Hello~! I guess I like to write some fics, but for fear of being completely ignored I never do, but now I'm going to face that fear simply so I can write everything I have in my head, whether it becomes famous or not :D
Summary: You and Finnick have been friends since before he was chosen for the games. Finnick has been through things you haven't, including games, so it seemed impossible just to think that he might see you as an option.
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Here For You: 🌷 (slight 🥀)
Summary: Finnick takes care of you when you're on your period
Read Here
His Beautiful Green Eyes: 🥀
Summary: The day that all the children of Panem fear is approaching and the only way not to sink into a hole of worry is to look into his beautiful green eyes.
Read Here
Unhappy Christmas: 🥀
Summary: Happy Christmas to the sex symbol!
Read Here
So This Is Love: 🌷
Summary: Just pure fluff
Read here
How would the THG male characters make the tiktok trend about ranking kisses?: 🌷
(+ Corionalus Snow, Peeta Mellark)
Read here
Takami Keigo (Hawks):
Spice Hobbie: 🌹🌷
Summary: You enjoy drawing and painting your blonde boy with bites.
Read here
How would the MHA characters make the tiktok trend about ranking kisses?: 🌷
(+ bakugo, denki, kirishima)
Read here
Takami Keigo: 5 Red flags vs 5 Green flags: 🌷
Summary: Like any person, he has his good things and bad things.
Read here
Keigo resolving a argument: (Slight 🥀) 🌷
Summary: Keigo works too hard, it's just his nature. But when you start to doubt how much he values you, what will he do to fix it?
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Miya Atsumu
How would the Haikyuu characters make the tiktok trend about ranking kisses?: 🌷
after you and atsumu get into your first fight, he ends up confessing his love for you. (and maybe even a little more than that.)
part eighteen of the in close quarters series, a friends-to-lovers college AU featuring you, atsumu, and the ten months you spend living together senior year.
content warning: the second half of this chapter (indicated by the divider) contains sexually explicit content intended for readers 18+. please read responsibly!
Atsumu was freaking out.
He had been all day, really. Ever since you'd left the apartment that morning with your book bag and those big, glassy eyes of yours, he hadn't been able to calm down. What if you came home that night and told him you didn't want to do this anymore? Or worse — what if you never came home at all?
"Dude, chill," Suna reprimanded him over a glass of water. "One argument isn't gonna make or break your relationship. Just look at you and your brother."
"Yeah, but Samu's different," Atsumu said around a mouthful of turkey bacon and scrambled eggs. "He's obligated to tolerate me. Y/N, she ain't even my girlfriend yet! I could lose her before I even had her!"
Suna slumped deeper into the vinyl booth of the campus diner, the sounds of students, families, and doting couples ringing in his ears. He hadn't planned to spend his Saturday morning like this; in fact, he would much rather be sleeping in than talking Atsumu off the ledge. But when the setter's name flashed across his screen at half-past nine, Suna couldn't help but drag himself out of bed.
"Tsumu," he said behind a half-sigh, picking at the crumbs that had fallen off his plate. "She's not Akemi."
The sound of his ex-girlfriend's name sent a sobering chill down Atsumu's spine.
"I know that," he huffed, his tone sharp. Dismissive. Suna shot him a flat glare in return.
"Then you would know that you can't lose her that easily," he said. No pretense. Just cold, hard truth. "And you would know not to get jealous every time she so much as breathes around another guy."
Now it was Atsumu's turn to slump in his seat.
He hadn't meant to get so worked up about you attending the career fair with your classmate. If anything, he was really proud of you for taking initiative. For finding support in others as you navigated a truly deplorable job market — something Atsumu would never understand. He knew that.
But when he saw you that morning — sharp and put-together, lips painted in that one shade he knew you loved — he couldn't help but envision the worst.
You, confiding in some other guy about your job search. You, absentmindedly adjusting his neck tie (or whatever the hell people wore to career fairs). You, confessing that while your brief situationship with Atsumu had been nice, you just couldn't find a reason to commit.
Because why would you? He couldn't even hear about you spending time with another guy without having an aneurysm.
Atsumu knew you would never do anything to hurt him. At the same time...
"...I'm just not used to this," he admitted to Suna, practically forcing the words out of his chest. "Not bein' in fight or flight all the time. It's like my nervous system can't handle it."
At that, Suna's gaze softened.
"Well, you better teach it to calm down," he said after a while, wrapping his lips around his straw. "Because I don't think Y/N is going anywhere. I've seen the way she looks at you. It's kinda nauseating."
Suna's words now plagued Atsumu as he waited for you to come home from your last shift at the campus bookstore, the night sky peeking through the blinds as the clock approached 10:00 PM. You had texted him about an hour ago — said you just needed to say your goodbyes to everyone before heading back.
No worries, he'd texted back almost immediately. Take ur time.
He'd since paced the apartment at least twenty times, scooping up a dirty sock here, a crumbled receipt there. He didn't stop until the place was near-spotless.
When the front door finally jingled open, he practically leapt off the couch. You kicked off your boots, threw your keys onto the coffee table. Met his gaze for the first time since that morning. Your expression was shy. A touch embarrassed, even.
Almost as if you were just as anxious as he was.
"Hi," you managed, grip tightening around the strap of your book bag.
"Hi," Atsumu replied. He'd had this whole speech prepared, but looking at you now — with your rustled hair and faded lipstick — had him at a loss for words. Instead, he asked, "How was yer last shift?"
"Busy. Bittersweet," you told him honestly. You gestured down to your bag. "My manager let me take home however many books I could fit in here as a graduation gift."
"That's sweet. How many did ya nab?"
"Twelve." The bag hit the carpet with an unceremonious thud. "Mostly paperbacks."
A chuckle escaped Atsumu's lips. "Smart. That's...that's smart."
Despite yourself, a small smile worked its way onto your face.
"I went to Onigiri Miya today," you said. "Talked to Samu for a bit."
"Did ya?" he breathed. "Can't imagine what for. The guy gives, like, shit advice."
Your smile only deepened at the sarcasm in his voice.
"What about you? How was your day?"
"Fine," he managed, though the crack in his voice betrayed him. He cleared his throat and looked around. "Got breakfast with Suna, ran a couple miles. Cleaned the apartment, too."
"I see that," you hummed, looking around yourself. "Thank you."
He rubbed the back of his neck, swallowed hard.
"I also...called a therapist."
At that, your eyes widened.
"You did?"
"I did," he replied, averting his gaze. "Well, I tried. Then I remembered it's a fuckin' Saturday and they're closed, so I left a message."
"Good," you breathed, your throat tightening with emotion. "That's...that's great, Tsumu. I'm so proud of you."
"I just — I was way outta line this morning," he said, the words spilling out before he could stop them. "I was jealous and scared and I didn't come across the way I wanted to, so I figured, might as well let a professional tell me I'm bein' an idiot instead of takin' it out on ya."
Despite yourself, a shaky laugh slipped past your lips.
"You weren't being an idiot, Tsumu."
"I was, though," he insisted. "I didn't listen to ya on the way home; I lashed out this mornin'. I made ya think I'd go back to a world where my ex never cheated on me, and I hate that."
His chest heaved with each passing word, the look in his eyes growing more apologetic, more pleading by the second.
"What I mean to say is, I'm sorry," he said. "And if I'm bein' honest, I wouldn't change a thing. If that shitstorm was the road I had to take to get to ya, then I'd do it all over again. Gladly."
You shook your head, your expression pained. "You don't mean that."
"I do. God." He dragged both hands down his face. "Do ya know how much I like comin' home to ya? Hearin' ya blast yer music through the walls? Laugh into those filthy books ya love so much?"
"I do not laugh — "
Atsumu cut you off with a sobering look. You instantly quieted.
"Y/N, yer...the best thing to ever happen to me," he got out, closing the distance between you. Taking your hands in his. "And not just 'cause ya taught me how to trust again, or how safe love can be, but because...yer just my favorite person."
Your breath hitched as his brown eyes locked onto yours.
"I love ya, Y/N," he said, voice firm. Resolute. "And if ya let me, I'd really like to be yer fuckin' boyfriend."
His words made your chest cave in, your jaw slacken in surprise. Out of all the things you expected him to say when you walked through the door, that was not one of them. It was staggering. Overwhelming.
You started crying before you could stop yourself.
"I — shit," Atsumu swore, panic flooding his expression. "Are ya okay?!"
"Yeah!" you wailed back, although you only cried harder as Atsumu cupped your cheeks to wipe away the tears currently streaking down your face. God, this was so fucking embarrassing.
"It's just — " You hiccuped once. Twice. " — no one's ever said something like that to me before..."
You swatted him in the arm not a moment later.
"How dare you catch me off-guard like that?!"
Atsumu blanched. "I — excuse me?!"
"I thought we were just gonna talk things through! I didn't think..." you trailed off, sniffling. "...I didn't think you were gonna tell me you loved me."
Your face only grew warmer as a sly grin tugged at the corner of Atsumu's lips.
"Well, sorry for catchin' ya off guard, but I do," he drawled, wrapping his arms around your frame. "I have for a while now."
Despite yourself, you rolled your bleary eyes.
"And here I was, thinking I was gonna graduate college in a situationship with my roommate."
"Really?" he chuckled. "I thought my feelings for ya were pretty damn obvious."
"Sure, but I didn't know what you wanted to do about them," you drawled. "I mean, I knew we were just taking things slow and focusing on ourselves, but after this morning...I realized I'd rather be arguing with my boyfriend. Not just someone I think is my boyfriend."
"I know," Atsumu admitted, his cheeks flushing pink. "I know. I'm sorry we didn't talk about it sooner."
"It's okay. I'm sorry, too."
He tucked you under his chin and held you there, his heartbeat steady beneath his sweatshirt.
"Do I take that as a yes, then?" he asked you quietly.
Drawing back, you studied his hopeful expression, pushed yourself up onto your tip-toes, and kissed him.
"Yes, Tsumu. I'd love to be your girlfriend."
You kissed him again, deeper this time.
"And if it wasn't already obvious, I love you, too."
The dimples on either side of his face deepened when he smiled. It made your chest ache, just looking at him. He cradled the back of your neck and slotted his lips against yours.
"God," he murmured in between breaths. "Ya have no idea how long I've been waitin' to hear that."
"Yeah?" You grinned against him. "Could've just asked me, love."
A soft groan escaped the back of his throat as he took your bottom lip between his teeth.
"Yeah," he decided. "Yer gonna need to call me that again."
He lost himself in you, then. Slipping his tongue past your lips. Memorizing the taste of your lip balm, the way you moaned into his every move. Your hands slid beneath the hem of his sweatshirt, palms warm against the muscles in his back, and he swore it was the best damn thing he'd ever felt.
"T-Tsumu..." you breathed as he traced the curve of your jaw with his lips.
"Yes, love?"
Your eyes fluttered shut as he found the sensitive spot behind your ear, every thought in your brain now hazy as the words tumbled out.
"...can you call me that again?"
He laughed against your skin, the sensation rumbling through you, igniting your every nerve.
"I think I'd do whatever ya wanted me to, love."
He held your face in both hands and kissed you again.
"Ya sure ya wanna do this?"
"Tsumu," you breathed. "My pants are already off."
He chuckled, calloused hands gingerly parting your legs as he knelt before you.
"Just wanted to be sure."
Your dress slacks had been discarded halfway across the living room, Atsumu's sweatshirt just a few feet away. You laid back against the couch and sighed as Atsumu grazed your knee with his lips, traced the inside of your thigh with his nose.
The sliver of need in your lower belly only heightened once he reached the soft spot between your legs.
"...so wet for me," he murmured, brown eyes hazy with need. He pressed a kiss to the damp spot of your cotton panties and groaned, sending a jolt of electricity up your spine. "Ya really want me that badly, babe?"
"Shut up," you laughed as he hooked his fingers past the waistband of your panties and tugged them off.
He merely threw them aside, kissed the inside of your thigh, and said, "Yes, ma'am."
His mouth was on your soaked pussy not a moment later, tongue slowly working at your entrance, arms wrapped around your thighs to keep you in place. You threw your head back in bliss and moaned, back arching off the couch as you ground your hips into his face.
"God. Ya taste so good, babe," Atsumu drawled, hardening beneath his sweatpants as he ate you out.
"Fuck, just like that," you gasped when he circled your clit with his tongue, massaged your slick folds with two fingers before gently pushing them inside of you.
He could have you like this for hours, he realized. Head buried between your legs. Fingers pumping in and out of your aching cunt. Adrenaline rushing as you made the cutest noises he'd ever heard.
"T-Tsumu," you whimpered before the pressure in your belly could build any further. "Need you inside of me. Now."
Before you knew it, you were undressing each other on your way to his room, your top tossed somewhere between the couch and the kitchen, his sweatpants left at the foot of the bed. His erection sprung free from his boxers as you gently pulled them down, your eyes gleaming at the sheer length of his cock.
"You have stretch marks," you observed as he dug around his bedside drawer for a condom. You practically beamed at the way they adorned the bare skin of his thighs.
He shot a bemused look over his shoulder and chuckled.
"I do. What's it to ya?"
"Nothing," you hummed, taking the condom from him and tearing it open with your teeth. You sat down next to him on the bed, rolled it on, and pressed a kiss along each faded line. "Just think they're really pretty, is all."
Despite himself, Atsumu's face flushed a warm shade of pink. "Yer such a tease."
Straddling his hips, you braced your hands on his chest and slowly sank down onto his cock.
"Shit," Atsumu ground out, squeezing his eyes shut as he split you open. "Y-Yer tight, babe."
"Yeah? Do I feel good, baby?" you teased, rolling your hips, savoring the way his eyes rolled back in pleasure. You gasped as he landed a firm smack to your ass.
"Ya feel perfect, love," he groaned, kneading your flesh with both hands before dragging you back and forth across his cock. "Takin' me so fuckin' well."
You came undone in the moments that followed, head thrown back, tits bouncing in his face. Atsumu bucking up into you like it was the last thing he'd ever do. He lifted you off of him, flipped you onto your back, and kissed you deeply, the taste of you still lingering on his tongue.
"I love ya," he said as he pushed into you. You let out a soft moan as he stretched you out. "Fuck — I don't think I'll ever love anyone as much as I love ya."
He fucked you slowly, deliberately, the drag of his cock against your walls enough to have you seeing stars. He threw your leg over his shoulder so he could penetrate you deeper, reveling in the way your eyes fluttered shut, lips parted around every moan.
"I love you, too, Tsumu — ngh!" you cried the moment he picked up speed. His cock hit the sweet spot of your cervix, over and over and over again. "God, just like that. Just like that, baby, fuck — "
"Yeah? Wanna cum for me, baby?" he said lowly, snapping his hips against yours as you nodded. He pressed his palm against your lower abdomen and rubbed furious circles into your clit with his thumb.
"Look at ya, so fuckin' pretty. So fuckin' pretty, all stretched out for me," he drawled. "Look at me when ya cum, baby. I wanna see ya."
You looked at him, then, the sheer adoration in his eyes sending you right over the edge. A wave of pleasure slammed into you, cascading down your every nerve. You cried out his name as he continued fucking into you, his pace brutal. Relentless.
"Shit, baby," Atsumu groaned as you rode out your orgasm. The sounds of your pleasure were driving him insane. "You're doin' so fuckin' good. Gonna cum soon, okay?"
"T-Tsumu..." you breathed, legs trembling from the overstimulation. "Can you...can you cum on my chest?"
His brown eyes gleamed at the question. The sheer need behind it.
"Yeah?" he teased. You blushed furiously at the smugness in his voice. "Whatever ya want, baby."
He pulled out, ripped the condom off, and stroked himself. A low groan escaped his throat as he came, thick, white ropes of cum decorating your stomach, your breasts. You reveled at the sight of him unraveling before you — real and unguarded and entirely yours.
"Shit," he murmured once he saw you, back pressed against his sheets, cum dripping down your skin. "Yer beautiful, ya know that?"
"...seriously?" you said between breaths, looking down at yourself. You laughed at the dumbfounded look on his face and said, "Take a picture. It'll last longer."
You showered together after that, working the shampoo into each other's hair, pressing kisses to places you hadn't yet. You brushed your teeth beside one another and bickered incoherently over who got to spit into the sink first. All the while, you couldn't help but feel grateful that you got to do this with him at all.
"When did you realize?"
Atsumu looked up at you from where he sat in bed, his blonde hair still damp. "That I loved ya?"
You nodded, pulling on one of his faded Inarizaki t-shirts before joining him.
"I dunno. I don't think there was ever a single moment," he admitted, turning off his bedside lamp before drawing you to his chest.
"I would get these nightmares last semester, though. I'd lose a game; the entire arena would laugh at me. And when I looked up...all I could see were these people from my frat."
"That's terrifying," you said with a frown. Atsumu merely chuckled.
"I'd wake up in this disgustin' cold sweat, get a glass of water before goin' back to bed. And you'd just...be there. Readin' a book or writin' somethin'. It...helped me. Calmed me down."
"I didn't know that," you said, shoulders slumping at his confession. "Why didn't you tell me what was going on?"
Atsumu shrugged. "It only happened a couple times. They eventually stopped."
He pressed a kiss to your temple before asking, "What about ya?"
You pursed your lips to the side in thought.
"...you were at an away game," you told him, reaching back for the memory. "I invited Haru to come over and watch the livestream, and as we watched you play, I just...burst out in tears."
"Ya did?"
"I did. God, I'm such a crybaby," you laughed. "I just imagined you moving out of this apartment when we graduated and leaving me alone forever. It was so depressing."
"Babe," Atsumu drawled, running his fingertips up and down your arm. "Ya don't gotta worry about that. Even if all this shit happens with MSBY, I'm here. I'm in this. Okay?"
You craned your neck to look him in the eye, the earnestness there.
"...okay."
"Good," he said, dimples deepening on either side of his lips as he grinned. "Ya should know ya can't get rid of me that easily."
"Well, I know that now," you scoffed, pulling the covers over the both of you. You loved the way they smelled just like him. "We should get into arguments more often. I like you professing your undying love for me."
"Yeah?" your boyfriend snorted. "Do I remind ya of the people in yer romance novels?"
"Mmm," you hummed, studying his features through the dark. "No. Not really."
Before he could open his mouth to argue, you pressed a soft kiss to his lips and murmured, "I think you're better."
The words lingered with him long after you'd fallen asleep.
a/n: only two chapters left, y'all! i can't believe it. 😭 these next two are just pure, tooth-rotting fluff — a reward for all the pining and drama we've endured over these past few chapters lmao. thank you, as always, for reading. 💗
when you and atsumu get into your first fight, you find yourself at the restaurant of the one who knows him best.
part seventeen of the in close quarters series, a friends-to-lovers college AU featuring you, atsumu, and the ten months you spend living together senior year.
His bad mood began the moment he set the ball.
They were down 20-21 in the fifth set — legs leaden, lungs burning. Atsumu's brain was firing faster than his body could follow, and he was faltering. His past two sets had hit the opposing team's blockers; his setter dumps were sloppy, predictable, and weak. His receives weren't as sharp as he wanted them to be, and his adrenaline felt like a bullet train about to derail.
Slow down, he coached himself between breaths. Slow down, slow down, slow the fuck down —
He sent the ball cross-court before he could stop himself. It connected with Sakusa's open palm and, after ricocheting off the blocker's hands, slammed into the wrong side of the net.
Game point.
He told himself he wouldn't spiral if this tournament didn't go the way he wanted it to. But as the opposing team burst into a frenzy of screams, tears, and sweaty hugs, Atsumu couldn't help but see the headlines. Men's volleyball season cut short in thrilling upset. Defending champions snuffed at semifinals.
Pressure gets to Miya in last game of his college career.
His back hit the elastic floors. His lungs ached for air. He threw a sweaty arm over his eyes and tried not to cave under the stunned reactions of the entire arena.
"Hey," Sakusa said after they'd stalked off the court, his voice barely audible beneath the echoes of the stadium tunnel. "Whatever it is you're thinking right now, don't."
Then, after a while, "You were one of the few reasons we even made it this far, Atsumu."
Atsumu's jaw clenched beneath the fluorescent lights.
"Could've done better for y'all, though.”
He didn't need to look at Sakusa to know he was rolling his eyes.
Outside of the men's locker room, you waited for Atsumu to finish up, your phone in one hand, an unopened beer from concessions in the other. You had initially planned to just meet him back at home, but after watching that last rally — the way Atsumu had collapsed onto the court in defeat, you were quick to abandon your plans of an early bedtime.
"Y/N, hey," Aran greeted you warmly, the team captain having appeared from the locker room with a towel slung around his neck. "Here to pick up Atsumu?"
"Yes, sir. I'm surprised security hasn't told me to leave yet," you joked, extending your arms out for a friendly hug. "Good job today. I know it wasn't the outcome you wanted."
"Eh, Final Four ain't a bad way to go," Aran countered, pulling away from you with a shrug. "Atsumu probably doesn't think so, though."
"How's he doing?" you asked, jutting your chin towards the locker room. Aran rubbed the back of his neck and sighed.
"Honestly? He's probably blaming himself for what happened," he admitted. "Always so intense, that guy. Look out for him these next couple of days, will you?"
"Of course," you reassured him with a nod. You lifted the sweaty can of beer for good measure. "That's what this is for."
"Not a bad idea," Aran chuckled, dark eyes glinting in amusement. "Don't be afraid to keep him in check, too. He can be a real pain in the ass when he loses."
He patted you on the shoulder before taking off.
"See you at banquet next week!" he called out to you before rounding the corner. "I need you to teach me those dance moves."
Despite yourself, the memory of subjecting Aran to your risqué spring dance showcase sent a wave of embarrassment down your spine. Fortunately, Atsumu emerged from the locker room not a moment later.
"Ya waited for me?" He blinked back, brown eyes widening in surprise. You extended the beer out to him with a soft smile.
"Figured I'd congratulate you on your last game," you said. "And keep you from listening to Suna's emo music on the walk home."
"Hardly anythin' to congratulate me for," he murmured, burying his face into your shoulder. The clean scent of his hoodie washed over you as you wrapped your arms around him. "But thank ya."
You walked the twenty minutes from the arena to your apartment, passing the beer back and forth as the sound of crickets accompanied you home. You spoke briefly about the student athletics banquet and your respective plans for the weekend. Though, if Atsumu were being honest, he was only half-listening.
He couldn’t stop replaying the last few minutes of the game — where he could’ve fought harder, responded differently. If he had spiked to Aran instead of Sakusa, could they have secured that point? If he had dug for the ball, could he have bought them more time?
By the time you unlocked the door to your apartment, Atsumu had identified at least five mistakes that, according to his logic, had cost them the entire match.
Maybe even your professional career, he thought, his chest tightening at the possibility.
"Hey," you murmured, plopping down next to him in bed thirty minutes later. You pushed the hair out of his eyes and pinched his cheek in affection. "What's going on in that brain of yours?"
Atsumu averted his gaze from the concerned look in your eyes.
"I dunno, just...overthinkin' things."
"Like what?"
"Like...maybe if I hadn't been such an asshole, Akemi wouldn't have cheated on me. Coach wouldn't have put me on mental health leave, and maybe...maybe I could have played better tonight."
You nodded slowly at his words. The alternate universe they painted.
As if realizing what he'd just said, Atsumu blurted out, "I-I didn't mean that I still want to be with her, I just — "
"No, no, I get it," you responded quickly. You pulled your lips into a smile you hoped was reassuring. "I know it's hard, separating your feelings about what happened to you from...from this. From us.”
Whatever the hell we are.
"...yeah," Atsumu sighed. "Yeah, thanks for understandin'."
He leaned back against the pillows and said, "Sometimes I just wish things turned out a lil' differently."
You pulled the covers over yourself and tried not to read too deeply into what he'd just said. But as the clock ticked steadily into the night, you found yourself more rattled than you cared to admit.
How often did he wish for his old life back? The one before this apartment? Before you? You knew Atsumu's feelings about senior year were complicated. That he was allowed to grieve the loss of who he once was without necessarily disliking who he'd become.
Still, you couldn't help but take his words — the frustration in which he'd said them — a little personally.
I just wish things turned out a lil' differently.
The next morning, you threw your legs over the side of Atsumu's bed and prepared yourself for the day ahead. You cleaned your teeth, changed your clothes. Brushed your hair with a little more force than necessary. By the time you had finished packing your bag, Atsumu padded out of his room with a yawn.
"Mornin'," he drawled, stretching his arms towards the ceiling. He stopped short once he caught sight of you. "Why ya dressed like that?"
"Like what?" You looked down at your black slacks and matching vest, a frown tugging at your lips.
"Like a...modern-day pilgrim."
Your shoulders slumped. "Gee. Thanks."
He pulled his elbow back and over his head, easing into a stretch.
"Was thinkin' we could grab some breakfast, since I'm no longer playin' in the tourney today. Need to get my mind off of last night."
A muscle feathered in your jaw. "Wish I could, but I'm meeting up with a classmate before heading over to the career fair."
"Oh." His arms fell to his sides. "I didn't know that."
"I told you last night on our walk home from the game."
"No, ya didn’t.”
“Yes, I did,” you said, massaging the inner corners of your eyes. "Look, I can only imagine how difficult last night was for you, but...you're not the only one stressed out here, okay?“
Atsumu blinked back at the exhaustion in your voice. The slight edge it now carried.
"Right. Yeah, of course," he managed, schooling his expression. "Sorry, I...where ya meetin' her?"
You drew your lips into a taught line.
"Actually, I'm meeting him at the university coffee shop."
At that, Atsumu raised his eyebrows.
"...him?"
You sighed miserably. "You really didn't hear me at all last night, did you?"
"I didn't realize ya were basically goin' out with this guy."
"Oh, please don't start."
"What? Start what?"
"Whatever it is you're doing! This whole jealousy thing!" you exclaimed, gesturing towards him. "You know you have nothing to worry about, right?"
"Jealous?" Atsumu balked. "I ain't jealous! I'm just..."
"What? You're what?"
"I dunno!" he cried, scrubbing his hair out in frustration. He scoured his brain for the right thing to say, but he wasn't as good with his words as you were. So instead, he stupidly blurted out, "Ya can't just find somebody else to go with?"
Even as he said it, he hated how it sounded. Your jaw went slack.
"Are you seriously asking me that right now?"
Atsumu merely shrugged in reply.
"Tsumu, I'm not meeting with this guy so I can bat my eyelashes at him — I'm meeting with him so I can find a job."
"And since when did ya need a guy to help ya find a job?!”
"Since I realized it’s really fucking hard to find one! Not all of us can get scouted by big fancy recruiters, okay?”
“Oh, please. As if ya aren’t the most capable woman alive,” he scoffed. “What’s he offerin’ ya then, huh? Interview pointers? A free back massage?”
You folded your arms across your chest. "You're being unfair and you know it. Not everyone is going to hurt you like Akemi and Terushima did, okay?”
"Sure. 'Cause that's all I am to ya, right? The idiot who got fucked over and can't let it go?"
His words lingered between you — bitter, defensive. Laced with something vulnerable enough to fracture your heart.
"Atsumu," you said, your voice soft. Tired. "Is that really how you think I see you?"
The heartbroken look on your face made him bristle with discomfort.
"Yes," he bit out, averting his gaze. "No. Maybe?"
You exhaled a long breath. Tried to compose yourself as best as possible.
"If it wasn’t already clear, Atsumu, you have become...the most important person to me,” you said. “And I know that being here and living with me isn't how you wanted your senior year to go — "
"Wait — " His brow furrowed at the resignation in your words. "I never said — "
"But you are so much more than just the guy who got cheated on, okay?" you snapped. "So for you to let it hold this much power over you? And then doubt my ability not to cheat on you, too?”
You swallowed, trying not to let the anger overcome your voice.
“It just…it hurts, Tsumu.”
Something flashed across his eyes, then. Fear, regret, you couldn't tell. But you suddenly found yourself drawing back, your face flushing a warm shade of pink.
"God, what am I even saying?” you said behind a weak laugh. “It’s not like you’re my boyfriend or anything.”
For several long, agonizing minutes, Atsumu just stood there, too stunned to respond, yet too conflicted to leave. You dug your fingers into both hips to ground yourself, sniffling back the pressure that had accumulated behind your nose, your eyes.
"I gotta go. I'm gonna be late," you murmured after a while, awkwardly looking around the living room. "Can we...figure this out later tonight?"
Out of all the things Atsumu had expected you to say, that was not one of them. Why weren't you defiantly screaming at him right now? Or slamming the door in his face?
You merely cocked your head at him, awaiting his answer.
"Yeah, yeah," Atsumu said, blinking out of his stupefied expression. "Let's...let's talk about it later."
He wasn't used to arguing like this. Quietly. Responsibly. It made him feel even shittier than he already felt.
"Okay," you nodded. "I have a pretty busy day today, but I'll let you know when I'm on my way home, okay?"
He found himself nodding, too.
"Okay. Be safe."
"You, too."
You gave him one last look, grabbed your bag, and gently closed the door on your way out.
After meeting with your classmate, walking the fair, and shucking your resumé at a handful of tables, you found yourself climbing into your car and driving across town for lunch. You didn't know why you did it — the commute was wildly inconvenient, and you needed to be back on campus in an hour. But as you pulled into the parking lot of Onigiri Miya and slammed your car door shut, you felt the facade you'd kept up the entire morning slowly ebb away.
"Well, ain't this a surprise," Osamu blinked at you from behind the counter. "Funny seein' ya here on the other side of town."
"Yeah, well, I didn't expect to be here either," you drawled. Osamu's frowned at the drop in your voice.
"Ya okay?"
You slumped into the bar stool nearest to him and propped your chin up with both hands.
"No," you said miserably. "My stomach feels like it's digesting itself."
Osamu snorted, already reaching for a fresh pair of gloves.
"Well, lucky for ya, rush hour doesn't start for at least another half hour."
You watched him quietly as he worked — hands moving with easy precision, grey eyes contemplating each ingredient. He used every filling imaginable: bulgogi beef, siracha pork. Traditional salmon and enough pickled vegetables to feed small country. By the time he set the plate in front of you, you were practically drooling onto the countertop.
"On the house," he insisted when you reached for your wallet. "I'm experimentin' with my summer specials, so consider this a taste test."
After debating whether to argue with him, you eventually gave in, lifting the first of the onigiri to your lips and taking a tentative bite.
The flavor hit your tongue and you sighed, muscles instantly relaxing.
"...ya like it?" Osamu said, gauging your reaction from across the counter.
"Like it?" you asked around a mouthful of bulgogi beef and pickled radish. "I fuckin' love it. Gimme ten more."
A warm laugh escaped him as he braced his palms against the counter and grinned. You two stayed like that for a moment — him asking you questions about the food, you answering them to the best of your ability.
After a while, though, he asked, "Now that yer eatin', wanna tell me what brought ya out here in the first place?"
You shook your head, wiping the corner of your mouth with a napkin. "It's stupid."
"Try me."
You looked Osamu in the eye before slumping your shoulders.
"Atsumu and I got into a fight."
"Ah." The chef nodded contemplatively before saying, "And is this supposed to surprise me, or...?"
"I — excuse me?" you stammered, taken aback by the question. Osamu laughed at the incredulous look on your face.
"What? This is Tsumu we're talkin' 'bout here! Ya can't live with him for a whole year without wantin' to kill him at least once," he said, cleaning off the counter with a rag. "Let me guess. He was in a pissy mood after last night's game?"
"Something like that," you grumbled. "Said he wondered what would've happened if Akemi had never cheated on him. That maybe, if he hadn’t gone on mental health leave, he would’ve played better.”
Osamu's expression faltered at your words. The hurt in which you'd said them.
"And I know I shouldn’t have taken that personally," you continued. "But when he said that, I just felt so...stupid? Overlooked? Like, did us living together for a year not mean anything to you at all?"
Osamu exhaled, silently cursing his brother for whatever shit he'd said to make you believe that.
"I doubt that's what he meant," he countered gently, shucking his gloves into the trash bin. "But I don't blame ya for gettin' upset. He's got a shitty way of wordin’ things.”
You shook your head. "And then he got jealous that I was meeting with this guy from my thesis program today. We went to the career fair, of all places."
Osamu snorted. "That's, like, the least sexy activity I can think of."
"I know, right?” you laughed weakly. "The entire time we were fighting, all I could think to myself was, like, 'Do I even have a right to be upset about this? It's not like I'm his girlfriend or anything.'"
"Y/N..." Osamu said, shooting you a serious look. "Ya two are practically dating."
"Sure. If by dating you mean constantly overthinking your relationship status," you drawled. You hid your face in your hands and groaned. "I just...I want to be with him so bad, Samu. I don't want his past to scare him. To...to make him doubt how I feel."
Osamu chuckled in equal parts amusement and exasperation. If only you knew that Atsumu felt the same way.
"Look," he started. "My brother is a dipshit most of the time. He doesn't think before he speaks; he lets his ego get the best of him. He takes his frustration out on the people closest to him, and he can be fuckin' rude when he does it."
He braced his forearms on the counter and looked you in the eye.
"But believe me when I say that I've never seen him this calm, or happy, since he moved in with ya.”
Your expression softened. "Really?"
"Are ya kiddin' me? The guy's down bad for ya, Y/N. Don't ever doubt that for a second."
"Then why hasn't he told me that?" you asked. Osamu blew out a sigh.
"That's somethin' ya need to take up with him," he said. "If I had to guess, though, I'd say you're right. His past does still scare him. Not because of you, though."
You pursed your lips to one side and considered Osamu's perspective for a moment. It wasn't anything you didn't already know. But somehow, hearing it from him made your uneasiness start to subside.
"Just...be patient with him, okay? And don't feel guilty for keepin' him in check. Ninety-nine percent of the time, he probably deserves it."
Despite yourself, you chuckled at that, the sensation warming your chest, your nerves. Osamu jutted his chin towards your plate and smiled.
"Want anythin' else while yer here?"
"Can I get a to-go box, actually?" you replied, checking the time on your phone. "I have my last shift at the bookstore today, and then I promised Atsumu we'd talk things over when I got home."
"Really?" Osamu asked, handing you a plastic container with a raised eyebrow. "That's new."
"What can I say?" you said with a shrug, packing up your plate and snapping the lid closed. "The guy's down bad for me, apparently."
At that, Osamu burst out laughing. And despite yourself, you started laughing, too.
"…thanks for listening to me, Samu. And for making me food.”
"Of course. It's the least I can do after ya took Tsumu in last year." He paused. "Ya know I was this close to kickin' him out of my house?"
"Oh, I can imagine," you chuckled, standing up from your seat and making your way towards the front door. You paused before pushing it open, fingers drumming against the handlebar in thought.
"He's not all that bad, though," you admitted softly. Osamu smirked up at you from behind the counter.
"Nah," he agreed. "If he managed to nab you? He's gotta be doin' somethin' right."
A small smile crept onto your face as you shook your head, pushed the door open, and made your way back to campus.
next time: the conversation we've all been waiting for, friends... 🤭
atsumu recalls the night he got his heart broken — and the summer he moved into your apartment. he never meant to fall in love with you, but then again, you made it far too easy.
part sixteen of the in close quarters series, a friends-to-lovers college AU featuring you, atsumu, and the ten months you spend living together senior year.
Before you, Atsumu prided himself on having the upper hand in his relationships.
He never initiated plans, never apologized first. Always made up for it with a sheepish grin and enough sweet talk to make people forget why they were upset with him in the first place. A decorated college athlete and the top prospect for the National Volleyball League, he truly believed people were lucky to have him. For a night. A failed talking stage. A relationship — if you were interesting enough.
He wasn't the kind of person people cheated on.
At least, that's what he told himself.
"Yo, Atsumu. You good man?" Mattsun clapped him on the shoulder, voice barely registering through the thick bass of the music. "How much have you had to drink?"
Atsumu's eyes slid towards his fraternity brother's in an idle, inebriated line, the question dissipating somewhere between his ears and his brain.
"Mattsun," he drawled, Kansai accent stretching out his vowels. "Have ya seen Akemi? She was s'posed to be gettin' me a drink, but I don't see her anywhere..."
Mattsun seized Atsumu by the shoulder as he stumbled forwards, the smell of alcohol heavy on his breath.
"Yeah, I think I saw her head upstairs. Probably went to use the bathroom," Mattsun said, his voice clipped. "Look, man. I'd take it easy if I were you. Want me to get you a water?"
"M'fine," Atsumu slurred, waving a lazy hand in the air. He shouldered his way out of Mattsun's grip and piloted his way towards the stairs. "Jus' need to talk to her, is all."
They'd fought again, earlier that day. Something about a ski trip he didn't want to go on with a group of girls he could barely tolerate. He hadn’t remembered what he’d said — just that it was spiteful and guaranteed to hurt. He never fought to resolve. He fought to win. To say the things that stung the most.
And given the way Akemi had slapped him, it was safe to say he did what he'd set out to do.
He braced himself against the railing of the staircase, vision blurring. Music thrumming in his veins. It was a miracle he'd made it to the second story at all. Fraternity parties were always a tossup with Atsumu — either he was the rowdiest person in the room or on the verge of alcohol poisoning. And given the way he hauled himself down the corridor, head throbbing with every step, he was quickly approaching the latter.
"Babe?" he called out, his voice a mere croak. "Babe, ya up here?"
He wasn't even sure what he was going to say. Sorry for being an asshole? For hating your friends? Realistically, he'd just grow defensive, say something else to make her feel guilty. He didn't have the skillset, or the ego, to act any differently.
The faint sound of moaning made him stop.
Now, it wasn't unusual for Terushima to bring girls up here during a party. If anything, it was expected. But as Atsumu passed their shared bedroom and saw a flash of red through the crack in the door, he found himself blinking back.
He knew that red top. Had taken it off enough times to know whom it belonged to.
His breath stilled. His mind went blank. Something in him splintered just enough to snap.
"The fuck — ?”
His best friend jumped off of Akemi the second Atsumu's hand split the door open. It collided with the dresser with a sharp crack!
"T-Tsumu," Akemi gasped, scrambling out of Terushima's bed.
Her blouse had been untied, a trail of red marks swelling down her neck. Her lipstick, the shade Atsumu had always loved on her, was smudged halfway across her face.
The rest of it stained Terushima's teeth.
Atsumu was going to be sick.
"Tsumu," Terushima began, voice shaky. Uncertain. "T-Tsumu, this isn't what it looks like — "
Akemi crossed the room, fingers digging into Atsumu's shoulders. "We didn't mean for you to find out like this, okay? We swear — "
But Atsumu was already shoving out of her grip. Expression blank. Head pounding. The hallway felt like it was closing in on him as he stumbled through it, each step heavier, more breathless than the last. No amount of alcohol could erase what he'd just seen.
Akemi, her head thrown back in bliss. Terushima, hand beneath her blouse, lips latched onto the pale column of her throat.
Her words blared in Atsumu's brain. We didn't mean for you to find out like this.
How long had he been this fucking stupid?
In the days that followed, Atsumu wouldn't remember shouldering past Mattsun. Wouldn't remember throwing open the door to the fraternity house and calling the Uber to Osamu and Suna's. Hell, he wouldn't even remember how loudly the driver had shouted at him to get the hell out of his car.
All he remembered was the sight of his girlfriend pressed beneath his best friend.
That, and the sound of his vomit splattering against the sidewalk when he flung himself out of the car.
"Ya wanna tell us what's goin' on?"
Osamu folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the doorframe to the bathroom, his voice terse. Impatient.
Inside, Atsumu sat on the cold tile with his arms draped over his knees. Purple shadows pooled beneath his eyes. Dried tears stained both his cheeks. A spittle of vomit caked the collar of his shirt. He was physically there, but he looked to be somewhere else entirely.
"He hasn't said anything since he got here," Suna drawled from the kitchen. "I doubt he'll start talking now."
They were watching an episode of The Bear when they'd heard him, loud, angry footsteps clobbering into the front porch. Massaging the inner corners of his eyes, Osamu tore his focus from the screen just in time to see Atsumu retching into their ficus through the window. He tsked in disgust and hit the pause button on the remote.
"The hell — ?" he'd snapped as he flung open the front door.
He stopped short once he realized Atsumu had been crying.
"Shit," Osamu breathed, immediately grabbing his brother by the shoulder. "Are ya okay? The hell happened?"
Atsumu merely dug the heel of his palm into his chest, his breaths jagged. Panicked. His eyes latched onto Osamu's for a split-second before he heaved again.
"Suna!"
The two of them hauled Atsumu into the bathroom, where he'd expelled the remaining contents of his stomach without so much a word. That had been forty minutes ago. Since then, Osamu had called Akemi twice. To his frustration, it seemed like neither her or Atsumu had any intention of speaking to him.
It wasn't the first time his brother had shown up to their house like this — moody and messy and drunk out of his mind. But this time was different. This time, Osamu couldn't get a read on him.
"I'ma try her again," Osamu murmured, reaching for his phone in the back pocket of his sweatpants.
"Don't."
Osamu blinked at the bite in his brother's voice.
"Why? The two of ya get into a fight or somethin'?" Then, after a long while, "We can't help ya if we don't know what's goin' on, Tsumu."
Atsumu didn't respond. Just stared into the distance with empty eyes and a flexed jaw. Osamu sighed through his nose and turned back towards the kitchen, wondering how on earth to discard of the puke-filled ficus on his front porch.
"...they're fuckin'," Atsumu said towards his brother's back. The words infiltrated the air like smoke pooling from a cigarette.
Osamu stopped, his gaze flicking to Suna's.
His roommate merely shrugged in reply. Hell if I know.
"Who?"
"God — " Atsumu laughed bitterly. "Are ya that fuckin' dense? Do I really have to spell it out for ya?!"
Osamu's jaw ticked at that.
"Ya know, for someone who just shows up on our doorstep expectin' us to take care of ya, ya better watch yer fuckin' mouth."
"Whatever. I didn't even wanna come here in the first place," Atsumu muttered. "Fuckin' jackass."
"Then why the fuck are ya here?!" Osamu spat. He stormed back into the bathroom and jabbed a finger in the direction of the front door. "Why don't ya just go back to yer shitty parties with yer shitty people and leave us the fuck alone?!"
Atsumu grew quiet again, refusing to even look at him.
"Dude, chill," Suna murmured under his breath. Osamu scoffed, raking a hand through his hair as he reentered the kitchen and tossed his phone onto the countertop.
"I'm fuckin' tired of his shit."
Another twenty minutes passed in complete silence. They tried returning to their show, but the smell of vomit lingered vaguely in the air, souring both of their moods. Eventually, Suna thumbed through the contact list on his phone and hit the call button with a sigh.
"Hello?" a familiar voice greeted him on the other line.
"Hi. Sorry to call you like this, I know it's late."
Osamu shot his roommate a raised eyebrow from across the couch.
“Oi,” he whispered. “Is that — ?”
"That's okay, Rin. Ya know ya can call me at any time," the twin's mother reminded him warmly. "Everythin' okay, sweetheart?"
From the bathroom, Atsumu hung his head between his knees, too embarrassed to step out of the bathroom and answer to Osamu and Suna's confused stares. Because once he did, he would finally have to admit that this was happening. That Akemi was cheating. That his friendship with Terushima was fucked. That things were about to be unbelievably shitty.
The weight of it all sank into his shoulders, his chest. He suddenly found it difficult to breathe. His phone rang in his back pocket, making him flinch.
"...ma?"
"Atsumu?" his mother said, her voice — the same one she used when he'd lost a game back in grade school — making him gulp back. "Just thought I would check in. Are ya alright, sweetie?"
He tried to hold it in, tried to sound less damaged than he was. But as he opened his mouth to speak, all that escaped him was a jagged sob.
"...oh, sweetheart," his mother soothed as he cried. "What happened?"
He told her.
Atsumu stayed at their house for several weeks after the incident. Hoarding their fridge. Leaving his clothes on the floor, his dishes in the sink. He slummed through finals and took the bus across town for off-season training, sandwiching himself between wailing children and adults who coughed like they had the plague.
In other words, he'd taken a steep fall from grace.
His phone had blown up with texts from both Akemi and Terushima — asking to speak with him, justifying their actions. Something about how they'd liked each other for a while now and just didn't know how to bring it up to him. He didn't respond to either of them.
He'd spotted them at the fraternity house, though. Lounging on the sofa when he went to retrieve his multivitamins. Laughing in the kitchen when he ran out of clean underwear. He'd bolted past doorways before they could see him, infuriated by how pathetic he felt and how happy they looked together. How easy.
"Who actually gave ‘em the fuckin’ audacity?" he murmured the day they started posting each other on Instagram.
Atsumu zoomed in on the photo, Terushima's smug eyes and tongue piercing making him want to throw his phone across the room.
Osamu, however sympathetic he was to the situation, merely rolled his eyes and said, "Could ya channel some of that anger into doin' the dishes?"
They fought constantly about the damn dishes. Suna had to buy himself a new pair of noise-canceling headphones.
Then, towards the end of July, Atsumu saw a Facebook post advertising the second bedroom of your north campus apartment. It looked clean. Spacious enough. He sent you a DM at three o'clock in the morning and prayed to God you wouldn't block him.
To his surprise, you responded the next morning.
You were different from the people he'd spent the past three years trying to impress. You'd never stepped foot in a fraternity house, for one. You studied like your life depended on it. You inhaled the scent of your library books like most people did their e-cigarettes, and you were kind. Unabashedly so.
Atsumu couldn't fathom why. You had no obligation to him whatsoever.
"Just get out of volleyball practice?" you called from the kitchen a week after he'd moved in with you. "I'm making scrambled eggs if you want some."
"It ain't breakfast, though," he said blankly, kicking off his shoes at the front door.
You laughed over the sound of the sizzling pan and said, "It's one of the few things I know how to cook, okay? Plus, I can't let Osamu's groceries go to waste."
"Right," he breathed, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried coming up with reasons to say no to you.
"I would, but my coach has us on some weird high-protein diet for a couple weeks," he fibbed. "Hard boiled eggs, tofu, shit like that."
"Ah. Forgot you were an athlete," you said, smiling over a shoulder. "No worries, then."
Atsumu emerged from the shower an hour later to a plate of hard-boiled eggs, cut in half and sprinkled with everything bagel seasoning. He ate the entire plate in under two minutes.
He hadn't meant to fall for you. All he'd wanted was to keep to himself until graduation. But you kept doing things. Buying him the candy that he liked. Memorizing his coffee order. Teasing him in a way that made him feel seen instead of undermined. Not to mention the fact that he found you cute as hell — what with the bandanas you tied into your hair, the way your lips pursed when you wrote...
How the fuck had he ended up here?
You know how, he told himself. As if he could ever forget.
He'd sometimes wake up from nightmares in the middle of the night. They often involved him losing an important match — with his entire fraternity cackling at him from the stands. He'd blink up at the ceiling and swing his legs over the side of the bed, his door creaking open as he padded over to the kitchen for a glass of water.
Nine times out of ten, you'd be there. Hashing out an essay on the dining room table. Murmuring into a novel on the living room couch. Laughing at some reality television TikTok on your phone. You never slept at a normal hour, but you always smiled up at him before returning to whatever it was you were doing.
It felt nice. Grounding. You slowed his heartbeat enough for him to fall back asleep.
Those nights made him realize that this place — this apartment — had become the best thing that ever happened to him.
And the one night he woke up dreaming about you instead?
He realized maybe it wasn't the apartment after all.
"Good job today, Miya," his coach called out to him before he left for the night.
The setter lifted his hand in thanks before pushing open the doors to the student athletics center, the warm spring air sticking to his skin as he began the long walk home.
His team had made it to the semifinals of the Division I Spring Volleyball Tournament, having beat two formidable opponents in the first and second rounds. Fortunately, your university was hosting the championship event this weekend, the top four men’s collegiate teams to compete in their final matches of the season. Campus was abuzz about it, social media even more so. Everyone wondered if Atsumu’s team would be able to defend their championship win from last year — the setter himself included.
Still, Atsumu level-set his expectations as best he could. It wasn’t easy to win two back-to-back titles, and after everything that had happened to him, his confidence wasn’t exactly the same as it was last year. Back then, he was untouchable, abrasive, and proud. This year, he was…softer. Still just as passionate, but less vain around the edges. More introspective.
Whether that would be enough to win this weekend, he didn’t know.
His keys jingled as he unlocked the door to your apartment, your floor lamp casting an orange glow across the otherwise dark living room. It was only ten o'clock, but you had fallen asleep already, limbs splayed across the couch. Glasses sliding down your nose. Paperback novel cracked open on your chest. He chuckled to himself as his gym bag hit the carpet with a soft thud.
About damn time ya slept at a normal hour.
You looked adorable when you slept — lips parted, chest rising and falling with every breath. Careful not to wake you, Atsumu gently removed your glasses, slid the book out from under your chin, and draped a blanket over your dozing figure. He brushed the hair out of your face for good measure, his heart aching in affection as you absentmindedly leaned into his touch.
If he were being honest, he could see himself doing this every day. Coming home to you. Taking care of you. Finally escaping the limbo of being more than just friends but not exactly significant others.
How many times had he held back from asking you? He didn't want to rush into things like his last relationship, or worse — make you feel like the rebound. You had healed him in more ways than one, but he wanted to make it absolutely clear that he wanted you for you. Not just how you made him feel.
So he merely bent down, ran a knuckle down your cheek, and pressed his lips to your forehead.
"Thank ya," he murmured into your skin. "I love ya. I promise, I'll figure out how to tell ya soon."
He retreated into his bedroom and clicked the door shut.
a/n: in writing chapters like she makes ya better and night market, i really wanted to write this flashback chapter to show just how much our sweet boy has healed. 🥺 as always, thank you so much for reading and engaging with this this lil' fic of mine! it truly means the world to me. 💞
next chapter involves semi-finals, hard conversations, and y/n's perspective on her and atsumu's relationship so far. stay tuned. 😚
the miya twins help you dye your hair — and nearly kill each other in the process.
part fifteen of the in close quarters series, a friends-to-lovers college AU featuring you, atsumu, and the ten months you spend living together senior year.
The idea came to you on a Friday night.
You were editing your final paper for your world lit class, limbs splayed across your bed. Music thrumming from your laptop. The door to your and Atsumu's shared bathroom was wide open, the setter absentmindedly singing along to Katseye's Gabriela as he applied a generous layer of bleach to his roots.
"What?" he asked when you shot him a sideways glance through the doorway. "Why are ya starin' at me like that? I only know the words to this song 'cause ya play it 24/7!"
"No, it's not that," you laughed, although you were amused by how easily Atsumu had adopted your music taste as of late. "It's just...I don't think I've ever seen you dye your hair before, is all."
"...oh. Really?" He furrowed his brow, eyes trained on his reflection as he worked the bleach into his hair with the applicator brush. "Feels like I do it all the time at this point."
You lowered your laptop screen and watched him work, gaze following each easy, practiced swipe of the brush across his hair. He was surprisingly attractive like that — what with his black latex gloves, the concentrated expression on his face. Either that, or the bleach fumes were sufficiently getting to your head.
After a long moment, you asked, "When did you start dyeing your hair? Was it in high school?"
"Yeah," he replied, using his brush to pick up some more product from the bowl he'd mixed just minutes before. "At first, I did it just so people would quit mistakin' me for Samu."
"Really? You two are so different, though,” you said amusedly. "I can't imagine anyone having a hard time telling you two apart."
"Yeah, well, everyone did at some point. Our teachers, our teammates. It was only when girls started comin' up to me thinkin' I was 'the nicer, quieter one' that I really got pissed off."
You snorted. "You are a lot rowdier compared to Osamu."
"That don't mean I'm any less nice!" he retorted. "Anyways, I got so fed up with correctin' people that I bleached my hair one night and never went back. Samu even went grey for a while."
"I can only imagine what your mom thought at first."
"Oh, she was mortified," Atsumu chuckled. "She was convinced the bleach would seep through to our brains. Which, it probably did, but I think we turned out okay.”
A small smile flickered across your lips.
"So now that you and Osamu are in two completely different places, would you ever go back to your natural hair color?"
Atsumu's nose scrunched at the thought. "Nah. Don't get me wrong, it looks great on him, but...it just doesn't really feel like me anymore, ya know?"
"That makes sense," you hummed in agreement. "I can't imagine you with any other hair color."
"Right? I dunno, it gives me a confidence boost," he said, briefly checking himself out in the mirror. "Makes me feel like hot shit."
"You see, it's sentences like that that make me wonder why anyone would ever mistake you for your brother," you drawled, returning to your essay with a humored look on your face.
Katseye continued to sing in the background as Atsumu asked, "Have ya ever thought about dyein' yer hair?"
"A couple times," you admitted, scrolling through your essay and changing a word here and there. "The most I would ever do is bleach the ends, but...I don't think I could pull it off."
"Bullshit," Atsumu scoffed. "Anyone can pull off anythin' with the right attitude."
You pursed your lips to one side as Atsumu set a timer on his phone for thirty minutes and began clearing off the bathroom counter. Fingers combing through your overgrown hair, you realized just how long it had been since you'd done anything remotely interesting with it. You'd made your fair share of spontaneous decisions over the years — quarantine bangs and drastic post-breakup cuts included — but never bleach.
"Huh?" Atsumu balked, making sure he’d heard your question correctly. "Ya want me to dye yer hair? Now?”
"Why not?" You shrugged. "It would just be the ends. And if it turns out really shitty, we can always just chop it off."
"I dunno, babe. Ya sure yer parents would want ya to have bleach blonde tips in yer graduation photos?"
"Sure." You rolled your eyes. "'Cause between dancing in skimpy skirts and dating my roommate, bleaching my hair is somehow the most offensive to my parents."
At that, the tips of Atsumu's ears turned bright red.
"Ya know, I think the only reason ya get away with so much is because ya make such good grades."
You smiled sweetly and said, "It's called give and take, baby."
That's how you ended up here. Atsumu's towel thrown over your shoulders. Desk chair squeezed between the sink and the bathtub. A bottle of 30-volume developer staring back at you. Atsumu had even asked his brother to bring over a roll of tin foil after his shift at the restaurant, Osamu eyeing your makeshift salon with about as much judgement as one might imagine.
"Ya sure ya trust him not to fry yer hair off?" he asked, folding his arms across his chest as he stood in the threshold to the bathroom.
"Would ya shut it, jackass?" Atsumu shot back, furiously mixing the bleach powder in with the developer. "This was her idea."
"It was," you admitted from the desk chair. "Spontaneous senior year decisions, am I right?"
Osamu merely shook his head, squeezing himself into the cramped bathroom and perching himself on the lip of the bathtub. "Ya really are made for each other."
The plan was simple: backcomb the ends of your hair. Apply the bleach in even sections. Set a timer for each strand to ensure minimal damage. Atsumu had watched all of two TikToks in preparation for this, and yet you were surprisingly trusting in his ability to not fuck up your hair. It felt nice. Reassuring, even.
He wished he could say the same for his twin brother.
Gently brushing the bleach mixture into the first strand of hair, Atsumu cut Osamu a glare and tsked in annoyance.
"Would ya quit breathin' down my neck? I can't concentrate."
"What? Ya made me drive all the way across town for this — the least I can do is make sure ya don't botch it," Osamu quipped, observing Atsumu's every move like Gordon Ramsay on an episode of Hell's Kitchen.
"Make sure ya work it in evenly so it's not patchy," Osamu interjected, gesturing to a spot his brother had missed.
You swore you saw Atsumu's jaw feather in the mirror.
"I know how to bleach hair, jackass."
Once Atsumu finished the first section, he grabbed a square of tin foil from the pile you'd pre-cut and began folding it into your hair. From the bathtub, you could feel Osamu seething in frustration.
"Yer technique is horrible," the chef managed through bared teeth, swatting Atsumu's hand away so he could do it himself. "Yer crumplin' the foil like it's a fuckin' fast food wrapper!"
"Would ya get off my back? Not all of us spend a million hours a day foldin' rice into seaweed!"
"At least I know how to make rice, ya dumbass!"
Soon enough, the argument devolved into a full-blown debate over who could dye your hair better. They passed the applicator brush back and forth, comparing techniques, scolding each other any chance they got. All the while, you couldn't help but laugh at how competitive they'd become. Was this what they were like back in high school? Constantly bickering? Pushing each other to be better?
"Why ya gigglin' down there?" Osamu murmured, feathering the bleach into your hair with surgical precision.
"Ya think this is funny?" Atsumu echoed, folding the tin foil into your hair like it was an Olympic sport.
"Sorry, it's just..." you stifled your laugh as Atsumu fumbled with the timers on his phone. "I can see why people got you two mixed up now. You both are huge perfectionists."
Osamu merely blinked back at your observation. Atsumu, on the other hand, looked downright appalled.
"Perfectionists," Atsumu scoffed in disbelief, snatching the brush away from his brother so he could finish the last section of your hair. "At least I don't alphabetize my spice rack."
Osamu drawled, "Says the setter who called me trash for not hittin' his spikes with 100% accuracy."
Atsumu elbowed his brother square in the gut.
Once it was time to rinse out your hair, you kicked them both out of the bathroom and locked the door, the shower loud enough to drown out the sounds of their verbal sparring. In the living room, Atsumu and Osamu sat on opposite ends of your couch like two toddlers put in a timeout.
"Wanna play Super Smash Bros?" Atsumu asked after a long minute, jutting his chin towards the Nintendo Switch on the console. "Loser owes the other dinner."
Osamu's jaw ticked at the challenge. "Yer on."
On screen, Captain Falcon and Ike battled it out in Pokémon Stadium, the orchestral swell of the background music outcompeting the sound of the shower running across the apartment.
"How are things goin' between the two of ya?" Osamu asked, thumbs flying across the controller with ease.
"Good. We've both been pretty busy, honestly," Atsumu admitted. "Haven't had much time for a date night."
Osamu hummed. "Have ya asked her to be yer girlfriend yet?"
Atsumu winced as Ike sent Captain Falcon flying across the arena with a single blow to the chest.
"No. I haven't."
"And why not?" Osamu drawled, eyes never leaving the screen as he maintained his offensive stance. "Don't ya want her to be?"
"Of course I want her to be," Atsumu grumbled, flailing with the controller as his damage increased by the second. "I'm just...waitin' for the right moment to ask her. She's been so stressed out with finals and job applications, it just doesn't feel right to pile somethin' else on her plate."
A scoff escaped Osamu's lips. "Yer not puttin' a task on her to-do list, Tsumu.”
"Sure, but it's a big decision!" Atsumu argued. "I dunno. The last time I got into a relationship, I feel like I pressured us into makin' things official 'cause I was so damn insecure. I don't wanna do that with Y/N."
Osamu considered his brother's words, the rare earnestness behind them.
"She's the real deal for ya, isn't she?"
Atsumu faltered just enough for Ike to land one final blow, Captain Falcon flying off the screen in a blaze of unadulterated defeat. "Game!" the announcer boomed.
Osamu smirked as Atsumu dropped the controller into his lap and sighed.
"Yeah," he mumbled miserably, not even caring that he'd lost. "Yeah, she is."
Osamu chuckled. "Well, don't keep her waitin' too long. Else she might start gettin' the wrong idea."
"I won't," Atsumu promised. "Now stop makin' me admit all this sappy shit and play me again. Best two outta three."
You emerged from the bathroom forty minutes later, having toned, deep conditioned, blow-dried, and curled your new hair for good measure. The twins did a double-take as you entered the living room, a stunned expression on both of their faces as you ran your fingers through your long locks and held your hands out expectantly.
"So? What do we think?"
"I..." Atsumu stammered, blinking back at the way your hair tumbled past your shoulders. You looked like a Revlon commercial come to life. Were they responsible for that?
"...I didn't know ya had a curlin' iron," he finished dumbly.
"Turned out better than I expected," Osamu drawled, a smirk toying on his lips as he leaned back against the couch cushions to admire your new look. "The ashy blonde suits ya. Really brings out yer eyes."
At that, Atsumu shot his brother a glare.
"Would ya quit flirtin' with her?"
"What? She looks good!" Osamu exclaimed, gesturing towards you.
"Well, I have the two of you to thank for that," you laughed, smiling at their handiwork beneath the warm lights of your apartment. The bleached tips blended in seamlessly with your natural hair, the color soft. Subtle. Lifted just enough to keep things interesting.
"I love it," you admitted after a while. "Thank you."
The sincerity in your voice had them blushing identical shades of red. Perhaps they were more similar than you'd initially thought.
"Yeah, well, it wouldn't have turned out like that if it weren't for me," Osamu murmured.
"Excuse me?" Atsumu balked. "Ya haven't dyed yer hair in over four years!"
You merely rolled your eyes and went back into your bedroom, making a mental note to treat them both to ice cream once they'd stopped bickering.
It would be another forty minutes before you ushered them out the front door.
a/n: next chapter is an angsty one, y'all. i'm equal parts excited and nervous. 🫢
when you get rejected from your dream job, you do everything in your power not to tell atsumu right away. too bad he can read you like an open book.
part fourteen of the in close quarters series, a friends-to-lovers college AU featuring you, atsumu, and the ten months you spend living together senior year.
The email arrived in your inbox first thing Monday morning.
Dear Y/N, it read. Thank you again for taking the time to interview with us for the Summer Editorial Fellowship at Pastiche. We deeply appreciate the thoughtfulness, creativity, and insight you brought to every stage of the application process.
After careful consideration of all final-round candidates, we regret to inform you that we will not be moving forward with your application at this time.
You reread that last sentence. Once. Twice for good measure. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and skimmed the rest of the email — something about this cycle being 'extremely competitive' and how they 'sincerely hoped' you'd apply again next year.
It didn't stop the sharp pang of defeat now twisting into your stomach.
You had spent the past several weeks knee-deep in the interview process for Pastiche, their coveted fellowship a top opportunity for graduates looking to work in the magazine industry. Alumni of the program called it a golden ticket, a guaranteed foot in the door. It was a miracle you'd gotten an interview with them at all.
Still, you couldn't help but feel stupid for all those hours you'd spent researching the publication, perfecting your sample writing assignment. You'd even forced Atsumu to ask you interview questions until he'd fallen asleep on the couch.
"They'd be stupid not to want ya, babe," he'd mumbled when you tried to shake him awake. "Yer practically a shoe-in."
His words now filled you with shame as you dragged yourself out of bed and forced yourself to get ready.
Forty minutes later, the door to your go-to diner spot jingled open as a sweaty, post-run Atsumu made a beeline for your table.
"Babe babe babe," he said, clamoring into his seat and nearly knocking over the cup of coffee you'd ordered for him. "Guess who I just got off the phone with!"
"Uh...Vin Diesel called and asked for his tank top back?" you teased. A flicker of confusion crossed Atsumu's face.
"What? No.” He blushed as you openly admired his exposed biceps from across the table. "That was my coach. Apparently, a recruiter from the MSBY Black Jackals will be comin' to tonight's game. Said she’s interested in watchin' me and Sakusa play!”
"What?! Tsumu, that's amazing!" you exclaimed, reaching for his hand across the table and squeezing it tightly. "That's, like, your dream team!”
"I know! Coach says we might even get to meet her afterwards.” He took a swig of his coffee like it was a shot of whiskey. “I'm actually shittin' bricks right now, I’m so nervous.”
"You're gonna do great."
"How's my hair look?"
"Your roots are showing a little."
"Shit. I knew I should've touched ‘em up over the weekend — I'ma look like a fuckin' idiot out there!"
"Tsumu," you laughed. "I doubt they'll care about that. They're gonna take one look at your incredible sets and immediately sign you on."
"I hope so," he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck. "I've only had their posters tacked up on my wall since grade school."
You were so excited for him that you almost forgot about the email you'd received earlier that day. Almost.
In fact, as the waiter topped off your coffees and took your order, you found yourself shoving the news down until it became a dull, numbing pain in the back of your mind. You didn't need to dampen the mood with your job rejection. If anything, you wanted Atsumu to be 100% focused on his game tonight. You would tell him later. Definitely later.
That didn't mean it was easy to hide, though.
"Ya okay?" he asked you halfway through breakfast. You flinched beneath his brown-eyed stare. The suspicion behind it.
"Yeah! Why wouldn't I be?"
"I dunno,” he said behind a mouthful of scrambled eggs. “Ya seem a lil' out of it, is all."
"I'm just tired. I didn't get very good sleep last night," you fibbed, helping yourself to one of his home fries. Atsumu shook his head.
"Ya can't push yerself too hard, babe," he argued, shoveling several more onto your plate. "How many hours did ya get last night?"
"I dunno. Four? Five?" At Atsumu's disapproving stare, you said, "I’m not a D1 athlete with an annoyingly healthy sleep schedule, okay? I'll go into hibernation once the semester is over.”
"Yeah, if yer not dead by then," he retorted. You shot him an offended glare. "Look, babe. I know yer busy tryin' to find a job and finish yer thesis, but I don't want yer health to suffer. It ain't worth it."
"Fine. I’ll go to sleep early tonight," you conceded. You folded your arms across your chest and frowned. "Were you always this preachy?"
"Were ya always this hard-headed?"
You stabbed a potato with your fork. “Touché."
The day chugged onward at a glacial pace. You attended office hours with your TA to review the final draft of your thesis. You scrolled through LinkedIn, each new job announcement from your classmates making you feel progressively worse about yourself. You even tried reading your new romance novel, but even Emily Henry's whip-smart prose couldn't distract you from the sinking feeling that you had failed.
By the time Atsumu's game rolled around, you didn't know whether to feel disappointed or grateful that Osamu and Suna couldn't make it. The crowd roared as you slid into your seat in the student section of the stadium, Atsumu's old jersey swallowing you whole as you propped your feet up on the seat in front of you and tried to focus on the match.
As always, Atsumu was electric. Your eyes never left him as he set to each player with mathematical precision, dug for each ball like his life depended on it. And, in a way, it did.
Here he was, pouring his heart out onto the court for a recruiter who could very well change his life.
All the while, you couldn't even secure a measly job offer.
The thought was quick. Involuntary. You blinked back at the way it stung your subconscious. Unraveled into something uglier.
Did you seriously think you had a chance at that fellowship? you chided yourself. All you're good for is writing glorified smut. You know it. Your professors know it. Hell, maybe Atsumu knows it, too.
Your throat tightened, fingernails digging into your palms as you tried stuffing the thoughts down. They only grew louder.
He's going to outgrow you, you know. You won't see a trace of him once he signs on with that team. By this time next year, you'll have become a distant memory to him. An old roommate. A momentary fling.
A footnote in the grand story of his life.
The buzzer broke through your thoughts, jolting you back into reality. Your team had won, 35-33 in the third set. Atsumu had invited you to post-game drinks regardless of the outcome, but as the crowd fractured into a thousand tiny pieces, all you could think about was crawling into bed.
Not feeling too well! Going straight home after the game, you texted him. PLEASE lmk how the meetup with the recruiter goes.
Then: Great game today. I'm so proud of you.
You added a pink heart emoji and hit send.
Meanwhile, Atsumu felt the entire court burst into motion around him. A towel was thrown around his shoulders, a branded water bottle shoved into his hand. He searched the crowd of dispersing fans, hoping to find you. But his coach was already pulling him and Sakusa back through the stadium tunnel.
Their introduction with the MSBY recruiter went well enough. She asked about their backgrounds, the summer training camps they'd attended. If Atsumu were being completely honest, he'd blacked out during most of the conversation. He must've said something intelligible, though, given the way she shook his hand afterwards and promised to keep in touch.
He saw your texts as soon as he returned to the men's locker room.
"You going to Cain and Able's after this?" Sakusa asked, pulling on a fresh t-shirt before slamming his locker door shut.
Atsumu merely squinted at his phone and said, "Think I’ll pass."
The wing spiker unapologetically glared down at his teammate's screen and rolled his eyes.
"Just ask her to be your girlfriend already. Sheesh."
Atsumu's keys jangled as he let himself into the apartment thirty minutes later, the gentle drone of Kiera Knightly's Pride and Prejudice filling the otherwise quiet space. You'd folded yourself into the couch wearing nothing but boxers and a hoodie, the warm colors of the television flickering across your wan expression.
"Hey, darlin'," Atsumu drawled, kicking off his shoes and folding his arms across his chest. "Are those my boxers?"
"I ran out of shorts. I hope you don't mind," you replied sheepishly, forcing a smile onto your face. He could tell by the way it barely reached your eyes. "How'd the conversation with the recruiter go?"
"Good! I mean, I'm pretty sure I entered a fugue state, so I can't say for sure. But I think she liked me."
"Good. That's good." A glimmer of warmth returned to your eyes as you said, "See? Even with your roots showing, you're still charming as ever."
Atsumu snorted, gym bag hitting the floor as he sank into the couch next to you.
"Ya feelin' okay?" he asked. A heavy sigh escaped your lips.
"Yeah. Yeah, just tired," you murmured, raking a hand through your greasy hair. You both fell silent as Kiera Knightly and Matthew Macfadyen danced together on-screen, the tension palpable as they orbited each other in the midst of the crowded ballroom.
The violins swelled through the speakers as Atsumu asked, "Are ya gonna tell me what's really goin' on?"
You stiffened at the question. "What?"
"Ya don't need to put up a front with me, ya know," he said gently. Sternly. "I know somethin's botherin' ya. Yer actin' all distant, bailin' on victory drinks. Ya even put on Pride and Prejudice."
"I...it's a really good movie, okay?"
"Yeah, and the last time ya watched it, it was 'cause yer favorite contestant got kicked off The Bachelor."
"I was sad!"
"Exactly!" Atsumu cried, scrubbing his hair out in frustration. "I — is it me? Did I do somethin' wrong?"
"What? No — !"
"Then what is it?" he asked, his stare pressing into yours. "And don't tell me it's yer sleep schedule, 'cause I know for a fact ya can yap to me on four hours of shut eye."
His words were blunt, disarming. You slumped further into the couch and felt your face grow hot with embarrassment.
"...I didn't get the job at the magazine."
Atsumu's expression softened in an instant.
"...are ya serious?" he asked. Your bottom lip quivered as you nodded. "Shit, I'm sorry, babe. C'mere."
He closed the space between you and immediately drew you to his chest, your body crumbling beneath the pressure you'd been carrying around with you all day. Shoulders shaking, a slow trickle of tears slid down your cheeks as you pressed your face into his shoulder and wept. He held you like that for a long while, the television dampening the sound of your cries.
"When did ya find out?"
"...this morning. Before breakfast."
"Jesus, babe," Atsumu breathed. "Why didn't ya tell me sooner?"
Sniffling, you confessed, "I didn't want you to worry about me!"
"Screw that, babe! If somethin' happens to ya and ya need me, then need me. I could be playin' in the Olympics, and it wouldn't matter. I won't let ya go through shit like that alone."
You wiped your nose with your sleeve and laughed miserably. "Would you believe me if I said I was also a little embarrassed to tell you?"
"Embarrassed? Why?"
"Because!" you exclaimed, gesturing toward him like it should have been obvious. "Because you're you!"
At his dubious expression, you fell back against the couch cushions and sighed.
"I dunno," you said, fiddling with the drawstrings of your hoodie. "It's just...you've been doing really well lately. Winning games. Getting scouted by national teams. When you told me about the recruiter this morning, I was so incredibly happy for you. But I also felt...behind. Stuck. A little intimidated, to be honest."
Atsumu was floored.
"You? Intimidated by me?" he balked. You nodded. "Babe, do ya know how intimidated I feel around you sometimes? Ya read more books in a week than I have in my entire life! All I do is set a ball and run around!"
You shook your head. "Don't underestimate yourself like that."
"I'm serious, though. Yer, like, the smartest person I know. And if this magazine ain't bright enough to recognize that, then maybe they don't deserve ya in the first place." His eyes hardened in resolution. "It's their loss, babe. Seriously."
His words were enough to make the tips of your ears turn bright red.
"Thanks, Tsumu," you sniffled. "I needed to hear that."
You crawled into bed with him later that night, his sheets rustling as he pulled your body flush against his and engulfed you in his arms. Sharing a bed with him had become second-nature to you over the past month. Sometimes it was yours. Other times it was his. Either way, you never took for granted the nights you fell asleep together. No away games, no late-night writing sessions. Just you two. Heartbeats lulling each other to sleep.
"Yer gonna get somethin' soon," Atsumu murmured into your hair, voice thick with exhaustion. "And I'm not just sayin' that 'cause I like ya. I'm sayin' that 'cause I believe it."
Your heart ached at the sincerity in his voice.
"Thanks, babe."
You could practically hear him grinning through the dark.
"...ya called me babe."
"Thought I would try it out," you murmured into his chest.
"And?"
"...I still feel a little silly," you admitted around a yawn. "But I think I can get used to it."
atsumu takes you on a date to the university night market. everything is perfect — until you run into the last two people he ever wanted you to meet.
part twelve of the in close quarters series, a friends-to-lovers college AU featuring you, atsumu, and the ten months you spend living together senior year.
"I can't — " you stammered, chopsticks clamoring onto your plate in defeat. "I can't eat another bite. I feel delirious right now."
Beside you, Atsumu folded another dumpling into his cheek like a squirrel. "Ya tappin’ out now? I thought ya wanted to get our picture up on the wall of fame!"
"Goddamn it. You're right," you growled, pointing at the poor eighteen year-old boy who had been serving you dim sum for the past hour. "How many more before we get our picture taken?"
"Uh..." The waiter quickly counted the empty plates scattered around your cramped table. "Between the two of you? Seven."
"That's not bad," Atsumu said behind a mouthful of pork.
"Not bad at all," you grumbled, picking up your chopsticks with a renewed sense of purpose. You wiped off the sweat that had formed on your brow and said, "So much for looking pretty on our first date."
"I dunno," Atsumu drawled, dividing the remainder of the dumplings between you — four for him, three for you. "Yer awfully cute when yer determined.”
"Hush and eat your dumplings," you snapped at him, uncapping the lid off a fresh cup of chili oil. "We're getting a cute Polaroid of us."
Atsumu had expected a couple of things to happen on your first date. One, he expected you to make him nervous (because when did you not). And two, he expected the atmosphere to lean somewhat romantic. After all, your university's annual night market was a prime spot for first dates — with all the string lights and food stalls and thousands of opportunities to feed each other. The tickets couldn't have gone on sale at a better time.
What he didn't expect was for you, in the middle of exploring, to find a dim sum stall who promised all parties who ate twenty-five dumplings a person a photo on their commemorative wall of fame.
"We have to do it," you deadpanned, staring at the collection of Polaroid photos tacked onto the back of their makeshift dining stall. "Think of how memorable it would be!"
Now, Atsumu felt less like he was on a romantic date with you and more like you were on an intense leg of The Amazing Race. Sweat sheening. Stomachs distending. Morale lowering by the second. In fact, as he shoveled another dumpling into his mouth, he half-expected Phil Keoghan to appear and tell them they'd been eliminated. The energy was that palpable.
But as you practically inhaled the chili oil up your nose, sending you into a half-coughing, half-laughing fit, Atsumu couldn't help but crack up. You looked adorable when you set your mind to something. And, if he were being honest, he'd had more fun on this date than all of his previous first dates combined.
Perhaps things were leaning more romantic. Just not the type of romantic he expected.
"Good job," the waiter said flatly after you both had finished the last of the dumplings. Stomachs full. Souls depleted. "Let me grab the Polaroid camera from my boss."
"You alive?" you asked Atsumu, slumped against him in the wooden booth you both shared. A low burp grumbled out of him in response.
"I feel pregnant," he murmured, brown eyes glazed over in delirium. "I hope it's a girl.”
You snorted, a hiccup escaping your lips. "What are you, a seahorse?"
The waiter returned not a moment later with the check and the Polaroid camera, Atsumu's hands sinking into the flesh of your hips as he hoisted you into his lap for the photo. You ended up taking two — one flashing peace signs at the camera for the wall of fame, and another, softer one as a keepsake for the two of you.
"Awe," you gushed, the image of Atsumu pressing a kiss to your cheek slowly developing under the warm lights of the food stall. Your heart swelled at his freshly cut hair, the baby blue button-down he'd rolled at the sleeves. "You look so handsome, Tsumu!"
"Oh, please," he drawled, watching as the polka dots on your blue mini dress grew more vibrant by the second. His breath had caught in his throat the moment you'd stepped out of your bedroom with it on. "Yer the real show stopper ‘ere.”
You tacked your Polaroid onto the wall while Atsumu paid the check, your hand easily slipping into his as you exited the stall and returned to the busy halls of the night market.
As nervous as you'd been to take things further with your roommate of eight months, you also felt a sense of overwhelming relief. After all, you'd spent the latter half of your senior year dancing around each other — sneaking in touches, dismissing flirtation with the flimsy excuse of we're-just-good-friends. It felt good to just act upon your attraction toward one another without restraint. It felt like the puzzle pieces of your relationship were finally falling into place.
"You in the mood for dessert?" you asked him, gesturing to the handful of food stalls selling an assortment of confections: ube soft serve, matcha cake rolls. Mango bingsu and mochi in every flavor you could imagine.
Atsumu let out a low whistle. "Maybe lemme walk this off first?”
Chuckling, you leaned into his side and said, "Fair enough."
Unsurprisingly, the conversation flowed just as easily as it had before. You talked about everything and anything as you wove in and out of the bustling crowd: Atsumu's most recent home game. The progress you'd made on your creative writing thesis. Your predictions for the latest episode of Love Island USA, which you had both planned to watch when you got home.
"Do they all need to make out with each other, though?" Atsumu bemoaned as you waited in line for a Filipino dessert stand that had caught your eye. "That's like, a mono outbreak waitin' to happen."
"But that's what makes it entertaining!" you argued, scanning the display case of ube crinkle cookies, buko pandan, and leche flan. "Nobody watches Love Island for the picture-perfect romance. That's what Norah Ephron is for."
"Still," Atsumu huffed, shaking his head. "Some people oughta be ashamed of themselves..."
He trailed off the moment he spotted them.
There, in the corner of his peripheral vision. He wasn't sure if his mind was playing tricks on him right now, or if the universe actually hated his guts.
Because there, standing at the cash register, was his ex-girlfriend.
And her boyfriend.
Who just so happened to be Atsumu's ex-best friend.
His face drained of color.
"Tsumu?" Akemi asked in disbelief, blinking up at the setter through her long lashes. Before he could even utter a response, her bony arm snaked around his shoulders and forced him into a hug. The smell of her perfume — pungent and floral — careened him into the biggest wave of déjà vu. "It's been so long! How are you?"
"Akemi," Atsumu breathed, gently setting his hands on her shoulders and peeling her off of him. Then, towards the young man that had drawn himself up beside her, "Terushima."
"Well, ain't this a reunion?" his former fraternity brother drawled, flinging his arm around Akemi with a smirk. "We were real worried about you for a sec! Thought you went off the grid."
Atsumu dug his fingernails into his palms, tried to restrain the anger steadily rising in his chest.
"Glad to see the two of ya still together," he managed cordially. They had the audacity to laugh.
"Oh, yeah. We're coming up on what — six months now?" Terushima said, stroking Akemi's hair. "Had to convince this one to finally commit to me. She's a real handful. Though I'm sure you of all people would know, right?"
The question sent a bolt of electricity down Atsumu's spine. He hated how casually Terushima had said it, too. Like they were just old friends catching up.
"Yūji. Stop teasing him," Akemi giggled. Her large, patronizing eyes snapped onto Atsumu's. "Anyways, how are things going? Are you still doing your little volleyball thing?"
"Yeah," Atsumu huffed, trying to swallow down the lump that had formed in his throat. "Yeah, somethin' like that."
She pursed her lips to one side and said, "I'm happy for you, Tsumu. Seriously. You always did enjoy volleyball way more than you enjoyed me." Then, running her long fingernails down Terushima's arm, "I'm just glad I found someone who left all that stuff back in high school."
Her words sounded sweet, but they pierced him between the ribs and twisted, threatening to split him in half. Memories he'd long since withheld came boiling back up to the surface — him, shouting at Akemi down the hallway of the fraternity house. Akemi, throwing her phone at his face. Terushima, throwing Akemi over his shoulder before she could cause any more collateral damage.
Their entire dynamic had been toxic, tiring. Atsumu hadn't been entirely surprised when he found them together at their end-of-year fraternity party. And yet, seeing Terushima on top of her made something in him splinter beyond repair. Told Atsumu everything he suspected of himself and more.
Ya ain't enough. Never have been. Never will be.
The reminder was enough to make his throat close.
"Hey," you said casually, resting your hand on Atsumu's shoulder as you approached. The warmth of your palm jolted him out of his trance, pushed through his icy demeanor like a flower in early spring. "You okay?"
His brown eyes gleamed with an apology he didn't quite know how to voice. Before him, his ex-girlfriend's lips parted in surprise.
"Oh! Are you on a date? She's so cute!" Akemi gushed, leaning forwards like she wanted to pet you. "I'm Akemi, by the way. Atsumu and I used to date."
"Yes, I know who you are," you said, your expression calm. Neutral. You knew Atsumu's history with these people, had thought about it more times than you cared to admit. But actually seeing them in the flesh made something in you shift. Sharpen.
"Well, hopefully he's learned a thing or two since dating me," Akemi drawled, staring at you in what you could only describe as pity. "From one girl to another? Don't provoke him. We used to bitch at each other all the time — it was horrendous."
Careful, now, you thought. Partly to her. Mainly to yourself.
"Really? He isn't like that with me at all."
You could've sworn Akemi flinched.
"...I see," she hummed, schooling her expression. "Well, it's only a matter of time before he shows you his true self."
Furrowing your brow innocently, you said, "Well, maybe he didn't show you his 'true self' because you were too busy fucking his best friend."
Beside you, Atsumu nearly choked. Akemi blanched. Terushima cleared his throat and adjusted his collar.
"Sorry. I don't mean to be crass," you told her. Eyes empty. Tone flat. "But I don't take advice from people with bad character.”
And with that, you took Atsumu's hand and walked in the opposite direction.
"...what assholes," you murmured under your breath, shooting him a displeasured look. "You put up with that shit?"
Atsumu gulped back, unable to find the right words to say. His heart hadn't stoped hammering in his ears.
The sun had long since dipped past the horizon by the time you had escaped the crowd, the two of you now sitting on a bench just outside the night market. Bands of college students, families, and local food enthusiasts buzzed in the background as you unwrapped one of the ube crinkle cookies you'd managed to pay for before all hell broke loose. You tore off a piece and held it out to Atsumu. He popped it into his mouth without a word.
You'd never seen someone eat a cookie more seriously.
"Tsumu," you drawled, brushing the powdered sugar off your fingertips.
"Yeah," he clipped, his tone flat. Dismissive.
"Your face."
"What about it?"
"You look constipated."
A muscle in his jaw ticked. "I dunno. Maybe it's the dumplin’s.”
"Sure," you chuckled. You folded the plastic wrapping of the cookie and gingerly slid it back into your purse. "Do you wanna talk about it? You know, how the dumplings made you feel?"
"Not really," he mumbled, folding his arms across his chest. Then, after an excruciatingly long minute, "I just think it's funny how they think they can talk to me like that, ya know? Like they didn't totally stab me in the back."
"I know."
"And you. God — " He ran a hand over his face. "I didn't know ya had that in ya! I mean, I was mad. But you...you were irate."
"Irate," you breathed, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling. "You did today's Wordle, didn't you?"
"It was a good word!” he exclaimed. He pinched the inner corners of his eyes and sighed, his anger morphing into something softer. More vulnerable. "Ya know, that lil’ stunt ya pulled back there? That was...the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me."
Your heart splintered at his confession. "Really?"
Atsumu winced. "Kinda a low bar, ain't it?"
"A little — but that's okay!" you insisted as Atsumu hid his face in his hands and groaned. You reached out and pried his hands away from his embarrassed expression. "What matters most to me is that you're okay."
"Yeah," Atsumu reassured you with a nod. He pulled your hands into his lap and gave them a gentle squeeze. "Yeah, I am. Just...weird runnin' into them after so long, ya know?"
"Yeah, I get it,” you said. "Probably doesn't help that it was on our first date, either."
"Just my luck, eh?" Atsumu scrubbed his hair out and laughed miserably. "Argh — I'm sorry. I had this whole plan! Tonight was supposed to be fun, not…traumatizin'."
“Well, for what it's worth, I had a lot of fun going off on your ex."
"Yeah, honestly? That was pretty fun to see,” he said. A comfortable silence washed over the both of you, filled only by the sound of distant laughter and buzzing cicadas.
"I'm not usually a confrontational person," you admitted after a while, running your thumb across the back of his hand. "But when I heard how they were talking to you, something in me just...snapped. I couldn't stand it."
He looked you in the eye at that moment, brown eyes gleaming with an emotion you couldn't quite place.
"Sometimes I think yer the only thing holdin' me together these days.”
You shook your head. "Tsumu..."
"I'm bein’ serious!" he said, turning to face you on the bench. "Y/N, I was so fuckin' pathetic before I met ya. Ya should've seen me the day I caught those two together.”
He could still remember the details of that night, if he reached far back enough. Him, volatile and drunk out of his mind. The Uber driver, kicking him out two blocks from Osamu and Suna's house. He was pretty sure he vomited into one of their house plants before they found him there on the front porch, angry tears streaking down his face. He looked pitiful. Heartbroken.
That day used to hurt whenever he thought about it. Now, it just felt like scar tissue. Still tender, but not nearly as painful.
You gazed at him with a gentle look in your eye and murmured, "Well...I'm here now."
Atsumu's throat bobbed as he looked down at your joined hands. A small smirk flickered onto his lips.
"Yeah. What took ya so long?"
"Excuse me?" you guffawed, nudging him in the shoulder. "I wasn't the one doing keg stands with the worst people on Earth."
"One, ouch," he said, shooting you an offended glare. "Two, fraternities aren't that bad. Ya know, minus all the hazing and infidelity."
You rolled your eyes, though a laugh rumbled out of you. "People will do anything for belonging and a beer."
"Can't argue with ya there," he exhaled, his gaze affixed on the full moon casting white shadows across the campus pavement. "Can we go home and watch Love Island now? I've had enough real-life drama for today."
"Couldn't have said it better myself," you agreed, standing up from the bench and stretching your arms towards the night sky. "Oh, and Atsumu?"
"Hm?"
"If it makes you feel any better, I still had a great time tonight."
"Really?" he asked, a grin blooming across his face as he stood. You nodded.
"Yeah! I'd love to do it again sometime," you said, smiling up at him sweetly. Then, before you could stop yourself, "We can invite my ex-boyfriend while we're at it, too."
He buried his face into your shoulder and groaned. "Yer unbelievable, ya know that, right?"
Your laughter reverberated off the campus buildings as you flung your arms around each other and began the long walk home.
How would the Haikyuu! male characters make the tiktok trend about ranking kisses?
Part 1
Characters: Atsumu Miya, Osamu Miya
I know this trend is not even trending now, but i still in love with that, so now im writing the haikyuu version.
If u don't know the trend, click here
English is not my first lenguage, sorry for any mistake :)
Atsumu is a frequent TikTok user, and being the clingy boyfriend he is, he'd probably encourage you to try different couple trends. When he saw this one, all he could think about was that you could make a video together, and he could also get several kisses—double win.
He would probably make the videos public unless they show something too private or you ask him not to, but being the show-off he is, his tiktok account would be full of you.
Now, hes ranking goes like this:
1. Lips kiss: Atsumu may be a fool sometimes, but he's sooo romantic and appreciates small gestures. He thinks a relationship can't work without a lip kiss every 5 minutes. He loves to kiss you on the lips whenever you're distracted or just when you're hanging out together, but when you're the one who surprises him, girl, this man blushes and gets shy.
2. Neck kiss: Atsumu LOVES days of complete rest, and for him, the perfect complement is cuddling in bed while you pamper him. And what better way to pamper him than with kisses on the neck, he love the sensation. "It's so relaxing and sexy at the same time, babe!"
3. French Kiss: Oh, he loves French kisses. They're in third place because they're actually not as common as the other two. I mean, you're not always in the right place to do it or you just want something more relaxed, but when the opportunity arises, be prepared because it won't be wasted (and you'll probably be at it for a while).
4. Check kiss: He's a tall man (obviouslyyy), so when you take the initiative to give him a small gesture of affection, it's probably a kiss on the cheek. And that makes him SOOO happy, he's like, "Wow, I'm the luckiest man on the fucking planet." And he'll probably lean in to kiss you on the lips after your small gesture, so even better.
5. Earlobe kiss: In the middle of the ranking because sometimes it's the best thing in the world and sometimes it just tickles him. But when you do it to wake him from his deep sleep and he can feel the sensations running down his spine while he hears your voice in little giggles, ooh my. "I love hearing your beautiful voice."
6. Hand kiss: Okay, hear me out! Atsumu very frequently injures his hands or arms in some way due to his job and how much he trains (and overtrains). That's why, when he gets home and you take care of his wounds or bruises, you start kissing them like he's a little kid who thinks a kiss will heal him (oh, but he seriously thinks that kiss will heal him because it feels like the best salivation ever).
7. Top of the head kiss: He likes it (like any kind of affection that comes from you), but it's not his favorite. I mean, who doesn't like having their hair played with? Buuuut, Atsumu's hair has been damaged by so much hair dye, and while it's still super healthy for what he's been doing, Atsumu isn't entirely comfortable when someone touches it excessively or when someone ruins what he's spent so much time styling and perfecting. But when you do it when he's about to sleep, it's like a nice goodnight.
8. Air kiss: Nah nah nah, don't do that crap to him. If you're going to kiss him, make it a real kiss. Although he does, especially during games, and you usually make a gesture of trying to grab him. BUT, only he can do that, you do it properly.
9. Bite kiss: It's not a big deal, but it's funny. And honestly, you only do it when he gets too annoying or silly with you, it's like a STOP RN for him
10. Foot kiss: "Not even if I need to beg for your forgiveness and that is the easy way I would do that." (He would)
(I feel like im betraying Atsumu writing this 💔)
Osamu mostly watches TikTok when there aren't many customers at the restaurant or on his days off, but he's not the biggest TikTok user. However, whenever he opens the app, the first thing he does is look at the thousands of TikToks you've sent him and see if you two can make some of them together.
Then, in your free time, you'll record it, and like with Atsumu, he likes to post it unless you don't want him to or has more intimate things.
His ranking:
1. Lip kiss: He loves coming home from work and finding you (cooking, coming home from work, etc.) to be greeted with a big kiss. It's as if all the energy his clients had stolen from him comes flooding back with just one gesture, but it's really because the gesture is from you. (And u know, kiss the chef)
2. French kiss: You can't deny it, when you two were making the video and "French kiss" came on... let's just say the video went a little long. He just can't help it! He just loves it so much, especially when you start it. It makes him nervous even though he know you for years, and it seems like his brain is tingling from all the sensations.
3. Forehead kiss: He loves thato at ANY time. Is he cooking so his hands are dirty and he can't hug you? Then you kiss him on the forehead. Did his alarm just go off and he's fighting sleep? A kiss on the forehead to help him wake up. It's like the most common gesture, and therefore, one of the most appreciated.
4. Neck kiss: Yeaaaah, once again, he LOVES IT. He loves doing it to you, and he loves it when you do it to him. He likes it when it's just an innocent kiss on the vein, and he likes it when it's not just an innocent kiss. He likes the feeling it brings, and he likes it when you leave a mark. It's the middle ground between a simple gesture and something more.
5. Top of the head kiss: It's in the middle of the list because before (when he dyed his hair) it wasn't his favorite. BUT NOW, ohhh, he loves it. Feeling the gentle caresses on his scalp makes him fall into a trance somewhere between being awake and asleep. Plus, it lets him lean against you when you do it at bedtime.
6. Nose kiss: Once again, it's quite common for Osamu to be busy in the kitchen, his hands full of ingredients, so whenever that happens, you approach him and touch his nose in a loving manner. The only downside is that a simple nose-to-nose touch isn't enough for him; it's just the impulse to quickly wash his hands and come back to you.
7. Air kiss: He thinks it's really cute that you do it when you're saying goodbye, or one of you is too busy to get real close. But he just thinks you look SO pretty doing it; it's simple but sweet. "Aww, do that again, let me see ya."
8. Earlobe kiss: ok ok ok, there's an explanation for why this is so low in the ranking, and it's that although he really likes the sensation, it tickles him too much! He can't enjoy it because he's automatically trying to push you away, sometimes because it tickled him and other times because he feels like you're going to scream in his ear and leave him half deaf (Atsumu traumatized him)
9. Butterfly kiss: He discovered it while creating the trend, and let's just say she wasn't sure what it was all about. "From this perspective, it looks like you hav three eyes instead of two." She also doesn't think the sensation is that great and finds the position somewhat uncomfortable. Although she won't deny that seeing your eyes up close was a real privilege.
10. Bite kiss: "Why the hell would I want you to bite my elbow?!" More than not liking it, he doesn't understand why someone would do it. I mean, maybe a bite on the neck or the shoulder, but on the elbow?
____
I hope you enjoyed this version with the Miya twins! I'm thinking about a part 2 with the Karasuno team, but I'm not sure yet.
I'm back!!!! Thanks for the support on my fics, I love youuuu!!!
As I always say, English isn't my first language, so please let me know if I have any spelling mistakes :)
Keigo works A LOT, and it's not like he really has much of a choice, he'd love to be able to sleep for a whole day, watch a few movies with you, read an entire book in a day, play a game on the hardest difficulty until he gets sick of it, or just fuck you until neither of you can take it anymore.
But, this is almost never the case, in fact, you can count on one hand the amount of times Keigo has been off work for more than 2 days, and probably 99.99% of it is because Keigo got sick, so it doesn't really count as a break or vacation.
And you always try to understand, you really do, but sometimes you feel like Keigo just puts work above you, and maybe it's your insecurities making you see something that's not true, but it still hurts when you call his number and he doesn't answer, or when you wait up late until you can't keep your eyes open anymore, only to hear Keigo arrive two hours later so tired and hurt that he's not even able to give a kiss.
The thing is, even though you understand, you're also tired of always understanding and understanding and understanding, so one day, when Keigo has the day off because his agency is celebrating an anniversary, you just explode. Because you had planned a nice time off, some decorations and freshly prepared food for your boyfriend, all of that for everything to be ruined when he received a call informing him that there was going to be a meeting with another agency that was of utmost importance.
And Keigo left, because what else can he do? Work is what he was raised and trained to do, so if they call him he's already on his way. But no you, you weren't raised or trained to handle that, so today you stayed up until Keigo arrived to have a talk with him, so you made yourself a coffee to stay awake, went to the living room cabinet, turned on the TV and waited while watching a movie.
After a few hours you heard a creak on the balcony and saw him walk through the door.
"Hi babe, what are you doing up so late?" He said as he took off his jacket and walked over to kiss you.
But no.
No.
You weren't in the mood for that.
Seeing how you took a step back Keigo tilted his head a little as he watched you in confusion. "Something's wrong love?"
"What do you think?"
You could tell the exact moment Keigo tensed up. He knew from your tone and posture that something was up. The thing is he didn't know what, and it was exactly what you were asking.
"...Did I need to get you something or something like that?" No answer. "Love, is it because of dinner yesterday? I know it wasn't my best creation but..." Still no answer, and it seemed like he was starting to get frustrated by the way he saw you. "Love..."
"Try again, since you're so important and needed by everyone, you should be able to guess what's bothering your girlfriend, right? Or maybe you know better about what worries everyone except what worries your partner" You said with a frown and a cold and hurtful tone. It was meant to make him feel bad, because you were already tired of understanding.
"Love... If it's because of work, you- well, I... you know it's not easy but-"
"Is it easier to leave me hanging every time I try to plan something for us? Wow, thanks for showing me your priorities" You said with sarcasm and a fake laugh, as you turned around and headed to the room, you realized that if you continued you would cry, because you weren't as strong as you wanted to pretend, you couldn't understand as much as you wanted to.
"Love, please" You heard him say behind you, and you could hear a bit of desperation and tiredness in his voice, and it made sense, it was the only day of vacation he had been given in months and it was ruined, he was obviously tired. And normally you would reason and hug him until he fell asleep, but this time your own pain didn't allow it.
It wasn't so much that he worked hard, you knew he did it for a good purpose and, although sometimes you didn't understand how he managed to do everything, he always made sure to keep you cared for, loved and pampered. But it hurt you that they took him away from you every time you managed to have him in your arms.
Then, you saw how the door to the room closed in front of you before you could get in thanks to one of Keigo's feathers.
"Baby, listen to me before you lock yourself in our room, please" but you didn't turn around, you didn't try to open the door either since you knew that with just a feather Keigo could defeat you if he wanted to. "I know you had plans for today and, believe me, I was also looking forward to eating your food while we watched that series and believe me, when I received that call, I was about to throw the phone out the window, but I can't. You know I can't" He said as he tried to approach you and hug you. But you took a step back, pressing yourself against the door. And what he said made sense, but you still couldn't say it. "Please..., you know I love you"
And you loved him too, a lot.
But you also loved yourself, and you understood that even though he had things to do, so did you, and yet you still put the relationship first. Always finding time to share together, always comforting him after work hours, always there.
But you were sick, hurt, and tired of the fact that while you were always there, he was there sometimes.
"Keigo, I understand that you have to work, I understand that it's important to you, I understand that you can't spend that much time with me. But I'm sure that if one damn day you left work a little earlier or assigned extra tasks to your assistants instead of doing it yourself, you could be with me. But you don't, because your heroism is worth more."
Tears were beginning to well up in your eyes, but you didn't want to let them fall. No, you wanted Keigo to see that you were steadfast, that it hurt, but you wouldn't let it break you.
"Open the door, Keigo." You looked him straight in the eyes so he could see you weren't up for games or talks.
He stared back at you for a few seconds. You could see his realization at how hurt you were, and also his regret, but that wasn't enough, not anymore.
He opened the bedroom door, letting you in. And, even though he wanted to sneak you inside, you closed the door before he could. However, his voice echoed through the door. "Love... Look, I understand if you don't want to talk right now, but... I love you, okay? I don't want you to doubt it." You heard his footsteps walking away, probably toward the guest room. You weren't going to deny that his words helped you a little, but you needed more than words this time.
And Keigo knew that. So while he slept, he started thinking about what he could do.
He didn't want to lose you. Even if you didn't realize it, you're the most important thing to him. Hell, sometimes even he's surprised that his heart can love someone so much.
Too bad neither he nor his heart know how to show it.
The next day you woke up to the smell of pancakes, which you didn't expect since Keigo was working today. So unless someone came into your house exclusively to cook (something you wouldn't really complain about), Keigo stayed home. The thought brought comfort to your heart, which had been aching all the time the day before. But it still hurt that he only did it once you exploded, and not before.
As you left the room, you started to hear Keigo's voice. He seemed to be on the phone and a little agitated. As you got closer, you could make out his words better.
"No, no, those work hours are over. I need Tuesdays off... Yeah, well, there are other heroes, boss... I don't care, I'm not going to do it."
Seeing Keigo upset wasn't common. And after hearing the word "Boss" and realizing who he was talking to, you started to get a little worried.
'He'll leave again.' 'He's going on a mission.' 'I'll be alone.'
"I'm busy right now, Boss, and I'm not going to change my mind... Yeah, yeah, I'll be there tomorrow," he continued into the phone. Then he hung up and sighed.
You didn't know what the call was about, but it obviously wasn't a very pleasant one. Normally, you'd go hug him and ask him to tell you what's going on. But not today.
You walked closer to the kitchen, where Keigo was flipping a pancake, his posture tense and his brow furrowed.
"What time are you going to work?"
Keigo turned around, surprised by your presence, and his sour demeanor changed to a...nervous one? Okay, that's unusual for him.
"Hey, Love, I- well, it's just that- No... I'm not going to work today."
Your face was completely surprised, not because of the day off, but because of his attitude. It was very rare to see Keigo so nervous and shy.
"Uh, okay?"
"Yeah, yeah, I... made breakfast." He turned around immediately to hide the blush on his face, finished serving breakfast, and gave it to you.
"Okay..." You said, looking at him suspiciously.
You sat down at the table without saying many words to your boyfriend. You were still upset, very upset. Breakfast wasn't going to change that.
However, you didn't know how far Keigo's repentant, desperate for forgiveness, version of himself could go.
But you were going to find out soon.
Keigo sat down across from you, still a little embarrassed and flushed, but he looked you straight in the eyes.
"Love... I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not realizing how much I was hurting you, and for focusing on my duty to others and not on my duty as your partner, which, even if you don't believe it right now, is 100,000 times more important to me, and I'm going to prove it to you. I swear." He paused briefly to gather his thoughts and continued. "I...can't promise you I'll be with you 24/7, although believe me I would enjoy it so fucking much. But, I want to improve, I want to be better...for you, for you to feel comfortable and happy about...about all of this, u know? so tell me what to do and I'll do it, love, I promise I will."
You looked at him and realized his desperation.
Shit, you'd forgotten how much this man loves you.
And you wanted to never forget it again.
"Remind me that you love me, Keigo. Not just with words. Prove it."
You stood up from the table, along with your plate, and headed to the kitchen to clean it without even looking at Keigo again. This time you didn't just want words; you wanted actions. And you wanted him to figure out what to do.
Oh, if only you knew that man knows every part of you. You doubted he could get anything that would make you forgive him, but he got more than that. Keigo is observant, very observant. He knows the dress you eyed a week ago while browsing an online store; he knows the restaurant you've been wanting to visit for months; he knows what makes you happy.
And he'll use all of that to get your forgiveness.
Checklist to get my girlfriend's forgiveness:
- Take her to the restaurant she wanted to try (with a private reservation)
- Give her her favorite flowers (tulips and peonies)
- Give her the dress she wanted along with a necklace.
- Remind her that you love her, don't be stupid, Keigo.
- Take her there, she'll love it.
A few minutes later.
"Love, put on the red dress you like and dress up. I want to take you somewhere."
You were lying in bed, giving Keigo the silent treatment. But you NEVER turn down a dinner date.
So you put on a dress, but not the red one. Keigo wasn't going to tell you what to do. You put on a new black dress, only to realize that, given how good it looked on you, it was probably a gift for Keigo instead of a punishment.
And you confirmed it when you left the room and Keigo stared at you for more than the seconds considered decent.
"Is it still too soon to tell you that when you forgive me you have to wear that dress?"
Your response was only a reproachful look, to which he smiled at you with false innocence.
He approached you and carefully placed a hand on your waist, expecting you to reject him, but you didn't because his compliments always makes you SO happy
"You look beautiful, love, so fucking beautiful."
"I know."
"I love you."
"Okay."
Keigo lets his head fall forward, letting out a deep, husky laugh, his hair falling a little onto his forehead. Then he brings his face down to your cheek and places a kiss.
"After today's plans, you won't be so cold anymore."
"As far as I can see, you haven't even made me leave the house, Keigo. I'm starting to get bored."
He just laughed a little and took your hand as you left the apartment.
He decided it was best to go by car so as not to ruin your hairstyle and dress; knowing you, that would only make you feel uncomfortable in the restaurant.
The closer you got to the restaurant, the more relaxed you felt. The whole way there, Keigo made sure you felt good, occasionally kissing your hand, putting his hand on your leg, complimenting you every time you moved, and telling you he loved you.
When you arrived at the restaurant and realized where your boyfriend had taken you, you could only stand in shock. You hadn't told Keigo you wanted to come, but he'd noticed.
You looked at him with shock all over your face, to which he just smiled and winked.
While he was talking to the waiter about the reservation, you couldn't stop thinking that Keigo was paying more attention to you than you thought.
"How did you know?" You said as the waiter led you to a terrace apart from the rest.
"Please, love, you liked all his posts on Instagram, it was obvious."
"Still, I didn't think you'd noticed."
He brought your hand up to his face, leaving a small kiss, "I always notice, beautiful."
When you arrived at the table, you felt like crying. The terrace was completely decorated with lights and flowers, and a slow melody played in the background.
The waiter left, and you saw a table in the center of the terrace with two wine-colored boxes on top of it: one small, like a jewelry box, and the other medium-sized.
"Keigo... What?" You looked at him with curiosity and surprise.
He gave you that shy look from the morning again, which you were starting to like a lot. "You like it?"
"Kei... do I like it? Damn, babe, it's beautiful."
His smile grew wider and his eyes sparkled. "Do you want to open the presents?"
"Of course!"
You headed to the table to sit down and opened the first gift, the medium-sized one. Meanwhile, Keigo watched you. He wanted to see your reaction, wanted to imprint your beautiful face on his mind and never lose it.
When you opened it, you noticed it was the dress you'd been wanting for a while. And if there were any doubts that Keigo wasn't thinking about you, this gift erased them completely. Because you never asked him, you never even talked to him about it, and yet he knew.
"Keigo...how-" you looked at him, your eyes a little teary.
"I heard you talking to your friend from work about the dress. I thought maybe it was a good gift," he said, once again shyly.
"It's beautiful, Kei. Thank you, really," you said as you examined the dress. It was truly beautiful, both the dress and the gesture.
"Open the other one. You'll like it even more"
When you opened it, you confirmed that his words were true. It was a necklace with a watch pendant along with your initial. The necklace was made of gold/silver because he knew that was what looked best with your skin tone. Plus, underneath the necklace was a small piece of paper with a dedication.
"To the woman who deserves every second of my life."
"Oh my god, Kei... Did you- did you really do this for me?"
"Of course I did, love. I'm sorry if I made you feel like I didn't love you enough to deserve it."
"No... you didn't... God, it's beautiful, Keigo, thank you," you said sincerely, your eyes filling with more tears, but you didn't let them fall.
His gifts had been beautiful, the place too. The food arrived a few minutes later, and it was wonderful too. Even the conversation with Keigo had been comfortable, but...
"Kei, really, thank you, love. I loved all of this, but... Fuck, it's hard to explain, but it still hurts, okay? Thanks for showing me you know me, but- I... it's been months of keeping this inside, and- I can't...i'm so sorry"
Maybe if it were someone else sitting in front of you, they would have walked away, or yelled at you, or given up, but in front of you, was Keigo.
And he just smiled, a tender, understanding smile.
"I know, I know I hurt you a lot, and I understand. But the day isn't over. There's something else I'd like to show you. I know it won't solve the whole problem, but maybe it will show you that I want to."
You were really surprised there was more. But apparently, Keigo wasn't ready to give up.
"We're going to have to fly a little bit up there, do you mind?" You shook your head quickly, not caring about your hair at this point; you wanted to see how far Keigo could go.
After paying for the food, he gently took you in his arms and began to fly. He began showing you beautiful places you didn't know could be seen so well from the sky. By now, you felt like Jasmine exploring the world with Aladdin.
"Keigo, if you let me fall, I swear I'll never forgive you." He laughed loudly and held you tighter against him.
"Relax, love, we're almost there."
You saw he begin to descend, but you couldn't understand where. From what you could see, you were relatively close to the place where he grew up and trained to become a hero, which was strange since Keigo usually avoided those kinds of places.
You looked at him strangely. "Kei...where are we going?"
"Shhh, it's a surprise, don't ruin it with your questions," he said reproachfully, but with a smile on his face.
When they landed, it was somewhere near the buildings where he grew up, but it was an area completely filled with trees and flowers. He started walking, guiding you through the small forest.
"Okay...well..." Keigo suddenly started to get nervous. "I know you don't know this place, but I used to come here when I could get away from my training or when I had days off from work... I, well—maybe it sounds a little silly, but I used to come here whenever something was happening in my life, to de-stress. I—have you heard of writing down the things you think to...I don't know, de-stress or something?"
"Yeah...I've heard of it," you said, confused. You didn't know where he was going with this.
Suddenly, he stopped walking and, with the help of his hand, removed a small bush. As he removed it, you realized it opened into a covered area with a small table, which had a bouquet of your favorite flowers in the center.
"I came to this place to write about things that happened to me, usually things... well, you know my childhood wasn't the best. But when I met you, I started writing about you and how you were, the only thing I could think about." He led you closer to the table, and you noticed that from there you could see a cliff and the beautiful sunset.
Keigo extended the bouquet that had previously been on the table toward you as you moved closer to the railing that bordered the cliff.
"I brought you here because it's the place where I realized I was in love with you. It's the place where I would get away from absolutely everything and think about the person who made me and continues to make me happy."
By this moment, tears were running down your cheeks, and you couldn't believe what he was telling you.
"I'm sorry, love. You don't know how much. I'm sorry for not showing you how obsessed I am with you. I'm sorry for not giving you the time you deserve. I'm sorry for making you feel like my work matters more when I would give anything to spend my life with you."
"I know... God, I love you so much," you said, your voice breaking, your tears growing stronger.
"I love you even more. I swear I'm obsessed with you. It was in this place that I realized it, and it's in this place that I want you to realize it."
You took the flowers from his hands and held them to your chest with all the love in the world.
"I want to give you something. I want you to take it home and read it when you think you're ready to forgive me." He turned around and grabbed a wooden box hidden among the trees and the structure.
He pulled several sheets of paper out and held them out to you.
"They're from when I met you, so you can see how much I've loved you since the first second."
You looked into his eyes with wonder and love, and before you could even lock eyes, you threw yourself at him and hugged him. You needed him, you wanted him.
"Thank you, Kei, thank you."
"Thanks to you, for still being here."
You enjoyed the beautiful place until the sun set and the place, without light bulbs, began to darken.
Keigo led you to the car you 2 had left at the restaurant and then to the house.
And, even though you didn't tell him, you had already forgiven him, because he had kept his word, he had made it his goal to show you that he loves you.
And oh man, when you read those pages, you cried like a baby when you realized that the first thing he wrote about you was
"I met a girl and, God! She is the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, it's incredible"
And the last thing he wrote, before you started dating, was
"If she'll let me, I want to love her every second. I want to hug her, I want to kiss her, I want to touch her. I love her, so much.
If this woman doesn't drive me crazy, I don't think any other can."
With Chowchow being diagnosed with cancer, I made a gofundme for Chowchow to cover his surgery and things to make him comfortable in his recovery process (dressing, medicines, etc).
It's a very invasive surgery and is incredibly expensive. We do not have the thousands of dollars to pay for it but we will find a way even if there is zero dollars in this fund because he is the world's specialest boy.
If you can, please donate and share. I love you.
Please help raise funds to pay for Chowchow's surgery to remove his ear canal… Isabella Pineiro needs your support for Save Chowchow: Stop H
"If we burn...You burn with us" @coca-lastic - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
