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I’ve been meaning to update but what’s going on in the US right now has taken my focus so I haven’t been able to post my most recent works. I’m gonna try to update Nulla Medium sometime tomorrow and post a Sakusa one shot tonight!

#Dandon speaks

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Amaretto [Atsumu Miya x Fem!Reader]

a/n: First os I have ever finished writing! (and i have tried to write a lot in the past) I just had an idea for a rock band au and i think i needed to get it out of my chest. I dont really feel confident about this but i would love to read your opinions if you get to read it 💕 Also english is not my main la language so i deeply apologize for any possible typo you might find here.

Word count: 3176

Genres: only fluff i think.

Warnings: some swearing and light death threats if you squint your eyes really hard lol.

Summary: Atsumu is bar hoping on a friday night with his teammates after his volley practice, he just wanted to have a relaxing time drinking but what he wasnt expecting was to fall for the bartender of an unknown rock bar that was basically hidden at the end of a darl alley.

Keep reading

#cuuuuute

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Nulla Medium

A/N: this is a soulmate AU I came up with in the middle of the night! If this has been done before please let me know so I can credit :) This chapter has one (1) line of Japanese dialogue but future ones will be written in English and implied Japanese. This is a Miya twins love triangle but there is absolutely no incest. Feedback is always appreciated!

Vicinus

In this world, soulmates are not a blessing. A last name on the palm of your left hand is a warrant for loneliness. Lifetimes spent obsessed looking for the right generic surname what-have-you. Those who have no clue what their future last names should be, tend to stay away from those with marks if their name doesn’t match. To be fair, who wants to be second best to a soulmate? Others may spend years on a Mr. Smith but it’s not The Mr. Smith. They reach anniversary after anniversary only to find out they never loved the “right” person. Years of love are deregulated to monumental regret over a stupid marking on their palm. Others move on, but the marked wander even with guidance. It’s a life of loneliness and wanderlust, traveling across the world for the right Mr./Ms. You are almost better off without a marking.

Given an upper hand, a cleanly written “宮” at the center of your palm let’s you know that your journey begins in Japan. A childhood of Japanese tutoring and fluency is your parents’ contribution to your journey to Mr./Ms. Miya. No high-school romance or first kiss, you leave for Japan at the age of 18 with money you’ve saved up from a part-time job. Being romantically quarantined left you ample time to be bored out of your mind as a barista.

Stepping off the plane at Itami Airport, you begin the search in Osaka. A soulmate dating app sets you up with a couple of “Miya-san”s in the area. None too remarkable. Even with dating apps you never know if your soulmate is actually on there. It just helps, even if only a little bit, make the journey seem that much less daunting. So at 5pm on a June night, you hear the Kansai Dialect for the first time from an unremarkable date as he picks you up from the airport.

An hour later, you lay down in your hotel room, crying into your pillow. You thought it would be easier now but if you’re honest with your self, you’ve never felt more alone in this shitty hotel room. You fade fast before you realize you are escaping a panic attack.

At 3:00 am, you wake up with a start. The remnants of the panic attack keep you shaking. The air is thick and muggy so a baggy shirt and shorts are all the effort you’ll commit to. A walk around might help but if nothing else the hotel has a bar as well. As you step out, four men stumble through the hallway. The scent of vodka and other liquid courages covers them like a filter. All four wear black jerseys and jeans like some sort of boyband. You cringe at the volume of most of the men, however, one man looks just as irritated as you do and gains your slight sympathy.

“Please don’t be my neighbors, please don’t be my-“

The rowdy group, minus the one poor soul, walks right up to the door next to your room. The quiet man in a face mask drunkenly tries to use a wet wipe to the door knob and proceeds to struggle to unlock the door. You notice the blond in the group, briefly. The short ginger seems to notice you more.

“Hi neighbor!”

He waves endearingly. With your keys in your right hand, you wave quietly with your left. The ginger starts sputtering and smacking his hand against the blonde in the group. You meekly continue to hold your hand up feeling, more threatened than friendly at this point.

He looks briefly over at you and chokes. Reddened cheeks turn white. He stumbles over his own feet and reaches for your shaking hand. He studies it like it’s rocket science but white cheeks turn red once more. He drops your hand and bows so quickly he gives himself whiplash.

“Miya Atsumu! Nice to meet you!”

It’s your turn to sputter. He introduces himself in English and his accent makes you feel warm and jittery. You bow gently.

“L/n Y/n”

In this moment you recognize how easy it is to stand in front of this man. You almost feel like you could cancel your lined up dates.

You speak, once more.

“あの、散歩欲しいですか？”

“Uh...would you like to go on a walk or something?”

This is fate,

isn’t it?

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