing fits me, and I've gotten fat!" You break, spilling your guts as well as your tears, letting the tension break away from you. Immediately, Astumu is at your side, hugging you and allowing you to bury your face in his chest. He rubs your back in a soothing motion, trying to get you to calm down. "Babe, who on earth said you're fat? You're pregnant." He gave you a squeeze, talking gently in your ear, but you shook your head. "But I got so big so fast!" You were whining now, and while Atsumu knew you were genuinely upset, he couldn't help but smile. Still, he gave you a reassuring kiss on your head. "Well yeah, there's two of em' in there." His hands went from your back to your swollen stomach, "They need room to grow." And you groan, being dramatic. "But what if at the party they think I'm fat?" You ramble, clutching Atsumu's steamed shirt. Your husband stutters, trying to think of the right answer. "I'll... Make sure to let everyone know we're pregnant?" "What?! I don't want people to know we're doing it!" Atsumu gives you a look of pure confusion. Atsumu blinked at you, his lips slightly parted in disbelief. "Sweetheart," he said slowly, as if choosing his words carefully, "you do know that's how babies happen, right? I mean, it ain't exactly a secret how we got here."

You groaned, your cheeks heating up. "I know that! But still, I don’t want them thinking about it. It's embarrassing!"

He couldn't help it—he laughed. A real, loud, genuine laugh that shook his shoulders and made his head tilt back. His amusement was contagious, and despite your earlier frustration, you felt your lips twitch into a reluctant smile.

"You’re somethin’ else, you know that?" Atsumu said, grinning as he wiped the corner of his eye. He leaned down and kissed the top of your head again, his hands gently squeezing your waist. "But if you don’t want people thinking about it, fine. I won’t say a word. But listen here—if anyone tries to say somethin' stupid about you tonight, I’ll let 'em know exactly how proud I am of you. No one messes with my wife."

You sniffled, swiping at your cheeks with the back of your hand. "You promise?"

"Cross my heart, darlin’." He tilted your chin up with his thumb, meeting your watery gaze. "And for the record, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Don’t you dare let that dress or anyone at that party tell you otherwise. Got it?"

"But what if—"

"No 'what ifs.'" Atsumu cut you off gently but firmly, resting his forehead against yours. "You’re not just my wife; you’re also the woman growin’ two babies, and if that ain’t somethin’ amazing, I dunno what is. So wear somethin’ that makes you feel comfy, and we’ll go in there and show everyone how perfect ya are—bump, dress, and all."

You sighed, leaning into him. "You always know what to say, don’t you?"

He smirked. "Nah, sometimes I wing it and hope for the best. But I’m glad this worked."

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, the tension finally easing from your body. Atsumu, satisfied with your soft giggle, gave you another quick kiss before pulling back and gently guiding you to sit down on the bed.

"Stay put. I’ll pick you somethin’ else," he said, already heading to the closet.

"Wait, you’re picking my outfit?" You raised an eyebrow at him, skeptical.

He shot you a playful look over his shoulder. "Trust me, babe. I got this."

You weren’t entirely sure you did trust him, but the way he moved so determinedly between your closet and the mirror made you feel a little lighter. Besides, how could you not feel cared for when your husband was doing everything in his power to make sure you felt confident and loved?

Minutes later, Atsumu returned holding a simple but elegant dress you hadn’t worn in years. It was loose enough to accommodate your bump but still flattering in all the right ways. "Try this," he said, holding it up proudly.

You stood and slipped it on, and to your surprise, it fit perfectly. When you turned to face the mirror, Atsumu’s reflection was beaming behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist.

"See? Told ya I got good taste," he said, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah," you mumbled, feeling your cheeks heat up again. "Thanks, 'Tsumu."

"Anytime," he murmured, his voice soft and full of love.

As you both got ready to leave for the luncheon, Atsumu leaned in one last time, his hand resting protectively over your belly. "Y’know," he whispered, "they’re real lucky to have you as their mom."

You smiled, your earlier worries completely forgotten. "And they’re lucky to have you as their dad."

With that, you headed out together, feeling lighter than you had all day.

I’m so in love with atsumu

I was thinking....

5 years old Atsumu! that hates you because you punched him when he stole your games.

6 years old Atsumu! Who thinks you're the coolest around because you scared away the bully that made his brother cry.

7 years old Atsumu! Who makes you his best friends and he don't care if the other boys don't like him. You're still the coolest around.

8 years old Atsumu! Going to the volleyball camping trying to convince you to come too and not talking to you for a month because you didn't want to be there.

9 years old Atsumu! Crying so much that his mother got scared because you broke a bone while trying to get the ball down from a tree.

10 years old Atsumu! Wearing the shirt you gave him for his birthday for a week straight because it was the best gift ever.

11 years old Atsumu! Trying to sneak you out of detention after you made one of his teammate cry but you wouldn't say why you did it.

12 years old Atsumu! Convincing your mother to make you stay with him for a week while your parents stayed with your grandmother.

13 years old Atsumu! Laughing at Aran because he had a crush on you, his best friend and for sure not a cute girl.

14 years old Atsumu! Losing an important match and staying all day with you and Osamu, watching comedies and without talking to anybody else.

15 years old Atsumu! Stealing his father booze to try it with you and ending up throwing up while you lied to his parents to cover him.

16 years old Atsumu! Fighting with you because you didn't want to be the club manager and swearing he wouldn't talk to you anymore but ending in your club everytime Kita tried to make him clean the lockers.

17 years old Atsumu! Getting angry because while he was in the volleyball camp you stayed all the time with Osamu.

18 years old Atsumu! With a girlfriend but still jealous when the first year started to say how pretty you were and they tried to confess to you.

19 years old Atsumu! Fighting with you because you wanted to go to an university in Tokyo and saying horrible things to you.

20 years old Atsumu! Who has seen you just three times in the whole year because he found you talking with his brother but he was never sure of what to say for the first time in his life.

21 years old Atsumu! Getting dumped because he talked to much about you.

22 years old Atsumu! With a new girlfriend, finding you in Onigiri Miya to help his brother with work and talking again with you, smiling everytime like an idiot.

23 years old Atsumu! Coming with his brother to help you to move out of your apartment after you dumped your roommate, now ex.

24 years old Atsumu! Asking you out for the first time, tongue tied and legs trembling.

25 years old Atsumu! Getting drunk with you at his cousin wedding and asking you to move in with him.

26 years old Atsumu! Planing to propose after the Olympics.

27 years old Atsumu! Never been more sure in his life when he said yes during his wedding.

28 years old Atsumu! Being his brother bestman but flirting so much with you that everybody said to him to shut up.

29 years old Atsumu! Going off the airplane to find you waiting for him, hugging you and spinning you everytime, his nickname, loverboy, sticked to him for the fifth year in a row.

30 years old Atsumu! Making you pregnant during the Olympics, and having a little panic attack after discovering it was a triplet before deciding he wanted a full volleyball team.

31 years old Atsumu! Who decides that three kids where enough after the problems you went through during labor. Searching you every night to make sure you were still there with him.

32 years old Atsumu! Trying to teach his kids how to play volleyball.

33 years old Atsumu! Laughing his ass off with you after his kids traumatized Bokkun when he proposed to be their baby sitter for a day even if it ruined his romantic day with you.

34 years old Atsumu! Arguing with you because you took home a dog before the dog became his.

35 years old Atsumu! Slow dancing with you during one of his teammate wedding before getting drunk with you and remembering the morning after, when his sons jumped on him, that he was no more a twenty years old. Video of him hitting on you all the night while you tried to show him off because you were married went viral.

36 years old Atsumu! Thinking of renewing his promises because he loved you every day a little more and he wanted to marry you every day of his life.

I will read again when I have time to fix the mistakes

Exception —♡ series

Sakusa kiyoomi x reader x Miya atsumu (or maybe more)

Warning : will contain NSFW content, profanities, grammatical mistakes probably, unrequited love, alcohol, smoking and I think that's it

Synopsis : love never was easy, especially not for the Sakusa kiyoomi when he was quite sure you would never look at him more than just a best friend but when he sees you with his newly work best friend his heart shatters all over again. But little does he know you are going through the same thing when he looks at her.

Prologue !¡

Of course you fell for the pretty setter over him, he deep down knew from the first time you both met that you looked at him more than just kiyoomi's friend. He was quite excited when he actually took you to meet his team, especially to the snobby best friend he made over the year in this chaotic team.

But God does he regret not even telling you about his feelings, even if he convinced himself that you just loved him as your best friend but he just can't seem to help it, he just can't move on from you.

How could he? You understood his boundaries from the start, respecting his problems and never giving up on him because he knew he was a difficult person to deal with and mainting a friendship with him is hard in simple words, he can be harsh at times and even go as far as make people think he doesn't like them which clearly is true most of the time but it never applied to you, you were a exception from the start and always will be.

Sakusa was always insecure or jealous over the guys you seemed to be interested in, they were exactly the Polar opposite of the black curly haired boy. He knew he could never be them or be someone who deserved you. He gave up a long time ago, he tells that to himself everyday.

He likes to think he stopped loving you more than just a friend after you moved to miyagi and cheerfully called him on the telephone to declare that you started dating the captain of seijoh. He remembers his voice cracking a bit at the sudden news of your first boyfriend. It was the first time someone else was going to call you "mine" not him, not that he ever had the right to.

But after you came back to tokyo totally heart broken by your 'first love' which you like to call oikawa tooru, Sakusa was furious. He doesn't like to believe that oikawa deserved the title of being called your first love, how could he leave you all alone in Japan and move to Argentina when he used to tell you that he can't live without you, when he was your first kiss, first date and first love and he just ended the relationship over call after two years. To Sakusa he was just another hypocrite jerk. He left the two years of relationship in gutter. He quite didn't actually truly understood the sejioh setter.

Neither did he understood you because how could you just compromise for that jerk and keep telling it's not his fault that his career was way important than some highschool romance. But Sakusa could tell it sure wasn't a dumb high school romance you intended to comply it.

But Why would he even try to understand oikawa when he was actually happy that you both weren't together but that small moment of happiness was defeated once he saw the way your eyes started looking dull for weeks and how your lips quiver whenever you see a picture of him and you laughing together. he just wants you to be happy even if that meant you dating someone else or even his enemy.

Perhaps after that he again gained hope that there is a tiny little chance that at some point in life you would also like him more than just a friend. See him in a different light.

But it all shattered again when you had a small crush on your chemistry lab partner in college, you would whine to him about how he had such a gorgeous girlfriend who was too perfect, she looked kind, was smart and not to miss insanely gorgeous. But only if you knew how much Sakusa wanted to just make you realise that you were the insanely gorgeous one, he wouldn't lie he saw the way kuroo looked at you. He  was in his last year of high school but he visited you when his school was off a whole week.

During that time you had a teamwork together with the rooster head, Sakusa wasn't pleased someone else interrupting his private time with you, in fact he didn't like any stranger being closed to him which was not a surprise but even if he was unpleased he could not bring himself to tell you to stop when he saw how your eyes ssparkling at the chemistry geek's arrival. So he pushed his feelings aside and helped you both with your work but that  was the time he realised that your feelings weren't unrequited like his was since God knows how long.

He could tell kuroo was looking at you with same look Sakusa looks at you, maybe not exactly holding the same strong feelings since his expression also showed a ting of guilt too, and he always used to shift his gaze from you when he seemed to realise something, probably when he remembered that he was still in a relationship and he started to develope feelings for you. Though you both never dated being oblivious of each other feelings. Sakusa would not lie he did feel glad.

But when he enrolled in the same college as you, a new character came into the story. A Korean-Russian exchange student, tall and fit like a super model, beautiful straight black hair, bright amber eyes and a total Heather for the girls in the campus.

The second week while going to the same maths class as her, Sakusa noticed all the boys gawking at that blonde's ass when her skirt was lifting upwards in the hallway. Sakusa might have been a ass sometimes but he was raised to respect woman, so thats when he first approached her, lending his gym black jacket and whispering into her ear to inform her about the situation and how shamelessly others were checking her out.

The girl was flushed red hearing that but before she could mutter any word to her savior. Sakusa was gone, he was running up to a h/c haired girl. Who was smiling just as brightly as the sun and with a calm loving gaze which was noticed by everyone except to the oblivious ace.

WHO GAVE YOU THE RIGHT-

001 MIYA ATSUMU X SHUT UP AND DRIVE SERIES

++ MSBY GARAGE

❝ i've been looking for a driver who is qualified, so if you think that you're the one step into my ride ❞

dt — @rintaroll

“so, what’s it gonna take for ya to praise me a little more?”

you rolled your eyes and huffed, brushing the setters hand off your shoulder.

“shouldn’t you be more concerned about, oh i don’t know, your fans, interviews, your teammates?!” you snapped back as atsumu held both his hands up in defence.

the crowd was loud and still bustling as the black jackals most recent victory continued to stir excitement through the mass of spectators in the high stands. fans were still yelling and chanting as interviewers scrambled to grab the attention of any player they could. multiple had pried for atsumu in fact, alas, all his attention was solely focused on none other than his teams promotional manager; you.

you were chatting to the teams photographer and uploading updates and playbacks onto the teams twitter at the time the blond had bounded his way over to you and here you were, faced with the famous setter leaning on the advertisement boards lining the court diving you from him.

“miya,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose as you shook your head. “go and talk to some interviewers and get yourself back over to the others, i’m begging you at this point.”

“beggin’ huh?” a boyish smirk tugged at his lips and his eyes stayed locked on your own.

“not in the way your disgusting little mind is thinking of.” you shot back, stepping back from the board and looking back down at your phone where the teams twitter was currently blowing up.

atsumu snickered before standing up straight.

“whatever ya say doll, just hold up a little longer and i’m all yours again yeah?”

you scoffed and shook your head at him before shooing him away.

“i’d prefer you weren’t.”

“lyin’s a bad habit.”

“would you just go already?”

atsumu laughed as he turned to make his way back to the rest of his awaiting team. waving a hand back at you, he turned to face you before shooting a wink your way as interviewers and photographers flooded the scene.

this was a typical exchange of interaction between the two of you. ever since you had been introduced to the team as their promotional manager, atsumu had fixated his interest outside of volleyball onto you. 7 months later and nothing had changed despite his never faltering persistence.

you sighed as the photographer laughed softly before turning to his own laptop to import more photos for you to upload.

“he seems to have a soft spot for you.”

you groaned and switched your phone off, leaning back on the advertisement boards atsumu himself was previously leaning against.

“he’s such a handful.” you stated as the photographer chuckled.

“looks like he wants to be one for you though.”

“i wish he didn’t” you muttered back as the photographer smiled earnestly at you.

“i think we both know that’s a lie, we’ve been working together for a while and i don't think this dread to spend time with him is as evident as you make it out.”

you whined as you sent a soft frown his way.

“trust me, it is.”

“whatever you say.” the man teased back before clicking on the last images to send your way.

thanking him and making your way over to the teams manager and coach, you stood beside them in front of the msby boys and watched them as outlet interviewers shot questions their way.

multiple flashes went off every few seconds as each player flashed a handsome smile to the camera. you scanned over the team and bokuto was excitedly chatting and laughing with the interviewers. you smiled softly to yourself as you let your eyes wander from bokuto over to sakusa who was trying his best to avoid contact with his sweaty teammates and ‘annoying’ interviewers. it was clear he wasn’t as thrilled to be there as the others so you sent an apologetic look his way and mouthed to him he only had to put up for roughly 10 minutes more. he silently wallowed in self pity at that, but that quickly turned to agitation as atsumu dominated your vision.

slinging an arm over sakusa, (much to the latters disgust), atsumu grinned at you and flashed a smirk for a brief second before turning back to give the cameras a toothy grin.

your face dropped back into a frown as atsumu feigned hurt from a distance.

the team manager laughed as she elbowed you gently.

“interviewers might have a little more luck keeping him focused if you were the one interviewing him.”

you raised an eyebrow as you turned to face her.

“he’s like a puppy.” you stated bluntly as the manager laughed.

“a lovesick puppy.” she corrected as you faked a gag.

“why you all think he’s head over heels for me is way beyond me.”

the manager smiled before nudging for you to look at the attractive setter.

“because it's obvious. you break the boys heart every week.”

you watched as atsumu happily chatted to interviewers and forced sakusa to begrudgingly pose for photos and join in with him.

“he’s not my type.” you said as your eyes stayed focused on the blond.

“right.” the manager teased before smiling over at the team's captain, meian, her own boyfriend.

you smiled at the pair’s interaction as the team dispersed after thanking interviewers and fans for their support.

meian wandered over to the manager who happily placed a kiss to her cheek before guiding her off towards the back of the stadium, hand lingering on the small on her back.

you sighed as your own thoughts invaded your headspace. it wasn’t that you didn’t want a boyfriend. you just hadn’t met anyone worth the time yet.

well, that was your go to excuse to tell everyone anyway. the truth was, you didn't even know the limits to your own standards, you just knew they were high when looking for a potential partner.

the feeling of a heavy arm slung over your shoulder forced you back into reality as your eyes flickered up in surprise.

“miss me?” the hot breath and familiar voice teased the shell of your ear as you scowled.

“you wish.” you snapped back as you attempted to duck out of your offender's grip.

“ah-ah, yer coming home with me today.” atsumu smirked confidently as you hissed at him to get off.

“says who?” you argued as the setter looked down at you smugly.

“me.” another voice joined the conversation as you turned to face the owner of it.

your eyes met the coach who was looking at you slightly sympathetically.

“huh?”

“sorry,” the coach began, hand holding the back of his neck. “i know i said i’d take you home, but my wife has some errands she needs me to pick up before getting home and i’d hate to have to drag you along with me this late at night.”

you groaned but nodded understandably.

“luckily, atsumu here was kind enough to offer to be your ride back home.”

“lucky me.” your voice dripping with thick sarcasm as atsumu ignored it.

“yeah, lucky you indeed. do ya know how many girls would kill to be in yer position right now?” atsumu teased, arm still firmly made at home around your shoulders.

“let them kill me.” you glared at him as he gasped playfully.

“ya don’t mean that.”

“i do.”

“you don’t.”

“just take me home already i’m tired!” you threw your arms up as atsumu grinned.

“sure, give me a few minutes to grab my stuff and i’ll meet you round the back of the building, yeah?”

“whatever.”

you made your way towards the back exit of the stadium and were met with other members of support for the team who were waiting for the boys to grab their things from the locker rooms. some players opted to shower after matches while others waited til they got back home. atsumu fell into the category of players who waited until they got home. this was both a blessing and a curse. you wouldn’t have to wait for him for too long, but you would be met with a sweaty atsumu.

this wasn’t technically a bad thing, atsumu had a habit of getting rid of the smell after each match with an expensive cologne you’d never even attempt to pronounce, but he happened to somehow be a little more attractive when he looked worn out and disheveled. you hated yourself for thinking such a thing but you just couldn’t help it. he was annoyingly attractive and it made his personality a little more dislikable in your opinion.

you waited for around 10 minutes before you were met with boisterous laughter ringing through the spacious lounge by the exit.

atsumu and bokuto came striding out from the hall directing towards the locker rooms, gym bags in their hands and ruggish hair that would need taming again eventually.

you sighed as you waited for atsumu to approach you. he bid his goodbyes to everyone and sent a look at bokuto's way. the ace held a thumbs up at atsumu as the others in the lounge looked at each other giggling and smiling smugly.

you raised an eyebrow but shrugged it off as you felt a hand find its way on your waist.

“let’s get going then.” his voice strumming chords through your body as you shivered slightly.

atsumu led you out and down towards the underground garage used by players and staff members whilst at the stadium. you’d never actually seen atsumu’s car before so you had no idea what to be looking for, but atsumu’s hand remained firmly on your waist as he led you over to an array of expensive cars. mentally trying to guess what car belonged to the setter, atsumu watched with a small smirk etched on his face as your eyes scanned along each car. keys hooked around his finger, atsumu pressed the unlock button as your jaw dropped slightly.

of fucking course.

miya atsumu was the proud owner of a jet black 2021 chevrolet corvette with the number plate gracing it in all its glory ‘MIY4 13’.

you scoffed as atsumu’s smirk widened.

“so, ya gettin in or what?”

“into what? my one way invitation to death?”

atsumu snickered as he led you over to the passengers seat.

“i won’t kill ya, i promise.”

you looked back at him, handsome and sharp features making your eyes soften.”

“well, it’s not like i’ll be able to yell at you if you break that promise.”

“exactly.” atsumu grinned as you climbed into the luxury vehicle. the soft leather padding of the seats welcoming you as your weight shifted onto them.

you glanced around the interior as your eyes were met upon. various lit buttons caught your attention as a screen switched on as atsumu opened the drivers door. you were certain the car had way too many features but that’s what made it a luxury vehicle you guessed. the sleek black and red complimented interior was admired by you as atsumu watched your eyes dance around the car. his eyes softened as you visably relaxed a little more. your hand hooked across the firmly threaded seatbelt as you pulled it around you.

you looked at atsumu who’s smirk seemed to have faded. instead, a soft grin was painted across his face as he helped you click the belt securely in place.

“don’t kill me miya.”

“i’ll do my best.” he winked at you before pressing the start engine.

mentally chanting your last prayers, you accepted the position fate had put you in and did your best to stop the stirring of butterflies in your chest as atsumu placed his hand on the back of your headrest and pulled out.

well fuck.

as if he wasn’t attractive enough before, he sure as hell was now. your eyes widened and heart picked up it’s pace as the scent of atsumu’s signature cologne flooded your senses.

his sharp jaw and focused eyes, pointed in the direction of the rear window as he successfully pulled the car out the space. moving his hand back onto the wheel, atsumu turned to smirk at you as you gave him a pleading look. before you could open your mouth to speak, the setter slammed on the accelerator and the engines picked up its volume as your head was thrown back a little as the car sped out the garage exit.

“you little shit!” you cussed out as atsumu laughed as you sped onto the highway through the city.

“ya love the thrill don’t lie.”

“i’m not lying!” you protested as the flashes of bright lights flew past the window.

atsumu smiled as his right hand found its place on the middle of your thigh.

“miya!” you hissed as atsumu tilted his head momentarily your direction.

“ya can call me atsumu ya know?”

“i don’t want to!”

“for such a genuine person, yer so full of shit sometimes.”

you huffed as you gave up letting atsumu’s touch encourage the stir inside of you. you turned and glared out the window at the passing scene as atsumu hummed in satisfaction.

a few more moments of comfortable silence went by, nothing but the sounds of cars zooming past and the soft hum of atsumu’s own car’s engine.

you frowned and bit the corner of your lip as you peaked towards the blond whose eyes were fixed on the road.

“so,” you began, resulting in the player's eyes to flicker your way for a millisecond. “why are you so hooked on me?” you questioned.

you held your breath as you finally voiced the concern that had been playing on your mind for a while. you rarely had moments of privacy with the man despite his infatuation and demand to be around you.

“am i not allowed to be?” he challenged teasingly as he sqeezed your thigh slightly.

you wanted to force his grip off of you, you really did, but something about it felt so natural you just couldn't.

“miya.” you sighed and shook your head.

“atsumu.” he corrected as you turned to face him properly.

“look, you’re just my type. that’s all there is to it.” he replied simply,as if it was no big deal to him.

“and just what exactly is your type?” you quizzed as you pulled up at a traffic light.

slowing the car to stop for a while the light was red, atsumu turned his face to look at your own before he flashed that boyish grin you’d unknowingly grown rather fond of.

“you.”

and with that, the world threw you back into fast motion as the green light flashed, highlighting his face before he hit the acceleration again making your eyes widen.

“atsumu…” you sighed quietly as the adrenaline brought more life into his eyes.

it wasn’t that you hated atsumu. it wasn’t that at all. he was just someone you didn’t see yourself seriously with. someone so out there and demanding of the world. you had always envisioned yourself with someone a little more down to earth, someone with a stable job with a lowkey personal life, a person who took life at a comfortable pace. you had never seriously considered being with someone like miya atsumu. someone who demanded the world's attention, dominated every scene he was put in, who took life at the speed the highest the accelerator would go. someone so big, so bright. you never imagined someone like miya atsumu would take interest in someone like you. you were opposites stuck in an entanglement of professional lives.

out of every person in the world, the universe had decided miya atsumu would become the man who ticked the boxes to your unknown standards. you just hated to acknowledge it.

pulling off the highway, atsumu drove through the less busy roads as your apartment complex came into vision. half of you wanted the ride to be a little longer, but the other half of you couldn’t wait to lock yourself in your apartment away from the man who caused turmoil inside of you.

atsumu hummed as he pulled around the back of your complex. the roads were quiet and the soft lights of other buildings gleamed off the vehicle as the golden light flooded through the tinted glass of the windows, pulling attention to the boyish, but charming features of his face.

you sighed as he pulled the car to a stop and let the engine settle down. you stayed like that for a moment as the two of you sat there packed in the quiet parking lot.

“listen, I meant it, i really do like you.” he said as you studied his eyes for any signs of him being ingenuine; you couldn't find any.

your eyes softened as you leaned on the headboard.

“miy- atsumu.” you began quietly as his eyes admired your form. “it’s not that i don’t like you or anything, it's just- i don’t know if you’re my type.” you confessed as your heart hammered against your chest.

“well, you just called me by my first name, that’s gotta count for something right?”

you looked up at him and locked your eyes into his honest ones. you sat up and turned to face him as he took both of your hands into his.

“look, i get it, i’ve been annoying since day one-”

“-annoying is an understatement.” you cut in as atsumu playfully glared at you.

“rude. anyways as i was saying, i might’ve come across as a little too strong from the start, but there's just somethin’ about you. i just can’t seem to leave ya alone.” the blond confessed honestly as his warm, calloused hands held yours tightly.

“atsumu, i just don’t know.” you shook your head as he held onto your hands tightly. “i just don’t know what i’m looking for.”

“let me help ya find it in me then.” he pleaded softly, a small grin tugged at his lips.

you cast your eyes down to where your hands were being connected by him. the stir in your chest sped up as your heart was slamming against your chest at this point.

“atsumu i just-”

cutting you off, atsumu pulled your hands away from each other as he moved one up towards your jaw to cradle your face gently. dark golden eyes melting at the sight of you close up, atsumu pulled your face in closer to his and your heart just wouldn’t let you pull away. his lips finally met your own after what felt like an eternity and it was if yours were made to fit against his.

his hand moved towards the back of your neck as he encouraged you to move closer. you leaned closer letting your own hand find its way against atsumu’s broad chest.

the kiss deepened as you gave access to the setter’s tongue as he dominated your movements. small gasps and whines were heard in the silence of the parking lot as neither of you had it in your to pull away. atsumu’s hand was securely at the back of your neck with the other gripping your waist as you groaned at the slightly uncomfortable position.

pulling away, the two of you breathed heavily as you leaned back in the expensive leather seat as atsumu stared at you softly.

“what the fuck was that?”

“our first kiss as a couple.” atsumu teased but failed to stop the wide smile spread across his face.

“who said anything about being a couple?” you shot back as atsumu found your hand once more, lacing your fingers together tightly.

“your body language. you kissed back.”

“i-”

“msby setter miya atsumu as yer boyfriend, wow, arent’cha just the luckiest!”

you playfully hit his chest as he laughed.

“keep it up and that’ll be ex-boyfriend.”

atsumu’s eyes lit up as he grabbed your hand again and held it tightly.

“so ya admit it! i’m yer boyfriend!”

you giggled seeing how genuinely excited he was over it.

“for now.” you hummed as he pouted slightly.

you cupped his jaw and leaned to press a soft kiss to his cheek causing heat to rise to his face.

“let’s just, take this slow though okay?”

“don’t tell me that while sittin’ in this car.” he joked as you groaned against him.

you leaned back looking back into his bright eyes as his gaze softened.

“i’m kiddin’, we’ll go as fast as ya want, and i promise not to kill you on the way.”

you snickered as the blond beamed at you.

“i’m holding you to that.” you smiled as atsumu pulled your face in closer once more. leaning forward to better prepare yourself, you allowed yourself to melt into another deep kiss with the man you would now call your boyfriend.

you never saw yourself being with someone who took life at a fast pace. someone who demanded the world’s attention without verbally calling for it. you never saw yourself falling for someone like that.

but here you were, with the man who ticked all of those boxes easily. the type of man you insisted wasn’t your type, turned out to be the blueprint for your exact type; you just weren’t aware of it until miya atsumu insisted you did.

++TAGLIST!@crescenttooru @miss-angel-ash @sarahvvictoria @babierin @fxncyoomi @s0utien @toobsessedsstuff @omibaby @kenkodzu @sugabeaniee @lovesunas @slutawara @bunny-on-crack @shouyouorange @memorableminds @whootwhoot @yikes-buddy @sweetsamus

Hi! I was wondering if I could request akaashi, iwa, and/or atsumu kissing their best friend, please and thank you💕 I really liked the oikawa, kuroo and bokuto one!

— synopsis:  haikyuu boys x y/n; kissing their best-friend 

— characters included: akaashi, iwaizumi, & atsumu 

— genre: soft boi hours! fluff! lil angst! 

— author’s note: while the previous one was based off the tiktok, this one will be just general made-up plots to keep things different! (hope that’s okay!) 

akaashi

when you found out akaashi liked someone, you experienced your first heartbreak. 

you knew falling in love with your best-friend was all on you, but you couldn’t help but just hope that maybe one day he would return your feelings. 

but yet here you were, hopes and heart shattered. 

you almost wanted to breakdown the moment he told you, but you held it out as much as possible, your tears falling only once you were away from him. 

“y/n, I wanna tell you something...” he started slowly as he held the volleyball in his hand tightly. 

chuckling softly, you removed his hands from the ball, taking it from him, “you’re going to bust this if you hold it any tighter.” 

blinking, he stared at his empty hands before laughing lightly. taking a deep breath, he turned to look at you, a soft smile on his face. 

“I like someone.” 

this time it was you whose grip tightened on the volleyball. 

unsure if you heard him right, you stammered, “y-you what?” 

scratching the back of his head, he repeated shyly, “I said I like someone.”

“oh.” you responded, voice lower than a whisper. 

you quickly realized just how dejected you sounded, and if anything, that was the exact opposite of how you should’ve sounded. 

throwing on a bright smile on your face, you giggled, “ooh keiji has a crush~” you teased lightly. 

flushing, he laughed, “yea, I guess you could call it that.” 

“who is it?” you asked almost immediately, the curiosity getting the better of you. 

at that, akaashi stiffened. chuckling nervously, he averted his gaze, “um, it’s someone you know.” 

since that day, akaashi had never told you who his special someone was. you didn’t know why he was hiding it from you, after all it was better to peel the bandaid off completely rather than bit by bit like he was doing to you these last few weeks. 

it started with him telling you how amazing she was. how she was the funniest person he knew, how strong-minded she was and how beautiful she always was to him. 

then it went on to how she made him feel. how she always made his day, how he felt butterflies whenever she would touch him and how he just wants to hold her hand in his. 

and just like that, week by week, akaashi would talk about nothing but her. 

to make things worse, it appeared that most of the volleyball team knew. every day at volleyball practice you would hear their teasing remarks, bokuto’s being the loudest. and in response, his cheeks would flush in embarrassment, the sight making you only hurt more. 

should you quit? you wondered to yourself. it was hard enough on you to hear akaashi telling you his feelings, but it was a whole other thing having several people support him, reminding you every single second of every day that your best friend had fallen for someone else. 

you really loved being fukurodani’s volleyball manager. after all, it was one of the biggest excuses for you to spend more time with akaashi. but even aside from that, you made a lot of great friendships and memories with the team. 

but you really didn’t know if you could go like this anymore. 

sighing, you pulled your bag closer to you as you walked home with akaashi. 

“what are you thinking about?” 

shaking your head, you mumbled, “nothing important really.”

brows furrowing together, he asked, “mm you sure? you looked super serious for a second.” 

“dunno, just thinking about quitting being manager.” you muttered, before realizing what you had just confessed. shit. you didn't know how you were going to get out of this one. 

stopping in his tracks, akaashi’s eyes widened in surprise, “w-wait, you’re thinking of doing what?” 

muttering a soft damn it under your breath, you quickly threw on a nonchalant facade. giving him a shrug, you said casually, “it’s not that big of a deal keiji, there’s still the others.” 

turning back around, you started to walk again while akaashi stood there, fumbling for words. catching back up to you, he pressed, “but why? I thought you loved being manager?” 

biting the inside of your cheek, you knew he was right but you had to come up with some excuse, something to throw him off at least for now, “I just, school’s getting pretty busy—” 

“is that really it?” he interrupted, his voice slightly turning accusatory. 

your eyes narrowed at him, “what does that mean?” 

out of the both of you, akaashi was always the calm one. but today it was almost like you were seeing another version of him. where his eyes shook slightly, filled with an emotion that you couldn’t identify, his hands bundled into tight fists at his sides. 

“i just—” akaashi started, struggling to find the right words to say, “i feel like you’re not telling me something y/n. you’ve been off the last couple of weeks and I don’t know why—” 

you let out a bitter chuckle. 

“you’re kidding right?” 

if your reaction wasn’t enough to shut akaashi up, the words that followed definitely was. he watched as you shut your eyes tightly, your grip on your bag tightening, voice trembling, “I just, I can't do this anymore keiji.” 

akaashi’s eyes softened; moving closer towards you, he started to reach for your hand when you flinched away, the motion causing akaashi to blink in surprise. 

“d-don’t.” you whispered, blinking back the tears. “you won’t understand keiji. you won’t get what I feel and there’s no point in me telling you so please, just don’t ask me why.” 

“y/n, you can’t shut me out without even giving me a chance.” he reasoned softly to which you shook your head. 

“no, you don’t get it. e-everything will change and I just, I can’t handle that—” 

“I promise, nothing will change.” akaashi started, “you’ll always be my best friend—” 

“I don’t want to be your best friend anymore!” you finally exploded, the word starting to make you feel sick. your voice echoed through the empty street, each word coming back to haunt you when you realized what you had finally done. 

but there was no going back. 

“I want to be more than that...” you trailed off in a weak whisper. sniffling, you realized you had been crying without even knowing. brushing your cheek with the sleeve of your sweater, you added, “b-but you like someone else and that’s not your fault, it’s all mine. so just, give me some time keiji. i-i’m sorry.” you finally choked out before turning around on your heel and walking away quickly, the tears only falling faster at this point. 

shit shit shit shit

just then you felt something tug at your wrist, spinning you around as a slight yelp escaped your mouth. finding yourself being pulled towards Akaashi your faces just millimeters apart, you gasped, “keiji—!?” 

without uttering another word, akaashi closed the distance between the two of you as he grabbed your waist, pulling your frame flush against him as his lips enveloped yours in a soft kiss. his other hand cupped the back of your neck, his long fingers threading themselves into your hair as he pressed his lips tightly against yours. 

you felt like you were dreaming. 

before you could comprehend what was happening, akaashi had pulled away, pressing his forehead against yours as you watched his chest raise up and down with every breath. 

“keiji...” you whispered softly. 

“it was you.” he confessed quietly, “it was you, this whole time.” 

blinking furiously, you stared at your best friend as you slowly registered his words, “w-what, what do you mean?” 

lips quirking up into an embarrassed smile, he grinned, “the girl i said i liked? it was you y/n...that’s why i didn’t tell you who it was.” 

"oh.” you said as your cheeks flamed up in embarrassment, a shy smile appearing on your face, “it was me?” 

cupping your face in both his hands, he pressed another kiss to your lips before saying, “yes, it was you. it always has been.” 

as he gazed at you in complete adoration, you laughed softly to yourself, shaking your head in wonder. you were so preoccupied with the idea that the person akaashi liked wasn’t you, you didn’t even pay attention to all the signs and signals he had been giving trying to tell you that it was you. 

oh, how the world worked. 

iwaizumi

“iwaaaaa.”

“no.”

“hajiiiii.”

“no.”

“hajime! come on!” 

turning around to look at you, he rolled his eyes at you before saying the same word he had been for the last several minutes, “no.” 

crossing your arms across your chest with a slight huff, you retorted, “but why not?! it’s really that not that big of a deal, you’re just my best friend.” 

snorting, he turned his attention back to his laptop, “what kind of best-friends do you see kissing each other y/n?” 

“you make it sound crude, it’s not like I’m asking you to be my fuck buddy.” you grumbled, “I just said to teach me how to kiss, just once. It’s literally driving me crazy that I haven’t kissed anyone yet and then there’s the absolute fear of kissing someone and then realizing I suck and being utterly embarrassed for the rest of my life.” 

“then just find someone who hasn’t had their first kiss either. bam, both of you suck.” 

your narrowed your eyes at him, “do you have a list of men who haven’t had their first kiss? I can barely find one at this stupid university who has yet to sleep with someone, find someone who hasn’t kissed yet?! impossible.” 

iwaizumi chuckled softly under his breath as he heard you continue to grumble about how you were going to die alone since you would be too afraid to get intimate with anyone since you “sucked” at it. 

did he want to kiss you? always. 

but did he expect this to be the way? definitely not. 

he knew exactly how this would go, there was no way of it happening any other way. iwaizumi was always better at showing how he felt through actions than words, and after being best friends with you for so long, he knew you’d be able to tell the instant his lips met yours, just how fucking in love he was with you. 

“hajimeeeee.” you started to whine again, interrupting his thoughts. 

sighing, he turned around on his chair so that he was completely facing you. 

his first mistake. 

there you sat cross legged, plush lips pulled together in a small pout as you  stared at him with your soft wide eyes. 

“please haji...” you urge softer this time, a hint of desperation laced within your voice.

iwaizumi’s grip on his jeans tightened. the way you were looking at him was enough to set him off as his heart fluttered at the sound of his name from your lips. 

“you do realize you’re still going to be kissing me right?” he pointed out, “you're okay with that? ” 

nodding quickly, a smile quickly appeared onto your face. was he being convinced? you waved your hand about nonchalantly, “totally okay, you’re my best-friend, I trust you.” 

best friend, iwaizumi winced. the word stung a little more than usual today. 

after a while, iwaizumi finally said with a sigh, “look y/n, I don’t know...” 

your smile quickly dropped. 

“alright, it’s fine.” you said casually, although Iwaizumi could clearly hear the disappointment in your voice. getting up from his bed, you grabbed your bag from beside you and slung it over your shoulder. 

“hey, do you where tooru is?” you asked as you made your way towards his door. 

at the sound of his best friend’s name, iwaizumi’s ears perked up. brows furrowed together, he looked at you in slight curiosity as a bad feeling erupted in his stomach, “practice, why?” 

shrugging, you said, “i'll just go ask him instead, i’m sure he’ll do it.” 

oh, hell no.

before he could even think through his actions, iwaizumi pushed himself off of his chair and found himself reaching past you and closing the door with a thud! his arms caged you as you turned around and stared at him in complete shock, eyes wide and lips parted. 

chest rising up and down, he stared down at you, eyes swimming with an emotion you had never seen before. your own heart started hammering in your chest at the sudden change in proximity as you could feel iwaizumi’s breath fan your flushed cheeks. 

“h-hajime?” you stuttered out, blinking furiously as the boy simply stared at you. iwaizumi felt his brain completely short-circuit. this wasn’t like him at all. he was always the cool-headed one, whether it was keeping oikawa in check or being the supportive one for his friends. but with you, you had always managed to bring out parts of him he never knew existed. 

standing there, his gaze dropped down to your lips; it was as if being this close to you activated a magnetic field that he was unable to escape. leaning in towards you, his forehead rested against yours before he mumbled lowly, “a kiss is what you wanted right? then here.” 

slipping a hand beneath your jaw, his fingers tilted your face upward before closing the gap and pressing his lips to yours. 

what started as a butterfly touch, slightly nervous and afraid, quickly changed as iwaizumi pressed closer, deepening the kiss. feeling your back hit the door, your eyes fluttered to a close as you found yourself melting into his embrace, sighing against his lips as you kissed him back. 

iwaizumi’s grip on you tightened. he knew he should stop now before things got out of hand. before you caught on. before you realized how much this kiss meant to him. 

teeth tugging at your bottom lip, iwaizumi pulled away reluctantly, resting his forehead against yours. eyes fluttering open, he waited for your eyes to open and when they did, he felt his entire world stop. 

upon meeting his gaze, your eyes softened. you didn’t know what you expected when you asked iwaizumi to kiss you. while you were serious about wanting to experience kissing, you couldn’t help but admit that you always wanted your first to be iwaizumi. 

“w-was i okay?” you murmured softly. 

nodding, he chuckled softly, “yea, you were perfect.” 

at his words, your grip on his shirt tightened. a sudden surge of courage coursed through your body when you leaned closer towards him and added, “i think i need more practice.” before crashing your lips onto his. 

atsumu

“wow, they should make a rule to not let short people work at libraries. you’d need a stool everywhere you went.” atsumu snorted as he watched you try putting a book away on the highest shelf.

it was a friday afternoon and you and atsumu were both at your local library, volunteering after school.

granted you have to drag him there every week but hey, community service was important to you. 

turning around to shoot him a glare, you retorted, crossing your arms, “for your information, I am perfectly capable of doing this.

chuckling softly, atsumu raised a brow, lips twitching, “Oh? Really now??

letting out a huff, you turned back around, standing on your toes as you tried to reach the top, even holding on to the shelf as you balanced yourself. watching you from behind, atsumu simply shook his head and chuckled, finding your stubbornness absolutely freaking adorable. (even though he'd never tell you that)

moving behind you, his hand shot up past yours as he whispered, “just let me do it.” his breath fanning the back of your neck. as he took the book from your hand, his fingers grazed yours ever-so-slightly, enough to send your heart into a frenzy.

get it together y/n! you told yourself.

somewhere along the line, the boundary of friendship between you and atsumu started to blur. nearly everyone around you could see the way both of you slowly fell for each other.

but of course neither of you could, choosing to remain silent in fear of ruining your childhood friendship.

however you weren’t about to simply give up as you turned around to retort back, but instead, it was a decision you were quick to regret. your heart suddenly skipped a beat when it noticed the distance between the two of you was almost nonexistent. and if that wasn’t enough, the way atsumu was smirking at from above as you were completely backed up against the bookshelf, had you holding your breath.

waving the book in the air, a good couple feet above you, atsumu teased, “here, all you have to do is reach for it y/n”

for a split second, you forgot the position in which you were in, a sudden drive of competitiveness within you focusing on only getting the book atsumu dangled above you. 

pouting, you complained, “atsumu—! just give it to me!” as atsumu laughed at the concentrated look on your face as you endlessly tried grabbing at the air above you.

reaching upwards one last  time, pushing yourself up onto the very tip of your toes, you quickly realized you made a mistake when a mini yelp escaped your lips, your hands clutching the thing nearest to you.

which ended up being?

you guessed it.

atsumu. 

wide-eyed, your hands tightened around atsumu’s shirt as you quickly regained your balance. looking up nervously, you saw atsumu’s smirk slowly disappear as it turned into a nervous smile, his eyes gazing down at you with a look that was indescribable. blinking, you found yourself staring at atsumu’s lips, his soft red lips that just seemed oh-so-inviting, yet the thought of them on you had you flushing scarlet red.

“y/n?” atsumu’s voice rasped softly through the thick air, your grip on him tightening as the way his name rolled of his lips had your knees going weak.

but before you could respond, all you could feel was the softness of his nose brushing against yours, his hands that slowly cradled your waist as he pulled you closer into his grasp, and finally his lips following right after. his lips soft as clouds enveloped yours gently, nervously, tenderly, as his mouth caressed yours while you stood there stunned, unable to move as much as an inch.

sensing the hesitation in you, atsumu quickly pulled away, a look of panic flashing across his face. his cheeks went flush under the dim library light, as he looked at you, completely flustered, “fuck—I'm sorry, I don’t know what came over me—”

“I didn’t mind.” you suddenly squeaked, your eyes widening as the words slipped past your lips, making you look away in embarrassment, internally cringing.

you did not just say that y/n!!!

atsumu’s face mirrored yours, a look of surprise on them before the corners of his lips quirked up into a smile, the very smile he would always give only you, the very smile that would always have your heart skipping a beat just at the sight of it.

tilting his head to the side, he raised his brow as he teased, “hmm, you didn’t mind?”

this time, it was your turn to be flustered as you hit his chest lightly, avoiding his teasing eyes as he beamed down at you. chuckling, his forehead fell upon yours, his lips yet again just centimeters away.

“then you wouldn’t mind if I did it again?” he whispered lowly, his eyes falling back down to your lips.

“i wouldn’t,” you said softly, finding yourself inching closer to him, slowly closing the gap. 

general taglist: @cinnamonrusts @postsfromthe6 @lady-snavely @02hhsailor@killuaking @rae0fsunshine1317 @sugawaaras @voids-universe @yams046@visaintes @simpforsaeko @honeybacon @kuroosbabie @verblueht @captain-janeway @misssugarless

character-specific taglist: @bluelightningxiii @ushiwakasvball @findityourselffsworld @konohasoftgf

THE CUTEST SHIT I SWEAR

TsumTsum is a cutie and i’ve been thinking about him a lot today :)

it’s a sunny Saturday when you go to get your hair done. you walk in, actually loving the smell of the place, the scent of shampoo and chemicals mixed together with the trendy essential oils diffuser in the corner of the white walled building.

you’re seated next to a big window, the window is so huge in fact, it’s basically a wall. you can see the hustle and bustle of the shopping center that the salon is nestled in, the people passing by and cars slowly making their way around.

your stylist is happily chatting away as she add the foils to your hair, giggling as you both catch-up from your last visit to see her. you’re looking in the mirror as her eyes dart up to the outside window, a sly smile on her face and a raise of an eyebrow.

“what?” you ask.

she huffs a laugh from her nose, “there’s a really cute guy out there, and he was looking at you as he walked by the window.”

your gaze goes to the window, and she’s right. there’s a guy walking past the window (for a second time now she giggles as she folds another foil) he’s tall and broad, blonde hair in an undercut. his honey brown eyes and lazy smile are enough to make you weak in the knees. he keeps the silly grin on his face, and eyes on you, as he slowly strides his way out of view.

and the third time he walks by, you and your stylist both are laughing as the blonde pauses in front of you from outside, sending you a flirty wave. your eyes dart to your reflection in the mirror, head full of foils and a black cape over your front. surely you’re not that attractive? but you wave back anyway with a grin. now the other salon patrons and employees are watching and laughing at the mans actions for your attention.

finally, the fourth time he walks by, he winks and pulls his phone out, pointing to it enthusiastically and mouthing “hey cutie” and “let me get your number” which makes you blush and put your face in your hands as your stylist and others are looking to you, waiting for your reply.

“give him your number!” your stylist urges, poking your shoulder.

you wave a hand and shake your head, “i don’t need to do that-“ you reply. she looks at you and then you look to Atsumu Miya.

“because he’s my husband.” you laugh.

🥺

Tequila Sunrise, While the Sun Risin’

a/n: this is my confession letter to the one and only mister miya atsumu, i love you. okay but in all honesty, i’m like… super proud about how this came out and i really hope you all enjoy reading this as much i enjoyed writing it. uwu

summary: Where Atsumu and you made it a tradition to wake up early on Saturday mornings to catch the sunrise, while drinking a tequila sunrise.

M. Atsumu x Gender Neutral! Reader | Warning/tags: early morning drinking, implied post-timeskip, fluff

WC–– 1.2k

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[5:22 am]

was the time on the bedside clock when atsumu awoke in the dim bedroom that you and him shared, along with the dim world outside. releasing a loud and long yawn, he shifted over to the edge of the bed, the grey duvet and sheet pooling at his sharp hips.

atsumu rolled his brawny shoulders back, groaning at the satisfying pops his joints made as he stretched. opening the blinds, the sky was no longer pitch black but now a stark midnight blue with splotches of burnt-out stars, indicating the world was beginning to wake up.

and now he had to wake you up.

Keep reading

this kiss

summary: all of the attempts for your first kiss and the time it finally does happen. pairing: atsumu x fem!reader genre: fluff!!! seriously rlly fluffy ok, established relationship, first kiss scenario, atsumu soft as hell for you word count: 2.7k words a/n: aHA IM AN ATSUMU SIMP NOW…yeah not proud of it, but i’ll accept it. anyway did this instead of the homework i had due at 12am (rip my grades)  i hope you enjoy some soft atsumu who adores you. anyways this is obvious but electric love while reading? MMPH *chefs kiss*

atsumu feels a smile grow on his face at the sight of your wide eyes darting around the carnival like an excited child. colors of blues, pinks and purples danced off your skin from the reflection of the tall ferris wheel’s lights and your grin shines brighter than any of them.

you’re beautiful.

Keep reading

daybreak.

soaked in sunshine.  f!reader ; wc: 705 ; fluff. 

happy birthday, miya atsumu. you are one of two libras i will never condemn. 

there’s a smile on your face. atsumu thinks that maybe everything will be okay. 

you weave a hand through his hair, eyes searching his own. “the sun is a good look on you,” you muse teasingly. 

he rolls his eyes. “i always look good.” 

he’s not sure when he became uncertain about things ever not being okay. he’s not sure how he could with you next to him.

Keep reading

atsumu fighting for you

it’s been five minutes since atsumu answered the door and you’re starting to get a bit worried. when he comes back into your shared bedroom, a red mark on his cheek and bruised knuckles, you can’t help but gasp and rush him to the bathroom.

“what happened? you literally only answered the door!” you exclaim, gently wiping his hand.

“it was your dumbass ex,” he mutters, eyes still filled with annoyance at the thought of them. “they said they wanted to talk to you and they wouldn’t leave. i gave them three warnings, i swear. but it came to this.”

you shake your head, looking at atsumu with a mix of love and disappointment. “never do that again.”

“no promises,” he retorts, eyes now soft as he gazed at you. “i would fight the whole damn world for you.”

send me a character + a scenario! no longer answering nsfw asks for this game!!

Honey — M. Atsumu

pairing: post time-skip!atsumu x reader

genre: drabble, slice of life, established relationship, fun and cute.

word count: 516

warnings/notes: None. Well, I’ve done it kind of week hope there’s nothing wrong! Inspired by Raveena’s wonderful Honey.  

“You’re milk and honey, warm and lovely,” 

A soft, jazzy beat echoes through the walls of yours and Atsumu’s shared apartment. Your legs rest on his lap, head hidden comfortably in the plushy corner of the sofa. Tipsy giggles escape your mouth as he rambles about his day, his nose all scrunched up, brows furrowed.

“Stop laughing at me!” He whines, a cute pout resting on his lips. The alcohol flushing his cheeks makes him look young, and you swear you can see the rowdy boy you met in high school.

Keep reading

So kiss me

Miya Atsumu x Reader | Fluff

It’s Atsumu’s last summer in Hyogo before he is due to move to Tokyo to begin his training with the MSBY Black Jackals. He has one last thing to do before he leaves.

A/N: Inspired by Kiss Me by Sixpence None the Richer, recommend listening to it while you read!! Repost bc tags 🙃

Beneath the milky twilight, muffled giggles and clumsy feet stumble down a rocky trail, disrupting the usual quietude of the forest. It’s not long till the two figures responsible for the ruckus appear through the thick cluster of trees, steps slowly coming to a halt as they finally approach the clearing one had been leading the other to.

“Tsumu” you breathe, lips barely able to utter the name as you take in the sight before you.

Your fingers laced through Atsumu’s fall limp before they completely detach, hovering over your mouth in disbelief instead. When Atsumu had appeared at your doorstep claiming there was one last thing to do before summer ended, or, as you two both stubbornly refused to voice, before he left for Tokyo, this had not crossed your mind, not even for a second.

Beside you, the blonde is wearing a proud smile, eyes trained intently on your features that he’s so desperately trying to commit to memory. Your parted lips, the gap between them just wide enough to let out a whisper of his name. Your glistening eyes, capable of outshining even the brightest stars. Your trembling hands, opening and closing, as if unsure of what to do with itself. He wants to remember every detail.

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Miya Atsumu is a blanket hogger, not because he likes the added warmth of being sandwiched in his blanket; but because he always believed in monsters under the bed. Osamu calls him weird, but Atsumu insists that it’s better safe than sorry. As long as he’s safe under the covers, the monsters, demons, or ghost can’t reach him. 

So obviously, it’s Atsumu’s duty to protect you right? You weren’t ask picky as him about the blanket but you’d always find yourself waking up in his arms with the blankets wrapped around the both of you. Your legs securely tucked under the sheets and your waist held tightly with his arms. It was sweet. 

And you wouldn’t have suspected anything at all until you took a nap on the couch. The summer heat making you sweat so you let the blanket fall to the ground as you continue snoozing into the cushions. You tried hard to fall into slumber but the way the humidity stuck to you like glue kept you in a daydream state with your eyes closed. 

But soon, you heard the pitter patter of footsteps of your boyfriend. A sigh on his lips and the soft fabric of the blanket being slowly placed onto your body. For a few seconds you refused to move, despite the heat crawling on you, you feel him start to tuck the blanket against your frame. A slight hum on his lips and when he reaches your torso, you turn to look at him. An amused smile on you. 

“What are you doing?” 

Atsumu doesn’t feel embarrassed, he continues to tuck you in, mumbling softly, “Making sure the demons don’t get to you while you sleep.” 

It makes your heart melt, especially when you think about the amount of times Atsumu has removed or stolen Osamu’s blankets; but the fact that he was here, right at this moment, trying to make sure you wouldn’t be taken by the demons. You break free from the blanket burrito, arms capturing your man to bring him to you and you smother him with kisses. 

➵ 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧’𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧’𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫

➵ 𝐦𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐮 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

➵ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 𝟐𝐤

“Are you still single?”

It was an overused taunt between the both of you.

Miya Atsumu, the nation’s bachelor, had taken your journal away from you. His twin brother was getting married and he and his bride had hired you to ensure their day would be glorious.

“And who are you to say that, Miya-san?” You smiled after swiping your journal with all of your plans away from his sweaty hold. He stuck his tongue out when you laughed in triumph.

Each of his friends had fallen into the curse of matrimony—as Atsumu would call it. His teammates from Inarizaki, from MSBY, to the national team, and even his rivals have all settled down and some of them even had the “privilege” of having children. He had attended the majority of the weddings as the best man; and you had attended all as their wedding planner and that was how you met the ever so charming Miya Atsumu.

“What’s the excuse this time? Commitment issues? You know... you should probably be planning your own wedding soon, Y/N.” He laughed, playing with the nameplate on your desk. “We’re not getting any younger.”

“I don’t really see the need to get married. Commitment isn’t a joke, Miya-san—“

“Miya-san is my dad, just call me Atsumu.”

“I like my job, Miya-san.” You flipped through the demands of the couple. They wanted fancy but simple, memorable but special, a garden theme sounded nice but having the reception at a beach wouldn’t hurt, Elegant but hints of youth would be nice. That was as far as their requests went. The rest was up to the both of you.

Being a good friend of the bride and as the wedding planner, you had the duty of making their day perfect to suit both of their interests. As the brother of the groom, Atsumu was left in your care to help you out—a request from the couple.

Their special day rested in both of your hands.

Atsumu fumbled with his phone. “I’m just saying, most girls at our age tend to worry about settling down. And we’ve had at least seventeen weddings together in the last six years, right? Seven of them, I was the best man—not that I’m counting or anything.”

He miscounted. The both of you had seen each other at eighteen weddings total. At every wedding since the third, you would taunt each other regarding your relationship status.

He charmed a bridesmaid or cousin from two of those events but declined their company, danced on one of the tables two weddings ago and Osamu had to bring him down. He cried five weddings prior to this one because that wedding was where his first love married someone else that wasn’t him.

Rumors said he had been sleeping around since then—Atsumu would leave an indefinite and open response but his brother, Osamu, would oppose to say that Atsumu wasn’t the type to do so; and who better to believe than his own twin?

Despite all those times you mentioned you hated seeing his face at all those weddings, you loved him. When you’re about to lose your mind, he was always there to rescue you and take you away for a bit. Whenever one of the plans goes wrong, he somehow helps you come up with an alternative thanks to his connections. He was spontaneous yet reliable and you loved having him around.

And his signature cocky grin just made you just want to kiss the corners of his lips.

With a lazy yet cocky smile, Atsumu pocketed his phone. “Why don’t we get married next? That way you can finally plan the wedding of your dreams.”

“No thank you, do you have any idea how expensive weddings are?” You answered rather too fast.

“Money won’t be a concern with me.”

“It’s still a no.”

“Suit yourself.”

Five weddings ago—the same one where he cried his heart out, you slept with Atsumu Miya. The moment his warm hands pressed themselves onto your hips almost like a cry for help, you foolishly allowed him to have his way with you. He wreaked of tears, chardonnay and red wine, cologne from Ralph Lauren, and caramel tarts that night.

There was something about the way he whispered your name instead of hers like a prayer, or how his long and thick fingers stretched you out so well, how he carefully undressed you and looked at you like you were everything he wanted, how his feverish yet impatient touch burned on your skin, how his tongue felt and tasted like caramel against yours, or how he kissed you and said that he loved you.

You left immediately after he passed out on the pale white sheets of his bed. You had no place in his life. You were merely a wedding planner and he was just one of the attendees. There wasn’t a future with the both of you together.

It wasn’t love.

It was lust.

“Are you still single?” Atsumu’s habitual greeting came as he swung the door to your office open.

“As are you.” You clicked the pen in your hand while you tried to imagine a layout for the ceremony. “The groom wanted something traditional and his bride wanted something modern… I’m thinking of gray satin—“

“This isn’t the first time we worked together, right?” He immediately plopped down on the couch of your office. From where he sat, he could see fabric samples scattered and pinned on a desk, three whiteboards that blocked the windows full of table arrangements for the reception at a garden, contact numbers listed and posted all over your window.

It was messy—but you had a system.

“No it isn’t.” You looked back at him. Miya Atsumu looked so handsome and you couldn’t help but stare. He was dressed in a white tee and jeans, it was a simple outfit yet his top accentuated his broad chest and shoulders and the jeans around his thighs—

“The first was at Oikawa’s wedding or was it at Bokuto’s or Hinata’s?”

“No it was at Bokuto’s and then at Hinata’s, then it was at Oikawa’s”

He laughed, remembering how stressed you were handling all those events in a span of a year. Atsumu wondered if you ever took breaks. You rarely asked for help and never brought your personal life onto the table.

Atsumu knew so little about you.

You waved your hand in front of his face and mentioned that he was aggressively staring off into the void—too intense for your liking. It was like he was plotting a murder or something.

He pondered about a life with you. The nation’s best wedding planner and the nation’s eligible and most desired bachelor? That would certainly be a headline or a cover for a magazine.

Would you soon be wearing that navy blue dress from five weddings ago? That was his favorite dress on you.

A smile pulled at his lips, remembering how you teared up in gratitude when he managed to pull some strings and hired another media crew to document the wedding when the one you hired decided to back out on you six hours before the event.

They owed him a favor and he wanted to help you.

When you called him your hero and embraced him so tightly, he swore his heart stopped.

He wanted you to look at him like that again; seeing as how exhausted you tend to be when planning these events, you most probably needed a partner to help you out. If he had to stop volleyball, perhaps he could run this business with you—if you would allow it.

“Miya and Miya’s Wedding Planning Service.” Atsumu grinned to himself and locked eyes with you. “How does that sound to you?”

“If you and your brother are planning to buy my business from me, it’s not happening.”

“Oh, I was thinking of Miya,” Atsumu’s palm rested on top of his chest. “And Miya.” He then gestured over to you—fingers in your direction and palm facing upward.

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion with a tinge of shock at the feeling of your cheeks burning. “What are you talking about—“

“Just painting a picture.” He leaned into the cushions of your couch. “It looks… less lonely and I see two happy people. What do you see?” There was a sound of an object breaking—or rather, crunching, behind him.

“Not a lot without my glasses.”

The professional athlete fished said object from the cushions and promised to buy you a new pair.

You waved it off.

One minute your face was so close to shriveling like a pathetic raisin within the walls of your office from stress, the next it was relishing in the soft breeze of the beach.

“What do you think?” Atsumu rolled the cuffs of his jeans above his ankles. “They loved driving to this spot every summer. This was where my brother and his girlfriend had their last date.”

He passed you the umbrella and dashed into the water, laughing like a child’s first time on the beach.

“Before he proposed?” The sand crunches under your toes. The resort nearby was owned by one of your cousins—it would make a great location for the reception.

“I think so.” He splashed the seawater your way and invited you to join him. You didn’t have the energy to scold him for dampening the cover of your planner.

You’ve seen him play on the court before. The way the lights would give him some sort of halo, his sweat glistening on his skin, the triumphant grin on his lips, the way his muscles tensed, his sharp eyes...

But to see him underneath the bright afternoon sun—it was different. Atsumu and the beach were a terrific mix. He was beautiful.

Atsumu was reliable, gentle when he wanted to be, a little crass and informal at times, judgemental, inviting, endearing, warm, smelled like autumn, safe and whatnot. There was just something alluring about him.

Setting your shoes and planner next to his, you roll up your slacks just below your calf muscle.

The setter beamed and cheered when you stepped into the waters and approached him. His hand was outstretched for you to take.

“We could have the wedding here.” He glanced at the waves foaming on the sand. “The bride really loves beaches so I believe we’d get plus points for having it here.“ He continued to ramble on about the possible arrangements.

You were too busy falling for him to remember that you were there to find a location for the ceremony and reception.

“I didn’t think wedding planning with you was going to be entertaining.” He squeezed your hands and softly placed his lips on the curves of your knuckles. “You know, my offer for Miya and Miya’s Wedding Planning Service is still open.”

Thirty hours until the wedding.

Everything was in place, all toxic invited guests were eliminated, never went above the budget, the bride is excited to officially wear her gown and change her surname, the groom is shaking in anxiety and finally got the acceptance of his father-in-law-to-be, none of the hired staff and crew looked like they were going to back out anytime soon...

Both parties were planning to celebrate the day before the wedding and you were planning to get some rest before you were going to be overwhelmed with pressure and stress that will come in the next couple of hours.

Five months of stressing over the pressure, planning, calls, negotiations, and connections finally paid off.

Atsumu had other plans though—he wasn’t interested drowning in blinding lights and beer that day. Leaving his brother with his peers, the setter had asked you if it was alright to see you.

How could you ever oppose?

The same taunting greeting came as soon as you both locked eyes but this time, there was a hint of hope in his tone. “Are you still single?”

“Who’s asking?” You lean on your doorframe.

“Will you be wearing the same navy blue dress you wore five weddings ago?”

“Are we going to keep asking questions—wait what?” Your stomach twisted out of shock. Navy blue dress? Five weddings ago? Does he actually remember what happened?

“I wasn’t drunk that night and neither were you.” Atsumu rubbed the back of his neck, processing the mixed emotions on your face. “I don’t regret it, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Were you planning to match with me tomorrow?” You could not help but smile at the way the tips of his ears burned red.

“I was.”

“Navy blue is not part of the palette, remember?”

“It should have been.”

His lips tasted like cherries that afternoon.

☾ the witching hour

☾ decision: hallway

☾ warnings: f!reader, alcohol mention, drug mention, sfw shirtlessness

☾ word count: 2.4k

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*implied mental illness*

Atsumu has been monitoring your behaviour for the last three days; large, hooded eyes followed your every movement and scanned even the little twitches of your brows. He made sure that you never left his field of vision. This wasn't because of his lack of knowledge about you - really, ask him anything about you and he wouldn't even take five seconds to think.

Your favorite food?

The classic chicken burger from Wendy's, and if you were hungry enough, with fries and a wrap. And for drinks, it was always coke - or sometimes when you're craving something sweet, a mango milkshake.

Favorite way to style your hair?

Trick question; you liked your hair down. You once said that it hurt your scalp too much whenever you put your hair in a ponytail.

Favorite movie?

Another trick question; you prefer to read.

He also knew the most obscure details about you too. For example, you tend to wash cups and glasses first before the bowls and plates, then forks and spoons for the ending. Or the fact that you only sneeze in the morning, and that too at least five times. Or, the most scariest of all to Atsumu, that you never seem to blink at all.

No, Atsumu prided himself on being the encyclopedia of you. Which was why he noticed there was something off about you. Sure, every time he came home he was greeted with the same smile he fell in love with five years ago; and sure, you were up and about every day, doing housework as well as maintaining the status of being a responsible college student. And yes, you were eating and drinking every day even without Atsumu's presence.

But Atsumu also knew that it took you an hour to get out of bed. He'd watch you go into the bathroom, do your business, and come out to make breakfast. Yet, your toothbrush remained dry. You never neglected your showers but took an extra thirty minutes every time, which prompted Atsumu to sit outside, leaning against the bathroom door, for anything that might remotely sound like cries. You ate and drank but he swore you always took one spoonful and one gulp the whole time, opting instead to ask about Atsumu's day. You barely went outside these days when your favorite dates used to be the ones where the both of you took advantage of the warm sun as you strolled along the parks.

Little by little, Atsumu had collected as much evidence as he could, determining at last that something was bothering you. And so, he waited. He waited for you to come to him because he didn't want to invade your privacy lest he assumed something wrong and upset you even more.

But you never did.

You continued on; you smiled but never enough to show your teeth, you woke up every morning after a night of muffling your cries, you went about your day without a break even though you barely had any energy.

And it was hurting him.

"Hey."

You looked up at him from the project you were working on, tired smile on your face. "Hey."

Atsumu frowned at how hoarse your voice had gotten. "I want to talk about something."

"Oh? Did something happen at practice today?"

Atsumu's heart warmed when you started to check his hands, the crevices of his fingers, then to his face. How can you be this selfless, he wondered. You hadn't been doing well, yet here you were, worrying about Atsumu when he should be the least of your concern.

He took your hands into his, pressed kissed upon your knuckles. "No, nothing happened to me. Don't worry."

You deflated immediately. "Don't scare me like that." You pouted and it was all Atsumu could do before he had to avert his eyes. "What is it, Atsumu?"

"Don't think I haven't noticed it, love."

You halted. "Wh-what?"

Atsumu frowned, then stared into your eyes. He knew how much you hated confrontations, second only to direct eye-contact, but he had to do this. He couldn't let you suffer like this. "Are you okay?"

Your eyes widened. Before you could deny anything, however, Atsumu continued in a soft voice: "I've noticed you ... you aren't - well, you don't look okay. You haven't been the best for a while, and - and I'm getting worried. I was gonna let you have your space, I thought that that's what your needed from me, so I didn't say anything for a while, but ... but you haven't said anything. And I'm afraid you'll only get worse if I didn't say anything so I -"

"I thought no one noticed."

Atsumu wondered if you knew you had just completely wrecked his heart. "Babe, you are not invisible. I care so much about you and it hurts me that you've been suffering alone. I - god, I should've done something. I'm sorry I've failed you."

"Hey, no." You grabbed his face, shaking your head. "Don't apologize, you did what you could, Atsumu, I don't blame you for not knowing what to do. I - I should apologise. I'm sorry I haven't been the best, I know it must've been so confusing for you. It's been confusing for me too and I don't know why-"

Atsumu enveloped you as soon as he saw those teardrops roll down your cheeks. It hurt to know how much you were hurting all this time, and he wasn't able to do anything about it. Hell, he hated himself for waiting so long. You wept onto the crook of his neck, muffling your apologies.

"Hey, it's okay. You don't need to apologize. It happens. You're only human, babe, and human emotions are difficult to deal with."

The both of you stayed like that for a while, clutching onto whatever you could as if the other would disappear any second. When you'd calmed down enough, you broke apart, and instantly Atsumu was smoothing out your hair, wiping away your tears, asking you if you're okay.

You smiled. "Thank you."

"You deserve it, love." Atsumu pressed a kiss to your forehead. "You wanna tell me what's going on? And no pressure, I won't judge you. If you want, I can wait still. Whatever is comfortable for you."

And he promised, he'd never fail you again.