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#miya fluff
applejuic33 · 4 days
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Osamu miya moodboard and headcanons !
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Whenever you go to his restaurant and there's a rush, he gives you cute little notes along with your order and you have a dairy where you stick all the notes. Even when you guys were in school, he'd give you such notes right before a class where you wouldn't be able to see him. You still keep all of them <3
Whenever you're busy with work, he readies the bathtub, lights up candles and decorates it with rose petals, and it's just so relaxing because your work is super stressful.
He hides his face with his hand whenever you give him compliments or tell him anything romantic.
You're the type of person who can quite literally sleep anywhere so he gives you his arm to use as a cushion and doesn't move till you wake up.
Dating him is like having your own personal chef, honestly LIKE EVERYTHING HE COOKS JUST TASTES SO GOOD.
Whenever he's cooking in the kitchen, you like to go behind him and hug him. The first time you did that, he panicked and dropped the knife but now he's used to it.
He likes to feed you like for example, if you had gotten your nails done but didn't want to use your hand to eat because it would ruin the nail art, he fed you and he also makes sure your hair doesn't get in your face.
Breakfast in bed is really common for you guys now. He tends to wake up really early so he makes you the best healthy breakfast ever and everything is according to what you like. He even remembers all your food preferences.
He compliments you usually on text because he gets too nervous to say it in real life, one time you dared him to say it to your face and this guy began breathing so heavily, it was concerning.
He'll get in any weird positions to take pictures where you look good. But sometimes he takes the worst pics of you and posts it when it's your birthday and you threatened him so he'd delete it and post something else.
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zorosprincess · 5 months
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Costume Shopping
PAIRING: Miya Atsumu x Reader WC: ~0.7k GENRE: Fluff 𖤐 CW: suggestive but really none, just 'tsumu bein' silly.
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“What do we think?” Atsumu laughed as he turned around in a circle. Little white tail trailing after him. Your face dropped, eyebrows raised as you looked at him in an ‘are you serious?’ look. “What!? There’s a matching one for you too!”
He held up a small package, an image of an egg on the front to match the sperm costume he currently donned. There was a shit eating grin on his face as he tried to toss the plastic package at you.
You sighed and watched it fall to the ground in front of you. He pouted as he looked at the package on the ground. “No.”
“Bu-”
“No.” He pouted as you cut him off and tried to look at you pleadingly. “Choose a different one.”
“I swear, you’re no fun sometimes.” His voice is muffled slightly as he disappears back into the dressing room of the store. “You know we have to match for this party! We gotta be classic! Original!”
“That,” you scoffed, “is not a classic.”
“We could totally make it a classic.” Atsumu tried to reason and you heard the lock to the door click open again. “Alright, what about this?”
The first thing you saw were the silver pieces of stuffed fabric attached to the front of his hips. He laughed as he twisted his hips a bit so the attachments moved. “A plug?” You could see the outline of the box on the otherwise plain onesie.
He chuckles as he steps closer to you, the pieces hitting your hips. “Yeah and then you can be my little electrical socket.” He laughs as you groan and roll your eyes. “Get it? Cause you’re where I-”
“Ugh gross!” You shoved him away as he laughed. “I’m not dressing up as your electrical socket Atsumu.”
“Well you have to match me!” He exclaimed, throwing his hands up as he pouted at you.
“Do I?” You raised your eyebrows, unamused. “You dress up like an idiot and I will be pretending I don’t know you at the party.”
“It’s only fair.” He scoffed as you rolled your eyes. “You have to! I won’t forgive you if you don’t!”
You sighed and shook your head. “You’re literally the most dramatic person I know. It isn’t that big of a deal.”
He whined your name loudly, pouting and looking at you with those big puppy dog eyes of his.
“You wanna match?” You asked him, smirk playing on your lips as your eyes scanned the costumed on the racks. “We could go as mustard and ketchup, be each other’s other half and all.”
“Yes!” Atsumu exclaimed, jumping slightly as he did a small cheer. “Now you’re getting it, baby!”
“You’d have to be the mustard, of course.” You continued on, trying to hide your smile as he tilted his head in confusion. “You know,” you gestured towards him like it was obvious, “on account of your hair already matching the part.”
Atsumu’s jaw dropped in betrayal and he let out a dramatic gasp. “How could you!”
You laughed as you turned him back towards the dressing room door. “Why don’t you take that ridiculous thing off and we can find a different matching costume? Hmm?”
Atsumu groaned in acknowledgement but nodded anyways as he stepped towards the open door. “How about minions?” He looked over his shoulder at you in question. “You’d look real cute in one of those outfits.”
“Mm, no.” You laughed, giving him another shove towards the room. “I have a better idea if you’re down for some bunny ears.”
You laughed as you saw him perk up in intrigue. “Is it what I think?”
“Yeah, yeah, accepting the Bugs and Lola agenda you tried last year.” You sighed, keeping your smile small, although the way your idiot of a boyfriend was beaming at you it was kind of hard.
“Did you know that I love you?” He spun around to face you and tried to lean in for a kiss.
You groaned when you felt the parts from his costume hit you again. “Please change before you try to kiss me again.”
He laughed as he stepped away from you. “Okay, okay fine.”
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a/n just a silly lil thing
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mavrintarou · 2 years
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Lord Miya Atsumu [2]
Sneaking this in. I'll alternate (try) between updating with this one and Wipe Your Eyes.
Warning: smut; angst; this chapter could be triggering - mentions of suicide (SPOIL ALERT: reader does not realize she's pregnant & miscarried) Note: I'm just sneaking away... I don't have a time frame as to when I'll post again. Please be patient with me. Love you all.
First part > third part
He placed a finger on his lips, gesturing for her to be silent, and led Y/n away to a secluded alley.
“Eunhyuk!” Y/n whispers, looking back to see if her maid has noticed her absence.
He looks back before stopping and whipping his hat off and pulling the mask down. His choice of attire was completely different from what she knows, and his hair is shorter than she remembers.
Eunhyuk gazed at her, his eyes gentle and longing. “Y/n.”
She smiles, it was a year since she last saw him. “Eunhyuk,” she calls his name softly.
He enveloped her in his arms, one hand protectively cradling the back of her head. “I’ve been waiting for you to leave for so long….” he uttered. He pulled back, his face revealed the anguish he felt as he continued, “I… I came back too late.” He swallowed hard, the pain is evident in his expression.
Her arms squeezed around him for a split second, she allowed herself to hug him just for a split second before pulling away. She exhales deeply, forcing a smile as her heart drops. “I’m sorry too, Eun. It happened so fast, and I had…” she swallowed, “I had no say in it.”
Eunhyuk was her first love. Someone who shared the same dreams as her, dreams of marrying and having children together. 
His eyes pinned hers, “does he make you happy?”
“Yes,” she whispered, deceiving him with her words.
The boy who had loved her for over fifteen years was well aware of how awful of a liar she was.
“Y/n,” he softly called her name, his voice filled with earnestness. “I’m going to ask you one more time, does he truly make you happy?”
Her head drops and her voice cracks, “I don’t know. It has been… tough. Dreadful. But he… has been looking at me differently lately.”
“Can you love him?”
She looks at him with pleading eyes. “Eunhyuk…”
“My Lady!” Mirei shouts breathlessly, she runs towards them standing in between. She protectively stands before Y/n, looking at Eunhyuk. “Who are you and what have you done to my Lady?!”
“Mirei,” Y/n calls her name quietly, “this is my friend, he is not a threat. I promise.”
Her maid looks at her with uncertainty, “he took you!”
“It’s okay,” Y/n assures, “he means no harm.” She looks at Eunhyuk, “I must return.” And you mustn’t look for me again, she silently pleads, nudging Mirei.
When she reached the end of the alley, Y/n turned around one last time to see Eunhyuk no longer there.
“I will not speak of today to my Lord, but you mustn’t do that ever again.” Mirei whispered, “promise me.”
“I promise.” Y/n smiles, “I won’t do that ever again.”
“You mustn’t see that man again.”
Y/n takes a deep breath and smiles comforting, “okay, I won’t see him again.”
. .
Lord Atsumu did not return by Y/n’s bedtime, so she heads to bed in her chamber.
As tired as she was, she was unable to sleep as her mind would fall onto her encounter with Eunhyuk earlier.
Miya Atsumu sat in front of her with his parents at his side.
“Y/n,” her mother grabs her hand, “Miya Atsumu is here today to ask for your hand in marriage.” Y/n’s eyes bulge before looking at Atsumu, who has been staring at her with a blank cold look. “Your father and I believe this will be a wonderful connection between both families.”
“But Eunhyuk will –“
Her mother shushes her, whispering, “it has been one year already, he may not be returning.”
Y/n shook her head with pleading eyes. She has known Miya Atsumu since they were young, he has been nothing but means to her, and as adults – neither of them has ever spoken a word to the other.
“Can we have some time to discuss this matter?” Her mother asked politely.
Atsumu’s father nodded, he was an older version of his son. “Please let us know as soon as possible,” he looks at Y/n and smiles, “Y/n grew up with our sons and we see that she is the best fitting for our son. If you would consider our son, we will ensure that your future will be nothing but bright.”
As soon as the Miyas left, her mom grabbed her hand. “Do you not find Atsumu likable at all?”
“It’s not that mom, Atsumu is… Atsumu.” Their parents had always brushed off the times Y/n would cry running to the parents – speaking through sobs at how Atsumu was being mean. “We just… I don’t think we’re compatible with each other…”
She takes a deep breath, “I beg you, Y/n, save your family’s name and marry Atsumu.” She did not need to speak of her older sister’s marriage failure that caused their family name to be tarnished. Y/S/N was promised marriage after she had fallen pregnant only to have the father of her child abandon them. Humiliated and ashamed, she took her own life along with her unborn child.
“Eunhyuk has been gone for over a year now. He has not written or sent any message to let you know of his return. Are you going to waste your life waiting for him? What if he is already married?”
Y/n shook her head, “Eunhyuk would never do that… he loves –“
“Do not… walk in your sister’s shoes Y/n. You would only break your own heart. It is best you marry Atsumu – they will secure your future and restore our family name.”
Y/n lets out a deep sigh, it does no good to dwell in the past.
Eunhyuk and her fate were not meant to be in this lifetime.
Sleep consumed her and she had only a short taste of her dream before she was woken up by her husband's head nuzzled against her naked chest.
His dark brown bangs brush against her chest, tickling her skin. He was already in between her legs, naked.
Y/n moans softly, feeling the tip of his cock brushing against her clit as he rocks his hips. She cradles his head against her chest, “Atsumu…”
He lets her nipple go with a pop sound and looks up at her. “I thought you would wait up for me?”
Her hand cups his face, “sorry, I got tired… and I didn’t know if you wanted me to.”
“We have a baby to make, right?”
Her hand flinches away from his face as she remembers her role. “Correct…”
Lord Atsumu lifts one leg over his shoulder before pressing himself into her core. Groaning by the second until his entire cock is sheath inside of her hot wet walls.
He has her bent awkwardly before grabbing her other leg and locking his arms behind her knees and bending her fully in half. His hips rut hard and fast as his mouth finds her in a messy and hot kiss.
She breaks away and gasps, “Ah… Atsumu…”
His teeth find the skin on her neck, and he bites hard.
She winces.
“What did you do today?” he whispers hoarsely, letting go of the skin.
 Her toes curl, feeling the tingling sensation. “I – I found… some textile…”
“Textile?” His hips slow tremendously, torturing her with slow but deep thrusts. “For what?”
“Ah – baby… for the baby…” she utters.
He laughed, mockingly. “Well, first we need to make one…” His hips smack hers, hard and fast. His heavy sacks bounce back and forth against her ass and the room fills with lewd skin slapping.
Her nails dig into his skin, holding on to him tightly. “A – Atsumu – slow down… please…”
That only made him go faster. Harder.
Until he stops, groaning as he paints her walls with his seed.
She wakes up a couple of hours later, trapped by her husband’s heavy arms and legs from behind. He was still very much inside of her, plugging her so his seed doesn’t escape after the many rounds.
Y/n lay there, recalling how different he was last night compared to the last time. He wasn’t gentle or passionate, but rough and possessive, like the very first time.
She barely moved but could feel how sore she was.
“Stop moving…” a low voice grumble.
Y/n freezes and her heart races as she feels something become hard inside of her. “Atsumu –“ she protested but recoiled when he gave shallow thrusts. “No – no more…”
She rolled onto her stomach and his weight held her down, “one more, just in case.”
Her body was weak, sore, and exhausted so she could not even fight him off. Her hand gripped her bedding, just waiting for it to be over.
.
Y/n jolts awake to her husband missing. Slowly sitting up, she grips her comforters close to her chest.
The day had already started, and she had no idea what time it was. Why hasn’t Mirei come to wake her?
Her head snapped when she heard an excruciating whimper.
Scrambling to get up, she slipped a few times and winced once she stood up. She could barely dress properly before leaving her room. From her doorway, her eyes widened in shock.
Mirei was tied to the pillar with a guard whipping her calves.
Lord Atsumu standing there, with his arms crossed against his chest.
“What are you doing?!” Y/n yelled, limping along the porch. She treads across the courtyard barefooted and stands against her husband, glaring at him. “What is the meaning of this?”
“Meaning?” he mocked, “did you really think I wouldn’t know how you secretly took off with that half-breed yesterday?”
Her eyes widen.
“Your maid here is getting the punishment she deserves for keeping it away from me.” He looks at the guard, signaling for him to continue. “She should be thankful I’m only giving her fifty whips.”
“Fifty!” Y/n exclaimed, her gaze turning towards Mirei, whose pale calves bore red whip marks of pain and anguish. Y/n then looked at her husband, desperation unmistakable in her eyes, and pleaded, “please, stop. It… it was all my fault. She does not deserve this.”
“Then you can take her place,” he responded callously, showing no hint of remorse.
Tears filled her eyes. Angry tears.
Atsumu couldn’t help but flinch at the intensity of her piercing gaze and the icy tone of her voice as she replied, “fine, I will.”
His eyes narrowed in disbelief as if he never expected her to actually agree to it.
She turned around and wiped her tears and he watched her walk up to the pillar, untying her maid and helping her off to the side. “I will take this, Mirei.”
The older woman shook her head, “no, no, my Lady, it is my fault –“
“It is not,” Y/n cuts off with a smile, “it is my fault for believing someone like him can change.”
She takes three steps back and lifts her yukata above her knees.  Her eyes lock dead on with her husband. “I will take the remaining whips.”
Atsumu’s eyes were cold, “all for a man?”
As if to puncture his ego and pride, she retorted angrily, “all for Eunhyuk.”
Without another word, Atsumu jerked his head at the guard who held the whip. He hesitated, looking between his Lord and his Lady. “What are you waiting for?” Atsumu snapped.
Y/n remained resolute, her gaze unflinching even as the first, second, and third blows landed upon her. Her eyes remained locked onto his, unwavering with each agonizing lash.
Throughout all the years he had known her, the gentle and tender Y/n, the one he used to tease, the one who always followed him and Osamu around, and the one who would cry at the slightest provocation as a child, Atsumu could have never fathomed that the resolute woman standing before him, enduring the lashes on behalf of her maid, was the very same person.
He was the first to break eye contact when he noticed the trickling crimson stains dripping down her legs. He inhales sharply before turning away and walking away from the scene.
. .
“I’m okay, Mirei.” Y/n murmurs for the third time, trying to reassure her maid. However, her words do little to console Mirei, who silently weeps while tending to the open wounds on Y/n’s calves.
Y/n endures a total of forty-two lashes and by the fiftieth, her strength wanes, and she collapses onto her knees. Her chapped lips quiver, swollen from the force of biting down on them.
Mirei and a few other servants hurried over to check on their Lady as soon as the guard stepped back, shaken. He dropped down onto one knee, head bowed and he apologized quietly.
“Take her to her room,” Lord Atsumu ordered from the porch. “Attend to her legs.”
They laid her down on her stomach and carefully tried to peel the yukata off the bleeding wounds. Y/n grimaced in pain as the material was pulled off.
“Grab hot water and the ointment!” Mirei shouted, ordering a different servant to duty.
“Don’t forget… to tend yours too…” Y/n reminded with a small smile.
“Don’t worry about me, my Lady…” Mirei choked back a sob, “I failed to protect you.”
. .
For the second consecutive day, Atsumu stood outside Y/n’s door, receiving only vague updates from his servants about her condition. Y/n adamantly denied him entry to her chambers, and as much as it pained and frustrated him, he intended to respect her wishes. However, his patience was wearing thin, and he found himself growing increasingly frustrated.
The weight of regret burden his shoulders as the internal voice assailed him relentlessly. If only Y/n had obeyed him and remained within the compound like a submissive wife. If only she hadn’t secretly met Eunhyuk. If only he hadn’t punished Y/n’s loyal maid, Y/n wouldn’t be trapped in this unfortunate situation. If only he had prevented a single lash from befalling her…
He should have set his pride and ego aside and picked her up when she collapsed and carried her to her chamber. He should have tended to her wounds. He should have apologized.
Instead, he clenched his teeth in frustration and wounded ego as the maids assisted her in walking past him and toward her chamber. Despite his presence, she refused to acknowledge him and disappeared into her chamber. He chose to ignore the ache in his chest and silently watched as she never turned to look at him.
Mirei emerged from the Y/n’s room, deliberately disregarding his presence.
“How is she?” he asked, his tone tinged with authority, seeking an update on Y/n’s condition.
The older woman paused briefly before responding, “she is running a fever, my Lord.”
Panic gripped him upon hearing the news. “What do you need? Why hasn’t the doctor been called?” he asked urgently, willing to do whatever was necessary to ensure Y/n received the care she needed.
“If you wish, but my Lady has refused any service from you.” With that, she walked away leaving Atsumu stunned and hopeless.
He stood there like a fool, watching his servants enter and exit his wife’s chamber in hopes to catch a glimpse of her but they had covered his view with a shoji screen.
Atsumu found himself pacing down her chambers, sitting across from her door, waiting patiently for her exit.
After what felt like an eternity, Y/n finally emerged from her chamber, intentionally avoiding any eye contact with him as she walked past. He swiftly caught hold of her maid, pulling her aside while trailing behind Y/n, desperately calling out her name. He refrained from physically touching her, fearful that it would only further dismiss him. “Please, talk to me,” he pleaded desperately, his voice filled with desperation. She continued to ignore him, causing Atsumu to notice her limp. Concern etched across his face, he asked, “do you need help?”
“I will no longer have faith in your assistance, my Lord,” she snapped, dismissing his offer of help without a second thought.
Atsumu flinched upon hearing her address him by his title instead of his name. He had just started to cherish the endearment of her calling him by his given name, and now it felt like a distant memory.
She continues to limp away, and he follows her, “I let my anger get the best of me that day – I should have never allowed you to take –“
“Please!” She cries, stopping to turn around and look at him. Tears pooled in her eyes, ready to fall. “Just... stop.” His breath hitched and he wanted badly to speak but held himself back. “It does not change any –“
Atsumu panics when she hunches over, clutching her abdomen, and lets out a painful cry. “Y/n!”
Her legs wobbled and finally gave out and he caught her before she could collapse. He tries to hold her, asking what is going on when his white tabi is splattered with red blotches. He grabs her kimono, lifting it slightly and chills run down his spine as blood is dripping down her inner legs.
“Call the doctor!” . . .
E/n: what a mess... I'm thinking this will be completed in three parts - stay tuned for the last chapter. I can’t recall if I stated if Atsumu had blond hair in Lord Suna series… but he has his natural hair color in this series 😅 Slightly edited.
@erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @eadyladlegard @wolffmaiden @satoritendoucultsacrifice @yourgonvermenthooker @littlemochi @cloud-lyy (I hope this tagged you) @pana-dolle @basmamme (I hope this tagged you)
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oikharou · 1 year
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warning: cursing
note/s: onii-san = big brother in japanese
*Miya twins, bickering*
Atsumu: onii-san said you should do this, 'samu!
Osamu: onii-san should shut the fuck up.
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lunaviee · 7 months
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bros the type of boyfriend to go on a shopping spree behind your back and buy you hundreds, maybe even thousands, of dollars worth of stuff all because of one thing;
“what the hell- why’d you buy all this??”
“well because i yelled at you when i shouldn’t have 2 months ago”
“..i got over that like 2 days after it happened..”
“but i didnt, this is my apology”
“you’ve apologized a million times ever since it happened what do you mean-”
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REO., rin, sae, ISAGI, kaiser, itadori, GOJO, oikawa, ATSUMU, suna, CHUUYA. , tecchou,+ your fav(s)!
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ohh ummm hey guyssss…..erm i’m not really back but i had this half assed thought so here u go!! also first time “writing” anything for jjk so uh sorry if it’s ooc just bear with me here
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emmyrosee · 3 months
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Outside, the rain pours like no one’s business, the wind howling in frustration as it mingles with the tinkering drops against your roof and windows.
You, luckily, are curled happily under your blanket, scrolling through your phone with a nice cup of tea next to you, enjoying the sounds of a storm in nothing but your own company.
Until-
“Ah. You’re home,” you hum, flicking your eyes up at osamu, then back to your phone. His arms are filled with reusable bags that dangle from the bulky muscles, two large palms cradling the milk, and the fluffiness of his hair lays flat to his head. His shirt is soaked, you hear the squish of his shoes, and you hate how cute the wet-dog aesthetic is on your man.
You hear him pant softly, “it’s. Wet. Outside.”
You chuckle and shake your head, reaching for your cup of tea, “yeah baby, that’s why I’m inside.”
“You could’ve helped your strong, smart, talented, amazing boyfriend with the groceries.”
“I offered, you said you “‘got this’,” you hum, secretly glad your boyfriends chivalry knows no bounds and he’d rather get drenched in the cold rain than risk you getting drenched in the cold rain.
But he is a Miya. He’s going to whine just a little bit.
You hear him place the groceries down, “but now I’m cold. And my shoes are wet. And I was lonely.”
You click off your phone and shrug off your blanket, making your way towards him. He smiles as you approach, and when you use a warm hand to move his hair off his forehead, he nuzzles into your touch.
“Thank you for getting the groceries,” you say, leaning up to press a kiss to his cold forehead. “Go take a nice hot shower, I’ll put them away.”
“I only bought a few frozen things, so you can join me in the shower.”
You giggle, “as tempting as that is, I’d really like you to warm up.”
He smirks and, before you can process, he scoops you up in his arms and throws you over his shoulder, his freezing shirt soaking you as you writhe and scream at the playful action. “Osamu!”
“Now you’re wet too. Come shower with me, and wash my hair.”
“You bought dairy,” you manage between titters, “I have to put it away.”
“So let’s put it away together. Then we can shower.”
“You’re so clingy!”
“Oh I’ll show you clingy.”
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sunaluv · 1 year
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more "come get your man"❗❗ with some more haikyuu boys maybe but honestly? whoever you want 🙏
i got u 😉
part 1 here
pairings: osamu, atsumu, kuroo
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OSAMU
onigiri miya was due to close in the next two minutes. you watched your boyfriend close up the counter from your spot on the stool. you liked sitting in when his shop was empty like this, it felt kinda…domestic.
it triggered your thoughts on the future with the hotter twin (in your opinion), you could see yourself walking down the alter to meet him, eating on the floors of your unfurnished home, him standing behind you whilst you rocked your child to sleep—
“hey samu what should i do with these!” you almost rolled your eyes at the voice shouting from the kitchen.
osamu had explained to you how he hired one of his friends from high school to work for him as a favour. she had just finished getting her degree and was looking for work in the area.
you didn’t mind, you were secure in your relationship so there was no reason to be pissed. that was until you had met her and introduced yourself to her as his girlfriend. like a switch had flipped, she instantly started to openly show her hatred for you behind sugar coated insults and not so subtle faces she made only when your boyfriend was out of sight.
you watched osamu’s chest expand in a deep breath. he ran his fingers through his disheveled hair before flipping his cap back on, pecking your temple before heading to the back. “i’ll go see what she wants then we’ll leave, ‘kay?”
you nodded and packed your bag, leaving your space clear and waiting by the counter for your man.
a whole five minutes had passed. you haven’t heard anything which was a sign that you should go investigate, given that girls record.
“…i thought we had a rule for customers showing up before closing time.” a hushed voice whispered.
“we do, there’s no customers here.”
“so who’s still sat out front, you always do this sam—”
ahem.
two faces looked to your spot at the door opening. one looking guilty, one relieved.
“you ready to go samu?” you asked sweetly. “it’s been five minutes and it’s movie night, you know i’m dying to catch up on our franchise.” you not so subtly bragged.
he breathed out through a chuckle. “of course baby, sorry for the hold up. i’m done here anyways.” he walked towards you, missing the dropped jaw of his employee.
you wrapped your arm around his waist before you left, not before smirking at the red-faced girl who was shaking in anger? sadness? embarrassment? you didn’t care.
your shoulders dropped at the chime of the bell followed by the nights breeze as you began your comfortably silent walk home.
“you’re cute when you stake your claim on me ya know?” osamu flicked your forehead.
“shaddap.” you retorted. “if she doesn’t understand boundaries i’ll set them.”
ATSUMU
atsumu was a textbook example of a frat boy. the parties, the girls, the popularity, the girls.
the only stereotype he’s not playing into is dating the leader of the girls sorority house, and some people felt like he’s doing it all wrong.
“omg hi! welcome to—” the cheery voice dripped upon seeing you at the door. “the boys house, who do you know here?”
the girl you recognised as the sorority house leader shamelessly eyes you up and down, twirling the ends of her blonde hair.
if she was here, the rest of the girls were too. they did everything as a culty pack: traveling, partying and even dating. you always thought it was weird how they were all paired with a frat boy, but you never said anything. maybe to them at least.
they obviously hated you for being a rock in their river.
“i’m here for atsumu,” your brow quirked.
her face hardened before plastering into a plastic smile.
“sorry ya just missed him! maybe if you go to—”
“BABY IS THAT YOU!?” a loud, excited voice belonging to your boyfriend shouted.
looking over her shoulder, you watched his blonde locks fly with the wind as he shoved past the girl who let out a disheartened gasp, and picked you up before picking you up and twirling you around.
“i missed you so much,” his soft lips continuously pressed against your face before pouring all his emotion into one last kiss on your lips.
“i missed you too tsum,” you giggled “i was only gone a week though.”
“a week to long! come i have so much to catch you up on.”
again ignoring the fuming girl who had watched the whole interaction, he damn near dragged you up the stairs past all his frat bros who you made sure to shout a greeting at as you passed.
you could hear the rest of the girls from the sorority comforting the girl who was now crying, talkin bout ‘he’ll come around, you two are destined to be together. but you didn’t care, you knew atsumu knew about his rep as a frat bro and he has explained to you about how much he doesn’t care about the ‘dumb stereotypes’ and ‘he likes what he likes, and thats you’.
“you know she likes you right?”
“does she, i thought the only reason she wants me that bad is so their matchup can be completed…”
“that’s part of it, but i feel like she genuinely likes you…” you trailed.
“hey, hey,” he held your cheeks tuning your focus on him. “i don’t care about all that okay? i’m yours and yours alone”
you nodded, placing your hands over his.
“now,” he pulled out his phone going straight to the photos app “let me show ya all you’ve missed.”
KUROO
“tetsuro stopppp,” the girl who had been partnered with your boyfriend for a science project whacked his arm playfully. “omg girl tell your boyfriend to stop.”
you looked at her, then him, then back at her. “stop being a bitch tetsuro.” you played into her antics, drawing out his name like she did.
“not like that, you don’t need to be mean. it was literally a joke.” she mumbled.
kuroo’s eyes met your rolling ones across the table as he shrugged.
“so what are you guys doing after this,” she asked the both of you, but stared at kuroo.
you had explained how you were going to the mall after, so they should probably finish up so you can make it soon.
“you’re going on a date? that’s so cuuuute, there’s actually this really cute place we saw together when—”
“i’ll be right back. toilet.” kuroo stated tensely, sending you an apologetic look as he saw your panicked expression. the both of you knew what her intentions were.
she watched him leave, all the way until the toilet door closed then she turned to you. “can i be real with you a sec, have a heart to heart you know as a fellow sister.”
she didn’t let you respond before she spoke out. “i highkey think tetsu deserves better, he seems really tense around you and i know your dating or whatever but i feel like i could treat him better. i know him.”
woahwoahwoahwhat.
“no.”
“no?”
“no!” you took a deep breath in, before calling her name. “i know you like him, you haven’t even respected me or him enough to hide it. but if you really loved him or knew him, you would know how uncomfortable he feels with you openly flirting with him while he’s in a committed relationship.”
your words hit her like a truck. “you’re not listening to me,” she reached for your hands across the table which you retracted before she could reach. “he needs someone like me, i’m not trying to diss you but you dress kinda bland, your not in many classes together, he doesn’t even talk about you all that often.”
“i do when you overstep, but otherwise i’m just trying to do my work and leave.”
she turned around to see her dear tetsu, arms folded, hurt look on his face. you knew he didn’t like confrontation, so he must have been feeling a strong type of way for him to talk like this.
“tetsu—”
“kuroo.”
“tetsuro,” she stood up placing an arm on his arm which made him step back. “please just come to me, you know we’ll be good together too…”
noticing your boyfriends drastically increased discomfort, you stepped in. “i think you’ve done enough,” you put yourself between the two of them.
wordlessly, you took his larger hand in yours and left the library. after checking up on him, the two of you decided to have a home date instead.
“thanks for stepping in by the way” his voice came out small.
you squeezed his hand. “anything for you tetsu”
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sassycheesecake · 3 months
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- ATSUMU MIYA, TŌRU OIKAWA, KŌTARŌ BOKUTO, Shōyō Hinata, Tobio Kageyama, LEV HAIBA, Satori Tendō, SHŪGO MEIAN, KIYOOMI SAKUSA
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kitashousewife · 1 month
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“sorry ‘samu, i hadn’t gotten to those yet,” you sigh, looking at the now folded stacks of his clean laundry you had placed on the bed.
“why are ya apologizing?” he waves you off. he’s working on his socks now, pairing them up one by one. you decide to join them, and he throws a bundle at you. “these are mine anyway. i don’t mind foldin’, baby.”
you can’t help but smile.
“i’m serious though, i was going to do them,”
he shakes his head and snorts. putting the clothes away, he smirks over his shoulder.
“yer my wife, not my ma,” he shuts the dresser one last time, shuffling over to plant a kiss on your head. “we help each other. ya ain’t doin it all alone.”
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ilylovelyz · 8 months
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⍣ ೋ the times they cried because of you
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☆ includes ushijima, iwaizumi, atsumu, kageyama, bokuto
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USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI — he never cries. you met this guy when the two of you were young freshman in high-school, and you quickly became a good friend of his. that being said, you never saw him cry. even when the two of you began dating in your senior year, you still never did. years passed, and it was the same as the previous years. sure, he occasionally got upset, but even then, he still put on a stoic display, never really letting you in on that side of him. even at your wedding, he sure showed some emotion but he didn't cry. then came the birth of your first child.
"she's so cute, isn't she 'toshi..?" you said weakly, forehead still damp with sweat, bodu trembling with the aftershocks of your hard, long labor. your eyes fluttered open, focusing on the sight of your dear wakatoshi holding your newborn baby.
your heart fluttered at the soft image of your husband holding the tiny baby closely again his chest, his forehead mere inches away from the baby's forehead. it was barely there, barely noticeable. if it weren't for the reflection of light, then you wouldn't have been able to see the way his eyes were glazed over, corners red, tears brimming at the borderlines of his eyes.
he was so memorized, so in love with this product of you, this product of his and your love. god, you just make him the happiest guy on earth.
with a grunt, he sniffled lightly, trying to mask his emotions. "yeah.."
IWAIZUMI HAJIME — he hates crying. but being the responsible and knowing person he is, he knows that crying is inevitable. but the "strong", reliable guy in him wants to punch himself every-time he feels his eyes sting at the feel of salty tears brimming at his waterline. unbeknownst to you, he would avoid you every-time he felt like he was going to cry, usually hiding in the locked confides of the bathroom. he thought he was hiding it well, until one fateful day where it all came crashing down..
"haji?" you said on the other side of the door. he immediately shot up, his eyes darting to the doorknob. he always made sure to lock it, but today, he was just so exhausted and down that the idea of a lock was forgotten. crap, "hey wait-," before he could even rise up from his slouched kneeling position on the bathtub's side, you opened the door unknowingly. "i just need my–hajime?"
there he was, in all of his fucking glory, hunched over, his face long and clearly expressing his hurt feelings. his heart fell to his stomach, his vision going cloudy as his day just kept getting worse. "hajime?" you called out once more, only your tone had softened, more light and tender. you reached a hand out to him, eyes full of concern. he couldn't help but jolt away from your hand, eyebrows furrowing at your softness.
he didn't like your tone. why are you looking at him like that? like some sad kicked puppy lost in the middle of nowhere? it made him feel so small, so weak. "haji.. are you okay?" you whispered, crouching down to his level outside of the bathtub. you attempted yet again to touch the side of his face, lightly pressing your fingertips against his cheekbone before fully pressing your palm against the side of his face.
his lips trembled as he was just a second away from breaking down, his eyes locked on a single object as to hold on to the last of his will. you sighed softly at his resistance, of course he wouldn't want to cry in front of you, but you don't understand why, afterall, what makes a person weak for crying? "it's okay, hajime."
with that, fat tears finally ran down his cheeks, his eyes shutting close as he finally broke at your words. he could only grab onto your hand as you climbed into the tub, his head going straight into your chest as he sobbed and wailed.
MIYA ATSUMU — surprisingly, you've seen this guy cry many of times before. he cried when getting accepted into nationals, winning nationals, just crying at things any normal person would do. but he never cried for you. no, he held himself to higher standards. he'd never cry for someone, not even for you. yeah, he loved you, but he wasn't about to cry for someone like a little child. all high and mighty, he never thought you would actually have an affect on him like you do now. him being someone who wears his heart proudly on his sleeve, he found himself getting into an argument late at night with you, too prideful to back down.
"are you serious atsumu?! you know i'd never do that!" you yelled, voice hoarse and scratchy due to the ongoing screaming match between you and your boyfriend. "oh really?! then why were ya' 'll over that fucker earlier? huh?!" he yelled back, pointing out the way you were seemingly flirting with a guy at the club earlier.
but you weren't? you would never do that, you're not a scum. "what?! we were just talking?! am i not allowed to TALK to people atsumu?" you scoffed, arms crossing defensively. "if you wanna consider talking as flirting, then let's talk about that girl you were laughing with the other day? huh? let's talk about that!"
his eyebrow raised at your counter, fumbling nervously as he wondered what to say. "w-wh- you know what?! fuck you! i don't know why i'm even dating a bitch like you!" he said, almost immediately regretting his words when he saw the way your eye's widened at his harsh words. the apartment was finally silent as you registered his words, he wishes you had any sort of expression on your face, but you had nothing but a stoic and emotionless face.
"okay then," you finally said, arching your eyebrow in a taunting way, resting your hand down on your hip. "bye." you followed, grabbing your bag and your keys, turning your back on him.
he watched, frozen in his spot as you exited out the apartment with your composure. his body jolted when he heard the slam of the front door, finally letting out that breath he was unknowingly holding. he scoffed at what you said, clenching his jaw tightly as he tried to hold onto his pride. "damn it." he said.
he felt the tear roll down his cheek before he could even register that he was crying. "..damn it!"
KAGEYAMA TOBIO — to him, life is volleyball. his childhood consisted nothing of volleyball, and so will his adulthood. maybe his obsession with volleyball was a little extreme, but you never really minded. he respected you greatly for your patience, he wasn't dumb, he knew that his priority of volleyball was evident, so he always tried to make it up to you by spending time with you whenever you wanted. but it seemed like after awhile, he began to take your patience for granted. it wasn't until the nth time when he didn't show up for the nth date was when he realized.
kageyama was careful to shut the front door as quiet as he could, tiptoeing as he took off his shoes and walked throughout the dark hallways and into the master-bedroom. he jolted like a cat when he sat you sitting up on the side of the bed, back facing the doorway.
"y-you scared me. what are you doing up at this time? it's nearly 10PM." he stuttered obliviously. it was silent for a few seconds before you sighed, slowly turning your head to face him. "you forgot." you muttered before turning back to look at the wall. forgot? forgot what? it was then he noticed the way your hair was done, still clad in a pretty dress.
"o-oh.. the date! i-i'm sorry y/n, i promise i can make it up to you"— "don't bother." you interrupted, voice stern yet monotonous. what do you mean 'don't bother?' you love going on dates don't you? his lips pursed into a straight line, chewing on his bottom lips nervously. "w-what do you mean? i really promise, this thursday i have a free day.." he trailed off when you suddenly stood up from the bed.
"i mean that i think we should break up." his heart dropped at your words, eyes widening. break up? his mouth was agape, mind spinning with different solutions and apologies. before he could detest, you walked over to the corner of the room, pulling up a suitcase that he didn't even notice.
"b-but why? you said yourself that me and you are meant to be together?" he cried out, quickly rushing over to your side and grabbing onto your wrist. he watched your face closely, eyes taking note of every single feature of yours. you inhaled deeply, still refusing to look at him.
"i said that when we were in high-school and didn't have any major responsibilities. things have changed, we aren't in high-school any more. you're now a pro-volleyball player with big responsibilities, and i'm.. someone who clearly has too much time on their hands, wasting it on someone who can't give me any of theirs. it's not your fault, kageyama, but we just don't align anymore."
you finally said, tugging your hand away from his grasp. before you could take a step, his hands were once again on you, gripped onto your shoulders, forcing you to look at him. "but.. you said you would be there for my game at nationals.." he whimpered out, tears threatening to spill from his eyes.
it was then, when you were finally walking out of his apartment, out of his life, was when he finally did realize, that maybe, he did take your patience for granted..
BOKUTO KOUTARO — this guy cries a lot. he's cried so many times you might have to start writing it down somewhere. he rarely masks his emotions, he's an open book. thats what you love so much about him, that he's so open and honest. you love the way he's so eager and sweet, you love the way he's always willing to talk to you and so damn clingy it's like you have your own personal koala. aside from the times he's happy, he's sad, sad because he didn't perform well, or because you didn't kiss him. but you never really made him cry, you'd never do that. or so you thought.
"y/n!! i missed you!" you hear a booming voice yell, his footsteps speeding up at the sight you. he paid no mind when you didn't respond to him, as you were currently hunched over the your work desk, laptop gleaming at you brightly. your back was turned to him, so you were basically calling him for a back hug.
"y/n!" — "not now koutaro." you interrupted, tone serious and stern. he raised his eyebrows at you with surprise, his arms a few inches away from your shoulders as they stilled in their preparation to hug you. "babe? is something wrong?" he asked curiously, lips pouting at your stern denial. you never decline a hug. you love them. right?
"i'm working. can't you see that?" you spit out, sighing deeply. you pull away your cramping fingers away from your keyboard, rubbing them over your sore eyes. "my gosh." you mumble under your breath, eyebrows intensely furrowed with stress. you had been working for a few hours straight, staring at nothing but a bright screen with words that were becoming incoherent to you.
you yelp out when you're suddenly pulled from your chair, being lifted up into bokuto's strong arms as he spins you around. "don't be so sad!" he says cheerfully, hoping to cheer you up with a big warm hug. only— this seems to make you mad. "put me down, koutaro!" you yell, pushing his chest away and forcing him to practically drop you.
"don't you see i'm working?! why are you so damn clingy? you're so annoying, god, why don't you just leave me alone?" you spit out. your words are like venom, stinging his heart greatly as his hair is quickly deflating once your words reach his ears. you simply return to your laptop once you've finished, typing mindlessly once more.
him? annoying? he didn't mean to annoy you..
he couldn't help but softly whimper, left standing in shock. he opened his mouth to say something before your previous words were reminding him to stay silent—leave me alone. he clutched his palms, looking at your turned back with teary eyes. he hopes you don't find him annoying for long..
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seiwas · 1 month
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₊˚⊹。 i left my keys on your bedroom floor | miya atsumu
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wc: 2.4k
summary: atsumu is the clumsiest guy you've ever met; nothing ever goes to plan, especially when it comes to love. 
contains: f!reader, use of ‘misus’, mostly fluff with a bit of misunderstanding, reader wears heels, some swears, atsumu thinks he’s going to have a heart attack but it’s just him being him, atsumu is an idiot in love 
a/n: not related to the plot, but take a chance with me and fearless remind me of atsumu’s feels in this one (and paper rings will forever be an atsumu song for me)
part of how to be your lover boy (a valentine's collab by augustinewrites & seiwas)
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Atsumu thinks this is the dumbest fuck-up he could have ever fucked up. 
Wood isn’t supposed to feel this cold, but his leg is freezing rested against it. 
Is this what it means to be weak in the knees?
Out of all places, of all times, Miya Atsumu finds himself knelt down on one knee by your bedside, legs feeling like jello at his attempt to look under your bed for his apartment keys. 
This wouldn’t be a problem at all, really; he kneels down all the time—for lunges during training (the bane of his existence if you ask him), for helping his Ma plant those herbs he’s sure she does for Osamu (he hates how the soil sticks to his skin), and for buckling the straps on your heels even, when you need him to (he doesn’t like it, only because he prefers you much more comfortable in softer shoes, unchafed ankles and all). 
So, kneeling isn’t really that big of a deal for Atsumu—
—but you’re there, standing by the bathroom door, staring at him with overwhelming surprise, evidently anticipating something serious enough to bring tears to your eyes. 
This is wrong. It isn’t at all what you’re thinking—he was just looking for his keys. 
“‘Tsum…” you choke out, mouth partially covered by your shaky hand. 
Fuck, if this isn’t the worst way he could possibly do this. 
He’s sure his eyes are wide, brows furrowed by a mixture of worry and regret. 
“Wait,” he holds two hands up, slowly coming to a stand, “S’not what ya think.” 
This is seriously the dumbest way he could fuck this up. 
The expression on your face drops, warmth rushing to your cheeks. If Atsumu could describe how you look, he’d call it worse than heartbreak—the horror in your eyes flashing embarrassment and the creases between your brows screaming rejection; what once were lifted cheeks have now sunk, turning into an undeniable frown. 
There are tears threatening to spill from your lash line, for a different reason now, he thinks, and it’s all his fault—it makes his heart break that he’s the sole culprit. 
And the sick thing is, despite all this, he still finds you the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, backlit by a halo of fluorescent white that he’s tempted to drop everything he originally planned just to do it right now. 
“O-oh,” you mumble, “sorry, I just thought–” you close your eyes, taking a deep breath, “nevermind, that was stupid of me, Tsum.”
When you open your eyes, a single tear falls, and he tries not to comment on how you wipe it quickly, feigning a smile as you walk past him, mumbling something about making breakfast and preparing his lunch for when he heads out.
And, well, he feels shitty, that’s for sure. One, for making you cry, and two, for even making you think, just for a second, that he doesn’t want to marry you. 
It wasn’t stupid of you to assume he was proposing at all. He’s hinted at it enough in the past few years, calling you ‘the misus’ enough times when mentioning why he’s heading home early from post-game dinners and parties. His Ma keeps a photo of you and him in his childhood home, and Osamu’s given you a family discount at Onigiri Miya now, too (which is only 1% higher than the friends one, but it’s the fact that he considers you as family that makes it feel much larger). 
He likes coming home to you, likes that you don’t force him to do anything. That if he chooses to stay out, it’s all fine by you—he’s just stopped looking for that kind of life anymore; it’s a lot more fun getting to cuddle up on the couch with you. 
His legs still tingle, and he crouches down again with a big sigh. The silver key is there, glistening from the light directed from his phone, and he reaches to grab it, fishing for the metal that, if he’s being quite honest, hasn’t fully served its purpose in the past three years anyway. 
Four years together, and Atsumu has lived with you for most of them. The only reason you still have separate places by name is because of the apartment he owns in Osaka, meant for training season and game days. 
Other than that, home has always been your place. 
And lately, he’s been thinking of moving somewhere where home can now officially be both of yours—it’s the whole reason he was looking for his keys in the first place, with property managers and realtors coming in to assess the space. 
The new place—he’s hoping for it to be somewhere in the middle of both you and him, maybe a bit bigger, who knows? He was planning to ask you about it after the proposal—the one he’s planned and has been trying so hard to keep a secret from you. 
It’s a miracle he’s managed to keep it this hush so far. He’s got the ring, the venue, the speech, and has even asked Osamu to take the video (even though he knows he’ll never let him live down every jitter and stutter he’s bound to make). And the date, the oh-so-important Valentine’s day that you’ll both remember forever. 
The living room is awfully quiet when he steps into it, no sign of you and your usual humming to whatever song’s been stuck in your head. He walks to the kitchen counter, eyeing a plate of eggs with a bit of fried rice; you packed his lunch, just like you always have—fatty tuna with some rice and vegetables on the side.
Atsumu thinks he could cry, his upper lip already trembling as he stares at the piece of paper in front of him. 
Written in your delicate handwriting is a short note: ‘grabbing some grocery, be back later.’ signed with nothing—no ‘love you’, no ‘see you later’, no x’s and o’s. Just nothing. It sucks even more because the grocery is your place, your one escape when he’s upset you enough that you can’t even look at him. 
Yet, you still made him breakfast, and you still packed his lunch—that’s the only thing giving him hope that he hasn’t fully fucked this up. 
.
“Samu, I think am g’na die.” 
The scenery beside him whizzes past quickly, creating a blur of blue, green, and white. His head leans against the window, and he adjusts an earbud, increasing the volume to hear the call better. 
Osamu sighs on the other end, the sound of clinking pans and crinkling plastic muffled in the background. 
“Y’said that t’Ma the last time, what’s it now?” 
Atsumu groans, the memory still fresh in his mind; when he called his Ma a little over three years ago, he was a stuttering mess, breath unsteady and voice shaky at 1:00 a.m. The pounding in his chest would not stop, he thought for sure he was going to have a heart attack. 
His Ma diagnosed him all right, called it a serious case of ‘in love with you’—because, when he recounted everything he could have done to cause any potential uptick of his heart rate, all he could talk about was you. How you held his hand and laughed at his jokes, called him handsome even when he was sweaty and gross; how you nursed him to health even though he was probably stinky and dehydrated from an insane diarrhea episode. 
All these years later, and he’s even more in love with you. 
“I fucked it up, ‘Samu. The plan ‘n everythin’? Poof.” he gestures with his hands, even though he knows audio call doesn’t allow him to be seen. “Dunnow if there’ll even be ‘nyone t’propose to.” 
Then, he tells Osamu everything—the search for his keys, kneeling on the floor, the mistaken proposal but how he would have done it there, how he wanted to but didn’t because he actually managed to plan something and didn’t want to throw it away.
But then he said it all wrong, then you cried, and he really did mess it up; he wasn’t even able to say goodbye. He’s miss-called you thrice and you’ve only replied with ‘can’t talk right now.’ (which he knows is suggested text because you always say ‘later, baby.’ or something else more time-efficient). 
“Ya dumbass,” Osamu sighs again, words still sharp but tone a bit more rounded, “just give it time, ‘n stop catastrophizin’. Y’ve put y’self in stupider situations ‘n hav always made it somehow.” 
Atsumu feels like crying, again, but Osamu’s always right. He lets out a tear or two, maybe a sob for another five minutes, and when he recovers into small sniffles, Osamu tells him to get some sleep to clear his head—he’s holding the line in Onigiri Miya during peak time. 
.
His Osaka apartment feels even emptier than usual even though it shouldn’t be all that different. Meetings with realtors and property managers finished an hour ago and all they need is the go signal from him before they put the property up for lease. 
He was supposed to stay here until the end of the week, to meet with PR for sponsorship deals and brand campaigns throughout the year. But, the only (non-suggested) text he received from you today was an indication that you were home and heading in early for bed (which, he knows is a lie, because a new episode of your favorite show is airing tonight and there’s no way you’re missing it after last week’s cliffhanger). 
And he can’t, just can’t, leave you thinking that he doesn’t want to marry you. 
So he decides, fuck it, and packs it up—books a last minute train ticket back to you and hopes to god that he gets the words right this time. 
He’s never been this nervous in his life. 
The olympics is a close runner-up, but nothing compares to this, standing outside your door with his finger hovering over the doorbell. It’s funny, because he has your keys, knows your passcode too—but it feels wrong entering your space without the assurance that you still want him to. 
What makes him ring the bell is the sickening twist in his stomach that warns him: this fuck-up could make him lose you.
So he presses it once, then twice for good measure, and before he can do it thrice, you’re opening the door, in sweatpants and a hoodie (his hoodie) as you rub the puffiness out of your eyes. 
You’re beautiful like this, too, he thinks—dressed in his clothes, staring at him with those eyes, standing in front of him and looking like the rest of his life. 
“Please don’t break up wit’ me.” 
The words stumble out of him freely, with barely any time for him to process it. Atsumu feels each pounding in his chest and knows now, just as his Ma said, that it’s all the love he has yet to let out.
“I–” he begins, hesitating. He’s still wearing the same joggers and bomber jacket from this morning.
His hands clench into fists and he pushes them in his pockets, unsure what to do with them; the bottom of his lip trembles and it’s starting to make sense why people tell him and Osamu apart by ‘the one who always cries’. 
“T-this mornin’,” he looks up to find you leaning against your door, listening, “Was lookin’ ‘round cos I left mah keys on y’r bedroom floor.” 
You nod, tilting your head to urge him on. 
“And I was kneelin’,” he breathes out, “and y’thought it was somethin’ else, but I said it wasn’t. And I shouldn’t ‘av ‘cos it came out all wrong and it wasn’t what I planned. Then ya cried but still made me breakfast ‘n lunch and it was good, just like everythin’ ya make is. But ya went to the grocery, and baby,” he chokes up, tears falling, “‘m sorry. S’not what I meant. Please don’t break up wit’ me.” 
Atsumu is a bumbling, stumbling, stuttering mess as he cries in front of you, his incoherent rambling a jumble of all his mixed-up feelings. He’s sure he looks like dumb as hell right now, a fully grown man in tears at your door—but your brows furrow in concern, jaw tightening as the pout on your lips deepen. Then, you take a step closer, arms stretched out to pull him into your shoulder for a hug. 
This is why Atsumu loves you—
This is why Atsumu has never been more sure of the future he wants. 
—because, even when he’s fucked things up and has made an absolute mess of himself, you’re always there, picking him right back up. 
“T’sokay Tsum,” you hush, rubbing circles on his back, “there’s no need to explain.” 
He sniffles, tucking his face against your neck. It’s impossible to miss the sadness underlying your comfort. 
You’re wrong—it’s not okay, and he absolutely has to explain. 
After he’s calmed down and the tears have subsided, he pulls away, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand and apologizing for all the snot he left on your hoodie. 
You look confused and a little bit surprised as he takes a step back away from you, his hand immediately reaching inside the pocket of his joggers. 
“Y’know I can’t keep anythin’ from ya, right, baby?” he flashes you a small smile, a little nervous. 
You nod, because it’s true. Not a single birthday or celebration has ever surprised you because Atsumu’s always ruined it; he just can’t keep a secret from you. Either that, or things just never go accordingly. 
“Well, I kept this one real good. Planned it ‘n all. Had everythin’ set.”
The velvet box in his pocket is smooth to the touch, his fingers turning it over. It feels tangible and real now, a moment’s away from his life being changed, forever. 
He feels like crying again. 
“Was g’na do it on Valentine’s, ‘cos I had it all rehearsed ‘n shit.” 
Realization dawns on your face, eyes wide and your chest caught on hold—as if you’re expecting the wrong assumption again. 
But when Atsumu gets down on one knee, reaching from his pocket to present to you a ring hidden in red velvet, his fingers tremble when he says, “Know s’not Valentine’s, but can I be your forever Valentine?” 
You blink once, then the tears fall—the smile on your face is a little bit wobbly but an awful lot in love. You kneel on the floor with him, your hand reaching out to cup his cheek, pulling him in for a kiss.
The both of you are a tear-y mess on the floor, but when you part, he leans his forehead against yours, ring held up between his fingers as he asks just to be extra sure, “So… s’not a goodbye kiss is it?” 
You smack him on the chest before slipping in your finger. 
“S’a yes kiss, Tsum.”
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thank you notes: @augustinewrites for suffering through this atsumu train with me & @soumies + @mysugu for helping me with tsumu characterisation and for listening to me ramble abt this fic!!
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comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡
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satoruii · 2 months
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TELLING YOUR BOYFRIEND THAT YOU HAVE A CRUSH ON HIM // HAIKYUU SETTERS
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summary: you act like you're confessing to them for the first time. HAIKYUU SETTERS ft. KAGEYAMA, OIKAWA, KENMA, ATSUMU
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zorosprincess · 1 year
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One Chance
Pairing: Miya Atsumu x Reader
25 Days of Christmas Day 8
Request: Second Chance: #11 "Actually… I just miss you." Prompts: #27 "No! Stay away from me! Stay back!" #62 "I’m tired and my bed feels so empty without you here." #92 "And now your hand is in mine and I feel like the luckiest person to walk the planet." Wild Card: Using the washing machines next to each other at the laundromat // “I didn’t think you could get any less romantic...”
Word Count: 1.4k Genre: Angst, Fluff
A/N: For 🎶 anon, you’re super sweet bby and I hope you liked this! Also! Here’s a lil bonus prompt for you: #109 "You feel like home." "You smell like a wet dog."
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You sighed as you set your laundry basket down on the floor, staring at the machine that read it only had two minutes left. You pursed your lips, cursing yourself slightly for mistiming your trip down here, especially when you should have been cleaning your room. You were spacing out watching the washing machine spin when your attention was caught by the machine next to yours. There was only a minute left on theirs and they seemed to have timed it slightly better than you did. Their movement, however, was halted before they fully reached your eyeline.
“Y/n.” You froze at the sound of your name in that accent, body seizing up. There was no way. No fucking way. “Is that ya?” Of course it had to be here, now. Your washing machine clocked down to one more minute. You glared at it. The boy next to you sighed. “C’mon princess, I know ya heard me.” He reached forward and you felt his hand brush your shoulder.
You snapped quickly, finally turning to the faux blonde and smacking his hand away from you. "No!” You shouted, grateful for the empty laundromat. “You don’t get to call me ‘princess’ anymore.” You seethed, glaring harshly at Atsumu as he jumped back slightly at your outburst, eyes wide. “You stay away from me! Stay back!" You huffed and turned away from him just as your laundry beeped.
You were quick to jerk the door open, rushing to sort through what didn’t belong in the dryer and drop it into your basket. Of all your luck, you had to run into fucking Miya Atsumu in the dorm laundromat. Two months of successful avoidance after you’d broken up with him and you run into him while doing laundry, of all times.
“Please, Y/n.” He mumbled, trying to move his laundry into a dryer while still focusing on you. “I just wan’ talk t’ya.”
You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “Right.” You really did want to act indifferent. “Now you wanna talk?” To act like it didn’t bother you. “Now you don’t wanna leave me alone?” Like you didn’t miss him. He winced at your words, your breakup flashing through both of your minds. You’d made the decision in a flash of white-hot rage. Hurt at him not showing up to the most important dinner you’d ever asked him to. He’d left you alone, embarrassed with your friends because he’d stayed late at practice.
“Y/n, I wan’-” you cut him off again.
“Wanna what?” You puffed your cheeks in irritation for a moment, remembering how he’d showed up, after everyone else had left, outfit messy and short of breath, half-assed apologies on his lips. “Make it up to me?” You mocked, rolling your eyes, the words he’d tried to say in the moment before you’d told him he couldn’t and that you were done. You’d left him right there in front of the restaurant. “Say you’re sorry?”
The look he gave you resembled that of a kicked puppy. But there was something else. Resignment, not the usual cockiness you’d have found there before. "Actually…” He trailed off, clearing his throat and scratching his neck as he glanced off to the side. “I know I can’t ever make up for how I was.” He admitted and your heart clenched. This is why you had avoided him. Used your knowledge of his schedule to know when to avoid the courtyard so you didn’t run into him on his way to classes. You could feel yourself crumbling. “I just miss you." He’d apologized before. Hundreds of unopened and unanswered messages and voicemails of him apologizing, begging. They’d slowed out over a week. Finished after a month. You didn’t think he still cared. That he-
“No.” You muttered, shaking your head as you hit start on your dryer and picked up your basket. It was dark outside and you tucked your jacket tighter to yourself, lifting your hood to protect yourself from the water raining down.
“Y/n, wait!” You rolled hour eyes as you heard him follow you out into the rain.
“Go away, Miya.” You shouted over your shoulder, trying to beeline for your apartment building.
“Y/n, please!” Atusmu called and a glance at him showed him ducked under his jacket as he jogged after you. Right when you reached the bottom of your steps, his hand caught you around the wrist and pulled for you to turn. “Just a minute.”
“What do you want from me, Atsumu?” You exclaimed, trying to keep your tears from surfacing but unsuccessful in doing the same for your other emotions. “Do you wanna hear all about my feelings?” You shouted, yanking your wrist out of his grip and using that hand to shove at his chest. “How I wanted you to show up that night, kept pleading your case to my friends.” You shoved again, not caring that you were both getting soaked. “You wanna hear about how I’m tired and my bed feels so empty without you here.” His eyes widened but you ignored it. “But I don’t want to be your second choice anymore.” You scoffed. “That’s why I left.”
“Yer not.” He mumbled, you could barely hear him over the rain but it made you freeze. No. You couldn’t let him break you that easily. But your mind flashed through the hundreds or texts of his apologies that you had to stop yourself from responding to every time you were tipsy. “Yer my first choice.” His hair was plastered to his forehead by now as he stepped closer to you.
It felt like the freezing air and finally seeing him in front of you was melting your insides. Ironic. “Atsumu stop.” It was a half-hearted request as he stepped closer, looking at you with his eyes soft, vulnerable like he rarely let himself be.
“Yer so important t’me.” His hand came up to your jaw and you squeezed your eyes shut as you fought your urge to lean into his touch. “I jus’ wan’ another chance t’prove it t’ya.”
“‘Tsumu.” You whispered as he stepped closer, looking at you softly.
“Jus’ one more chance.” His hand wound down to grip your own, the one still against his chest, no longer pushing him away. “‘Cause I can’ lose ya ‘gain.” It was like every word melted the walls you’d been trying to use to keep him out, shattering the barriers between you both, reminding you of all the nights you’d told yourself that you’d been too harsh, acted too quickly. “When yer hand is in mine I feel like the luckiest person t’walk the planet."
“‘Tsum, it’s cold out here.” You muttered and finally opened your eyes to look at him again. Despite all the shivering and the clothes starting to cling to your skin you couldn’t help but feel a little warm being this close to him again. “Why don’t you come in and dry off.” You nodded towards your apartment door, starting to ascend the stairs and guiding by his hand to follow. He looked shocked. Like he hadn’t been expecting for you to let him follow you. There was a dopey grin on his face as you both finally stepped inside the small campus-provided apartment. You narrowed your eyes at him skeptically. “What’s that look for?”
You gasped in shock as his arm wound around your waist and jerked you into his chest quickly. You froze for a moment as he buried his head into your shoulder, curling in on you. You let your arms relax around him, finally embracing him and feeling the warmth he radiated penetrate the last of the barriers keeping you from wanting him around. “Ya feel like home.” He mumbled into your shoulder.
A soft smile quirked at your lips, your chest swelling. You chuckled softly. “Yeah, well,” you pushed back slightly so he could see your face again, "you smell like a wet dog."
He winced but laughed anyways, happy to just see you smile at him again. "I didn’t think you could get any less romantic…"
“You should have spare clothes in the bottom drawer.” You whispered, looking away in shame that you were openly admitting to keeping his things.
“Ya still have them?” He asked, shock dancing across his features and you couldn’t help but feel the burning embarrassment rush to your cheeks.
“Of course I did.”
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tvhsleb3ww · 1 month
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SKINCARE ROUTINE - MIYA ATSUMU
swearing, flirting, pda, husband! tsumu, pure fluff honestly
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"ouch! yer bein' too rough on me!"
atsumu groaned in pure agony as you pulled the blackhead remover on his nose. you scoffed before rolling your eyes at him.
"i'm being gentle! you're the one who's being dramatic here"
his lips curl into a pout as his hand that rested on your waist squeezed your flesh. his hair is combed to the back with a fox headband and his face is all glossy from the skincare products.
"this dramatic man yer sayin' is yer hubby. spare some love for me"
he huffs as he leans down so that you can apply the clay mask on his face. as stubborn as he is, he'd still listen and oblige to you. you're the only one he'll listen to aside his ma. never osamu though.
it was a Friday night and it was time for your weekly skincare routine where you do your usual skincare but just add a little more steps such as exfoliating and clay masks! and what better way to spend it if it wasn't with your husband?
atsumu had just returned from multiple oversea games due to the volleyball season. he's finally taking a break and spending all his holiday time with his lovely wife that can actually be real mean to him sometimes.
"there you go. now, we just let it rest for 20 minutes"
his pout grows at your words. what the hell is he supposed to do for 20 minutes with a mask on his face? although, he must admit that the skincare is lovely and rejuvenating. especially when you apply it to him. he loves to feel your soft hands caressing him.
"hmm, i wanna feel your soft hands on me, baby"
he whispered as he leaned down to press a brief kiss on your lips. his hand moving to the side of your face so he can kiss you. you happily smile against his lips before pushing him away gently.
"your lip scrub is still intact, tsum"
he scoffs and takes your hand that was on his chest to his shoulder.
"fuck some lip scrub. yer lips are my lip scrub"
you laughed as he leaned in again to press his lips against yours. you happily kissed him back and after some time, you pulled away to catch your breath.
both of you stayed there just smiling and enjoying each other's presence. his hands squeeze your waist as he pressed a kiss on the corner of your lips. you snickered as you feel his lips all over your face.
"ya know a missed you like hell, right?"
he asked in a teasing manner as he pokes your waist, making you jolt because it tickles. you playfully smacked his shoulder, making him laugh.
"i missed you too, tsum. i'm just happy you're doing skincare with me"
"ya crazy? i'd ditch disneyland for ya!"
he exclaims and nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck, making you tickle. you giggled as your arm wrap around his neck.
"tsum stop it! your clay mask hasn't dried yet!"
he laughs as he place wet kisses on your neck and exposed shoulder due to your loose shirt (his shirt). he makes overexaggerated kissing noises just to annoy you. you laugh and playfully smacked his back.
"you're so annoying, tsum!"
he smirks at that before continuing to press kisses on your collarbone.
"yknow i got an idea on how we should spend the night"
"shoot"
"oh baby, ya know what it is"
he says with a playful wink.
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noosayog · 5 months
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002 get him back!
✧ wc: 4k
✧ warnings/content: miya osamu x fem!reader, sfw, fake dating au, angst to fluff,
✧ GUTS masterlist, regular masterlist
divider from @/cafekitsune
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It all started when Miya Atsumu said that you would never be able to find anyone who could put up with you. And you would have taken that with a grain of salt, if Miya Atsumu wasn't your ex who also happened to be a thorough asshole.
“Well you dated me didn’t you?!” 
“And we broke up, duh.” he says flippantly. 
You clam up at that. You know he’s just saying things. He doesn’t mean it and he’s a complete moron. But it’s been almost a year since the break-up and not a single man has even offered to buy you a drink. Are you going to have to resort to making a Hinge profile? 
“I don’t know why ya let him get to ya. He’s just a moron,” Osamu says. 
“You have to say that, he’s your brother,” you grumble. 
“True. But he is an idiot.” 
You plop your face heavily into the elbow resting on the counter and blow raspberries in one big exhale. 
“Don’t get yer spit all over where my customers eat.” 
You grunt, turning over to watch Osamu work behind the counter. 
“Do you think I’m unlovable?” you ask.
“Huh?” 
“There must be a reason no one’s asked me out on a date in the past 8 months, right?” 
Osamu sighs, dropping off a plate of food in front of you. “I’m not gonna answer that.” Then he turns with his back facing you to fiddle with something on the other side of the kitchen. 
“Why not?” 
He exhales through his nose, quiet, but you hear it. 
He doesn’t get the chance to answer because the door swings open to reveal Osamu’s twin. You jolt up, fixing your posture, self-conscious about letting Atsumu think his words are getting to you. 
And rightfully so because Atsumu acts like a shark that smells blood. His lips curl up into what he thinks is a smirk, but resembles much more of a snarl. 
“What’s up with ya,” he asks oh-so-innocently. 
You have no good response and feel your face heating up in embarrassment when Osamu swoops in. 
“Are ya gonna sit down or just block my door? ‘Cause I got people that actually pay to eat here.” 
Atsumu starts yelling something at Osamu but simmers down into the seat next to you and mumbles something to himself, no doubt some choice words for his brother. It gives you momentary reprieve from Atsumu’s provocation which is the last thing you need right now with your self-esteem in the dumps. 
The break is temporary though, because like a true creature with short-term memory and a propensity for being a prick, Atsumu circles back to the topic when he’s done eating. 
“So, found a guy to take you out?” 
“What makes you think I’d answer that question,” you bite back. Weak, but it’s all you have. 
“Hah,” he scoffs. “I knew it. Ya can’t find anyone.” 
You feel the irritation boiling like a witch’s cauldron inside of you, brewing a mix of resentment, mortification, and the tiniest streak of competitiveness. Atsumu not shutting up for the rest of the night is the final ingredient that makes your red hot concoction boil over. It goes a bit like this: 
“Tell me if ya want me to set ya up with someone from the team. Might be the only chance ya get at this rate,” he teases. 
“No thanks,” you hiss. “I’ll have you know that I’m dating Osamu, widely known as the better Miya.” You point smugly at Osamu whose back is currently to you both. 
“What!” Atsumu yells. “Osamu? And you?” 
With Osamu’s back to you, you can’t see his face, but all your fingers and toes are crossed that he’ll play along so that you don’t burn up in a gas of complete humiliation. 
When Osamu turns around, his eyes go to you first. They search yours for something – what, you don’t know. He apparently finds it because he blinks away and tells his brother to mind his own business, neither denying nor validating your claim. 
It might as well be confirmation though, because Atsumu squawks in indignation, sputtering his disbelief. Osamu continues to bicker with his brother, keeping him occupied enough to not realize that he was slowly being backed out of the restaurant. 
When Osamu slams the door on Atsumu and twists the lock in a dramaticized show of finality, Atsumu finally gives up, yelling a muffled “I’ll be back.” through the windows. You could laugh at the duo if Osamu didn’t turn around and fix you with a look, similar to that of a responsible older brother scolding a child. 
“Now yer turn. What was that about?”
“Osamu! You heard the way he was talking to me. I just can’t stand it!” 
“Have ya thought this through? How’s this supposed to end, huh? We break up and Atsumu goes back to making fun of ya?”
You open your mouth to beg, because it’s always worked with Osamu. He always gives in. But he’s not done, apparently. 
“‘Least ya could’ve done is ask me out, not use me to get through yer petty grudge with ‘Tsumu.” 
That shuts you up. When you look at Osamu, he’s not looking at you. His eyes are downcast, distracting himself by wiping up the counter. It’s so brief that you convince yourself that you imagined the hurt in his voice. 
“‘Samu…” 
“Forget it. I’ll do it, but ya better have it thought out because I’m not helping ya anymore than this.” 
It should be a win and any other time, you would wrap him up in a bear hug and shower him with thanks, but the defeated way Osamu concedes makes you solemnly finish your meal. It feels unfitting to say thank you. 
Your first stint as Osamu’s girlfriend comes in the form of a friend’s dinner party. Since the night you forced Osamu to be your boyfriend, you have been back at Onigiri Miya to hang out, but have painfully tiptoed around the topic. The thought has occurred to you that you and Osamu should agree upon a backstory, but you haven’t had the courage to breach the topic after the way Osamu reacted. 
He had just nodded when you asked him to attend this dinner party with you. And with that, he had dutifully picked you up at your apartment, perfectly on time. You had expected a stone-faced Osamu all night, but he had surprised you with a sweet smile, one that you’re used to being on the receiving end of. But it somehow feels different tonight. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s supposed to be smiling at you as your lover tonight. It was easy, the way he had held out his arm for you, no awkwardness in sight. 
At dinner, Osamu makes no move to let go of your hand, going as far as to intertwine your fingers under the table. When any one asks how the two of you began dating, he squeezes to tell you he’ll handle this. You’re grateful and you feel undeservingly spoiled as you watch him. He looks around the room, drifts his gaze back to you where his lips flicker upwards for the tiniest second, then looks back at the crowd to flash a mysterious, close-lipped smile. You can barely hear the dinner table go wild with jeers and Atsumu squawking as you gawk at Osamu’s act.
And it goes on. 
As you eat, he keeps your fingers clasped between his, laid on his lap. Atsumu gives you two the stink-eye, questioning why Osamu was eating with his left hand. You’re pretty sure your eyes are bulging out of your head at this point, because Osamu flushes. Osamu is blushing as he reluctantly lets go of your hand, making a show out of placing your hand back on your own lap and mumbling a heavily-accented apology at no one in particular. 
When dinner finally ends, the party migrates to the living room. Osamu doesn’t need to ask, perfectly picking your favorite after-dinner drink of choice as he chooses a beer for himself. He has once again claimed your hand in his. His grip is tight and when you try to slip your hand out to get some space, he holds tighter. 
You lean up to whisper in his ear, “Osamu, my hands are sweaty.” 
He leans down to hear you better, but stands back up when he registers your comment. He ignores you, only squeezing twice, as if telling you to behave for him. Your head spins; you’ve never dated like this before. 
Being with Atsumu was like living in a comically unrealistic sit-com, like you were constantly finding yourself in situations and having conversations that belong in a Tom and Jerry episode. He argued with you about everything, had an ego, and a temper. A particularly memorable moment was when he was still courting you, trying to convince you to date him by saying, “I’m six foot two.” 
“Dude, nice try,” you had said. 
But somehow, right now, with Osamu standing by your side and towering over you, you think that if this younger twin used that line on you right now, you’d fold in half for him. As if you wouldn’t with all the sweet nothings he’s lavished on you in this one night. 
He only lets you get away when you embarrassingly whisper to him that you need a bathroom break. 
“I’ll walk with ya.” 
“No!” you exclaim. You lower your voice when he stares at you. “It’s okay, ‘Samu. I’ll be right back, okay?” 
He backs off and you finally get away from his orbit. 
Finally alone, you barely pull yourself together. You stare at your reflection in the mirror, slapping your cheeks lightly to pry the strange daze from your eyes. You can’t get carried away here. Osamu is doing you a favor, one he isn’t fond of. You can’t get used to Osamu treating you like this. It’s borrowed time. 
You splash water onto your face, waiting until the chill seeps into your cheeks that have been painfully hot since Osamu picked you up tonight. 
As you exit the bathroom, Atsumu is there waiting for you in the hallway. 
“I’m onto ya,” he starts. 
You scoff, immediately putting your facade back on. It’s easy with Atsumu. “Oh please, Atsumu. You’re just jealous.” 
It doesn't phase Atsumu the way you hope. “Such a weak comeback. Sounds like something you’d say to disguise the fact that yer playin’ my brother.” Your brother is the one playing me.
“Whatever, Atsumu,” you say, walking away, taking Osamu’s advice to not let Atsumu get to you. 
“I bet ya forced my brother to pretend to be yer boyfriend. I know my brother and I know you. Just admit it.” He smirks. “It’s okay that no one wants to date ya. Nothin’ to be ashamed of.” 
The fact that even Atsumu, even all of his stupidity, sees right through you makes you feel hot. You’re grateful that you’ve already turned away from him because you could not take much more damage tonight. Nothing would end you in a worse way than Atsumu seeing that he could make you cry.  
Or maybe it’s the fact that Atsumu doesn’t, for one second, believe that someone like his brother could fall for someone like you. Maybe no one does. Maybe everyone here just thinks that you’re making this up and they’re playing along to help you save face. 
It takes everything in you to keep your steps and breathing even as you take the walk back to Osamu to compose yourself. 
It’s useless apparently because Osamu seems right through you. He immediately offers to take you to the balcony, explaining to everyone that you need some fresh air to cut through the alcohol you’ve had. 
His silent understanding makes it worse because it makes it clear that you’re an open book. The act you put on is completely pointless because no one believes you anyway. 
Osamu guides you to the balcony and shuts the door behind him, leaving the two of you alone. 
He joins you at the railing, draping his jacket over you. You know he knows that you want to avoid looking into his eyes, just as much as he knows you want to avoid having this conversation altogether. He sighs. 
“Why do ya let him get to you like that?” 
You look back at him, eyes widening at the tone he rarely takes with you. His eyes are fixed forward, arms still dutifully wrapped around you, ever the dedicated boyfriend. But as his gaze flickers to you momentarily, you catch the weight of his question in his eyes. 
“Who?” you mumble. 
But Osamu’s not in the mood. He stays silent, letting the question hang in the air. 
“I don’t know… I just…” 
“Are ya still in love with my brother?” 
“No,” you answer honestly. 
Osamu raises his brows. 
“No, but I’ve known him for so long now.” You feel the need to explain. “He just gets under my skin. You of all people should understand – he’s your brother! You guys fight all day long.” 
“He’s my brother. We shared a womb. We were born to fight.” Osamu sighs. “You, though... Why can’t ya just let it go?” 
“I don’t know! I just…” you trail off. 
He continues to stare at you, not even knowing the effect he has on you. His earnest gaze pulls the truth out from under your skin. 
“I wanna get him back,” you admit. 
Osamu’s eyes go dark at that statement. His expression shutters.
“Not like that!” you quickly amend. “Not like I want to get back with him, I mean like, his face just pisses me off!” 
“Huh?” 
“I just wanna punch him in the face but I don’t think anything would give me more satisfaction than proving him wrong you know. And honestly, Osamu, you-” 
“Ya think that I’m the perfect person to piss him off for ya. ‘Cause I’m his brother and there’s no one else who would get under his skin more than if I replaced him.” 
You hear the disappointment heavy in his intonation. 
“Osamu…” 
“Am I wrong?” 
He’s not wrong, but you feel an urge to tell him how he made you tingle at dinner. It was in the way he catered to your whims, covered for you, and held your hand in secret. It was in the way he, as your not-boyfriend, made you feel loved and desired much more so than any other boyfriend you’ve ever had before. 
But when you look at his side profile, face now turned away from you and hidden by the shadows of the night, it doesn’t feel right to say any of that. Even in your mind, it sounds like an excuse. Because the bottom line is that he’s right. Your original intentions had been to use Osamu. And the fact that you might have developed a slight crush on him in the process doesn’t make you feel any less shitty and certainly doesn’t make Osamu feel any less used. 
His question goes unanswered. 
– 
The rest of the week goes by uneventfully. Actually, it goes by too uneventfully because Osamu doesn’t call or text once. Not that you’ve made an effort, but after how that last conversation with Osamu ended, you can’t find the courage to face Osamu. 
It doesn’t make you miss him any less. 
You can’t recall if you used to miss Osamu like this, think about him and wish he’d reach out even if it’s only been a couple of days since you’ve last met. You only know that right now, you wish he’d make the first move because you can’t muster up the nerve to see him, even if it’s all you wanted. It also makes you realize that Osamu has been spoiling you long before that night and long before he agreed to be your fake boyfriend. The reason you never had to miss him is because he is always the one who makes the effort to call, text, bring you lunch, pick you up from work, drive you around. 
The realization only made you feel worse about yourself.
And after days of mulling over realization after realization, each making you guiltier and guiltier, you made your decision. 
That’s how you end up running to Osamu’s apartment, late on a Thursday evening. Without pausing to compose yourself, afraid you’ll lose your momentum, you knock. 
The door swings open to reveal a very tired-looking, very handsome Osamu. He has his cap off, but his hair is unruly, as if his fingers have just recently run through it. His eyes are slightly bloodshot and his t-shirt is wrinkled. The urge to rub your thumb over his eyelids and smooth your other hand over this shirt is a sudden one you shove down because Osamu’s opening his mouth. 
“Hey, what’cha doing here so late?” 
There’s a momentary disappointment that strikes your gut. He asks you so normally, as if he isn’t plagued with thoughts of avoiding you. As if the couple of days that have gone by without any interaction between the two of you isn’t even a thought that occupies headspace.
“Uh,” you stutter. 
“Actually,” he sighs and glances behind him. “Now’s not a good time. Can ya-” 
“I don’t care about Atsumu,” you cut him off. It sounds like he’s preparing a rejection. Or he just doesn’t want to talk. Neither of which are favorable outcomes, so you barrel through to say what you need to say. 
“I don’t care about what he thinks. Not anymore and definitely not that night. I was actually thinking about you the entire time and Atsumu, well, he’s just-”
“Just wait a minute, okay-” 
“He just gets under my nerves because of the shit he says and I know he’s just saying stuff to rile me up and I’m a hothead, okay? He gets me because we’re like the same person sometimes, but I’m not doing this to get back at him anymore. It’s actually your fault because-”
“I knew it!” a voice yells from behind Osamu. 
You crane your neck to see around Osamu and curse Osamu’s big frame for taking up the entire doorway and blocking your view of the apartment because there is the older twin, grinning widely and walking up to where you’re both standing.
You instantly feel the panic rise in your system. 
“Atsumu,” Osamu begins in a warning tone. 
Ignoring his brother, Atsumu continues on. “I knew it. I knew the two of ya couldn’t be dating just like that.” 
Your nervous system goes into overdrive. Even you know how this looks. 
You barged into Osamu’s place randomly at night and picked the time when Atsumu coincidentally is here as well.
Your wide eyes meet Osamu, willing him to believe that you didn’t come to make a scene for Atsumu’s viewing. You didn’t come to confess that you might have a crush on him with this exact timing so that Atsumu would fall for the act. 
When Osamu refuses to meet your eyes, it brings your attention back to Atsumu, who continues to gloat about his victory. 
Your face burns in mortification as you take slow steps away from the twins, making room for your getaway. As Atsumu gets closer and Osamu continues to avoid your gaze, your courage wanes and the last bit of pride you’re holding onto propels you to turn away instead of retorting as you always do. 
“Aww, really let my words get to ya, didn’t ya? I knew all along-” 
Before you can start running, Osamu grabs your arm and pulls you into the apartment, the other arm shoving Atsumu out. 
“Hey, ‘Samu!” 
“Shut the fuck up, ‘Tsumu. Now that my girlfriend’s here to spend the night, get out.” Osamu shuts the door in his face. 
Atsumu’s protests fall on deaf ears, the sound of Osamu referring to you as his girlfriend echoing in your mind. He had taken your side, chosen to take the course of action that would embarrass you to least despite not having confirmed what your intentions were. The thought fills you with hope. 
He pulls you further into the apartment, sitting you on the barstool. After situating you on the chair, he makes to step out of your personal space, but you lean forward, wrapping your arms around his neck to keep him close. Your eyes start to sting in frustration that Osamu could somehow believe that this was all just another incident you had orchestrated to get back at his brother. This has all gotten so hopelessly messy. 
“Osamu,” you sniffle into his neck. “I didn’t come over here and say all that because I knew Atsumu was listening. I just-” missed you. 
He rubs soothing circles into your back, gently enough to make you want to cry more because you don’t deserve this but want it so badly. 
“You just…?” he prompts. 
The words won’t come out and your tears soak into his shirt. You want to tell him so badly that you’re not crying to garner his sympathy; you’re crying because you’re so angry with yourself. 
Osamu patiently strokes your back, letting you cry before quietly telling you, “Oh, baby. How long do ya think we’ve known each other? I know yer not the type to set up this whole complicated scenario just to show up my stupid brother. I believe ya.” 
His other arm is now holding your head to his neck, fingers running lightly across your scalp. “So can ya finish what you were about to say for me?” 
His words and his actions do what they always do to you. They fill you with so much hope that there’s no room to mistaken his intentions. They fill you with the courage to tell him. 
“Missed you,” you whisper. 
Finally, both of his arms wrap around your back to push you tight into his chest. He squeezes, gentle enough to keep you safe but firm enough to tell you he wants you there. It pulls the confession out of you. 
“And I like you so much, Osamu.” 
He chuckles lightly into your ear. You can feel the vibrations echo in his chest. When you squeeze back, he trails his arms down to your legs to guide them around his waist. He carries you with ease to the couch and sits you down to cry in his lap. 
You don’t know how long the two of you sit like that for, but when you finally calm down, you keep your arms wrapped around him and quietly ask, “why did you do all this for someone like me?” 
He stops stroking your hair. 
“What, ya don’t like it?” 
You pull away to protest, already too comfortable with him spoiling you again, only to find the corner of his lips quirked up in a smirk. 
He’s teasing, you realize.
You smack his face weakly and wind your arms back around him. 
You snuggle back into his neck but he’s the one who pulls you back this time. 
“Hey, seriously though,” he says. “Is this okay?” 
You nod shyly. 
“I need to hear it, sweetheart.” 
“I want it.” 
“Alright. C’mere then.” 
You oblige. 
“Can I tell ya a secret?” he murmurs into your neck. 
You nod. 
“There isn’t a man out there who’d do all that for someone he doesn’t love, ya know that?” 
It makes you flustered, but much of what Osamu does does that to you. His tenderness makes you want to try harder to meet him in the middle. 
“Can I do something?” you ask, taking a leap. Your face is incredibly hot and your heart is beating embarrassingly loudly against his. “Is it okay if I kiss you?” 
It’s easy when he responds, “You can do anything ya want to me.” 
You intend for it to be an innocent peck, your form of an apology. But he holds the back of your neck, the other arm wrapped almost all the way around your torso and doesn’t let go until you’re panting against his open mouth. 
He’s nonchalant when he shrugs. 
“You can do anything ya want but I’ll be doing the same from now on.”
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emmyrosee · 11 days
Text
“Daddy?”
Atsumu immediately leaps a foot in the air from the small voice of your son, standing on the side of his bed, small arms cradling a stuffed duck. You’re not quite sure what woke you up- your husbands leap of terror, or your son’s tiny, frightened voice.
He groans and smacks a hand over his face, “bud, it’s the middle of the night. It’s too late to try and scare daddy to death.”
“Sorry,” he pouts. You close your eyes and sit up with a grunt, and he offers you a small wave, “hi mumma.”
“Hey, Kousei,” you hum. You press your fingers into your eye sockets, “what’s going on, sweetheart?”
The three year old digs his foot in the carpet, before flicking big brown eyes up at his dad, “know how look f’ monsters, daddy?”
Atsumu nods exhausted, “yeah, I do. What about them?”
“Man in my closet says no sleep.”
Atsumu immediately tenses up, your own eyes flying open as you look down in terror at Kousei.
“….who said that?” Atsumu chokes.
“The man in my-“
“Yeah, okay,” he squeaks. “Good to know I heard you right.” He looks over at you, eyes pleading for support, but when you nod towards the door, he shakes his head in fear. “Just- okay. Come on in bud.” He lifts the sheets for Kousei to climb in, which the small boy does.
You scoff, “isn’t that something you should discuss with your wife first?”
“You can go talk to the man in his closet, I’m all set,” he mumbles, kissing his son’s head.
You sigh and scrub your eyes, “should I get hisako?”
“No. She’s braver than us, she’ll be fine.”
“Alright.”
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