[01:21] Atsumu Miya Has A Big Crush On You

[01:21] atsumu miya has a big crush on you

warnings none!

you weren't surprised that he stared at her; her features so delicate, yet sharp, gentle yet so bold. envy couldn't help but knock at your door as you notice that every class you catch him staring at her: your seatmate. much like all the other girls, you'd taken a liking to atsumu miya, the setter of the volleyball club.

you shared a few classes with him, but most of the time you sat apart in far distances from the room, your existence barely noticeable to his schedule. despite having a friendship with him several years back, he'd changed and drifted from you as a result of conflict in interest. blissful and short lived was the friendship, yet quality over quantity had truly reigned over that highlighted phrase, and you had come to terms with it yourself.

even though you had been friends with atsumu for two years as early teenagers; he made life feel like rainfall on a drought, sunshine in blistering winters. he'd provided you with chunks of happiness no other person could gift to you. losing him was a defeat on your behalf as you realised you weren't as important to him as you had thought.

sitting pretty your seatmate, emiko, sighed tirelessly at your cluelessness as you quietly groan at the reminder of atsumu never looking your way, when in reality it was the polar opposite.

watching you dejectedly sit every lesson beside her was a killjoy, and she'd wish you could notice that in reality atsumu had been burning holes into your face every class, and not her. although the chase was interesting to witness, it had taken far too long and she couldn't help but feel as if she'd become a wedge in the (yet to bloom) relationship.

"that ends this lesson, please make sure that all the people's names i've written on the board have handed in their assignment by tomorrow. you may all leave." like the speed of light, you pack up your books and are the first to leave the class, sparing no glance to the innocent setter waiting to grab your attention.

"miya-san," emiko calls out, "if you're going to stare at l/n-san all throughout the class, do it so they know that you're staring at them, not me."

atsumu's face burns red with embarrassment and he nods in accordance, before running towards the direction he assumed you headed. sighing yet again, emiko slowly packs her bags up and hopes that things between you and atsumu are cleared up.

a/n: this is kind of a whole like mutual pining thing but both love interests are dense and cant pick up hints ?? its really short though rip

[23:11] meeting fushiguro toji

warnings infidelity

nothing could ever piss you off more than the sight before your eyes.

"y/n, wait i can expla-"

"eat shit, you asshole."

all of your friends had warned you this guy was bad news, yet you stayed with him anyways. for three years. he had treated you so nicely the first year and a half, but then it just began to die down, and texts were half assed, conversations were short-lived, and even the littlest things like kisses felt so lifeless.

you decided to investigate why he was so distant for the past few months, since your fourth year anniversary was coming up, until you'd caught him with an old family friend who he'd sworn to you he would never interact with, since she was so obsessed with him. on several occasions she'd tried breaking the both of you up, causing so many bits and pieces to be put back together to result in your dull state of a relationship.

leaving the premises, you wandered around aimlessly until you'd found yourself at a café you'd planned to go to with him. just the thought of his existence gutted you, and everything you'd walked through constantly reminded you of him, and there was no other way to rid of his lingering presence in your mind.

before you knew it, you'd sat there until closing time, despite telling yourself you'd only stay for a few minutes. it was then the barista had told you to leave, and with a quick apology you left and walked pointlessly again, to who knows where.

there was something appealing about that bench you'd notice in that old park, and decided to sit there too, since you remembered he would still be at your place and wouldn't have packed his things yet, being the lazy shit he was.

"penny for your thoughts?" a bulky, raven haired man had smiled at you innocently, contrary to his large build. he'd worn a tight black shirt, too thin for this kind of weather, alongside a pair of drawstring white sweatpants, that also seemed unsuitable for the ruthless weather.

scoffing, you ignored the man who looked rather old to be honest, and mumbled, "my thoughts are worth tenfold of your paycheck."

he laughs, and it's quite relieving to hear, his voice isn't booming, nor is it loud and threatening. "i guess i don't need the penny for your thoughts then, i don't have a job."

you're flustered now, and red at the cheeks. you lift the back of your palm against the apple of your cheek to feel the heat arise on your face before sighing and ignoring him again. "shut up, old man."

"hey, old is a stretch, i just turned forty." he defends himself as he leans against the tree that loomed over the bench you sat upon, and you noticed how his features seemed more attractive under the moonlight.

stop. don't get distracted by some hot old guy

"that's what every old person says." chuckling, he leans closer to take a look at your face, and you can't help but burn an embarrassing shade of crimson.

"you look like a child. i bet you're the same age as my son." he teases.

what an asswipe.

"well that depends now, how old is your son?"

"fifteen...i think." he's pondering to himself, and looks down at his feet and shakes off the thought before looking back at you like he hadn't just revised his entire life story.

"you think your son is fifteen...?" what a strange man, firstly he has no job and second, has no idea on the age of his own offspring.

"yeah, he had to stay with some," he pauses, "relatives." maybe you should stop prying there, it seemed like a personal topic.

"well, to answer your question, i for a fact, am not fifteen. i'm twenty eight." you swung your feet from the bench in a child like manner.

"huh, would've never believed that. you've got quite a youthful glow. i remember my twenties-" he starts to ramble, and you realise this man is quite nostalgic in a sad sense, so you continue to let him speak.

"for someone who's only forty, you speak like you've got three lifetimes worth of experiences to give advice to someone who's pushing thirty." you intervened, and he bellows out another laugh, more heartfelt, and emotional.

"i've told you many things about myself, but not my name." he gestures to the empty seat beside you, charading if he could sit near you.

with a slight nod, you budge up a few centimetres, "so then, what's your name old man?" you huff, and take a breath of fresh air.

"toji fushiguro." confidence is exuding from his aura and you smile again.

"i prefer calling you old man."

a/n: this is more of a friendship than it is romantic relationship

- possibly might probably maybe make a part two

ive finished three young adult books in the span of three days i dont think this is right

mi amors im so so sorry for the inactivity i have huge exams coming up if i fail these im gonna burst into fat tears

[23:17] atsumu miya knows colour theory

warnings none just atsumu using a lot of nicknames

"atsumu."

humming, your boyfriend turns his head around towards your direction and finds peace within your presence as you sauntered your way to him.

"this is a very important question okay?" an interrogating expression beholds itself on your face, but atsumu only stares at the features upon it like it was the first time he'd seen a human. "atsumu. i need your answer."

"yes 'm listening, sweets."

"what's your favourite colour?"

the adoring expression atsumu wore like a badge had wore off and transforms into what you could only assume was a perplexed man sitting in front of you. he laughs.

"atsumu! i told you to answer the question this is serious." his face puffs up with a vermillion tone and he pulls you closer to his body, thick arms around your waist fitting together like jigsaw pieces.

"darling, yer so earnest about it, of course i'll laugh." your face is peppered with billions of feathery kisses, swiping him away with your hands you attempt to push him away and sulk; only to make his offense stronger and kisses you more.

"miya, answer my damn question-"

"ooh, pulling out miya are we?" teasingly, he smirks and how attractive it is to watch that stupid man in front of you lovingly mock you.

"it's not that hard of a question to answer." crossing your arms and folding your legs, you move to the other side of the couch before he scooches towards you to gift a disgustingly fat and tender kiss on your cheek.

"okay, then what's yer favourite colour my love?"

"since i'm not like you," you humph annoyedly, "green."

"then simple, mine is red."

puzzled, you unfold your arms and atsumu's cheesy smiles widens in it itself, slightly beginning to look creepy so you push your palm against his face and move him away, and he laughs before coming in to hug you once more.

"they're complementary colours, baby. it's supposed to be romantic." chuckling, his face is attached to your stomach and he lays upon your body, although the position is awkward.

"it sounds like christmas. and what are complementary colours?" disproving his point and forgetting the reason why you asked him the question in the first place, you relax your body and sit up properly for atsumu to prop his head on your legs.

"they're like colours that are opposites but they're good together. like us. and what's wrong with christmas, scrooge?" twiddling your fingers between his, he mutters and awaits your response.

"that was corny, and you only enjoy christmas because you're not the one making the christmas list for all of our friends and family." flicking his head you scold him and he winces, before bringing your fingers back and trapping them in his hands.

"now i have an excuse to hold your hand as well as provide for my own safety!" he pauses for a moment, "hey i do help with christmas shopping."

"you chose to buy fuzzy dice for samu last year."

"that was a good 1800¥ spent."

"he doesn't even own a car."

"what matters is that we spend too much money on him and last year was a cool down compared to all the rocking gifts i've got him before."

"you know what, it's fine, i'll handle the shopping but you pay for it."

"i'll accept that. now, i need to go upstairs i have super secret agent stuff to attend." he kisses the top of your head and bolts upstairs.

"miya atsumu, i know you're changing the shopping basket gifts for samu! get back down here."

a/n: my exams are ending soon thank whoever is up there

renaissance and rebirth. they’d seemed so easy for so long, something that oikawa toru could bask in underneath the sun, something he could hold and feel as they overtook him as easily as he could feel rain upon his open flesh.

water was meant to be rebirth, was it not? the ocean was meant to be his path to retribution, meant to swallow him whole and lap at the wounds that had trenched deep into his skin until they met his bone, and then he was meant to come out anew. he was meant to step out of the ocean as doubt washed off of him, he was meant to step into the depths of this earth and be released as an extension of this water and soil.

yet as the ocean pulls at his feet, as he watches the sand swirl beneath him, he feels no different. it’s silly now, to think that the earth would ever treat him as anything more than human, and yet he takes another step into the sea. he walks until it covers his calves, now, lets the water consume that part of his body as though it was only ever the ocean’s to have and to hold.

being human is a horribly fickle thing. he can feel the way the sun settles into his skin, he can feel the quiet breeze in his hair, the way the ocean pushes and pulls with every wave, and there is nothing more.

and yet, he is human and, despite this lack of rebirth, despite the way he is still the man he was before he wished for the ocean to overcome him, oikawa toru finds no need to beg.

he hears the way you step beside him in the water before he ever sees you settle next to him. the waves give to you, ripples moving around your joints and into the waters that crash against him.

and humanity reveals itself in moments like these, when oikawa’s chest tightens as your breath reaches his ears, as the sea salt air feels sweeter, a little more vivid in the sense that this is sure to be a memory—that as each moment passes it becomes nothing more than a suggestion in oikawa’s skull, and he will be sure to know the chill of his spine, the taste of the ocean, the twist of sunlight in your hair as well in five years as he does now.

humanity tends to reveal itself in the moments that define memories, not in the earthly waters, not in the wishes we have made for ourselves, and certainly not in the desire to let go that holds deep in the marrow of oikawa’s bones.

no, humanity is found in what tells him to stay.

“there,” you say, raising an index finger to the horizon. “a sailboat.” he follows your gaze and, sure enough, there rests what could only be described as the shadow of a sail deep in the ocean’s palm.

“good eye,” he replies, and then returns to you once more. you’ve always drawn him to you, as though you were a whisper he was desperately trying to hear—he could only wish to be close enough to you to know each of your secrets, to know the way you work as well as he knew the ground beneath his feet.

and yes, humanity is in his moments of memory, and yes, humanity is in the way he can feel the sun, the sand, the water, the breeze, but most importantly yes, his humanity is grounded in the rapture he finds in you.

“iwa would be surprised to find you so quiet, toru,” you say, and as always, he leans in closer to hear you speak.

“it’d be heartbreaking for him, i’m sure,” he muses, and he’s sure to catch the way you stifle laughter with your breath.

and this is what rapture feels like.

“for him to miss it? certainly.”

he rolls his eyes at you, and then you knock your shoulder into his, sending him off balance. he grabs onto you as he sways, watching as the water flows between the two of you, but of course you laugh while he pulls on your arm, bringing him back up to where he once stood. he doesn’t take his hand off of you, and you don’t move to release him either. instead, he wraps his arm around your shoulders, bringing you into him with a quiet ease.

neither one dares to speak again. the ocean seems to flow around you, melding you together until you feel more like one body than two. and perhaps humanity is something like this, a silence in understanding, the moments after laughter, the soreness after a smile.

oikawa leans down and presses his lips against your bare shoulder, kissing your flesh in uneven certainty. the movement is unpracticed, unfamiliar, and, in its most delicate form, human.

and perhaps it is not perfection, a lack of doubt, a need for renaissance and rebirth from the ocean that could ever scrape the humanity from oikawa’s bones. perhaps there is nothing that could dare to remove what could be from the wounds entrenched in his skin. and perhaps, most importantly, it is you that will remind him of this piece of humanity.