Miya Atsumu X Reader - Tumblr Posts

DEAR FUTURE HUSBAND .ᐟ

oh future husband, better love me right!

premise. the nhk gives it’s viewers a peak into the love lives of the jnt’s lineup, interviewing the future wives of the jnt to crack the secret to a happy relationship ❤︎

content. haikyu!! jnt / f!reader. (atsumu miya, rintarou suna, wakatoshi ushijima & shoyo hinata). fluff. somewhat decent relationship advice. downbad fiancés. healthy relationships(!!). suggestive moments. petnames.

soundtrack. dear future husband : meghan trainor.

part two can be read here.

dear future husband m.list. // hq. masterlist.

ATSUMU MIYA.

“after every fight, just apologize.”

“Relationship advice?” You repeat, sitting across from the NHK interviewer, mic strapped to your shirt as a camera filmed your living room. She nods, smiling while holding a microphone of her own.

“Yes! Tell us, what is the secret to a healthy relationship?”

You tilt your head, “Well, I guess I have some advice to give.” Your fingers drum against the armrest of your couch as you sit in thought, contemplating on what to tell the reporter, “hmm..”

Atsumu sitting beside you laughs, his arm slung comfortably over your shoulder, “I have some advice I’d like to give as well.”

You turn to him with a grimace. “I don’t want any young viewers following whatever is about to come out of your mouth, ‘Tsumu.”

He looks at you offended; reeling his arm back to his side, shock spelled out all over his face. “Excuse me, I’m great at romance. I romanced you, didn’t I?”

“Unfortunately,” you jest, with Atsumu exclaiming in protest, “But this isn’t just about romancing someone, ‘Tsumu. They’re asking what makes a relationship a healthy one.”

“So?” He shrugs, “A healthy relationship is one that’s full of romance.”

“I apologize for him,” you playfully tell the interviewer, ignoring the look Atsumu gives you in response, “He’s not the best at this sorta stuff.”

She merely giggles, “No worries, the players are allowed to give their own opinions as well.” Atsumu puffs his chest out, “See, babe? She said I can talk too.”

“Yeah well, just make sure to cut out whatever he says in the final broadcast,” She lets out a snort at your jab, hiding the smile that creeps onto her face behind her microphone while Atsumu shoves your shoulder in despair.

“Awe, c’mon! I’m not that bad with relationship advice!” He pouts at you, looking like a kicked puppy when he does so, “What makes you think I’m so bad at this, do you actually want to marry me, babe?”

Your eyes soften at his saddened tone, feeling slightly guilty you link your fingers with his, eyes full of love when he smiles down at your intertwined hands.

“Of course I do, ‘Tsumu.”

The camera crew awes as you turn back to face the cameras, still holding Atsumu’s hand firmly in your own, running your thumb over the smooth cut diamond ring studded band he wears on his ring finger.

“The advice I have to give viewers is; Apologize when you are wrong,” you tell the interviewer, “No matter your pride, no amount will replace your relationship. It’s never worth sacrificing your loved one just for the sake of winning an argument.”

“Uh huh, you’re one to talk about that, babe,” Atsumu rolls his neck, “You never apologize first, it’s always me who has to for you to talk to me again.”

“What are you talking about?” You look at him confused, “I’m the one who initiates the apology conversations, you’re the stubborn one out of us.”

“Nuh-uh.”

You groan, “Exactly.”

Atsumu pulls his hand out of yours, placing it on your thigh instead before facing the cameras. “But, she is right. Do not ever choose a winning an argument over your partner. It ends badly.”

“You would know,” you snort, “You give me the longest silent treatments until I coax you out of it with kisses.”

“Can we cut that out of the broadcast, please?”

You purse your lips to hide the oncoming smile until Atsumu leans forward, a handsome grin on his face as he looks directly into the rolling cameras with a newfound confidence.

“But, y’know. I do always apologize in the end, ‘cause my girl’s never wrong.”

RINTAROU SUNA.

“make time for her.”

“You see this girl?” Suna jabs a thumb in your direction from across the kitchen, leaning against the marble island lazily as the camera team nods. “Yeah, she gets constipated if I don’t give her enough attention.”

Your head perks up immediately as you shoot him a halfhearted glare, “Do not.”

“See, she’s doing it right now.” He ignores, drinking from his glass of water before setting it down on the counter, ignoring the little gasp you let out at his actions.

Rolling your eyes, you smack his arm before sliding a coaster under his drink, “Don’t scratch the marble, Rinnie. I just bought this island.”

The camera team silently giggles at the short interactions between you two, with Suna sticking his tongue out at you and in response you give him a middle finger before he turns back to face them, “Can you believe her?”

Scoffing, you enter the camera frame beside him, “Don’t bring them into this, Rinnie.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“I’m your fiancée.”

Suna opens his mouth to argue before shutting it promptly, “Good point.”

One of the crew members holds a sign from behind the cameras, indicating to get the interview back on topic. “Why would you ever ask her for relationship advice?” Suna chuckles, “I was the one who made the first move.”

“The interview is for the fiancée’s of the JNT, Mr. Suna,” the interviewer reminds him, “But the players are welcome to voice their own opinions as well.”

Suna stretches his arm behind his back with a yawn, a sliver of his abdomen peeking out from underneath his home shirt before disappearing quickly, “Well in that case, allow me to voice this opinion—”

You slap a hand over his mouth before he can begin, “Nope, didn’t you hear them? This is my interview, Rinnie.”

“Buhf dey shaid I can shpeak too, affhole." Suna glares from behind your hand, removing it from his mouth with a groan. “Did you even wash your hand? Tastes gross.”

“Why did you lick my hand?”

“We’ve done freakier things than that and that’s what you’re worried about?”

Your words get lodged in your throat, sputtering out hurriedly, “This is going on T.V, Rinnie!”

He looks to you with a smug smile, “Yeah, and I can’t wait to rewatch this interview and see your reaction again later.”

Your fists clench momentarily before taking a deep breath, relaxing yourself and facing the cameras with a smile. “Anyways, some relationship advice I’d give to anyone watching; make time for your spouse.”

Suna nods along to your words, “Mhm, I think that’s the most important thing in a relationship.”

“Shut up, Rinnie.”

“Ouch,” he fakes a stab through his heart, monotonous eyes but a playful grin on his lips. “I talk for two seconds and you tell your dear fiancé to shut up?”

You shake your head towards him jokingly, continuing to talk to the interviewer, “A healthy relationship means you spend time with your loved ones, and your spouse should be the most loved person in your life.”

The reporter nods, “I see, I see, what do you suggest to our viewers the best ways to spend quality time with their lover?”

“In bed.” Suna chimes in immediately, earning another smack on the shoulder from you. “What?” He looks at you with a knowing grin, “Oh, you— I didn’t mean like that, oh my god you’re sooo dirty minded.”

He chuckles, “I meant like cuddling, laying in bed together, watching movies. Y’know, wholesome things.”

“Nothing is wholesome with you,” you exasperate, speaking from personal experience. “But yes, those are great ways to spend times with your lover. They’re good times to bond with them, or just relax and unwind after a long day.”

“Yeah, after a gruelling day of practice, it’s nice to come home and lay in her arms,” Suna motions to you before leaning his head on your shoulder, his grin now replaced with a small but gentle smile. “She’s all I want to see after practice.”

“Wow,” you tease, leaning your head atop his, “and where did you learn to be so smooth, hm? Are you just playing it up for the cameras, Rinnie?”

Suna snickers, hands crossed over his chest relaxed, “I would never,” he says before mumbling close to your ear.

“I just, really like to spend time with you.”

WAKATOSHI USHIJIMA.

“treat her like a lady.”

“My fiancé is out right now at the gym,” you inform the NHK station crew, their camera men follow you inside your house for the opening shots of the broadcast. “Make yourselves comfortable while you wait.”

The interviewer settles himself on a seat at your dining table as you reach for the vase of flowers atop, moving into the kitchen to pour the old water out of their vase, careful to not spill any over your kitchen counter as you refill the container with fresh water from your tap.

Refreshing the water, you carefully place the flowers back into their vase before rearranging them neatly, coming back out of the kitchen to place them back on your table and adjusting them accordingly as the interviewer watches amazed.

“Those flowers are very lovely,” he notes softly, almost as if any louder of a volume would disturb the plants, “Did you fiancé happen to get them for you?”

You smile, “yes, he did,” recalling the first time he got you a bouquet, on your first date many years ago.

“‘Toshi knows I love flowers.”

The soft click of the lock to your house causes you to perk your head up in familiarity, the frame of your fiancé’s figure coming into view as you see him placing his shoes down beside your door before coming inside.

“Welcome home, dear,” you call out to him from the kitchen, one of the camera crew’s members break off to film your fiancé as he enters the home. He drops his gym bag to the floor beside your couch, removing his jacket and hanging it on your coatrack before passing through the halls of your shared home to get to you.

Ushijima shuffles his way into the kitchen, passing by the camera crew and approaching you from behind, hugging you as his hands are wrap around your stomach, head dropping into the crook of your shoulder.

You lean into his touch, his freshly showered hair smells of the shampoo the two of you use.

“Are you showing them the flowers I got you?” He asks, eying the pretty arrangement of flowers on the table. The cameras zoom in to take a closer shot at the flowers, noting the vibrancy of the colours and the lack of thorns adorning the stems.

You and the reporter nod, Ushijima lets a small smile settle on his face. “She told me they were her favourites,” he tells the reporter.

“Hm,” he hums before turning to you, microphone extending outwards. “is that your relationship advice for the viewers then? Giving your loved one gifts?”

You shake your head quickly, “Oh, no! No, that’s not my advice— Of course, do get your partner gifts if you know they’ll enjoy them.” Ushijima straightens up, hands snaking around your waist to stand beside you as the cameras pan out to record the both of you in the same shot.

“‘Toshi just really likes to get me little things,” you smile, reminicing on all the times your eyes barely glazed over something in a store front before he was scrambling inside the shop to buy it for you, despite your pleas.

“But gifts do not have to be expensive,” You reassure the viewers again, “just little trinkets that remind you of your partner will be enough.”

Ushijima nods before lifting your hand up to the camera, showing off the engagement ring with a large diamond displayed proudly atop it. “Yes, but I do like to splurge when it comes to her.”

You retract your hand quickly, warily eying your fiancé, “‘Toshi! Don’t make the viewers think they need to buy people’s happiness with expensive gifts!”

His head tilts unsurely, “My love, do you not like the ring I got you?”

“I-I do! When did I ever say I didn’t?”

His eyes crinkle slightly in concern, “Then why are you hiding our engagement ring from the viewers?”

“Because,” you sigh, “I don’t want young, inexperienced lovers to think they need something like a huge, flashy engagement ring to be loved by someone.”

“But you deserve the best,” he rebuffs, “There is nothing I wouldn’t buy for you if you asked.”

“‘Toshi.. this isn’t really helping our case…”

The reporter turns to Ushijima, “Even though this is a special for the JNT fiancées, the players are allowed to give their own insight.” He informs your soon-to-be husband, “Do you have anything else to add for our viewers?”

Ushijima thinks for a moment, silent in thought as you look to your fiancé, and the sight of his matching engagement ring twinkling under the bright studio lights filling your home catches your eye all too quickly.

“Do you have anything you want to say, ‘Toshi?” You nudge his shoulder slightly when he continues to remain quiet, an encouraging smile on your lips.

He nods, bringing the hand with your ring on it before giving the intricately cut diamond a kiss, his piercing eyes gazing deep into yours, causing your face to heat up fervently at his wolfish grin.

“Treat your partner the best that you can, like the lady she is and deserves to be treated as.”

SHOYO HINATA.

“don’t forget your anniversaries!”

Shoyo’s leg bounces feverishly as the reporter speaks to you casually, unable to contain his excitement at being asked to join you for this broadcasted interview special.

His grin is wide, beaming whenever you sneak small glances at him whenever the reporter looks down at their cue cards of start up questions to ease into the conversation, before the real topic is brought up.

“Do you have any relationship advice for our viewers?”

You’re about to speak until Shoyo interrupts you, quite literally flying out of his seat while brightly smiling as his hand grasps yours with a tight grip, “I do, I do!”

The reporter chortles, smiling at his tactics, “Thank you, Mr. Hinata. But this interview is specifically for your fiancée.” Shoyo’s face sullens lightly until he speaks again, “But you’re allowed to give your own thoughts when she’s done.”

Shoyo slumps back into his seat dejectedly as you rub his back comfortingly, “Sorry, Sho. But just let me speak first, okay?” His pout is replaced instantaneously at your words with the usual smile he holds when around you, “Alright, baby!”

You look towards the reporter, hand still clasped in Shoyo’s securely. “Here is my advice for a healthy relationship; Don’t forget your anniversaries.”

Your fiancé’s mouth hangs open in shock at your words, head whipping to face you with a hearty laugh, “That’s what I was going to say!”

The look of shock that spreads across your face amuses him, staring at you expectantly for a few moments before you too erupt into laughter, shoulders shaking in surprise as the two of you cling to each other for support, with Shoyo nearly falling off the couch with how hard he cackles.

He clings onto your shoulder to stop himself from tumbling, which in turn causes you to laugh harder as you try to pull him back up as Shoyo calls out for you to ‘save him’.

“Baby, I’m falling!” Shoyo shrieks while howling with laughter, “Grab my hand!”

“You’re already grabbing my hand, Sho!”

Cameras stationed around your living room pan to zoom in on Shoyo’s joyful face when he fools around with you, the grip he still holds on your hand as clear as day as you jokingly attempt to rescue his bumbling self.

The out of frame reporter looks to the two of you happily, the fact that you both seem so absorbed in each other and have forgotten about the interview portion of the broadcast is surprisingly heartwarming for both the crew and the viewers watching the broadcast.

Once the two of you manage to calm down, you shyly look back to the NHK crew with a timid smile.

“Sorry,” you apologize to your interviewer, coughing as you try to hold back another bout of laughter when you catch Shoyo smiling at you again, attempting to contain his giggles. “We got a little- uhm, carried away.”

“It’s no problem,” the reporter chuckles, “I can see the two of you are very much in love, so is that the advice you wish to tell our viewers on how your relationship with each other is so healthy?”

You and Shoyo nod simultaneously, “Yeah, don’t you ever forget your partner’s anniversaries!!” Shoyo sternly but playfully warns the viewers, “I’m serious, guys! Anniversaries are important!”

“What anniversaries should our viewers be aware of when it comes to their lovers?”

This time you speak up, “Well, the major and most well known ones of course,” you begin, listing off the ones you can recall at the moment.

“For example; first month together, first year spent as a couple, birthdays could also count I suppose—”

“Did you know I proposed to her on our fifth anniversary?” Shoyo interrupts excitedly, the same happy and bright smile on his face shining when he proudly pulls up his hand to show off the ring on his finger, “I was so caught up in the moment, I forgot to put the ring on her finger after she accepted!”

Recalling that memory brings warmth to your cheeks, “Yeah, he literally forgot about the ring in the box until I asked him about it later.”

“But in any case,” you circle back to original topic at hand, noticing the way Shoyo’s smile dampens a little when you switch back so quickly as you shoot him an apologetic smile, you don’t want to waste the reporter’s and NHK crew’s time any longer.

“Don’t forget your anniversaries, people! They’re a big deal for a ton of lovers!”

“Th-that’s right!” Shoyo piggybacks off your response, “And if you do forget, you better apologize a lot!”

The reporter nods, turning their attention to your fiancé. “And do you have any final thoughts for our viewers on how you maintain a healthy relationship with your fiancée, Mr. Hinata?”

Shoyo smiles deviously at the open ended question he’s been dying to answer this whole time; his hand creeping teasingly up your thigh to the small of your back as he leans in real close to you with a knowing wink, the flushed expression displayed on your face at his actions encourages him even more to continue.

His eyes glint with amusement, the mischievous grin on his lips is firm even in front of several strangers and cameras rolling in real time, footage of his behaviour being broadcasted to the entirety of Japan this very second.

And without shame or guilt, Shoyo smirks.

“Make your anniversary nights real special for her, trust me on that one.”

reblogs are appreciated .ᐟ ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

© property of shoyostar / thomae 2023. all rights reserved.

ROMANCE TROPES — [HAIKYUU]

characters: hinata shoyo, miya atsumu, bokuto koutarou, sakusa kiyoomi content: gn! reader, the msby four, rich sakusa (i am a rich sakusa truther until the end), bokuto picks you up, sakusa is implied to be taller than you notes: omg i lowkey want to do a fuller version of sakusa’s part 

hinata shoyo ✶ love at first sight

slouched in a plastic airport seat, hinata’s leg bounces anxiously as he awaits his flight. rain beats down the side of the windows and he prays to whatever universal force there is that the flight leaves at the right time. he couldn’t fly with everyone else earlier since he celebrated his grandmother’s birthday with family but it put him on a late night flight that lined up with an incoming storm. 

he scrolls mindlessly through his social media feed, double-tapping a photo of oikawa’s reunion with his high school team and tanaka’s anniversary post for kiyoko. 

the speaker system crackles to life. “attention, passengers of flight 7644 to sapporo, due to inclement weather conditions, the flight has been delayed an estimated two hours. we apologize for the inconvenience and thank you for your patience.”

hinata curses under his breath, already on his way to pulling up the black jackals’s group chat to tell them. he pulls his cap off, running a hand through his hair with a long sigh. his phone begins to buzz with texts, no doubt from his coach telling him to keep them updated. 

he rests his forearms on his knees, slumping forward and skimming through the messages. then, he feels a cautious tap on his shoulder and a soft voice asks, “excuse me, do you have a charger i could use?”

when he looks up, hinata thinks the greater powers that be answered a different prayer of his. because holy shit he has never seen anyone as beautiful as you. you’re in a comfy-looking pullover and sweatpants and hinata only realizes he’s just been staring silently for a few seconds when your expression turns apologetic. “i’m sorry to bother you, i’ll ask someone else!”

“no, no, i’m sorry,” he says, words tumbling out of his mouth. he scrambles to unzip his backpack, rummaging through until he triumphantly pulls out his charger. he hands it to you and you thank him. before you can leave, he blurts out, “i’m hinata.”

“oh!” you stick your hand out and tell him your name with a small smile and when you do, hinata knows that he’s gone. 

miya atsumu ✶ brother’s best friend

osamu’s not sure how atsumu managed to weasel his way into his plans. it was a bit of a blur, atsumu practically crashing through the door of onigiri miya as osamu closed up shop to go get drinks with you, begging to be included. he supposes to reason was pity and atsumu’s pleading look as well as the fact that you work far away that had him agreeing to his brother tagging along. 

it was in your last year of high school that osamu figured out his brother had a big, fat crush on you. honestly, it should have been more obvious, especially with the way atsumu flaunted himself and often paraded around the house shirtless when he knew you were coming over. it bothered him at first, thinking bitterly that ‘tsumu couldn’t let him just have one thing to himself? but over time, the annoyance faded as he saw atsumu prove that this wasn’t just a flight-of-fancy, and osamu has already made peace with the very real possibility that you could be his in-law someday. that is, is atsumu could even tell you in the first place.

it’s a little disturbing, osamu thinks, watching the way atsumu flirts with you and wondering if he too makes the same googly-eyes at someone he’s crushing on or if that’s the way he sounds. you giggle when atsumu tries to take a sip of your margarita, telling him, “order your own then, ‘tsumu!”

“nah, yours tastes way better.”

“can’t take this scrub anywhere,” osamu says, earning a laugh from you and a glare from his twin.

you pat atsumu’s shoulder and osamu can’t believe you don’t feel how atsumu melts into your touch. “i’m actually glad both of you are here,” you say, “because i wanted to tell you guys that i’m moving back to tokyo! my boss promoted me so i’m back at main headquarters! isn’t that great?”

“that’s awesome,” osamu says, speaking for both himself and atsumu, who looks like he just won the lottery. 

bokuto koutarou ✶ opposites attract

whenever akaashi introduces you and bokuto as a couple to new people, he always gets pulled over to the side and asked in a whisper, “how did those two get together? he’s so… and they’re less…” 

akaashi can’t say that he wasn’t surprised when you and bokuto started dating back in high school, given that they two of you were on very different trajectories. obviously, bokuto was the captain of fukurodani’s volleyball team while you were student council president and vice-president of chess club. bokuto’s grade sat at the lower end of the spectrum while you were always within the top five students in your class. bokuto liked loud, screaming parties while you preferred a quiet night with a few friends. 

so when bokuto grabbed him by the shoulders one day and shook him, saying that he needed to tell you how he felt, akaashi was taken off-guarded. he didn’t even know you knew each other beyond having a mutual friend, him. 

maybe back then, akaashi would have agreed with the person asking him but now, he just tells them to observe the two of you. because when akaashi does, everything falls into place. like right now, as he and bokuto sit in the stands, watching your final chess match. if you win, you’ll hold onto your spot as a national champion and go on to compete internationally. 

out of the corner of his eyes, akaashi watches as bokuto sits at the very edge of his seat, chewing on his bottom lip. it’s clearly killing him not to cheer and it’s a testament to both his devotion to you. your hand hovers above the bishop before you switch quickly to the queen and move the piece with confidence, setting it down and announcing, “checkmate.”

the crowds erupts into the cheers and you’ve only barely finished shaking your opponent’s hand when bokuto flies out of his seat and barrels towards you. he sweeps you off your feet, spinning you once and setting you down before planting a big kiss on your cheek. you’re beaming as you’re handing your trophy, and bokuto steps back to let you soak up your spotlight. akaashi can’t help but notice that bokuto is beaming too and clapping the loudest. 

as the crowd starts to disperse, akaashi and bokuto join you again, ready to take you to your planned dinner. before you leave, bokuto says, “i was going to do this later but i can’t hold it in anymore, babe.” and he gets down on one knee with a ring box akaashi is all-too familiar with. 

sakusa kiyoomi ✶ reunited childhood sweethearts 

“try not to look so dour, sweetheart,” sakusa’s mother tells him as she fixes his tie. sakusa wants to grumble some choice words but he knows better than to complain to her. besides, he’s only partially paying attention, eyes darting about the crowd and back towards the venue’s entrance. 

he settles on adjusting his mask with a barely audible sigh and mumbles a quiet thanks as she flits to fuss over his older siblings. he glances again, disappointed as a different group of people waltzes in. he knows his older sister wouldn’t be so cruel as to lie to him that your family will be in attendance but the anxiety is making his antsy.

the two of you were inseparable as children with you being one of his only friends growing up.  you spent you days squirreled away in some nook reading or outside playing volleyball. your mothers always cooed that you two would get together one day, and as he got older and learned what that really meant, sakusa found himself hoping too. but then your parents took you and your siblings abroad, leaving him alone and heartbroken. he cut you off, hoping the distances and time would make your departure hurt less, but it didn’t.

sakusa doesn’t recognize the voice that calls his name but his head snaps towards the doorway. you’re standing in between your older sister and younger brother, waving at him. his heart skips a beat. your social media postings don’t do you enough justice; you’re even more attractive that the pixels he’s spent hours staring at. 

you still have that ever-present smile on your face and you quickly break-off from your family to bound over to him. without even thinking, his arms close around you as you embrace him tightly. you feel so familiar and he doesn’t want to let you go as you part. evidently, you don’t either as you keep him close still, only leaning away to look at him. “you’re so tall,” you laugh, more shyly you add, “and very handsome.”

this time, sakusa thinks his heart stops. 

hiii! hope you’re doing well,, can i request a pt. 2 of them being away at training camp with kageyama, ushijima, iwaizumi, and atsumu? (by no means do u have to do all 4) i really enjoyed the first one!! thank you so much <3

THEY’RE AWAY FOR TRAINING CAMP (PT. 2)

𖦹 part 1 here! ; ft. kageyama, ushijima, iwaizumi, atsumu

notes: THANK U NONIE!! i hope you enjoy this one as well ^_^

𖦹 KAGEYAMA TOBIO

unknowingly reaches for his phone after training. sure, he’s miles away from home, yet he finds himself staring blankly at the screen for five whole minutes before hearing tsukishima snort from behind him.

“if you miss them so bad, just call. gosh, will a tiger bite your ass if you do?” tsukishima shrugs and leaves the room.

definitely feels embarrassed after tsukishima’s suggestion but agrees nonetheless.

his heart immediately flutters once he hears your voice. he hugs his knees and curls up somewhere in the corner of the room, listening to you speak.

“tobio? are you listening?” you ask for the 10th time, then as if on cue, he snores. oh.

𖦹 USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI

golden retriever energy !!!

conversations with him are always:

“baby, i miss you :(”

“give me a hug once i get home please”

goes on facetime and tours you around the camp, ignoring the knowing stares of his acquiantances that are silently judging him for being all sweet and cutesy around you.

gets so clumsy while touring you around ( accidentally drops his phone, trips on a staircase, etc. )

your dynamic is basically—you asking him a question and him humming shyly in response.

𖦹 IWAIZUMI HAJIME

mr. “need you, miss you.”

late night calls are always present in your relationship

would take a midnight jog around the campus while listening to you talk about your day

ALWAYS waits for you to end the call first

“hajime?” your voice, soft and tired, silently yawns his name. he hums softly, leaning towards the speaker of his phone.

“sleepy?”

“yeah” you reply, and he smiles softly. “mn, okay. good night, let’s talk again tomorrow.” then a few seconds later, he hears your soft, peaceful breaths through the speaker, and he figured that you already fell asleep and forgot to end the call.

𖦹 MIYA ATSUMU

claims that he “misses you like crazy, it’s insane.”

definitely gets all whiny around everyone, especially osamu ( said twin later takes a picture of atsumu all splayed out on the floor and squirming like a baby )

“ew, can you stop doing that?”

“samu, you’re so mean!”

“i’ll really send this to y/n if you don’t stop.”

sighs a LOT. is also frustrated a LOT. so whoever’s practicing with him has to deal with his monster sets without a break.

a lovestruck miya atsumu would do anything for you. he didn’t care about appearances and how he looked to anyone else. you were the one he desperately hoped would give him some type of approval, after all.

long day of walking and your feet are sore? he’ll do what he never would with anyone else and kneel before you like a damn dog, taking your shoes off for you and begin massaging your feet. something else sore? go ahead and tell him while he’s massaging and he’ll change his spot of focus without a second thought.

cold around him? he’s taking off anything he can to give to you, in hopes it would keep you warm—please tell him to stop stripping in public. dropped something? oh, and it so happened to fall in the depths of the ocean? he’s diving right in. no equipment is needed for the best setter in the world (he almost died that day).

god forbid he see you with another man. he’s coming up to you like you’re a spiker he needs to claim, slinging his arm around you and butting straight into the conversation. if the guy’s far too close for his comfort, he’ll make sure to give you a big wet kiss on your lips as well. he’ll give you a list of reasons about why the other guy was far from your league once you two are alone as well.

miya atsumu hates losing after all, and he vowed to never lose you to another man.

“are ya sure yer not dating (y/n)?” osamu suddenly asks his brother during a quiet lunch between the two of them.

atsumu chokes on the grains of rice in his mouth, coughing violently and punching his chest. when he finally settles down, he throws a glare at his brother. “what the hell, ‘samu?”

“that’s not an answer.” osamu continues to press.

“we’re not!” atsumu answers, picking up a piece of chicken katsu with his chopsticks. “i don’t like them like that. they don’t like me like that. we’re just friends.”

the bright red-pink of his ears speak otherwise. you see, osamu knows his twin better than he knows himself. he knows that whatever comes out of atsumu’s mouth is a load of crap. just friends? yeah fucking right.

osamu has never seen his brother look at anyone the way he looks at you, starlight and pure adoration swirling in his irises. he acts as if your every word were an earth-shaking prophecy sent by the heavens. his honey brown eyes stare, and he smiles so gently that it makes him sick.

friends aren’t touchy in the way you guys are. you hold each other’s hand like it’s nothing. with interlocked fingers, atsumu will trace his thumb down the back of your hand for no apparent reason. when you’re bored, you’ll take atsumu’s hand into your lap and play with it, bending his fingers, comparing hand sizes, and running a featherlight touch across the expanse of his palm to see if he’ll react.

osamu notices how you never miss the opportunity to find a seat on his brother’s lap. whether there are no seats of available or ten open ones, you will always choose atsumu. and it’s not like he’s complaining about it. in fact, osamu thinks that he waits for it because atsumu would never want to miss the chance to secure his arms around your waist and whisper into your ear amidst a loud conversation.

and you can’t forget the cuddles, and the hugs that linger longer than they should, and the way you’ll cup atsumu’s face, and the way you play with his piss blond hair.

you’re the one person atsumu lets wear his jersey to his game. he ensures you get the best seat to watch him play. osamu doesn’t miss the way his twin looks at you before every serve or the way you cheer the loudest when he scores an ace.

osamu doesn’t think that someone who “doesn’t like you” would be thinking about you every time they shop. “(y/n) likes this snack”. “(y/n) would love this shirt”. “oh hey, (y/n) showed me this”. “‘samu, should i buy this for (y/n)?”.

osamu has never seen two people so madly in love before. he doesn’t know how you guys haven’t realized it yet. and he can’t keep playing along because atsumu’s katsu looks really good right now.

“right…” osamu chooses to answer, dipping his chicken into the tonkatsu sauce. “i sure hope they’re gonna have fun on that date they have today.”

his brother’s chopsticks clatter onto the table before rolling onto the floor. the sight of atsumu’s open mouth filled with rice is unsightly, and osamu has to suppress his laugh.

“they didn’t tell you?” osamu raises an eyebrow.

“no?!” atsumu suddenly stands, slamming his palms into the table.

“yeah, i think they’re gonna leave soon.” osamu lies easily. there is no date. but of course, does ‘tsumu really need to know that?

the blond twin practically bolts away from the dining table and out of the house. when the door slams shut, osamu grins to himself, reaching for the unfinished plate in front of him.

“he can thank me later.”

atsumu brainrot never ends. something short and sweet bc school is kicking my ass.

— HQ BOYS + TAKING CARE OF THEM

feat. iwaizumi hajime, kuroo tetsurō, suna rintarō, miya atsumu, miya osamu, matsukawa issei

note. let me be ur housewife. also don't say anything abt how long osamu's is.... i like him.

IWAIZUMI lets you join him in the shower on nights when he comes home late, when his breath smells a bit like scotch and his smile is lopsided in a way that you both know means midnight. he's all hushed drunken laughter, soap cascading down rippling shoulders as he leans down to press a sweet kiss to your collarbone. he'll whisper that you don't have to do this, the soft mumbling of go to bed crossing his tongue. and yet, you never do. instead, you lean up, shampoo in your hands, and let him hum as your fingers tangle in his hair.

KUROO lets you tie his tie. it's in the mornings, kisses drawn from the rising sun and touches soft enough to meld with the linens that once draped your bodies. he'll stand in front of you, suit, grin, and all, even when you're still dressed in the hanging fabric of your nightgown and your hair is still a tangled mess around your shoulders and face. but, no matter, because you'll reach up, delicate fingers around strong silk, and tie it just for him. and when you do, he'll cup your jaw in his hand just so he can kiss you one more time.

SUNA would never dare ask, but when you find him laying on the couch, face resting down on his arms and shirt riding up just enough so you can see his back, you can't help but let you nails follow the length of his spine. he shifts as though to lean into your touch, closing his eyes and breathing in a breath that almost feels like divinity. and if you stop, should you dare, he guides your hand back to him, ignoring the laughter that bubbles up past your lips and closing his eyes in sweet solace.

ATSUMU lets you dye his hair. or bleach it, rather, and then tone it when he finally lets you convince him. oh and how he's awful, moving and laughing and dodging out of the way of the cold dye even when it's dripping off of your gloved hands. he'll meet your gaze in the mirror, lopsided smirk carved into his cheeks, before putting his hands up in surrender. then, and only then, will he sit still, letting your hands comb through his hair with that stupid grin still on his face.

OSAMU finds you writing down notes for him. if he's cooking, he might change a recipe, speaking aloud as he adds a different spice or substitutes an ingredient, and each time, you'll write it down, scrawling handwriting with a little comment of whether he liked the change or not. other times, he'll come home to notes around the house—little reminders of why you're gone or what you need him to do before you get home. but his most favorite ones, and the ones he keeps locked away in drawers or hidden beneath clothes and old jewelry boxes, are the benign ones. little i loves you's scratched on napkins, drawings left on old gum wrappers from high school, sticky notes covered in old games you used to play to pass the time. he holds them like they're something to keep, an extension of you in the best way possible.

MATSUKAWA comes home to his laundry folded, or half-folded, at least, the rest of it still in the hamper or your hands. he'll roll his eyes, hands already at your waist and fingers dashing along your hips until laughter floats from your chest and into the air. when he tries to help you, you'll swat at his hand, your narrowed eyes drawing out a grin onto his face. so instead, he'll sit, tell you about his day and ramble about the things he misses (your voice, mostly, or your hair, or the scrunch of your nose), and each one will be met with the teasing lilt of tone that he's come to only associate with you.

— HQ BOYS + SUBTLE AFFECTION

feat. iwaizumi hajime, kuroo tetsurō, bokuto kōtarō, miya atsumu, miya osamu, sakusa kiyoomi, matsukawa issei, sawamura daichi

note. hi <3 idk how i feel abt these but here they are <33 love u all <33

IWAIZUMI loves you through touches that can almost feel forbidden. in the dim lights of a bar, mattsun’s voice floating through the air and makki’s laughter quick to follow it, iwaizumi’s hands trace up your spine. his thumbs dip beneath the hem of your shirt, just to feel a bit of your skin. no one else could see it, no one else would dare look close enough, but he’s letting his fingers slide over your skin like you’re made of silken waters and his hands are only meant to know the tide. it’s secret, only for you, and only from him.

KUROO loves you through the bow of your head, the gentle, silent knowledge that when he places a hand on your cheek in just the right way, he’s going to kiss the crown of your head. big hands on sweet, warm cheeks, the chill of the outdoors leaking from his flesh into yours. it’s the way you both just know, the way your eyes flutter shut and the way he smiles into your hair. it’s the routine, and the sweet wisdom that comes with it.

BOKUTO loves you through the hum of old songs. your first date, your first kiss, that one night where you both dissolved into laughter before you could even try to slow dance in the kitchen. he has every song committed to memory, letting the notes slip out in mindless harmony with whatever you’re both doing. and slowly, the humming may turn to a muttering of the lyrics, but it’s quiet in a way that bokuto isn’t, shy in a way you wouldn’t expect from him.

ATSUMU loves you through bitten-back smiles and the sound of half-snorted laughter. it’s the way he holds back the prick of his lips when you flick his forehead and tell him please, babe, just think for once. it’s in the way he pulls you back into him when you roll your eyes at his antics, the bite of his cheek to hide the smile that pokes into it. it’s lilted affection, laughter and teasing and feigned offense at rolled eyes—all in the name of kissing you for just a moment longer.

OSAMU loves you through the warmth of a stove. he knows what you like without even asking. so it’s the spiced sauté of vegetables, the kind you love and spread warmth through your torso on especially cold nights—the kind of spices that creep from your tongue and into your nose, just the right amount of heat, all because he knows it’s you. and when you hum, the melt of flavor on your tongue, he smiles, a teasing good to know you like it following the prick of his lips.

SAKUSA loves you through whispers. he’ll dip his head to your ear as he passes, a quiet stretch of adoration slipping over his tongue and working past your ears. at whatever formal function may beckon you, he’ll meet you with a duck of his head, bending down until you hear the way a soft chuckle rumbles through his chest and rings in the air—the mention of your name and suggestion of let’s get out of here falling past his lips.

MATSUKAWA loves you through how he listens. it’s the tilt of his head, his tongue poking out to pull his lip between his teeth, the narrowing of his eyes until you lean forward, swatting his chest with the back of your hand. it’s then that he laughs, the crinkle in the corners of his eyes following the curve of his lips, and he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, fingers laced together, and listens. and god, he swears he could do just that for hours.

DAICHI loves you through the tuck of your hair behind your ear. he’s delicate with it, a soft twirl of the strands between his fingers, and then he’s brushing it out your face—knuckles gliding across the apples of your cheeks, the vibrato of hushed whispers or ardor starting in his chest and fanning across your lips.

DOMESTIC DISPUTES — small, soft, and domestic quarrels they have with you.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. kuroo tetsuroū x reader, oikawa toru x reader, iwaizumi haijme x reader, miya atsumu x reader (SEPARATELY)

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. fem!reader, children mentioned in both of atsumu's and kuroo's passages, fluff, domestic, time skip au, I studied how atsumu talks for like an hour and I think I failed the assignment anyways, chaos/crack, kinda got lazy at his part too, a little ooc iwaizumi, also I noticed that iwaizumi's part has a line that looks suggestive... It's not, but you guys can interpret it in any way you want idrc

𝐊𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐎 𝐓𝐄𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐔,

Leaving out the most important factor; the kids.

You understood the situation. Since your labor began shortly after two in the morning, the ride to the hospital was rather quiet due to everyone's fatigue. It was just a touch too quiet, so quiet that you could hear the crunching cry of the tires passing over the pebbles.

Silence fills the two car seats behind you when you expected to hear tiny mumblings. You didn't understand that part.

"Tets, why is it so quiet?"

"Would you like some music playing for you?" he asks, casually turning the radio on without thinking too much about it. You grab his hand.

"No, Tetsuroū, why is it so quiet?"

He glances over at you with eyebrows dragged downward, trying to decipher what you meant. Seeing the rearview mirror, his eyes briefly studied it before returning to the road. A flinch follows, and he looks again, this time examining the back seats more carefully before fully pivoting his head towards them.

"...Fu— Shit," he blurts out.

"Tets, please don't tell me you forgot to get the kids. Tetsuroū?"

He doesn't answer. Unbelievable.

"Tetsuroū! Oh my g—"

"You said to not tell you so I wasn't!!"

"Oh my god, I'm in labor— don't turn around!!!" You screeched as he made an illegal U-turn, resulting in thousands of furious honks from motorists.

"Well, I— I can't just leave two toddlers alone by themselves!"

"Then just call bokuto or kenma!!"

"That's a fire hazard!!"

"TETSUROŪ!"

𝐎𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐖𝐀 𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔,

waking up.

In terms of getting out of bed, Oikawa is the absolute worst. In all honesty, why the hell does he have an alarm if he's just going to wake up late anyway?

A sharp six a.m. wake-up signalizes the beginning of your suffering. You groan and shake him awake with the squeal of his vibrating phone rapping on your wooden nightstand. You find it annoying to be forcibly awakened at six in the morning when today is your day off, but you can simply drift back to sleep when it's off.

Your voice was heavy with exhaustion as you pleaded with Toru to turn off his alarm. A minute passes before he lazily switches the alarm off and retreats to his dream world, mumbling something incoherent as he does so.

You only have five minutes of rest when the second alarm goes off. Apparently, he snoozed it and now you were getting pissed.

"Oh my god, Toru, turn off your fucking alarm, dude," you groused in anger, becoming hostile. Your shoving becomes gradually harsher the more you have to wake up on his account.

The pillow beneath his face swallows his voice as he grumbles, "Why can't you do it yourself?"

"For one thing, I don't want you to be late, and two, it shouldn't be my job!" You hissed, growing increasingly enraged as you had to speak over the music that you're pretty sure is slowly getting louder the more it's left on.

He peaks above the mountain of fluffiness to just roll his eyes at you (and god, you want to choke him) before swiping again and the ringer is no more.

As if to annoy you, he snarls, "Happy?" Before ducking his head back onto his pillow.

You huff. You're agitated, a little sweaty, and maybe not as sleepy as you were before, but you're satisfied that you got your way.

You lay back down and allow your head to hit the pillow. Just as you were about to shut your eyes, his ringer goes off. The rest of the night is a total blur.

𝐈𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐙𝐔𝐌𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐄,

when it's time to leave.

"I'm leaving!" Iwaizumi yells out, sliding his feet into a pair of Park Avenue shoes.

"Wait, you forgot your tie!" you shout to him as you hurry to catch him before he opens the door.

His neck is fastened with a tie, which you adjusted so it was not uncomfortable. You'd choose a green one that would nicely collaborate with his eye pigment. After you finished, you inserted a silver clip that displayed a volleyball in front of it.

His plan for today was to attend a meeting rather than attend to injuries. Though it might not be one of your wifely duties when you married him, you always felt the need to make sure he looked more than presentable on these days.

As you tugged on his tie to meet his lips, you muttered a quick, "Have fun."

"Meetings aren't fun," he replies in between smooches. "I think we're going into decline."

Despite your attempt to pull back smoothly because you noted that this was taking a lifetime, he hauls you back in.

"Mhm, don't... say that," you paused because his lips lingered on yours for a moment longer than the rest before they began pecking you once again.

You tapped his cheek, "Haji, you need to go."

"Why are you in a hurry to get rid of me?" He says as he busses the corner of your lip.

"You said you were going in decline—" he pecks your cupid's bow, "—might make it easier for themselves... And fire you on the spot even if you're a minute late."

"Doesn't really matter to me, baby."

"Then how would you care for... You're housewife if you don't bring home the banknotes?"

"I can take care of you with just myself."

You giggled, "goodbye, Haji."

As he lets his lips rest on yours for a few more moments, he leads both of you (still connected) to the door where his hand scurries to find its knob deposited somewhere on the flat surface.

Once the door is opened, he attempts to remove himself from you. A final kiss is placed on your forehead before he locks the door behind him to keep you both from being contacted again.

It is possible to find Iwaizumi quite stern, reserved, and hard to look at sometimes, but you cherish those moments just as you cherish these, too.

𝐌𝐈𝐘𝐀 𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐔,

who spoils the kids more?

Atsumu frowned when he noticed the opulent plate that he had prepared for you that night remain spotless. You weren't eating because you were distracted, but it isn't a phone that prevents you from enjoying the delicious meal, but the baby wiggling in you in your arms.

Atsumu grumbles, a pout idling below his bottom lip. "Babe, ya need to eat now or your dinner is going to go cold. Plus, I made yer favorite."

When you side-eye him, you say, "Well if you weren't so congenial to Aoi, we wouldn't have this problem. He's absolutely dependant on touch; if he's not held by somebody, he'll freak out— we can't even lay in our own bed by ourselves."

The pout on Atsumu's face worsened, "I didn't make him that way."

"Atsumu, when he first arrived, you did not put him down once. When I got you to finally do so, you were the one to throw a temper tantrum."

His sigh suggests he acknowledges the merit in every single point you made, but remains butthurt and doesn't make any attempt to admit as much.

The young boy is tugged from your arms and cradled in his.

"Give him to me and finish eatin'," he says, the dissent he expressed to your accusations slowly evaporating. Rolling your eyes, you squabble with him a bit more until the rumble in your stomach limits you from continuing and you turned to eat the delicious food plated in front of you.

"Mommy thinks I spoil you too much," Atsumu whispers, announcing it loudly to your ears, "think that it's wrong just to show how much I love you. I think she's just jealous."

He blows a raspberry on Aoi's cheek, delighting in his squeals of laughter. Then he mumbles something about a stinky diaper, and shortly after, you hear the wail of your child you assume had been put down to be changed.

PICK A CARD -—- In recent weeks, Atsumu has become quite interested in performing card tricks for his teammates as well as a couple of ladies. The only problem is, is that he never showed you these things, but little did you know he was just using them to courage himself to ask and impress you. Things don't go his way, though.

PAIRINGS. miya atsumu x fem!reader

WARNINGS. blushy/shy Atsumu, he's such a dork | fluff | just imagine Henmi as Kushida from Classroom of the Elite | the reader is kind of a brat LOL | the end is kinda rushed bc i wanted to finish this b4 4:00, I'll proof read later

During the past few weeks, Atsumu has been fascinated with cardistry.

Each week, he performs a new card trick for a group of popular girls gossiping in the hallway or another group in the cafeteria. The volleyball fangirls that crowd around him even come to his games with a deck of cards to see what he's capable of.

The only problem is, that he never shows it to you.

It's not his obligation to show you everything; you shouldn't feel entitled merely because he does... The fact that the ace of diamonds disappeared and reappeared behind your friend Henmi's ear, a girl who appears to be smitten with him, left you feeling jealous and unwelcome.

Henmi was the type of girl who made the boy's heads turn to watch her walk to class. She wore cute pink hair clips in her bob that bounced with every spring in her stride, and she was friendly with everyone.

To be fair, you've been asked out by a few guys and had a couple of friendships, but you know you could never get matched with her.

A shade of red spreads across Henmi's pale face as she blurts out, "I think Atsumu-Kun likes me."

It was lunchtime. There was a table outside, and you, Henmi, and two of her friends sat together for lunch. A sour taste replaces the taste of chocolate in the milk you were drinking. It permeates your mouth and stops you from sucking on the straw.

Your jealousy nearly erupted. You want to tell her that you saw him perform the same trick on another cute girl later that day. You want to break her heart, but you decide against it and chew on your straw instead.

But a girl from your table speaks your mind, "sorry Henmi-Chan, but I saw him do the trick to Hosoo yesterday. He's such a player."

Possibly she spoke up out of her own jealousy, hoping for the sake of her fantasies that Henmu wouldn't become a reality.

Despite this, Henmi denies it, defending Henmu by saying, "he was really close to me. Like I thought he was about to kiss me—"

"Ah, Y/N! That's where you are, I've been looking for you everywhere," Atsumu yells from the top of the staircase, hurrying down so he could meet you at the lunch table.

There is more confusion in the girls' eyes than in yours. Why was he looking for you specifically?

Atsumu sits on the bench by your side and slides only his right leg under the table so that he may face you. An old deck of cards is pulled from the tan pockets of his school's blazer. Blush tints his cheeks, and he looks down at the cards he shuffles as he asks you, "can I show you some of the card tricks I learned?"

By removing your left leg from beneath the table, you can also face him. A giddy smile spreads across your face as you say, "I'd love to see your tricks."

Atsumu smiles, "my first trick is the classic 'pick a card, any card' trick."

The cards are split into two decks, and he hands you one to shuffle. You return them to him after you're done.

You and the girl's lunch trays and lunch boxes are scooted to the side. This is so that he can spread your deck face up and his face down in two lines on the table. He then carefully scoots the cards together and then they're shuffled together again.

"Now I'll search for your card, which is really impressive as you haven't decided what card you want."

After spreading the shuffled cards in his hand, he instructs, "pick one. It doesn't matter if it's face up or face down."

You selected the face-up king of hearts and showed it to him. He then asks for the card to be pushed back face up or face down in the spread deck of cards. You chose to place it face down.

Once again, he shuffles them, "now, all cards are either up, or down." As he places them back down and backs up like they were liable to explode, he says, "if I leave them like that, all, except one, will move to face-up."

After a minute, he spreads them slowly across the table. Your mouth dropped when you discovered most of the cards that were originally facing downwards were now facing upwards. Most.

You could see the shock on his face when three remained faced downwards.

"Um, well, shit, um..." a blush from embarrassment spreads across his face as he tries to laugh it off. "That wasn't supposed to happen."

He picks up the first card that was faced down. It was the King of spades, not your card.

He picks up the second one. It was the ace of diamonds, also not your card.

A cold sweat runs down his cheek as he picks up the final one. It was the Ace of clubs. None of these were your cards.

"Fucking shit," he cursed under his breath. The three girls that remained at the table giggle at his error, adding to his embarrassment. "I-I have another, another trick. Can I show you?"

Laughing, you replied, "You may." He was cute.

He gathers all of the cards and gulps, "it's, um, it's called the card spring. Basically, it's where all the cards fall to my other hand. See— ah shit!"

A massive gust of wind sweeps the cards in mid-performance, just as they were about to land in Atsumu's right hand. All fifty-two cards in the deck spiral westward.

At that exact moment, you could hear Atsumu's heart drop to his ass. It sounded like an anvil being dropped from twenty-five feet in the air.

"Shit," he mutters. Just as he gets up to collect them, the bell rings. When the girls return to the building, they gossip about how funny Atsumu was as they collect their trash and belongings. Henmi says goodbye to Atsumu but it passes unnoticed by him.

You stayed to help Atsumu pick up all of his cards.

The color of red was now engulfing his entire head as he spotted you picking up the Queen of Spades. "Fuck, I'm so sorry— I-I was trying to impress you and I fucked up. All the practicing I had done on some girls came to shit."

Picking up a jack and a king, you giggled, "I think many of the girls think you are interested in them. Why did you do that?"

"I dunno, maybe because they share the same qualities as you."

"And what's that?"

"That they're a girl and you're a girl," he blushed as you laughed. "I thought they could give me the courage to perform on you and ask you out. Got nervous."

Then, with his luck, it begins to rain. It began to rain on a sunny day.

The cards begin to become damp as you hurried to pick them up. Suddenly, you come across the king of hearts.

He groans, "today wasn't supposed to turn out like this. 'M sorry."

You hand him the cards and go to pick up your tray and travel to the nearest trashcan to throw out your trash. Atsumu begins to do the walk of shame as he starts to walk back to class with his head down low and his hands in his pockets.

"I'll see you tomorrow Atsumu-Kun!" You say as you pass him, reaching the building first.

"Yeah," he sighs, bummed.

Atsumu kicks himself in his mind before letting out another curse as he shuffles his cards. He's about to throw them away before he notices a smudge of blue ink on his king of hearts. It was still readable.

It reads: I'm free tomorrow! Call me if you have any trouble, or any bad luck! with a heart at the end.

  forty, love ᵕ̈       tennis au!miya twins x gn!reader ˎˊ˗

⋮⋮ ˒ ₍ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 𖥻 ⿻ : the three of you always  ⋮⋮  end up finding yourselves on the ⋮⋮  court , time and time again

📋 content     ♡ # 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧 🐮 ( for now )     ♡ # 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 🥛     ♡ # 2.2𝘬 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴     ♡ # 𝙘𝙬 𝙨𝙥𝙤𝙞𝙡𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴     𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘪 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵     𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 𝘢 𝘰𝘯𝘦-𝘵𝘰-𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘱𝘺

🧺 extensions  ⋮⋮  series masterlist  ⋮⋮  next  ⋮⋮

🎶 on shuffle " the signal " - trent reznor & atticus ross ( challengers movie soundtrack )

🧸 directory  ‹ ✩  like what you read ? check out more of my blog !  •ᴗ•

💬 kuroppiii ─ “ hey chat i caved and i'm making this multiple parts 😔☝️ a special gift for the one and only ree 😚 inspired by challengers aka my fav movie ever ( besides greta gerwig's little women , or cmbyn , or emma 2020 , or –– ) ”

in tennis, it's about winning the points that matter.

you can barely sit still. the heat of the sun, blaring down onto the court and onto the spectators in the stands of this match, didn't matter to you at all, though. you were used to this: the summer sun, desperation in the air, and your eye trained on the ball, zooming in a neon green blur from left, to right, from left, to right–

on your left, is the man you swore your life to. on your right is the man you loved.

you must admit, maybe it was bad, getting involved with a pair of twins for the better half of about two decades now. but if you had to defend yourself, they were like no one else you've ever met on the court.

and at this moment, it all comes back to you. all those years ago, when the miya twins first stepped onto court with their duffels.

،   の   ✧   後    🌱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗻 ...

you were 18 then. nine years earlier, you watched as little dots darkened the blue hardcourt underneath you, bent over and supporting yourself with your arms on your knees. you felt the drops of your sweat glide down from your hairline and your temples to your chin and the tip of your nose, finally hitting the plane of blue beneath your sneakers. the racket in your hands was starting to dig into your palm. the summer sun relentlessly prodded at the exposed skin of your shoulders as they heaved up and down as you tried to catch your breath.

24 hours from that moment, you would be in a make-or-break tournament final for your tennis career. if you secured a that win in that ongoing tournament at the time, you were guaranteed to be in the top seed in ranking for the next event you were attending later that summer–when by then, you were hoping, you'd have gone pro.

'it only goes up from there, y/n,' your coach had told you. and that was your dream, ever since you were a child.

your heart was pounding up into your ears, but you knew that was just your body's signal to keep going.

you heard a prolonged creak far off–the gate to the court. thinking it was your coach, the only other person with you at the moment, you glance up and go to straighten up your back before they could scold you for slacking.

but no. past your coach, two boys had entered the court that your coach had previously assured was supposed to be private, just you and her for the afternoon. it was hard to see in the bright sunlight, even with your visor on, but one had a head of dirty blonde hair, and–as the pounding in your head died down–your ears caught on to how he was actually speaking pretty loudly as him and his companion approached. said companion had gray hair, saying very little and not nearly as loudly as his friend.

'gray hair? an old guy? maybe that's the other's coach,' brows knit together, you thought.

but as you squinted to see better against the daylight, you noticed how young–and how good-looking, actually–that "coach" was.

and... wait. same with the blonde guy.

in fact, they were alike in their good looks.

a bit too alike.

'am i seeing double?' you adjusted the wires on your racket while your eyes were trained on the two as they continued their carefree stroll in, slugging their matching black duffels with a certain fox-looking logo on them.

"y/n! what's the hold up? you alright?" your coach shouts out from the opposite side of the net.

just as you were about to say you think you need a drink of water–to hopefully prevent you from hallucinating and seeing more things in twos–the strangers became startled at the sound of your coach and their heads darted in your direction.

the gray-haired one's face seemed unfazed, but you watched as his eyes confusedly dart back and forth between you and your coach. the blonde, visibly surprised with brows raised high, quickly whips his arm around, the shiny watch on his wrist reflecting a brief glare as he flicks it to check the time.

"oh! oh, we're sorry!" he calls out with a chuckle. he grabs a hold of his partner's arm and starts redirecting their path towards the stands, "our reservation for this court isn't for another hour! we can wait, don't mind us!"

they already started climbing up to a place to sit, their toned legs reflecting the sun above. 'wow, those shorts are short'

"hey! who told you that you can–"

"no," you interrupted your coach before she could scare them away from the court, "they can watch. it's only for a little while longer, anyway, yeah?"

with a huff, your coach complied with your reasoning, and your gaze lingered on the strangers for just a bit longer as they sat down, before you pulled a tennis ball out of your pocket and got ready to serve in front of your new audience.

،   そ   ✧   の後    🌱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗻 ...

"alright! that's enough for today. let's get you back to the hotel so you can rest up before your big day tomorrow," your coach announced about an hour of rallies and drills later, clapping you on the back. dragging yourself over to the bench, you ravaged your bag for some water. racket, towel, snacks... shit. you didn't bring your water with you.

as soon as you started to curse yourself under your breath you heard the distant crackle of a plastic bottle filled with the very water you were deprived of. following the noise, you look up–seeing the strangers from earlier, still sitting in the stands. (you had forgotten they were even there, honestly.)

they sat there, still. mouths agape and each holding a water bottle in his hand. they kept that pose for a long moment, and you couldn't help but start to laugh lightly at them. that seemed to snap them out of their trance, though, and suddenly both of them were climbing over rows of chairs in front of them and scrambling to get over the partridge to where you were.

"w-wow that was amazing–"

"how did you manage to return the one that–"

"and this was just your practice? it's incredible how–"

"you're almost, like, faster than the ba–"

"thank you," you interrupted them with a chuckle. the speed at which two quickly shut up the moment you spoke was astonishing, and it was like they were waiting with bated breath for your next sentence, "are you two here for the tournament? you can watch out for me tomorrow if you're so impressed. no use seeing me when i'm not even against an actual opponent."

two water bottles were now outstretched in front of you. you glanced between the bottles and the to boys' faces, expectant and still laced with such awe. (had to admit, spiked your ego a little bit.)

you eventually took the bottle the gray-haired one was offering. your hands grazed slightly when you did, and in the corner of your eye you could see how he gazed down to where your two hands briefly met–

"and you can watch out for us tomorrow!" the blonde quickly interjected. he gave you a toothy grin as his hand holding the other bottle was quickly wrapped around the other's shoulders.

you cracked open the water bottle you picked and took a swig, humming as the refreshing rush of cold water slid down your throat. closing the cap of the bottle you ask, "both of you? you play doubles?"

"yeah we do!" the one grinning at you extended his empty hand this time, "the miya twins. miya atsumu."

the other quickly followed suit with his hand, "miya osamu."

'hm, twins. that explains it.'

amused, you gently shook each one's hand. you shoved the last of your belongings into your duffel and slung it over your shoulder. you gave them a nod, "i'll see you around, then."

"see ya!"

"we'll see you tomorrow."

as you walked away from the court, the gray-haired one's water bottle still in your hand, you took a mental note of highlight reels to look up as you took an ice bath in your hotel room that night.

،   そ   ✧   の後    🌱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗻 ...

the next day arrived. at the venue, the crowds were buzzing and announcers sounded off on the p.a. systems, announcing the lineup for the day–including your match, the first of the day. the tournament final.

all the sounds of the tournament couldn't overcome the pounding in your head, however. you felt the adrenaline in your veins as you made your way to the locker room, duffel slung over your shoulder and sneakers squeaking against the pristine tiles.

you decided to throw your headphones on as you did your warm-ups. despite how prepared you felt for this moment–the one you've been fantasizing about for years–you still couldn't help but feel the subtle tingle of nervousness in your bones.

eventually, it was time to face the crowd, the court, and your opponent. but the moment you stepped out into the sunlight, you were suddenly overcome with a laser-sharp focus.

this was the moment. this was your time to take what you always wanted.

the coin was tossed and your opponent got to serve first. you ready yourself on your side of the court, spinning your racket in anticipation. you observe your opponent, and for a moment you both lock eyes. in that split second it was like a cord snapped and stretched out between you two, connecting the both of you and suddenly putting you both in sync–like you two were the only ones in the stadium.

the very idea of nervousness was foreign to your mind in that moment. your racket melded with your hand and became an extension of you. your feet were just itching to follow that damn tennis ball.

eyes on the ball... eyes on the ball...

in a flash, the neon sphere gets lifted up into the air, and you smile to yourself as you already feel your feet taking you where you need to be on the court before the sound of your opponent's racket crashing with the ball could reverberate around the stands.

an impact on the hardcourt. corner.

you swing your racket and send the ball flying over the net and back to your opponent.

it's in, but your opponent is right there. another hit. to the right.

you feel the air rush past you as you stride over and return the ball to hit the corner farthest from your opponent. just where you wanted it.

hit. middle. hit. center. hit. corner. hit–

the crowd erupts in cheers and applause. the ball had gone flying past the other player across the net and you hear the umpire announce your first point of the match.

win.

،   そ   ✧   の後    🌱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗻 ...

third set.

you had won the first one 6 to 3.

you lost the second set 5 to 7 after a long rally with your opponent but you shook it off. you could come back for the final set.

this set has gone on for what seems like forever. this tie break has gone on for what seems like forever. you've already won 7 points, yet your opponent's score has remained hot on your tail.

until now.

"match point," the umpire announces, and the stands fall silent.

you needed to finish this off.

it only takes one point now. one ace can end this match off once and for all.

it's your turn to serve, and you bounce the ball against the hardcourt as you let the thumping in your head die down. it was your signal to keep going, to make that last final push.

you take a deep breath before serving. you think of what it will feel like to lift that trophy.

you gracefully toss the ball in the air, but as your eye follows it as it briefly eclipses the blaring sun above the stadium, you swear you can catch a slight glimpse of two heads of hair in the crowd.

one blonde and one gray, same agape look on their faces from the day before.

it was like they were seeing god.

but no, it was just you...

so same thing.

the sound of your racket and the ball colliding mid-air rips through the silence of the court at that same moment. a gust of air rushes back into the stadium as everyone lets out the breath they had been holding, and you hear the crowd cheer as you let yourself fall to the ground, letting the exhaustion from the match finally take over you because now it was over.

you win.

you feel your chest heave up and down as your arms land to cross over your sweaty, smiling face. you close your eyes, the summer sun trying as hard as ever to blind you through your eyelids, but all you could see behind them was that image of those twins.

you recall how shocked those two always seemed to be as they watched you play, and you couldn't help but start giggling to yourself.

🗒⋆ *. ୨୧⋆｡ taglist (2/30 at the time of publishing) : @zumicho , @liillyliilly (just send me an ask if you’re interested! xx)

  forty, love ᵕ̈       tennis au!miya twins x gn!reader       ( pt. two ) ˎˊ˗

⋮⋮ ˒ ₍ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 𖥻 ⿻ : what to do when two  ⋮⋮  fellow pro tennis players are ⋮⋮  interested in you ? you compare ⋮⋮  their stats , of course !

📋 content     ♡ # 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧 🐮     ♡ # 𝘴𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦❕     ♡ # 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 🥛     ♡ # ~4.1𝘬 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 ( wow )     ♡ # 𝙘𝙬 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘦 ( all characters are 18     or older during all events of the story !! ) ,     𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨

🧺 extensions  ⋮⋮  prev  ⋮⋮  series masterlist  ⋮⋮  next ( coming soon ! )  ⋮⋮

🎶 on shuffle " yeah x10 " - trent reznor & atticus ross ( challengers movie soundtrack )

🧸 directory  ‹ ✩  like what you read ? check out more of my blog !  •ᴗ•

💬 kuroppiii ─ “ i locked tf in for this one ... ( also thank you ree for helping with the smau stuff i ' ve never done myself prior to this lolll ) ”

atsumu and osamu are neck-and-neck in a tie break. the crowd around you grows frustrated in a twisted type of voyeurism as the two tennis players are almost equally matched in the masterful way they return the ball to each other.

it's still only the first set but it feels like you've been sitting there watching 100 tennis matches–and in a sense, you have been.

as the ball gets traded between the miya twins on each side of the net, the countless times you've seen the two passionately rally tennis balls with their rackets cycle through your mind. they overlay the sight in front of you, almost like a flip book–one that eventually lands on a page from a long-gone time.

a time when the twins used to play alongside each other on one side of the net.

،   の   ✧   後    🌱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗻 …

after winning the match that made your young pro-athlete career those many years ago, you remember you took your new trophy with you to sit in on a certain mens doubles match a few hours later that same day.

there were a few hours to kill between when the cameras flashed in your face as you held your trophy and when you'd have to deal with it all over again that night for the winners' banquet. so, you decided to take up the two twin brothers' offer from the previous day to watch them in action.

slipping into a secluded corner of the stands, you were just barely able to catch the last few sets of their game since yours had overlapped slightly time-wise. but even in those few sets, you found yourself drawn to how the two ruled the court.

looking at the scoreboard, it seems like they breezed past the first set, had faltered and lost the second, but were definitely back on track to secure the third when you had arrived.

under the searing afternoon sun you noticed how atsumu always donned a certain smirk on his face before serving. this smile somehow shone brighter than the rays of light beating down on him and his sweat-drenched shirt.

and not too far from the blonde and closer to the net, osamu continuously provided ample support whenever atsumu's serves were returned, no matter how powerfully their opponents hit them back. he had a show-stopping habit of leaping into the air to reach the tennis balls whenever they were returned up high. volley after volley, osamu's usually bored expression would turn to one that was laser-focused on swatting at his neon green targets with his racket so the balls would quickly crash onto their opponents' side.

in this way, the twins weren't ones who waited for the ball to hit the court. they always had the ball in motion. it was like they were so in-tune on some deep and unspoken level, and you hadn't seen doubles partners play in any way like it.

'maybe it's because they're brothers,' you thought to yourself as you found yourself more invested watching a tennis match than you ever had before, 'maybe it's because they're twins, at that!'

either way, the miya twins secured that third set, and despite the annoyance of your manager as you were completely oblivious to their calls and texts telling you to start getting ready for the winners' banquet, you intently watched every moment and every point as they finished off their match by winning the fourth set.

you earnestly joined the audience in the stands as you applauded the two, watching them drop their rackets and excitedly embrace one another in a tight hug upon realizing the match was now over. they were winners.

the trophy gets brought out, and you get a great view of their faces lighting up in celebratory smiles, holding their shared trophy between them for the cameras.

the image of them both–hair sticking to their foreheads and dripping in sweat yet still grinning impossibly wide–as they clutch their new trophy and both kiss it at the same time, was one that would be burned into your memory for years.

but at the time, the moment passes as quickly as it came before they go to pack up their duffels on the sidelines. you take this as your queue to leave and finally catch up on the notifications from your manager. but just as you stand up from your seat, atsumu spots you in the crowd, and you see his jaw drop.

immediately and without risking to glance away from you, he aggressively swats at osamu's arm next to him to get the gray-haired one to look at where you stood, too. osamu reluctantly follows his brothers gaze, and you see the frustrated expression aimed at his brother quickly melt into one mixed with shock and admiration as he locks eyes with you.

(unable to fight the small smile that tugs at your lips upon seeing their ego-boosting reactions again) you nod at them in acknowledgment, give them a small wave, and go to pick up your trophy as you leave while they flash those winning smiles right back at you.

،   そ   ✧   の後    🌱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗻 ...

the banquet a few hours later was held in a classy venue, with winding spotless marble staircases and chandeliers in every room. when your ride pulled up in front of the building, you stepped out onto the ostentatious red carpet that was laid out for all the tournament's victors to waltz down. you could hear the buzz of chatter and crystal glass clinking inside. the louder it grew, the more your hands gripped at the shiny handles of your award as you entered the hall.

a worker directed you to a table where all the winners were asked to place their trophies for a round of pictures that would take place before dinner started. just as you go to set yours down, two similar and familiar faces entered through the banquet hall doors.

the voice of the tournament employee started to sound more and more tuned-out as you watched them step into the hall. the miyas were clad in clean and simple dress pants and blazers. osamu's outfit was on the more, of course, grayer side than atsumu's (and defiinitely more of atsumu's dress shirt buttons were unbuttoned than that of his brother's).

osamu held in his hands the brothers' trophy from their match earlier that day, and a different worker suddenly approached them, kindly gesturing to the table you were standing right next to. they were probably asking osamu to place the trophy down on the table–something you were still yet to do.

you quickly look back at the worker talking to you, apologizing for "spacing out" before carefully positioning your prize in the spot where they needed it. you feel a presence come up next to you, and look up to make eye contact with the two twins.

"long time no see," atsumu teases as his brother sets down their trophy next to yours.

"nice trophy ya got there," osamu adds on. a light-hearted scoff escapes you before you attempt to congratulate them on their own win.

"thanks! congrats to you t–"

"l/n! i've been looking everywhere for you!" your manager suddenly appears and interrupts you, "there are some photographers who're asking for your picture. right this way, please..."

as your manager nudges you away from the award table, you glance back to give the two brothers an apologetic smile. they wave you off and soon you lose sight of them as the crowd in the room gets between you.

and that's how it went for the first half of the evening: looks here and there exchanged between you and the miyas, but always getting whisked away by the crowd to each take pictures with so-and-so or do another interview with whatever news outlet.

until finally, all the trophy bearers are called up to take one big picture together, and you find yourself standing next to the doubles partners once again. osamu is right next to you, and atsumu next to him. the moment after all the athletes have clobbered their big trophies in their grasp to hold up for the cameras, you start getting bombarded with flashing lights.

as you try to maintain your smile for the pictures, you catch in the corner of your eye osamu leaning closer to you, and he whispers, "ya looked great out there"–he pauses and smiles again at the flash of another camera–"and you're lookin' great now, too."

"lay off the gorgeous singles winner, would'ya 'samu? you're ruinin' our photos right now," atsumu smoothly joins in on your brief hushed conversation.

your smile begins to resemble a more genuine one at the interaction, and you're hoping the photos of you don't show the blush dusted on your cheeks once they get released to the press.

again, you don't get to talk to the twins much throughout the rest of the event. but during dinner hour–while them and their team are off somewhere else in the venue doing some p.r.–you successfully managed to slip a napkin with your number scribbled on it into the cup of their trophy as you pass by.

that night at your hotel, two new numbers popped up on your phone.

،   そ   ✧   の後    🌱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗻 ...

the sound of tennis balls making contact with hardcourt echo through the darkness of night.

a few weeks later you're practicing late-night at a hotel court for your first grand slam appearance. for you recently, it's been nothing but nonstop training and drills. you were aiming for the final. sure, you could tell yourself to make it to at least quarter-finals, or even be satisfied at seeing yourself at semi-finals.

but no, your mind was set on the final. hell, your mindset was to win overall.

you got ready to practice your serve for another time, following the neon green ball as it went from the palm of your hand, to spinning in mid-air, to crashing against the wires of your racket–

your phone emits a small beam of light from where it laid on the bench in your peripheral vision. you wondered for a split second who could be texting you at this hour.

watching as your serve hit the exact corner you were aiming for, you decided you could give yourself a short break to check.

you reach into your duffel and fish out your towel, and you pat your neck and arms dry as you unlock your phone to open up the sudden set of notifications accruing on your homescreen,

it was the miyas.

ever since they added your number from the winners' banquet napkin, the three of you have had a shared groupchat you used to stay in touch. you had discovered pretty early on that the twins were very different, even if it's in how they text.

recently, however, on account of your intense grand slam preparations, you haven't been very active in it. but out of nowhere, here the two brothers are blowing up the chat. as you caught up on the messages, you pick up on an interesting amount of typos–more than usual...

at the mention of bottles, you immediately caught on. a small laugh escapes you as you type back to voice your suspicion, and atsumu almost instantly replies back to confirm it–that they've had a few drinks tonight.

you shake your head at the bench. it was almost midnight. and they want to see you this bad?

you debate for a moment how much you really wanted to see them again.

they were definitely staying at some different hotel than yours, as they were going to be at the upcoming tournament as well to compete in their usual doubles bracket. you had no idea where or how far their hotel might've been, though. how would they even get to your hotel from theirs anyway? how long would you have to wait for them out in the dark? you could probably fit some more drills in that time instead.

after thinking about it for another minute or two, you sigh and look up at the moon in the dark sky, too exhausted from the hours you've already spent on the hard court to really think of an excuse not to have them visit you. a small break right about now couldn't hurt.

besides–other than catching sight of them on tv or on online tennis news articles–the last time you saw them was at the winner's banquet, and you really wouldn't complain about seeing their faces in person again.

so you tell them what you're up to at your hotel, and you're met with eager replies back in the groupchat: atsumu suggesting they join you in your practice, osamu saying they have a driver that can bring them to you.

a sudden surge of energy enters your system realizing you're about to have them right in front of you again. you bounce your leg against the court impatiently to try and let some of it out.

you start thinking back to the last time you were face-to-face with them, and you can't help but cringe a little, recalling how you were more of a flustered mess than you might've wished in front of them.

you internally cursed the effect they have on you.

and yet, here you were giving in to see them. but if you were going to have to face them again, you concluded you'd need a bit of liquid courage pumping through you yourself...

around 20 minutes after you seal the deal and send your hotel's address to the two brothers, you hear footsteps approaching where you were sat at the court bench.

and then there they were–casually in t-shirts and shorts they were probably about to wear to bed–in front of you. you hear the clink of bottles as atsumu drops the duffel on his shoulder onto the court.

"be more careful with that, would'ya 'tsumu?" osamu hisses while landing a quick blow to the side of atsumu's arm.

you already find yourself giggling in their presence again and barely a minute has passed by. but what can you say? both on and off the court, the two were so interesting for you to watch.

after atsumu does in fact fail to open some more bottles with his racket and osamu instead opts to use the cap of one bottle to open two others, the three of you then start rallying in a friendly 2-v-1.

with the twins opposite you across the net, tennis balls start to get lazily passed over the net using one-handed forehands and backhands (you each had an occupied hand holding your drinks, after all). though you three aren't giving it your all, a steady and precise rhythm of clicks still start to ring out like a metronome with each pass of the ball, accompanying the catch-up conversation that you share on the court.

a few rallies in–and a drink or two more–atsumu suddenly poses a question mid-rally that catches you off-guard.

"hey, say if you had to date one of us, which one you would pick?" the blonde shouts across the court, almost causing you to miss your return on the ball. you question if this was atsumu, or the alcohol talking.

click!

skeptical, you shout back, "i'd go out with whoever actually liked me, obviously."

click!

"but what if we both did?" you barely catch osamu add on, as his words are more mumbled and almost slurred before you see him hurriedly take another swig from his bottle.

you can hear the joint-confession in his words, and your other hand goes to give you another sip from your own bottle to calm your nerves.

click!

"is it normal for you both like the same girl?" you tease.

click!

"nah, not really, actually," osamu calls back.

"so what, should i feel honored or something?" you can't help but sarcastically throw at the two.

click!

"of course. you're hot and talented," atsumu reasons, dropping his description of you like it's the most normal thing to say in that moment. you feel your face start to heat up–and it definitely wasn't the alcohol making its way through your system.

click!

"oh, is that all i am?" you feign offense, and for once both brothers mistakenly go to return the ball, when they usually are so coordinated only one ever has to take initiative. you loved messing around with them.

the ball falls between their two outstretched rackets, and atsumu curses under his breath as osamu goes after it as it starts bouncing away. after retrieving it, he tosses it to atsumu to serve it over and start up another rally.

click!

"'s not that," says osamu, "we've both gotten to know ya, you're great all-'round."

click! click! click...

"but based on what you've gotten to know 'bout us," atsumu speaks up in the pause of conversation, "who would'ya pick?"

click... click... click–

you suddenly give it your all and crash the ball hard onto their side of the court, downing the rest of your bottle right after, "let me think that over."

،   そ   ✧   の後    🌱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗻 ...

the three of you had stopped rallying, opting to hanging out on the bench and just talking about life. the few bottles from the miyas' duffel were about halfway through and it was close to about 2 in the morning now.

the sound of tennis balls and rackets making contact was now replaced with hushed giggles, the sound of tennis balls lightly being dropped against the court surface and being caught again once they inevitably bounce back up, and the whirr of rackets being twirled by absent-minded hands.

all these sounds muddle together in your ears, an internal tell-tale signal to you that you were very tipsy.

since you were asked the question, the notion of getting with either of the miya twins has been floating in your mind. other thoughts came along with it, too, and the alcohol was not helping to push those curiosities of yours away.

as always, these two made it so easy to cave into your wants of selfish self-satisfaction. but this was a much-welcomed respite from the otherwise constant pressures and grueling day-to-day of going pro so young on the tennis court.

that you could be sure of, sober or not.

... so you figured your future and more sober self in the morning can't get that upset for what you were about to try.

"i think i know how i can figure out an answer to your question from earlier," you find yourself humming while atsumu was on your right, attempting a racket trick on the bench, and osamu was to your left, on the ground leaning up against the bench and bouncing a ball between the court and the palm of his hand.

"which one?" atsumu questions with a quick glance over to you as he tried balancing the middle of his racket on one finger.

"who i'd go out with," you nonchalantly shrug as you hear the wires of your racket slice through the air when you quickly spin it in your grasp.

"really?" osamu cranes his neck back to look at you, hand still trading contact with the ball between his hand and the court.

you look between them, the blush from the alcohol clearly visible on their faces–one you can certainly feel is shared on your own facial features, too–before looking back down at your racket, "i dunno, i just think i need more... stats to compare."

"what d'ya mean?" atsumu now puts down his racket in his lap and asks. you bend down and use your racket to slice the tennis ball out from under osamu's palm, directing attention to the racket by tapping it against the ground.

you ask osamu, "heads or tails?"

a beat of expectant silence passes by the three of you, as the brothers wonder what you're getting at.

"...tails," osamu finally replies, and it almost sounds like he utters his words on bated breath as he looks at you. (or maybe that was just your ego getting to your head.)

you twirl your racket one more time and let it clatter to the ground. the sound reverberates in the now completely-silent space, as the miyas are frozen in place as they scan your every move.

heads.

you look at atsumu, and mustering up all the confidence from your inebriated system, you reach your hand up to lightly hold his jawline. his skin under your fingertips runs soft as you dare to start leaning in closer, and closer, and at the moment your lips brush the slightest bit, you feel his breath hitch.

for a second, you reconsider if now was the time to settle into desire, if this may all just wind up being a big mistake–

but then atsumu quickly gets fed up, and he finally closes the gap between you. before you know it, your eyes flutter closed as you get lost in how his mouth feels on yours. his kiss is relentless, leaving no room for you to catch your breath as he constantly makes sure you can feel as much of him against your lips as you can. it's like he doesn't want you thinking about anything but him, not on his watch.

yeah, this is definitely not a mistake.

after a few moments, you hear shuffling and the bench creaks under a new weight on your left, and suddenly you feel a hand on your left thigh–osamu's, no doubt.

you carefully pull back from you and atsumu's kiss, catching how atsumu's eyes remain lidded as his body involuntarily tries chasing after you, both of you letting out soft pants to try and breathe in much-needed air.

you turn your head to face osamu, and you follow how his eyes trace over your face and his teeth subtly gnaws at the inside of his bottom lip in an anxious state of anticipation. you take it as your sign to start leaning in towards him–your fingers still lingering on atsumu's face as you do so.

osamu's kiss is much softer, but deliberate nonetheless. he isn't afraid of pulling back a little bit, but it isn't long before he takes the initiative to gently trap your bottom lip between his teeth now and then, forcing content sighs out of you–this in itself almost eggs him on further to toy with you more.

and then the skin under your right hand's finger tips disappears, a pair of lips start to kisses your jaw, and a pair of hands starting to wander along the right side of your body.

now both miyas are all over you, their possessive hands almost competing in grasping at more of you than the other. that, combined with the feeling of lips on yours at the same time as lips trailing along the side of your neck, made your head buzz.

you felt giddy–you've only ever seen them playing on the same side of the court. but right now, they were opponents, but instead of fighting over some glass trophy or medal, they were trying to win your attention.

finally needing air, you pull away from osamu. when you open your eyes to see his face, his lips are swollen and even in the dark of night you can catch a glimpse of his pupils appear blown out.

those same eyes flick over to glance at his brother on your right, and before you can follow his gaze, osamu's going in for the left side of your neck.

in the dark you can feel every touch–two varying paces of lips working against your skin, bleached and dyed hair brushing along the underside of your jaw. there's hands on your thighs, hands on your waist, hands peeking just under the hem of your shirt, hands threading through their blonde and grey hair–

your phone starts to ring.

"oh shit–" you quickly stand up from between them, stumbling a little from the imbalance that comes with your current tipsy state. you feel around for your phone on the ground and by the time you locate it among the mess of duffels and rackets and empty bottles, you see a missed call and texts from a member of your team. they're wondering where you were, and telling you to wrap up and head to bed if you haven't already.

"s-sorry," you stutter out at the two boys, picking up your racket from where you left it on the ground and fumbling with the strap of your duffel, "i gotta go–thanks for... the drinks."

and all osamu and atsumu can do is dumbly nod as you leave them at the bench–lips slightly parted and hair messes, with star-stuck looks from them that you've grown quite accustomed to.

🗒⋆ *. ୨୧⋆｡ taglist (2/30 at the time of publishing) : @zumicho , @liillyliilly (just send me an ask if you’re interested! xx)

💭ˎˊ˗ " you find this recipe card stashed away with three tickets to the movie challengers in a random drawer of the kitchen " ˚ ༘ 🎾 *｡𖦹⋆｡˚

forty, love … ₍ᐢ..ᐢ₎ ᯓ★ a tennis au! miya atsumu x gn reader x miya osamu series

꒰ there’s a constant back-and-forth in tennis. the in-between doesn’t matter. what does matter is if you can keep up when opportunity comes your way, to get your way. to be the winner. ꒱

details : long form, based on the movie challengers!!!, NO MIYACEST HERE, atsumu x y/n & osamu x y/n are like separate things even if the twins are competing for y/n's attention at first, fluff, but then just so much angst, lowk highkey toxic, infidelity, mentions of struggling with mental health (self-pressure), mentions of drinking, several suggestive scenes!, each part starts off in present day but then goes into a flashback in time, ambiguous ending! (just come along for the ride, would'ya?)

ᯓᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹ masterlist

– part one。

– part two。 *

– part three。 *

– part four。 *

– part five。 *

( * suggestive )

💭ˎˊ˗ " ingredients for this recipe : sneakers squeaking on tennis courts , summer sun blanketing everything in neon hues , the scent of expensive cologne , the twinkle of shiny trophies and recognitions , slightly see - through sweaty polo shirts , the ruffling of duffels and the ruffling of clothes , sweat dripping down your temples to smirking lips ... - ro ♡ "

🗒⋆ *. ୨୧⋆｡ taglist (2/30) : @zumicho , @liillyliilly (just send me an ask if you’re interested! xx)

tune in to forty, love part 3 if you want some real drama 😭🙏 bc my god is it getting messy

  tough as nails ᵕ̈       boyfie!msby boys       x nail tech!gn reader ˎˊ˗

⋮⋮ ˒ ₍ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 𖥻 ⿻ : when you want ⋮⋮  to practice some designs ⋮⋮  and they volunteer them- ⋮⋮  selves as your test dummy !

📋 content     ♡ # 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧 🐮     ♡ # 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘴 🥛     ♡ # 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘴 🥛     ♡ # ~2.5𝘬 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴

🧸 directory  ‹ ✩  like what you read ? check out more of my blog !  •ᴗ•

💬 kuroppiii  ─ “ ik that ' s not really the context of the saying in the title but i couldn ' t think of anything else ! nail pics as with all my other header pics are from pinterest <3 also lmk if you want to see more characters for this prompt bc highkey i loveee looking through nail designs lol ”

︴hinata shōyō ․﹒∗*○․﹒✧∘° 

this is not this man's first time around some nail polish

natsu used to paint his nails all the time, so he’s so down!

big color inspo from the colors of a classic blue and yellow mikasa volleyball because of his love for the sport (obvi)

howeverrr switching out the yellow for a bit more of an orange hue to go with his hair <3

also!!! some tropical floral designs as an homage to his time in brazil

a super fun vibe for a bright and go-lucky guy :)

when you first take his hand in yours, the tips of his ears start to redden a little bit

"hey shō are your ears alright–?" [you]

"your hands are so soft." [hinata]

"okay, shō." [you] (totally not fighting back a smile)

he's held your hand countless times but for some reason this–you holding his hand so gently and focusing in on it as you start prepping his nail beds–feels so much more intimate

seeing your face as you're so focused on him and his hands makes him blush lowk but good thing you're looking down and can't see how flustered he obviously is

like for someone so talkative, he's silent and almost as attentive as you the whole time and he's not even the one doing the work

you also notice he holds his breath every time you make the nail polish make contact with his nails until you finally lift back up CUTIEEE

“love, you know you can breathe, right?” [you]

“i don’t want to mess you up though! you’re doing so great by the way, babe.” [hinata]

cups your face when his nails are finally set and dry and you can see his eyes dart between your facial features and his nails contrasting against your skin and his smile gets bigger in real time

then he gives you a biggg kiss as a thank you for your hard work

definitely goes to every one of his teammates in the msby locker room his next practice to show them the nails

on tvs, cellphones, laptops and countless other kinds of screens everywhere: the camera following the msby jackals' game whips around to land their sights on hinata shōyō.

ten seconds remain on the clock. the jackals are behind their opponents by the most miniscule handful of points. in a last-ditch effort, atsumu's in place, and in a matter of seconds hinata is already high in the air.

the ball is met with a collision from the redhead's hand and quickly surpasses any of the opposition's lines of defense. an abrasive buzzer blares throughout the area and the msby jackals all start to jump onto one another with screams and yells and high fives in celebration.

"another excellent shot by hinata! what a way for the jackals to clutch this game folks!" a commentator excitedly blabbers.

"let's take another look at that one, shall we?" another accompanying commentator beckons.

time slows on screen during the instant replay–from the moment hinata gets in front of the net, to the moment his feet leave the ground, and especially as his arm is reeled back moments before the winning shot.

the camera takes the liberty of zooming in on hinata’s hand then. it captures the precise moment when his purest love and energy for volleyball surges through his body. the unseen electricity has ricocheted throughout him to finally trail up to his fingertips, adorned with colors that showcase the blend of his identity with the same ball his skin almost adoringly caresses for a second in the eyes on the slow-mo cam footage.

blue and yellow, blue and orange side-by-side in front of thousands and millions of eyes to witness as the ninja shōyō’s manicured hand follows through and pushes that volleyball past the net to bring his team to victory.

︴sakusa kiyoomi ․﹒∗*○․﹒✧∘° 

as babygirl as sakusa kiyoomi is, black’s just really his vibe i think

not on like some emo shit but the black would go really well with not only his hair but his iconic beauty marks above his eye

speaking of his hair, the cyber tribal chrome kind of sitch kinda alludes to his curls :0

i mean to the rest of the world he’s this stoic and serious guy all the time

but they don't see how he looks at you while you paint the finer details on his nails

or the subtle and soft dopey smile he’s got on as he asks you in lovestruck whispers about your technique, how work's going, what materials you use, etc.

"and... what's this for now?" [sakusa]

"it's to make sure your nails stay nice and strong for whenever you hit your incredible spikes, omi." [you]

"oh, that's definitely important. wouldn't want to skip that." [sakusa] (before you laugh at his little joke and his heart skips a beat and he gives you a quick kiss on the top of your head as you continue to work)

once the nails are finished, he goes to look at them with his fingers clawed–boyishly characteristic of a dude who's never gotten his nails done like this before

you can't help but laugh and he asks what's wrong

"what do you mean i'm looking at them weird?" [sakusa]

"your hands look like when you posed with the msby jackal mascot that one time." [you]

"how else am i supposed to look at them?" [sakusa]

you demonstrate how people normally check out their nails at the salon

and then it delves into a mini hand modeling lesson and many, many, giggles between the two of you as he tries to figure it out

you end up with some new reference pics of his set for any of your future clients, what a supportive boyfriend!

a certain photo is going viral as it makes its rounds online. the photographer who took it had to have known they struck gold capturing this certain moment, and the racking number of likes and comments are only affirmations of that.

it's a professional shot of sakusa kiyoomi mid-game. late-game, actually, as its evident though the state of his appearance in the picture.

visible droplets dot his face and figure, giving his skin and curly hair a certain sheen that proves the dedication he puts into every one of the msby jackals' games. to combat the sweat that's accumulated on himself, it seems like sakusa had absentmindedly reached for the edge of his jersey to act as a substitute for a towel in that particular moment (his expression is clearly focused on nothing but what might've been happening next on the other side of the court net). the muscles that adorn his torso peek out from the action.

and on top of it all–the sweat, the abs, the way the rest of the jersey clings to the rest of his body–the subtle chrome detailing of his nails stand out where his hand tugs the fabric to wipe at the bottom of his face...

and you hadn't even really caught on to this picture online yourself. the only reason you went to look it up for yourself was because of the influx of work emails you had received since the jackals' last win.

the public was vaguely aware you specialized in cosmetics, as sakusa had alluded to now and then in press conferences and interviews. however, it wasn't really until people online started to wonder where your boyfriend got these nails from did google's reverse-image search bring them to the pictures on your profile that you and sakusa took post- his manicure.

to say your clientele grew overnight, would be quite the understatement.

︴miya atsumu ․﹒∗*○․﹒✧∘° 

ik the picture is a bit blurry but PLEASE stick with me here yall 🙏 HEAR ME OUT

heavy on that barbie ken atsumu sort of agenda

you ask if he had any colors in mind

and he’s like "y'know what? fuck it. go big or go home."

he knows people might shit on him for having his nails done at his next game so yeah get the most stereotypically “feminine” color you got–just to mess with whatever losers might whine about it

“but... do ya think pink would look good on me y/n?” [atsumu] (AND HE'S KIND OF SHY WHEN HE'S ASKING YOU)

"OF COURSE IT WOULD BABY??" [you]

as you're ducked down working, he misses seeing your face

so he cranes his neck and looks up at you from where his hands are

"hey baby, funny seeing you here." [atsumu]

"tsumu, stay still!" [you]

"sorry angel, just missed lookin' at ya." [atsumu]

in that position, he loves the feeling of you holding his hands and the sensation of the nail polish brush against the top of his fingers so much, that he semi-falls asleep against his forearm as you wrap up

he just feels so much at peace <3

and when you’re done he is definitely giving ken, and that his job is volleyball

and tbh i hc his hair post timeskip isn’t so much piss yellow as ppl joke it was while he was at inarizaki

but that if he stuck through with keeping it blonde for so long he eventually managed to get it professionally done, and with some GODDAMN TONER 😭

i think it’s like a brassy sort of blonde

which looks perfect as an accent to the nails

like pop off regina george!!!!

something endearing about your loving atsumu is he never fails to get you the best seats in the arena whenever you come watch the msby jackals play.

from front row, you can see everything, and in so much detail—the action, the sweat, the tears that goes into each and every matchup the team faces. truly, the experience was leagues above settling for a closer look on any big screen or arena jumbotron. everything was just so much clearer!

but most importantly, you can see your boyfriend. very clearly.

so clearly, in fact, that after a particular great serve to bokuto for a spike that earned the jackals yet another point, you have the luxury of soaking in all the glowing details of atsumu in his element.

the way he clutches his strong fists and yells with joy at the small win, a bit of pink peeking out from the insides of his palms.

how his hands clap and grasp at the hands of his teammates in quick celebratory high-fives that leave streaky blurs of pink trailing behind his excited movements.

when his hand quickly drags over his smiling and glistening face, before carding through his hair—small pink detailings disappearing and reappearing amidst the blonde strands that rest on the top of his head.

by the time all the players on the court are settled back into their places for when the moment the ball will be up in the air once again—anticipation pulsing on both sides of the net—you can even catch as atsumu quickly glances at his nails with a small, blink-and-you’d-miss-it smile.

thankfully, your top-tier seat allows you to catch it. and although he’s smiling at his hands, you know that it’s for your work and by extension, it’s all love for you in that split second before your boyfriend has to lock in again.

when the next ball is served, you find yourself almost falling out of your chair from how far you’re leaning forward to take in as much of your great view as possible.

︴bokuto kōtarō ․﹒∗*○․﹒✧∘° 

MISMATCH IS A MUST

you say the few designs you want to try out and ask him which one you can try on him and he just goes: ALL OF THEM!

(he knows it’ll take longer to do with all the different elements, but that just means he gets to stare at you for longer as you work)

"are you sure? i mean, do you have a color you want in particular? i can tweak them so they all have the same palette." [you]

"nope! cover me with whatever your beautiful mind is envisioning!" [bokuto] (he's jutting his fingers out in front of you and wiggling them around with the biggest grin on his face)

these nails also just fits him as a person because he’s super all over the place and spontaneous so it works it JUST WORKS OK

plus his hair’s literally greyish whitish so it’s like a perfect neutral and blank canvas to accent the color palette

it's one thing having him sit still for an extended amount of time, but having you this close? right in front of him?

how is he not supposed to give your lips a quick kiss now and then

BUT!!! he always goes to double check he didn't mess up the nails every time he pulls back

"kō, the nails are fine! you didn't even move your hands, you're just moving your head to kiss me, silly." [you]

"just making sure, babe! i know this stuff takes a lot of work. plus, i can't really think of what else is happening when i'm kissing you, really." [bokuto] (already going in for another kiss)

you can see in the corner of your eye as you work on your designs that bokuto's nose scrunches up now and then

it's because he's not used to the smell of the nail products you're using

upon completing the whole nail set, he concludes it’s legitimately one of THE COOLEST THINGS anyone’s ever fucking done for him

doesn’t stop staring at his hands in a little bit of awe even after you’re done and chilling on the living room couch, completely oblivious to what's going on on the tv in front of you two

the crowd is going absolutely ballistic. the jackals are in the lead. and your boyfriend, the bokuto kōtarō is up and about to serve.

you watch the arena's big teleprompter with the rest of the spectators as the cameras pan to bokuto.

he has that look on his face–confident and happy playing the sport that runs through his veins. his hand crashes down onto the ball once. wham!

twice. blam!

when the ball comes back up, he grips it between his hands. it's evident even through the screen how his arms tense and pulse. it's like he's revving up.

as everyone hangs off the edge of their seats and keep their eyes glued in anticipation to the broadcasting of bokuto holding that unmistakable combo of blue and yellow–it's impossible to ignore how the ends of his hands glint and reflect the bright overhead lights.

colors of all kinds twitch in excitement against the leather and the star player quickly glances down at the ball, sure, but most definitely also at the intricate art you so graciously blessed his nails with. bokuto's lips crack a smile.

then he's tossing the volleyball up. a loud and powerful smack reverberates throughout the arena. in the blink of an eye the ball whizzes past two of the opposite team's players and the crowd explodes once again as the ball is now rolling on the outskirts of the court across the net.

your boyfriend's chest swells with pride, and his carefully manicured finger darts to point over you in the stands. you cheer even louder for him as he beams a tooth-filled smile your way.

💬 kuroppiii  ─ “ oh and i forgot to point out that most of these designs are short and with minimal charms so they don't get in the way of a volleyball player ' s , well ... volleyball playing ! short nail - ers rise up ! ”

This was so well written!! I love this a little too much😭

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧’𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧’𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 [ miya atsumu x f!reader ]

word count : 2k // notes: no warnings just me having a crush on atsumu <3

“Are you still single?”

It was an overused taunt between the both of you.

Miya Atsumu, the nation’s bachelor’s twin brother had recently proposed to his girlfriend and so he and his bride had hired you to ensure their wedding day would be perfect.

“And who are you to say that, Miya-san?” You smile, swiping your journal with all of your plans away from his sweaty hold.

He sticks his tongue out when you laugh in triumph.

Each of his friends had fallen into the curse of matrimony—as Atsumu would call it.

His teammates from Inarizaki, from MSBY, down to the national team, and even his rivals have all settled down and some of them even had the “privilege” of having children.

He had attended the majority of the weddings as the best man—being the constant single friend; and you had attended all as their wedding planner and that was how you met the ever so charming Miya Atsumu.

“What’s the excuse this time? Commitment issues? You know... you should probably be planning your own wedding soon, Y/N.” He smiles, playing with the nameplate on your desk. “We’re not getting any younger.”

“I don’t really see the need to get married. Commitment isn’t a joke, Miya-san—“

“Miya-san is my father, just call me Atsumu.”

“I like my job, Miya-san.” You flip through the demands of the couple. They wanted fancy but simple, memorable but special, a garden theme sounded nice but having the reception at a beach wouldn’t hurt, Elegant but hints of youth would be nice.

That was as far as their requests went. The rest was up to the both of you.

Being a good friend of the bride and as the wedding planner, you had the duty of making their day perfect to suit both of their interests.

As the brother of the groom, Atsumu was left in your care to help you out—a request from the engaged couple.

Their special day rested in both of your hands.

Atsumu fumbles with his phone. “I’m just saying, most girls at our age tend to worry about settling down. And we’ve had at least seventeen weddings together in the last six years, right? Seven of them, I was the best man—not that I’m counting or anything.”

He miscounted.

The both of you had seen each other at nineteen weddings total and at every wedding since the third, you would taunt each other regarding your relationship status.

He charmed a bridesmaid or cousin from two of those events but declined their company, danced on one of the tables two weddings ago and Osamu had to bring him down. He cried five weddings prior to this one because that wedding was where his first love married someone else that wasn’t him.

Rumors said he had been sleeping around since then—Atsumu would leave an indefinite and open response but his brother, Osamu, would oppose to say that Atsumu wasn’t the type to do so; and who better to believe than his own twin?

Despite all those times you mentioned you hated seeing his face at all those weddings, the fondness in your eyes reserved for him (and only him) would say otherwise.

When you’re about to lose your mind, he was always there to rescue you and take you away for a bit. Whenever one of the plans goes wrong, he somehow helps you come up with an alternative thanks to his connections.

He was spontaneous yet reliable and you loved having him around.

And his signature cocky grin just made you just want to kiss the corners of his lips.

With a lazy yet cocky smile, Atsumu pocketed his phone. “Why don’t we get married next? That way you can finally plan the wedding of your dreams.”

“No thank you, do you have any idea how expensive weddings are?” You answered rather too fast.

“Money won’t be a concern with me.”

“It’s still a no.”

“Suit yourself.”

Five weddings ago—the same one where he cried his heart out, you slept with Atsumu Miya. The moment his warm hands pressed themselves onto your hips almost like a cry for help, you foolishly allowed him to have his way with you. He wreaked of tears, chardonnay and red wine, cologne from Ralph Lauren, and caramel tarts that night.

There was something about the way he whispered your name instead of hers like a prayer, how he carefully undressed you and looked at you like you were everything he wanted, how his feverish yet impatient touch burned on your skin, how his tongue felt and tasted like caramel against yours, or how he kissed you and said that he loved you.

You left immediately after he passed out on the pale white sheets of the hotel bed.

“Are you still single?” Atsumu’s habitual greeting came as he swung the door to your office open.

“As are you.” You click the pen in your hand while you try to imagine a layout for the ceremony. “The groom wanted something traditional and his bride wanted something modern… I’m thinking of gray satin—“

“This isn’t the first time we worked together, right?” He immediately plops himself down on the couch of your office. From where he sat, he could see fabric samples scattered and pinned on a desk, three whiteboards that blocked the windows full of table arrangements for the reception at a garden, contact numbers listed and posted all over your window.

It was messy—but you had a system.

“No it isn’t.” You look back at him. Miya Atsumu looked so unbelievably handsome you couldn’t help but stare. He was dressed in a white tee and jeans, it was a simple outfit yet his top accentuated his broad chest and shoulders and the jeans around his thighs—

“The first was at Oikawa’s wedding or was it at Bokuto’s or Hinata’s?”

“No it was at Bokuto’s and then at Hinata’s, then it was at Oikawa’s”

He laughed, remembering how stressed you were handling all those events in a span of a year.

( He wonders if you ever took breaks. You rarely asked for help and never brought your personal life onto the table—Atsumu knew so little about you. )

You wave your hand in front of his face and mention that he was aggressively staring off into the void—too intense for your liking. It was like he was plotting a murder or something.

He then ponders about a life with you.

The nation’s best wedding planner and the nation’s eligible and most desired bachelor? That would certainly be a headline or a cover for a magazine.

Would you soon be wearing that navy blue dress from five weddings ago? The very dress he had given you as a gift as a thank you for making his friends happy?

A smile pulled at his lips, remembering how you teared up in gratitude when he managed to pull some strings and hired another media crew to document the wedding when the one you hired decided to back out on you six hours before the event.

They owed him a favor and he wanted to help you.

When you called him your hero and embraced him so tightly that day, he swore his heart stopped.

He wanted you to look at him like that again; seeing as how exhausted you tend to be when planning these events, you most probably needed a partner to help you out. If he had to stop volleyball, perhaps he could run this business with you—if you would allow it.

“Miya and Miya’s Wedding Planning Service.” Atsumu grins to himself and locks eyes with you. “How does that sound to you?”

“If you and your brother are planning to buy my business from me, it’s not happening.”

“Oh, I was thinking of Miya,” Atsumu’s palm rests on top of his chest. “And Miya.” He then gestures over to you—fingers in your direction and palm facing upward.

A proposal.

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion with a tinge of shock, feeling your cheeks burning. “What are you talking about—“

“Just painting a picture.” He leaned into the cushions of your couch. “It looks… less lonely and I see two happy people. What do you see?” There was a sound of an object breaking—or rather, crunching, behind him.

“Not a lot without my glasses.”

The professional athlete fished said object from the cushions and promised to buy you a new pair.

You waved it off.

One minute your face was so close to shriveling like a pathetic raisin within the walls of your office from stress, the next it was relishing in the soft breeze of the beach.

“What do you think?” Atsumu rolls the cuffs of his jeans above his ankles. “They loved driving to this spot every summer. This was where my brother and his girlfriend had their last date.”

He passes you the umbrella and dashes into the water, laughing like a child’s first time on the beach.

“Before he proposed?” The sand crunches under your toes, tailing after him.

The resort nearby was owned by one of your cousins—it would make a great location for the reception.

“I think so.” He splashes the seawater your way and invites you to join him in the water. ( You didn’t have the energy to scold him for dampening the cover of your planner. )

You’ve seen him play on the court before. The way the lights would give him some sort of halo, his sweat glistening on his skin, the triumphant grin on his lips, the way his muscles tensed, his sharp eyes...

But to see him underneath the bright afternoon sun—it was different. Atsumu and the beach were a terrific mix. He was beautiful.

Atsumu was reliable, gentle when he wanted to be, a little crass and informal at times, judges characters without hesitation, inviting, endearing, warm, smelled like autumn, safe and whatnot. There was just something alluring about him.

Setting your shoes and planner next to his, you roll up your slacks just below your knees.

The setter beams and cheers when you step into the waters and approach him. His hand was outstretched for you to take which you timidly did.

“We could have the wedding here.” He glances at the waves foaming on the sand. ( It takes him a moment to remember he was there for his brother’s wedding and not his future one. ) “The bride really loves beaches so I believe we’d get plus points for having it here.“ He continues to ramble on about the possible arrangements.

And then it finally settles in you—you like him... a lot.

“I didn’t think wedding planning with you was going to be entertaining.” He squeezes your hands and softly places his lips on the curves of your knuckles. “You know, my offer for Miya and Miya’s Wedding Planning Service is still open.”

And it honestly doesn’t sound so bad...

Thirty hours until the wedding.

Everything was in place, all toxic invited guests were eliminated, never went above the budget, the bride is excited to officially wear her gown and change her surname, the groom is shaking in anxiety and finally got the acceptance of his father-in-law-to-be, none of the hired staff and crew looked like they were going to back out anytime soon...

Both parties were planning to celebrate the day before the wedding and you were planning to get some rest before you were going to be overwhelmed with pressure and stress that will come in the next couple of hours.

Seven months of stressing over the pressure, planning, calls, negotiations, and connections finally paid off.

Atsumu had other plans though—he wasn’t interested drowning in blinding lights and beer that day. Leaving his brother with his peers, the setter had asked you if it was alright to see you.

How could you ever oppose?

The same taunting greeting came as soon as you both locked eyes but this time, there was a hint of hope in his tone. “Are you still single?”

“Who’s asking?” You lean on your doorframe.

“Me.” He shoves his hands in his pockets—his eyes admiring every inch of your face. “So... will you be wearing the same navy blue dress you wore five weddings ago? That pretty velvet one... the one I gave you.”

“Are we going to keep asking questions—wait what?” Your stomach twists in shock. Navy blue dress? Five weddings ago? Does he actually remember what happened?

“I wasn’t drunk that night and neither were you.” Atsumu rubs the back of his neck, processing the mixed emotions on your face. “I don’t regret it, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Atsumu, were you planning to match with me tomorrow?” You could not help but smile at the way the tips of his ears burned red.

“I was.”

“Navy blue is not part of the palette, remember?”

“It should have been.”

His lips tasted like cherries that afternoon.

A FISH OUT OF WATER ┊ MIYA ATSUMU

synopsis: you are his constant in a life shaped by an ever changing element. he wants you. but you are the most oblivious creature he has ever met.

tags: GN reader, merfolk au, merman atsumu, human reader, childhood friends to lovers, fluff, falling in love, courting behaviours, obliviousness, cultural differences, first kisses, getting together

wc: 3.5K

↱ written for the mermay collab hosted by the teahouse server ↲

As a child Atsumu never understood other finfolks fascination with humans, good or bad. Ma was never reluctant to explain, rather, he just didn’t care to ask. There were far more important things to do in the reef. Like hunting shelled crabs, riding the currents, and eating oysters so he could spit pearls at his brother's head until he gave chase.

But three moons before his twelfth birthday, he found you.

Suspended in the water, bubbles dwindling around your frame as the fight bled from your muscles. You sank into a lifeless repose. A human. Small, smaller than him. Thoughts whirring to a stop, his mind blanked, and his tail propelled him forward in a blink.

You were light in his arms at first. Breaching the surface had been the scary part. Worse then, as he needed to drag you up onto the shore where he could be seen. The section of beach close by was secluded. Shielded by large rocks, tide pools formed in the crevices. Atsumu deposited you onto the sand, hissing at the tides that crawled behind and splashed at your chin as if to scold them.

You convulsed and curled in onto yourself like the tiny dumbo octopus that lived in the crevasse near his home. Water spurted from your nose and mouth. It gathered in the corners of your eyes and rolled down your cheeks. Atsumu stared as you wailed and felt his own tumultuous emotions swell dramatically. Restless under his skin was the urge to calm you. To comfort you. But he had never been any good at that kind of thing.

So he reached out to pat your leg. It was covered in clumps of sand. Your shorts and shirt were drenched, and one of your feet had lost a flip flop. Then he repeated what Ma always told him, “Don’t worry, guppy. I’m here”.

That distracted you enough that your attention fell on him. Your immediate petrified screech reverberated harshly in his sensitive ears, both pressed flat to his head as he hissed and squirmed further back into the ocean to escape the sound.

“A—A monster! Get away!”

An odd sense of vulnerability washed over him. Embarrassment, shame, anger. At that moment, Atsumu decided all his assumptions must have been correct. You were clearly a few fish short of a shoal. “M’not a monster,” he’d shouted back, fins flared irritably. “Be grateful I saved yer life, Ugly! Ugly, ugly, ugly!”

Your face scrunched up at the insults, covered in salt water, tears and bile. A dull ache struck against his skull, hard and sudden. You had kicked him in the head and ran away.

Osamu laughed at the mark upon his return. Atsumu endured, kept his mouth shut and resolved never to go back to the surface. Ever! But curiosity still drew him back the next morning. And the next. Every day he checked, you were there, standing awkwardly on the beach and squinting at the horizon. Searching.

Ma’s voice echoed through his thoughts while he hid from view. Atsumu was great at lots of things. Loads better than Osamu. Racing, hunting, splitting shells, tying knots, playing ball. Not so great at making friends. Try to meet ‘em where they’re at, she said. Smile. Be nice. Find what they like and ask about it.

When he finally plucked the courage to make his presence known you’d been back in the tide pools. The ends of your shirt pulled out to hold all the shells you were collecting, heavily weighing on the wet fabric. A few tumbled down as you crouched to pick up a limpet, mouth curling into a pleased grin. Limpets are boring, he thought. And an idea struck.

Diving lower, Atsumu combed through the sand and seaweed until he spotted an iridescent spiral of orange and purple. The snail went helplessly as he clasped it between his webbed fingers, shooting for the rocks. You were still there, filling the silence with a directionless hum.

Atsumu broke the surface quietly. Enough distance between that you could not kick him again. “Hey!” he called, hands thrusted out toward you, head already turned toward his shoulder to brace for another scream. “Got a snail. Wanna see?”

Nothing came. He hadn’t realised how much your acceptance meant to him until then—when you crouched excitedly close by, unheeding of the tide soaking you further, and gasped as he presented the gift. Relief burst in his chest, warm and tingly to the tips of his fins at the careful prodding of your fingers to the creature in his palms; so intense that a wave of luminescence washed through his scales.

“I was looking for you,” you later admitted, voice softened in apology. “Thank you for saving me. I’m sorry I kicked you and called you mean things”.

Atsumu detailed the slight pout to your lips. Knees shifting in the sand. Eyes wide, gleaming hopefully as you waited for his reply. Something fluttered in his stomach the longer you looked at him. Horrified, the longer he looked back, the more it dawned on him that you were not ugly at all.

“Good. So y’should be,” he grumbled, smacking his tail up onto the shore. Heat blotched across his cheeks when you glanced at it in awe. Timid, he added, “…S’fine though. Didn’t hurt”.

Smiling gleefully at that as his gaze darted back and forth, you held out your pinky and promised to always be his friend.

Time elapsed. Seasons passed. No longer a juvenile, his colours started to come into full bloom. Rich gold around his hips and waist, tapering into black toward his large ruffled tail fin. Even his hair lightened as he took to adulthood. After his twentieth birthday the months seemed to come and go faster than he liked. You were his one constant in a life shaped by an ever changing element. Atsumu’s blatant affection for you remained his worst kept secret but none of the finfolk scorned him for it.

Osamu’s steadfast teasing was the only downside. Offhanded or feigning disinterest, he’d always ask, “What d’you keep doing up there?”

Atsumu bounced a hard clam off his brother’s thick skull, “Nothin’. Told’ya a million times, I just like the surface”.

“Uh-huh. Does the ‘surface’ in question happen ta’ have a name and a pulse?”

“You’ll soon have neither if you don’t shut yer trap, ‘Samu!”

Summer comes along and once again, Atsumu decides to remain in the reef. There’s a new den for him in the alcove, carved out from the outcropping of rock with his own hands, right next to a dense forest of kelp. The afternoon sun filters through it in rays as the currents shift, dewy light dancing on the walls.

Two years he has been eligible to migrate and find a mate. This will make it his second absence from the celebrations. Ma never pushed him despite the worry written plain on her face. Osamu only pinned him with a knowing look as he went. It will be the longest they’ve been apart from one another and he doesn’t like it.

Realistically he still could have attended—should have, maybe, lest the other pods find his refusal disrespectful. But Astumu had no compulsion to go. The very idea of leaving you threw his instincts into high gear and he needed to race the currents just to calm the urgency wracking his bones. Because somewhere amidst the years spent with you he became aware of the voice clamoring in the back of his head. One that had been growing in intensity for some time, but hadn't been quite as loud as it was until the elders advised him to take a partner.

You were his mate.

Atsumu had been subconsciously courting you since you were children. Bringing you food and gifts, letting his display scales flash lurid in your presence. He kept guard as you slept on the sand, picked the seaweed and dirt from your hair, swam in synchrony with you when the tides were calm, wrapping your legs around his tail until you become a knot of a person. In hindsight, it was embarrassingly obvious—

Yet you are still blissfully oblivious to it, and that nags at him like nothing else.

Raking claw tipped fingers through his hair, Atsumu paces the length of his den with thoughts of how to be more deliberate in his courtship. Human relationships were complex—purposefully difficult, in some cases. You might respond better if he simply confessed what his intentions were.

You’ve promised to come by the cove as soon as you’re free today. Adulthood came with plenty of changes for you as well as him. You have to work more than he likes. It means less time together; hours spent with other people, any of which could stake their own claim and take you from his reach.

Agitated, Atsumu darts to the surface the instant the sky settles into evening. The sun spreads a blush across the ocean’s surface, tepid but pleasant when it kisses his cheeks. Your distant figure is climbing over the rock formations with careful movements. At first he lingers in the deeper water, submerged below the nose to watch like he used to all those years ago.

“‘Tsumu!” arms high in the air, you wave and bounce on the balls of your feet when you spot him. Lazily, he rides the small wave that floods onto the shelf you are standing on, arms folding on the craggy surface to keep his upper half above water.

There’s a bag over your shoulder. It drops low with the weight it carries. “Look what the tide dragged in,” you let the bag drop, contents half spilling out across the floor. Familiar things. Suncream, bottled water, a change of clothes. Your foot comes to rest atop the worn volleyball as it rolls toward the edge, flinching when he splashes at you in retaliation. “You’re here earlier than usual. Did’ya miss me?”

Atsumu bobs, eyes rolling. “Was too busy making up my new den to think twice about’cha, sunshine,” he cracks a grin. You bat at the hand that threatens to circle around your ankle as you lower yourself to sit on the shelf’s edge, legs swinging over the depths.

“All grown up and living on your own now,” you pat his head in what is intended to be condescension but only ends up conveying fondness for him as your fingernails scratch gently at his scalp. “Proud of you”.

“Stupid,” he mumbles, tipping into the touch without shame as he bobs in the water. Peeking up at you through the hair drying unruly over his eyes his heart sits prominent at the back of his throat. You’re in your swimsuit under your clothes again, he notices. “Ya gonna get in with me today?”

“Planned on it,” you replied coyly. Atsumu inhales deeply. Gills flutter. He feels his fins flare around his hips and smothers the need to hide himself, nudging his cheek to your bare thigh. A beat passes and your smile dims somewhat, “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy lately, ‘Tsumu”.

He rumbles his disapproval. Turning to nose at the skin there, Atsumu loosens his jaw and gently pincers your flesh between his teeth. Just enough to serve as a warning. The muscle and sinew remains relaxed despite it all, entirely sure he wouldn’t hurt you.

A heavy warmth drapes over his being at the heat, blood and beating heart echoing through your veins. “Gross,” you say without malice, flicking his temple at the lave of his tongue over your nonexistent wound.

“Ugly,” he returns, affectionate cadence unrestrained. You temper a smirk, kicking water his way as you tug your t-shirt over your head. Atsumu sinks into the sea’s cool embrace while you undress. Years ago you would have shied away from his blatant staring.

You’re welcoming to the arms that circle your waist as you turn to lower your body into the water. Atsumu doesn’t need to hold you up anymore, not like when you were young and easily drawn into the stronger currents, but he does so regardless. It earns him a soft huff, and a weak protest that is patently for show, but you let him.

A pleased sound vibrates in his throat before he can bite it back. You’re truly the softest thing he has ever laid hands on. Your fingers trail along his biceps, tracing the scales decorating his shoulders. Bioluminescence pulses through them with a shudder and you laugh at him, though not unkindly, “You’re lookin’ a lot brighter lately”.

Your ignorance is a blessing sometimes. Hiding his face in your hair his tail undulates and pushes your entwined bodies back toward the reef. Pride swells as your thighs cinch around his hips. The tides break around you, paving a pathway of foam from the shore to the corals. Below are vibrant formations, each unique and intricate, shelter for shoals of fish darting from the shadows stretching across on the seabed.

“Hey… can I ask you something?”

“Just did,” Atsumu snarks reflexively. You tighten your hold around his neck, leaning back to glare at him. You are about as intimidating as a sea bunny. He hums, “Alright, I’ll bite. What is it?”

Something flits across your features. Hesitance, maybe. Then your anxieties are spilling out into the open, “Why’d you split off from your group? Are they mad at you or something? If it’s because of me—”

Words stutter into a pitched plea for mercy when he pointedly tucks his chin to suck a mouthful of water into his cheeks. You flinch preemptively, throwing your hands up to your face. Atsumu holds a moment longer, pursing his lips as if readying to fire. You push at his chest in a fit of nervous laughter, “Okay, okay! I get it, it’s not my fault—don’t spray me!”

He doesn’t spit it at you. The seawater falls from his lips, trickles over his chin and returns to the tide. “Yer ability to overthink never fails to amaze me,” your breathing hitches as he brings your foreheads together. The flustered look you cast him makes him squeeze tighter, unwilling to let go. “They’ve gone to the mating grounds, that’s all. Figured it was as good’a time as any to find my own territory”.

You pause, a crease forming between your brows. “The mating grounds? You’ve never mentioned that before”.

Atsumu shrugs. The movement ripples out around you in broad rings. “Never needed to,” he says. “Wasn't important. M’here, aren’t I?”

“Why?” the pressure from your thighs lessens, just a fraction, but he’s already scrambling to cup the back of your knees and keep them there. You freeze. Scrutinising any minute change to his expression, eyes bright and flickering. Atsumu avoids your gaze with his inner cheek between his teeth. Slow, a smirk pulls at your lips. “Don’t tell me you’ve got no suitors”.

Atsumu chitters, displeased. You shouldn’t find the idea amusing. He wants you to hate it. Sulking, he says, “Glad ya think that’s funny”.

Your face falls, then. And you are seeking the strong grip he had on you before, clutching at his shoulders. Your hands slide carefully up the column of his neck, featherlight over his gills. A shiver breaks out across his skin as you take his face into your hands. “Hey, no. I didn’t mean—” you stop to sound a frustrated groan. “I didn’t mean it like that, ‘Tsumu. I just—I thought you were joking. Why wouldn’t a mer like you have everybody vying for your attention?”

His mouth shapes around a small ‘o’. Then it draws wide, crooked and teasing. “A mer like me, eh?” he echoes, slipping back from your grasp to circle you in the water as a thrilling static buzzed under his skin. Need grips him and hems his scales, saturating them with rich gold hues. “Like what?”

“Stop fishing for compliments, loser. You know,” you struggle to tread water and spin to track his circular motions, pushing a vindictive wave of water at him. “You’re the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen”.

The glow from his display is bleeding into the blue-green waters and attracting the attention of the reef dwellers but he’s too pleased to be mortified. He halts his stalking, crowding into your arms, “Y’think I’m—?!”

Your fingers thread into his hair. With all your might you dunk him under, cutting his sentence short as a wave rushes to fill the space in his open mouth. He laughs through the descent of your body, the force having pushed him low enough that he is facing your bare stomach. Remaining there, even as you relinquish your grip.

Other finfolk never really commented on his colouring. They hadn’t attempted to initiate courtship, either, not with his priorities elsewhere. You have praised his scales before but this feels different. In the context of being wanted—desired as a partner. Maybe it’s just pretty words. But you would not have submerged him in a fit of embarrassment if there weren’t some truth in it.

Fins vibrating eagerly, small trails of bubbles rise to the surface. You're patting at his arms now, worried why he won’t come up, expression distorted by the water. He sinks forward, face pressing up against your midriff. Your abdomen immediately clenches. Nails dig into the curve of his shoulder as he mouths at your sternum. Arms rise to wrap around your waist and your knees flank his ribs, squeezing tight.

A mer’s senses are that much sharper here. He feels your stuttered breath, hears your heartbeat quicken, smells the beginnings of arousal. It tastes like victory, overwhelming all rational thought. Head to tailfin his instincts are begging to drag you to his den and fuck you to sleep.

But he can’t. Not yet, and not the way he wants to.

Pushing into a soft, resting stomach, Atsumu takes a breath, shakes himself from his reverie and blows hard against the skin. You immediately convulse, trying to squirm out of his grasp. Overhead, your sweet laughter; muffled by the white noise around him but just as euphonious.

You’re panting when he finally resurfaces, your head tilted to keep your chin above water. The tide must be coming in. He supports you against his chest, making you a few inches taller. “You dickhead. Fishbrains,” you chide breathlessly, betrayed by the fond look in your eye. “Shit. Don’t do that again”.

“Mean. What happened to gorgeous?” Atsumu’s pout trembles, struggling to keep his amusement at bay.

“I'll take it back!”

“No take backsies,” he croons, nuzzling at your jawline. Dangerous. “Glad ya think I’m hot and all but that’s not the only part of courting. Like, proving yer able to take care of them. Hunting an’ preparing food. Presenting gifts. Helping them groom. Keeping guard. S’why it takes the whole summer”.

As he speaks a slither of dread settles heavy in his gut. The memories practically flit across your face, visibly connecting the dots. “But you’ve always done those things—” your voice loses strength, mouth opening and closing a few times before finishing, “for me…?”

The sky is bruised. Clouds have gathered by the cliffs, and the sun is almost tucked beneath the horizon, casting a final burst of orange across the glittering ocean’s surface. His display dims. “Yea’,” he clears his throat, summoning a playful tone, “Real sharp, angel. I sure know how to pick ‘em”.

Any confidence he had slips between his fingers like dry sand the longer the silence draws between you. A sad note catches in his throat. His gills twitch as he waits with bated breath. Warm, soft hands come to cradle his face. Your thumb sweeps gently back and forth beneath his eye.

You don’t laugh. You don’t even splash at him. Rather, reverently, you say “…‘Tsumu”.

He peers up to meet your gaze. Softened by dusk, you are watching him through lidded eyes, crinkled at the corners. A sharp sensation frissons up his spine. You tilt his chin, bringing him into a chaste kiss. Atsumu shudders, hands pawing desperately at your hips. You pull back a hair’s breadth only to kiss him again, full lips sliding together, a more deliberate press that grows fervent at the cautious lick of his tongue.

When you seek air with a sharp inhale your eyes flutter closed for a moment. Atsumu doesn’t bother to dull his purr, nor the soft flow emitting from his tail, forming a golden ring of light around your entangled bodies. Mirthfully, you murmur, “I can’t believe it. You like me”.

It feels right; like finally letting himself have everything he’s ever wanted.

He laughs quietly, tucking a kiss beneath your ear, “Somethin’ like that”.

summary: realizing you've fallen for someone is hard. even more so when that person is miya atsumu.

part of how to be your lover boy (a valentine's collab brought to you by augustinewrites and seiwas!) (a month and a half late but here nonetheless!) ps @seiwas ur my one true valentine

you’d been planning to leave your boss’ party at a sensible 9pm. 

but one drink had turned into two, two had turned into three, then four. you’re just about to down a shot with osamu when his brother appears, resting an arm around his shoulders. 

atsumu is known first as osamu’s twin, and onigiri-miya’s biggest supporter second (third is a major league volleyball player, but you have to keep him humble). he orders a lot of food a lot of the time, always tipping spectacularly. during his team’s off season, he’s there from opening till closing, doing his best to bus tables and take orders. 

he’s been off for a few days, so you’d been seeing a lot of him lately. not that you really minded because, well–

atsumu is hot. 

you’ve known this for a while but refused to linger on the fact. you’ve done your best to lock it within the furthest recesses of your mind and throw away the key because he’s your boss’ brother. mixing business with pleasure has never been a smart move. 

the blond holds up his own drink and flashes you a charming grin, eyes darting up and down your figure appreciatively. you can see the gears turning in his head as he tries to find the perfect thing to say. 

“what are we toasting to?” you ask, clearing your throat to mask the sudden bout of insecurity you’re feeling.

“to good fortune, good health–”

“and good company,” atsumu adds, winking before the three of you tip your glasses back, liquor sliding down your throat. 

five drinks just turned into an incredibly questionable decision. the dyed blonde, volleyball playing type.

you hadn’t meant for it to happen, you swear. you hadn't meant to let him tug you into his brother’s (your boss’) bedroom and you hadn’t meant to kiss him. 

but it'd all happened so swift, so laughably cinematic. pressing up against a closed door as he fumbled for the handle. you’d shared messy, rushed kisses as hands slipped underneath clothes, but atsumu’s lips were warm and you liked how they moved against your own. 

“wait, wait–” you mumbled, pulling away for a second to look at him. “are we really going to–” you gesture between you.

atsumu gently nipped at your throat, humming. “why shouldn’t we?”

you shouldn’t because he’s your boss’ brother and your seasonal coworker. while not outright banned in onigiri miya’s code of conduct, workplace relationships certainly weren't wise. 

“i'm just saying,” he murmurs, the thumb brushing the top of your thigh making you squirm. “if you want to, i'm game. we don't have to make a big deal out of it.”

your nose scrunches at what he’s implying. rational, sober you who hadn't just been kissed dizzy wouldn't even consider this type of illicit exchange. whatever version you were tonight though…

“wouldn’t it be weird? after, i mean.” 

“not unless we make it weird,” he says, glancing up at you through unfairly long lashes. “and…”

surprise melts into curiosity as you wait to hear what he has to say, but he trails off. he quickly tries to dismiss it with a shake of his head before moving in to kiss you again.

but you lean back and fix him with an expectant look. “no. what were you going say?” 

his cheeks flush before he lets his head drop against your shoulder, mumbling something that sounds like you’re really hot under his breath. 

_____

in theory, no-strings sex is supposed to be simple, mechanical fun. 

and at first, no-strings sex with atsumu is. 

he’s good in bed, unsurprisingly. he puts his money where his annoyingly talented mouth is and leaves you trembling atop your bed sheets every time. he’s eager to learn you, making each encounter a little better than the last.

outside of sex, you don’t really see much of him. pro athletes rarely get any down time. when he’s not at practice he’s at the gym and vice versa. when he’s not at either, he’s out of town for a game. 

but still somehow, your relationship evolves (slowly at first, then suddenly at once as things often do).

you’d spent a lot of time together leading up to new year’s. grabbing a snack across the street during lunch breaks. christmas shopping together on the weekends. coffee dates on lazy, snowy evenings. you still go home with him, but it’s no longer accompanied by the blur of alcohol or the burn of desire. 

it’s different now. you still want him, but not just because he’s got wicked abs. 

you want him because he always remembers your coffee order. 

you’re treading a dangerous path. no-strings sex only works if there’s no connection other than physical. 

(which is why no-strings sex with atsumu changes on new year’s eve.)

tonight is different. he’s different. 

tonight, atsumu kisses your shoulder. your jaw. the tip of your nose. soft words of praise are whispered against your skin instead rather than grunts of pleasure in your ear.

you love the feel of his hands on your waist. his face beneath your fingertips. it’s a lot. it’s so much. it’s–

“i love you,” he groans, curling his fingers into the hair on the back of your head as he noses at your neck.

______

the lunch rush at onigiri miya has just started to slow down, so  and osamu are in the back office. you’re both hunched over a laptop updating the inventory when atsumu appears in the doorway. he slings a hand towel over his shoulder, casting a brief, hopeful look in your direction.

you stare hard at the screen as osamu glances between you both. 

“dishes are mostly done,” the blond says. “i'm gonna head home.”

(another hopeful look.)

“yeah,” osamu nods, catching the apron that’s tossed over to him. “feel free to grab something on your way out.” 

it’s then that you finally steal a quick glance at him, just in time to see his kicked-puppy look. it’s almost enough to waver your resolve, tugging in your heartstrings just enough before you turn away.

“trouble in paradise?” your boss asks once his brother is gone. 

“he’s the trouble.” you sigh. “obviously i’m the paradise.”

“i’ll say. something happen between you two?” 

you close the laptop, casting him a warning glance. “don’t you have onigiri to make?”

“yeah,” he shrugs. “but the scrub’s been moping around for weeks. not to mention he’s been playing ‘i wanna know what love is’ every time i get in a car with him.”

“sounds like a quarter-life crisis.”

osamu hums thoughtfully. “could be. or maybe it has something to do with the fact that you’ve been sleeping together and pretending everyone doesn’t already know you’re in love too.”

leave it to your boss to drop truth bombs in the middle of the work week.

“so what if he said he loved me?” you ask, throwing your hands up. “it wasn't– it wasn't like i love you i love you. it was…middle of sex i love you. he didn't mean it.”

osamu stared at you, as if trying to figure out if you were serious. “do you think he chooses to come here in his down time and work for free washing dishes? he comes here for you. the idiot obviously loves you. you’re really gonna sit here and tell me you don't love him too?”

you supposed…you supposed this wasn't your typical friends with benefits arrangements. late nights weren't just spent tangled up in each others bedsheets. they were spent drinking tea on the balcony of your apartment. they were spent giggling and cuddling on the couch, not really watching sitcom reruns all night long. 

you supposed that somewhere along the line, the scale between love and friendship had tipped out of balance. 

maybe…maybe that didn’t have to be a bad thing.

dividers by @/enchanthings! please check out their adorable work!

hi bae congrats on 600!! ok so uh. something i like about myself is i am really straight forward and try not to sugarcoat things, and for the chara of my choice, could i have atsumu?

A/N: I had so much fun writing this ngl (simps too hard for Atsumu) Also, Ro!! I hope you like this baby!!

If you'd also like to participate in the event, you can access it from here!

Honorable mentions: 1.2k, 1 curse word, fluff!

Synopsis: "Atsumu?" You call out, and he can't help but notice how soft your voice sounds.

"Do you have a problem with me?"

Atsumu Miya didn't like you. 

He didn't like you, you knew, and he didn't try to hide it, either.

There would be a frown on his lips whenever you were around him, a scoff audible when you spoke, whether you meant it for him or not, a snarky comment made its way from his lips too, though, rarely. 

You couldn't say you knew each other well. You had a few classes before, greeted each other maybe once every two months, might have spoken willingly one time, and that was it. So there wasn't much of a reason for Atsumu to be so utterly annoyed with you, but there he was, cursing to himself when he saw he was stuck in yet another break-out room with you. 

Because of how close your student numbers were on the class list, whenever the professor made break-out rooms, you were almost always there, waiting for him and sighing when you noticed him.

Atsumu couldn't pinpoint the reason as to why he didn't like you, even his brother, the antisocial, liked you. But there was something about you that made the blonde feel uneasy, stirring something in him that made him want to run away, and run away, he did.

He often opted to turn his mic off when he saw you staring back at him on his screen, even though he hated to admit, very prettily, too, glancing at you once or twice in the whole period of ten minutes.

You usually mimicked his actions, choosing not to say anything to the blonde, but something was different that day.

You pressed your lips together, and he could tell you were a little bored and a little nervous. For the first time, you hadn't turned your mic off, scrolling down your phone, but instead, you held your gaze on the screen, eyes wandering over the faux blonde a second or two before you spoke.

"Atsumu?" Your voice was soft, but it startled him. "Can I ask a question?" You took the grunt that was barely audible as an answer.

You waited for a few seconds before you decided to speak again, hands drumming on the table nervously. You had this question running on your mind for a while now, and you decided you had put it off long enough.

"Do you have a problem with me?"

The way you spoke was nonchalant, and it was as if you're asking about the weather. There was even a ghost of a kind smile that was resting on your lips. Atsumu wondered if he had heard you right, and your smile only grew when his warm-brown eyes narrowed.

"What?"

"Do you have," you repeated, "a problem with me?"

You still had that damn smile as you talked, and Atsumu found his eyes falling on it each time you spoke a word. "I don't think you like me, and I was wondering why."

Maybe it was the way you asked, as if you didn't care if he liked you or not, but you just wanted to know why, like a simple curiosity as a kid wonders why the sky is blue, and it irked something in him.

"You're right." Atsumu shrugged, eyes narrowing slightly to see your reaction to his words. "I don't like you."

He had meant to be mean, to wipe that kind smile off your face and maybe even see you hurt, and he clenched his teeth when you chuckled, instead.

"Figured as much. I want to know why, though. Did I do something to bother you, or is it simply our characters not getting along?"

"You're annoying." He scoffed, and you rolled your eyes.

"Oh, so you're just prejudiced." You pursed your lips and explained when he cocked a mocking brow at you. "You don't know me well enough to call me annoying."

Well, he didn't know you were the type to call him out on his shit like this or how pretty you looked when you were angry. And he certainly didn't know how much he liked it.

You feel your heart skip a beat when Ataumu sent you an amused grin. It was unfair how good-looking he was.

"Of course, I do." You heard his voice, and it made you huff out a laugh. "Do you, really? When was the last time you even spoke to me?"

Atsumu hated the way you cock your brows at him almost mockingly, and he could feel the way you're sharpening your claws on the other side of the screen. He had to admit he found it kind of... hot.

"Last week on the break-out room." He shot back with an annoying, know-it-all raise of a brow, but you dispersed it without missing a beat. "Nope, the moment you saw me, you turned your mic off and looked at your phone the whole time."

"The week before that, then." He rolled his eyes, "No, you did the exact same thing then, too."

"Then the week-" Atsumu starts to speak, but his voice falters. When did you talk last time? Did he even speak once in any of the weekly break-out rooms? 

"That's that, then." You checked the time and smiled once again, a smile of victory you didn't care to hide. Both of you knew you won this round. Oh, the time's almost up, anyway. See you later!" You waved, leaving the break-out room with one of your bright smiles that he was used to seeing like you hadn't just had a conversation about how much he didn't like you. 

Atsumu only then feels the first spark of interest in him.

~

Now that Atsumu wants to be in the same break-out room with you, he never falls in one. 

It's like some goddamn voodoo magic. He couldn't help but smile whenever he heard the sentence, "now I'll be dividing you into break-out rooms." And God knew he heard it often, but whenever he clicked the button, go to room 4, it was always someone else waiting for him there, and never you. 

It caught him off-guard when you did appear on his screen, again with a kind smile. "Hi, Atsumu!" You waved, and Atsumu found his heart missing a beat. 

"Hi," He muttered your name, quickly trying to clear his desk from all the empty cups and plates. "It's been a while."

"You're right." You laughed it off, trying to discard how good he looked still as you quirked a quizzical brow at him. "You look like you missed me."

You had expected Atsumu to stay silent at your remark, waiting for him to turn his mic off as he always did, but it was a (pleasant) surprise to see he didn't. 

"Is something wrong?" You pursed your lips, and he noticed how your brows furrowed in concern. 

"Why would there be?"

You shrugged. "I thought you found me annoying. I didn't think you would want to chat."

"You were the one who told me I didn't know you well enough to say you were annoying, weren't you?" Atsumu quickly retorted, taking note of the slight wavering of your lips into a smile. 

"Touche. So, what is it, or are you trying to prove me wrong and actually trying to get to know me?" 

Atsumu shrugged, only to find you chuckling at him. "Caught red-handed, I guess." He mutters, joining your laughter. The next few minutes, Atsumu found himself having more fun than he probably ever had in a break-out room. 

Oh, fuck, he thinks to himself, right before he clicks the turn back to the main room button. He can't wait for the next time he falls in a break-out room.

with you, of course.

.in the night - miya atsumu

.pairings atsumu x fem!reader

.genre timeskip!au, post break up, bittersweet ending [a]

.ongoing | completed

.tw cheating, if it counts

.wc; 1.8k

SUMMARY

She had loved Atsumu for so long, but now she's beginning to think she's loved him for too long.

It was a peaceful Thursday night, like any other. The couple laid themselves on the couch and let their bodies mold into one another as the movie went on. You let out a burst of laughter as the next scene in the movie played, letting bits of regret creep up into Atsumu's back. Maybe he shouldn't have had that extra drink that night.

"Atsumu? Is everything okay?" You gave an expression of concern as your boyfriend stared at you longingly with a gaze that seemed remorseful.

"Baby, I have ta tell ya somethin'." He slowly shuffled away from the warm presence of his lover and fiddled with his fingers, a habit he tended to when he got anxious.

"Of course darling, anything." You rotated your body to face Atsumu in a more comfortable position, laying your arm atop of the couch, with your legs crossed.

"Before I tell ya everything, can ya promise to love me forever afterwards." His lips began to tremble, heart palpitating as if he was at gunpoint.

"Tsumu, of course I'll love you forever afterwards, now what's the matter?" You began to feel skeptical as the silence jeered on.

"The other night, with Osamu and Koutaro, I uh, had a few drinks too many and well, there was this girl who I met and we uh slept...together"

A pregnant silence cuts through, a long one at that. There's no response available from your lips and Atsumu begins to fear for his life; for your answer from his statement.

"When was this?" That was not the reaction he had expected. He awaited for the tears, the snot, the desperate cries and "Why's", but to no avail, you stayed silent. You sat in front of him, pretty like a doll, with an expression unreadable. Why weren't you angry with him? Did you not hear him properly?

"Um, two months ago, possibly. I uh, I haven't kept exact track...yeah, that's it." He sounded hesitant in his answer and it left a wave of doubt from your point of view.

Questions had flooded your mind, what happened two months ago for this to happen, did you do something? You felt restless and needed a drink. You stood up uncomfortably, letting the movie play on in the back.

"Why aren't ya doing anything?" Atsumj grabs your wrist, giving you a yearning stare, like a small child waiting for his mother to come home.

"Because I love you 'Tsumu, remember. I promised to." You gave him a warm smile, a comforting one. "I'm just a little bit thirsty okay?" You quickly slipped out of his grasp and stepped your way into the kitchen to fetch a glass of water, to try and take in the brief, yet heartbreaking information the man, whom you'd thought you would marry, had given you.

The footsteps of said man had made its way to you, slithering his arms around your waist and burying his nose into your neck, to feel a sense of comfort.

"I'm so sorry my love. I swear it was the alcohol, I wasn't thinking, please, I love ya so much, I stopped it with her right after, just, stay with me please 'm so sorry, I'll do anythin to make it right jus-"

"Atsumu, I still love you, I'm glad you told me, it must've been really hard for you huh?" You felt tears wringing up around your waterline, and kept your voice quiet and shaky, afraid it was going to go away. Atsumj kept his arms around you tighter, hearing your shaky sobs and feeling himself tear up too.

"You're too good for me, ya know that my love...after everythin I've done to ya, and ya still stick by my side.." He sobbed into your neck, as you wailed alongside him, keeping your hands on his forearm, as if he were support.

"I love you okay, no matter what, just remember that, please." You rubbed his arm in comfort, slowly pulling away from his warm embrace and wiping your tears away and sniffling, before mustering up the best smile you could.

"Now, shouldn't we be getting to sleep? It's late and you have practice early in the morning tomorrow." You stared at him with the same innocent eyes he first fell in love with, and felt as if he was a teenager, meeting each other for the first time all over again.

He nodded in agreement, and didn't let go of your hand even whilst you brushed your teeth. He was afraid you were going to slip out of his grasp as easily he did that night. It all felt the same, as if he'd never told you he'd cheated on you with another woman. You curled up in his body like a baby, and he wrapped his arms around you protectively, before immediately dozing off into his sleep.

Luckily for you, Atsumu was a heavy sleeper, and was able to cry for the rest of the night. You felt your chest getting heavier with each second after he had rolled onto the other side of the bed, snoring like a log. Your heartbreak was beyond description, clasping your shirt tightly in your hands, you took another shaky breath and cried once more as you stared at your partner's broad back.

You felt alone at that point in time. There was no longer the flashlight in the dark for you, it seemed as if Atsumu had led you to a dead end in life. Uou thought he was the answer, the solution, your genesis. But you had been pushed to the back of his mind so easily in one night. It was the next morning and the both of you had awoken with puffy eyes, yet smiled so lovingly as you buried your head into his chest.

"I'll visit you at practice later, I have errands to run with Yukie." You fabricated after rolling out of bed and slipping into a new change of clothes.

"Ya will? That's great, I can introduce ya to Shoyou, my spiker, although his old setter doesn't like when I call him that, he's not even in the same team!" He bantered on with a smile on his face, as you stared at him.

"Of course, love, I can't wait, now shoo go get ready." time felt too slow for atsumu as he waited for you to enter the gym hall. His legs bounced up and down in eagerness as his eyes darted around the halls, waiting for the familiar figure to come walking through the doors. And speak of the devil, there you were in all your glory. he rose up from his seat and walked towards you, pulling you into a bone crushing embrace.

"Tsumj, you're sweaty, baby." You pull back humorously, and shove him to a distance, only to leave him pouting like a child as he reached out towards you again.

"I'll finish my practice early, so we can go somewhere today-"

"No, you need to practice, you have that big game coming up soon, work hard, okay baby?" You stared up at him in determination, like tears were about to spill from your eyes.

“Hey, what's the matter?" His thumb brushed over her cheek gently, softening the electric expression he plastered onto his face.

"Oh nothing, I'm just so proud of how far you've come. I remember when we were third years in Inarizaki, and you used to brag about how you would end up as a pro-volleyball player. Look at you now! I'm so happy for you, Tsumu." It was your turn to pull him into a hug so tight that it could've suffocated him. He chuckled and rubbed circles on your back before hearing his coach beckon him to come back to practice.

"Wait for me at home yeah?"

"Sure tsumu. I love you so much, forever and always okay?"

"Forever and always baby." It was strange. you gave him a passionate kiss before exiting the gym hall. The way you embraced him, like it was for the last time, the way you spoke to him, like you were never to speak again. It was all strange. The doors slam shut, and some of his teammates hooted out a couple of "Ooh"'s and teases, as his face painted with red from embarrassment.

You finally left the scene. Hard and painful couldn't even begin to describe your emotions. You left the man you had been with for over ten years, unbeknownst to him. You didn't want his last memories of you to be an ugly argument, and someone leaving the other with words they knew they'd regret. You finally closed the door to the car you had rented, and drove to the airport, never to see Atsumu Miya, the love of your life, again.

It was six thirty in the evening, and Atsumu's practice had finally ended, with him and his teammates giving each other a congratulations and well done's on the hard work for today. He sprinted to his seat, with his duffle bag and his phone, which he kept quiet every time he went to practice to prevent distraction. Only to be left in utter agony.

Message from: Love <3

I'm sorry for doing this, but it was inevitable, I thank you for the ten years you had spent with me, and I thank you for the lifetime's worth of memories you had given me. I know it seems like much, but I'm so tired of hurting. I'm so tired of waiting for you to hurt me again and again. I'm so tired of having to hurt you back the same way. This isn't a healthy relationship anymore. It's time for us to move on. The night you told me that you had cheated, I knew that wasn't the only time you cheated. I could tell from the way you came home late, and refused to get changed in the same room as me, the way you wouldn't return my kisses at one point. But I'm glad that night, you did kiss me like you used to, you did hold me in your arms like before, and you did come crying to me whenever you needed like before. The moment you confessed to me about what you did, was a sign that you had finally grown up, and that we can be apart now, without anyone hurting. So, please remember that I love you so much. Forever and always. I won't forget our promise. Okay? I love you.

Atsumu felt as though his senses had disappeared, he dropped his phone, startling his teammates. The light of his life, the yin to his yang, the hot to his cold had left him. Just when he thought he could fix things. Everything felt numb. He could walk through a blizzard naked, and the pain wouldn't amount to even half as much to the text message his dearly beloved left to him.

"Atsumu-san? Is everything alright?" Shoyou made his way towards the hench man, wiping away his own tears.

"Y-yeah, just need to get home early today. Y/N is waiting for me."

"Look at you guys, I wish I had a relationship just like yours." Koutaro interrupted. Atsumu gave him a quick chuckle and picked up his duffle bag and left before whispering to himself.

"Me too."

a/n: good afternoon morning everybody, god has decided to let me live another day, and i'm going to make it everyone's problem

[22:18] waking up with miya atsumu

warnings none just icky fluff

other timestamps

it was around six forty nine am on a monday when you awoke, which was surprising, because you always woke up later than atsumu. the sun was especially blinding today and you had no choice but to open your eyes.

what a bother. now you couldn't go back to sleep. no matter how many times you tried to toss and turn to find the right position to fall back asleep in, your lethargy never found its way back.

beside you, was your husband, atsumu miya. sleeping soundly- okay that's a lie, he sleeps like a log and snores like a bear. his arms were tightly wrapped around your waist, and he buried his face in your stomach as you sat up.

shifting yourself back down to his level, you stared at his drowsy expression as drool began to drip down the side of his lip. chuckling, you wiped it away before placing a kiss onto his head. and another. and then another one. and another one after that.

"babe, yer killin' me with these kisses. its so early why are you awake?" he finally wakes up and rubs his eyes, staring up at your bewildered expression as you were caught in the act of kissing his face in his sleep.

"hmm i think the universe wanted me to wake you up this time, instead of that irritating alarm." giggling, you plant another kiss on the tip of his nose as he groans.

"what's wrong with my alarm?"

"what's wrong with me kissing my husband?" a short silence echoed in your bedroom, and atsumu rolls over on top of your body, and lays his head between your chest and huffs jokingly.

"i guess yer right. you should do it more so i wake up earlier." he rests his chin on your sternum and smiles mischievously, puckering his lips out towards you.

"and sacrifice my own sleep? i think not." you push him off before stretching your arms out, and getting out of your side of the bed to get ready for the day, only to be pulled back in by a pair of arms, positioning you in your previous place.

"then at least stay in bed with me for the whole mornin'." you stare up at him as he traps you between his arms beneath his body, with a cheeky smirk on his face.

grabbing his face, you kiss him lazily and smile, an indication that you were going to stay in bed for a few extra hours minutes. he responds and sits you up on his lap, returning your physical affection, before you pull away and grin at him. a short lived pause emits and the two of you stare earnestly at one another.

"wanna lay in my arms?"

"is that even a question?" you dove back in the sheets, and submerged yourself within the comforts of your husband's toned bicep, and embraced his waist with your arms as he tangles his legs with yours.

"i love mondays." he sighs.

"no you don't."

"yer right i don't. but i love mondays with you."

"that's so cheesy i don't want to cuddle anymore."

"wait come back i was jus' jokin' baby." he laughs, with the sound reverberating in the room, pulling you back in his arms again.

a/n: i am so sorry for the inactivity pls accept this as an apology i will try to be more active during the summer </3