hi everyone (my 5 followers, 2 of which are bots (o´∀`o))! i've decided to pursue my passion of being a girlblogger...but i wanted to give a quick intro to who i am! if you've read my username and my little bio, you'll know that i absolutely love atsumu miya (timeskip!atsumu, if we're talking specifics). i've also been loving kpop recently, and my current fav groups are ateez, enhypen, and riize (wooyoung, heeseung, and sohee biased (⌒▽⌒)♡). besides them, some of my other favorite artists include taylor swift, troye sivan, wave to earth, ariana grande, and the 1975. (i saw the 1975 in concert- best night of my life.) if it wasn't clear from this little intro, i listen to too much music and its practically my entire personality...if you've read this far, i'm assuming we share at least one similar interest :). and if so, i think we should be mutuals! i've been a tumblr user for a little over two years, and i've posted sporadically, but now i am trying to post consistently. if you feel inclined, let's be friends! ( ˘⌣˘)♡(˘⌣˘ ) thanks everyone!!
author’s note: based on abba's "our last summer" (specifically the mamma mia version, though.) remus, my beloved! wanted to write more about him and im having majorrrr summer cornwall ‘77 longing rn. remus’s backstory (briefly talked abt in the beginning) is based on his character in the cadence of part time poets (creds to @motswolo)!! also thank you so so so much for the love on photobooth clichés – james potter !!!! enjoy xooxox.
wc: 1568
cw: all fluff! yearning remus <3. friends to lovers.
remus usually spends his summers wandering the familiar streets of london’s east end. he’ll peruse the shops, usually in search of new music that he could listen to on the record player he doesn’t own. his favorite pastime is sitting at the park, reading or people watching as he indulges in one, two, maybe three cigarettes. from there he’ll usually pop into a corner store for lunch, a fruitless attempt to fill out his lanky frame. late evenings fade into mornings, days fade into weeks, and weeks fade into months. soon enough, summer holiday is over and school is back in session. remus has always liked school; the dependability and structure that it provides a far cry from how he spends the warmer months. he’s good at it, too–at least according to his friends.
above all, he likes school because gets to see you.
he doesn’t know when his thing for you developed, but he can’t remember a time where he didn’t want to be in your presence 24/7. you two would keep in contact over the holidays, sending letters and having the occasional phone call. but it was never enough for him, not nearly. he missed hearing your laugh, missed seeing your face in the corridors and the common room. he missed that feeling in his stomach when you would sit down on the couch and your shoulders would brush against each other’s–even better when you’d let it stay like that. his imagination could only conjure up so much, and by the end of the summer he would return to school a man starved of your attention.
so, when it was decided that you would spend the first two weeks of summer in cornwall, he was over the moon. sure, camping–and the outdoors in general–wasn’t exactly his first choice of fun, but you were there.
along with your six other friends.
he’s not upset that they’re coming, but he is anticipating the inevitable humiliation ritual from them when it comes to all matters you related. everyone except you knows of his feelings, it seems. and between james’s wolf whistles and sirius’s snide remarks…it will be a long fourteen days.
“how the hell did you do that so quickly?” james asks, staring at your’s and lily’s perfectly assembled tent.
“we read the instructions?” you deadpan, chuckling.
“i told you that piece of paper was useful!” james cries, running his hands through his hair in frustration.
“how was i supposed to know?” sirius replies coolly. he has a cigarette between his fingers, sitting with his legs crossed on the grass. he doesn’t look like he plans on moving anytime soon.
“what else would it have been?!” peter groans.
remus returns from his trip to the loo, unsurprised to see that the tent is still in a pile on the ground. you wave. he smiles, and everyone shares a knowing look.
“you plan on wearing anything other than grandpa sweaters? it is june, y’know,” you tease, tugging at the sleeve of his wool jumper.
“yes, i do, thank you very much.” he rolls up his sleeves, already regretting his fashion choice.
“already trying to get him naked?” sirius coos from over the way, making everyone but you and remus laugh. instead, both of your faces go beet red. remus shoots the boy a glare, but it’s no use. not even the iciest of glances could ever make him take the matter of you and remus seriously.
other than the tent debacle, the rest of the day goes by perfectly. you spent the afternoon swimming with lily, mary, and marlene, surely getting a sunburn that you’ll pay for for the next two weeks. you can already hear lily’s voice: i told you to wear sunscreen!
“what’cha readin’?” remus turns around to find james behind him, laying his towel down in the sand.
“don’t start right now,” remus grumbles, knowing why his friend is here. “you already tortured me enough earlier.”
james holds his hands up in innocence. “oi, that was sirius! i didn’t say a peep!” he claims. “but…”
“oh, christ. here we go.” he rolls his eyes and snaps his book shut.
“just hear me out, alright? i’m not saying this is the perfect place to tell her, but i’m not sure when you’re gonna get another chance. she feels the same way, moony. just make a move, or she’s gonna find someone else,” james advises earnestly. that’s the thing about james, remus has realized: he can switch from the class clown to the wise one in a matter of seconds.
“what d’you mean, she’ll find someone else?” remus asks, insecurity seeping into his voice. he can already envision it: you slipping through his fingers, finding someone else because he couldn’t find the confidence to just say something.
“hold on, hold on–” james grabs his friend’s shoulders, grounding him. “don’t spiral, alright? you haven’t blown it. yet.”
“that makes me feel a whole lot better, cheers.”
“fine. if you want to be a dick–”
“no,” remus interjects. “sorry. just–erm. how d’you know that she feels the same way?” he whispers timidly.
“i just do. she’s not exactly subtle about it. i’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.”
james’s words are still rattling in remus’s brain the next evening. it’s late, nearly eleven, and everyone is long asleep. perhaps the beers might’ve had something to do with everyone’s drowsiness. but remus’s mind is wide awake, as per usual. he seldom gets the privilege of a good night’s sleep, usually averaging five hours.
“can’t sleep?” you ask quietly, tip-toeing out of your tent.
his head immediately perks up at the familiar sound of your voice; the one he is absolutely in love with.
“don’t sound surprised,” he chuckles. “c’mere, sit.” he pats the spot on the grass next to him, which you happily take. your shoulders touch, and he feels his face burn.
“this is a perfect summer,” you decide, your words a soft murmur along with the chirps of crickets and the lapping waves. you’re both comfortably tipsy by now, which is making the words flow easily. “it’s nice to see you. i like havin’ you here; it gets boring during the summer without you.”
he turns towards you, but your eyes are fixed on the stars that decorate the sky above. he’s taking in absolutely every detail: the slope of your nose, the way the moonlight dances on your face, the way the breeze dances through your hair. you look like an angel, he thinks. he hasn’t seen a more beautiful sight.
“d’you ever think about what it’d be like if we were together in the summer?” he questions.
“what d’you mean by together?” you face him.
“not like together together!” he stumbles. “not–not unless you’d want that, too.”
“i want it too,” you say without hesitation.
emboldened by your words, he grabs your hand and interlaces your fingers together. he’s expecting you to laugh, to sweetly shut down his advances. because you’d never say anything truly cruel to him; it’s not in your nature to be mean. remus, however, has always seemed to have an angry streak. he’s not one for confrontation–unlike james, who faces every problem head first. or sirius, who will either ice you out or explode. even peter will always talk things out when asked–the boy despises arguing with his mates.
but remus has realized he’s unlike the other three boys. no, he keeps the problems inside, buried deep within a part of him he likes to deny exists. but it’s in moments like these, when the alcohol is making his head all fuzzy and you’re looking like an absolute dream, that those repressed feelings and yearning come to the surface. he has spent years wondering what it is about you that draws him in like a magnet, and he’s only just now realizing what it is: you’re the other piece. you talk, he listens. when you make a joke, he laughs. when you need advice, he wants to be the person to give it. he’s the moon, and you’re his sun.
“rem?” you blink, squeezing his hand.
in one swift movement, he’s cradling the back of your head and pressing his lips into yours, hard and composed of the years of longing you’ve unintentionally put him through. for a moment, you freeze. your best friend is kissing you. and then you repeat those words back to yourself, and you’re reciprocating the kiss with just as much ferocity.
“you kissed me,” he whispers breathlessly, forcing himself to pull away.
“you did it first!’ you giggle. a small smirk tugs on the corners of his lips, his eyes scanning over your face like you’re a work of art. and to him, you absolutely are.
“‘had to do it before i lost the nerve. was that…was it alright?”
“more than.”
he kisses you again, laying you down on your back and hovering over you.
“remus? what if someone sees?”
he hums against your lips. “if i’m being honest, i really don’t care. they all know i’ve been in love with you for ages.” he feels your face burn against his hands and a cocky smirk begins to find its way to his face. “what, you didn’t know?” he adds, sliding his hands down to your hips.
“you’re so annoying,” you grumble.
he leans in closer. “hm. can i kiss you now?”
you happily oblige.
tehe this was so fun to write–lmk what u might want to see in the future too! dividers from @cursed-carmine <33
"something, somehow, someday" — remus thinks you're way out of his league. but, to his own surprise, you're here to prove him wrong.
-> remus lupin x gn!reader, part two, just remus yearning & pining, swearing (because, cmon, its remus), inspired by role model's song (with the same name), word count: 1,503
Remus first met you during one of his Herbology classes. Where you helped him with his trouble with the Venomous Tentacula plants. The teethy little bastards annoyed him to no extent—his words—but you had come to his aid and stunned them every time they tried to bite him. He really wanted to make it up to you then, but you insisted. And you never really crossed paths again.
Until James barged into their common room, with you following behind him. Remus noticed you immediately and his breath caught. Turns out James knew you, he had for a while. Ever since he was paired with you for a Charms homework. And you have apparently taught him how to make a flower crown. Which was why James traveled from the courtyard to his common room, just to show his friends the ones you both made.
Remus didn't exactly know how they got you to start hanging out with them. One day you just sat next to them during lunch, and now they’re adding you to every weekend plans that they have. Remus’ friends accepted your addition to the group as if it was just any other day. But for him, it felt quite a lot.
Not to sound like he doesn't like you, it's actually quite the opposite.
Remus could go on with a list about why you're the sweetest person he has ever met. But that’d be never ending, which is probably why he’s in his bed right now, moping to himself about why you just have to be so out of his league. And this was purely coming from after he saw you interacting with Amos Diggory. Even though he probably just asked you a question. Remus shivers at the thought, embarrassed by his own jealousy. He was barely even eating the chocolate you’d given him this morning, having lost the appetite.
Merlin, how did you get him to act like this? He wasn't even supposed to be this miserable so early in the month. And yet here he was curled up in his bed, hiding himself under his blanket, as he let his guilt eat him up. You did look comfortable talking to Amos, though. He wonders if you ever looked at him that way too. If you feel comfortable talking to him at all.
A whine emits from the back of his throat, as he buries his face on his pillows. He was fucked, definitely fucked. You’re too good for him, you deserve someone better. But then he didn't like the image of seeing you with somebody else. So what the fuck is wrong with him?
“Remus? Hey, Moons.” He hears James’ voice as he comes in, closing the door behind him. The curly haired boy comes into Remus’ view with a wide smile, which falters when he sees his friend looking like.. shit. “Woah, what’s gotten into you?” James sits down next to him, eyebrows furrowed, worried. Remus sighs, his mood completely shifted now that James is here. After all, it's hard to wallow in your self-pity when you’ve got company.
“Nothing, I just woke up. What’d you need?”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, James, I am quite certain.” Remus presses on, and James lifts his hands up in mock surrender. So, he starts talking about how he’s playing a board game with Sirius and Peter downstairs, and asks Remus if he wants to join. Which he originally said no to, but then James mentioned you’re also downstairs. So, now Remus is making his way down to the common room, following James’ steps.
Did he just spend the last couple of minutes crying about you? Yes.
Was he about to miss an opportunity to be with you? No.
Is he pathetic and a coward? Yes. Abso-fucking-lutely.
And turns out, the only way out of his miserable, depressing, and guilty state is you. You and the sweater you're wearing, that looks oddly similar to his. “Hi, Remus.” You smile once you see him—and it's so bright you might as well put the sun into shame—and he sits down next to you on the sofa.
You must’ve sensed that something's up with him, as you immediately rest your head on his shoulder. And he welcomes it, completely melting once you’re in near proximity. You don’t talk, you don't ask him any questions, you just sit there and offer him your comfort—silently. And maybe that’s just what Remus needs. A moment where he could turn his mind off, and don't let his thoughts consume him.
In a span of an hour, you managed to convince Remus to walk outside. And maybe it's just him trying to distract himself, but he’s pretty sure you might have Legilimency. Because why else would you take him to the Black Lake to see the sunset? If you didn’t know he felt absolutely horrible? But, on a more serious note, you’ve always been spontaneous. And he likes that about you. Especially, when you pay attention to him so much that you know when things start to feel off.
Things like this, it makes him think if he really does have a chance with you or not.
“This is yours, by the way.” You admit, pulling on his sweater that you’re wearing while looking up at him, expectantly. And his eyes widened. “How?” He seems much more amused than you expected. “I was cold earlier, and this was the first thing Sirius gave me.” Remus raises his brow at the mention of Sirius’ name. “I asked him where he got it, and he said you let him borrow it.” Then you let out a laugh, finding it ridiculous. “Which I was suspicious about, but I didn’t ask him again.”
Fuck, Remus knew exactly why Sirius gave his sweater specifically to you.
“Looks like I have to talk to him about stealing my things.” You smile, glancing up at him and then down on the ground. He watches you kick a few pebbles to the lake, as a comfortable silence falls into you both. Then you say his name, and he hums, meeting your gaze once again.
“If you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here.” It's sudden, and he doesn't exactly know where it came from, but Remus appreciates your sentiment. More than so, when he finds your hand inching closer to his. And he’s never been brave enough to initiate the first move, yet here is, intertwining his hand with yours.
“Is this alright?” Remus whispers, voice coated with uncertainty. He’s already bracing himself to pull away, expecting the worst. But you tighten your hold, pulling him closer to you. “More than alright.” You assure him, lifting the weight off his shoulders. And he thinks this is the most convinced he’s been that he might have a chance with you. Because, all this time—as pathetic as it sounded—he would only wish for something to happen.
So, what if he did sneak into the Divination classroom, and tried to look into a crystal ball to see if there’s a future with the both of you together? He was desperate! Okay? He wouldn't have done it if it wasn't for the nagging voice inside his mind.
But it seems that he no longer has to come up with such desperate measures. As the universe presents with something more interesting. “Can I tell you something, Remus?” You ask, and he nods his head in response.
“I’ve liked you for so long. And this isn't exactly how I imagined I’d tell you–”
“You like me?”
He didn't really mean to interrupt you, but his mind may have short circuited the moment he heard the words ‘I like you’ . You look at him, baffled as to why he’s acting like this is a new discovery. Which it is, for him.
“Wait. You didn't know?” He shakes his head, and you cover your mouth in surprise. “How come? I thought I made it so obvious?” You really did think so. I mean, you’re wearing his sweater for Merlin’s sake! But, typical Remus, he’d rather assume the worst than ever think you had the same intentions as him.
“There might’ve been, uhm, some slight issues with the transmission, perhaps?”
“You mean you really didn't have a clue?” He nods his head, and you can't help the sudden laugh that comes out of you. “Did you tell James or Sirius?” Remus asks, and you nod your head. “I told both of them.” He gawks at you, before looking away to run a hand through his hair, frustrated with himself.
“Is that bad? That I only found out about it now?” You shake your head, things were already going the different direction, anyway.
“No, not at all.”
Maybe this isn't how the both of you expected for things to go. Remus thought you’d never like him back, but here he is pulling you closer after you just told him otherwise. And he felt the strong urge to really make it up to you this time.
lee heeseung : peach eyes - maybe i'm biased, but... i don't care. i just think it fits. he's so loving i just... "it's on the moonlight/ how many songs i write/ you'll be my sunlight." i can't explain it...it just fits.
(rest of members under the cut!)
park jongseong : calla - "if you don't have enough sunlight/ i'll blow the clouds away." it's just so him. the way he cares for others...when jw didn't know he was his secret santa because he's always so sweet 。゜゜(´Ｏ`) ゜゜。
sim jaeyun : sunny days - just another example of me being biased...whatever. it's so jake!! his smile is so bright and he really is like a sunny day. do i also see this relating to australia for no apparent reason? yeah. "just like all the sunlight is watch' over me, baby." he is so sunshine i think.
park sunghoon : love - i really don't have any real reasoning for this...i just feel it in my heart. listen to it and tell me it doesn't feel like hoon. they have the same vibe i think. pls let me know if you agree...pls. (ᵔ.ᵔ)
kim sunoo : pink - he is also so sunshine and bright and bubbly and. "the pink light vividly painted you/ beautiful you." (english translation yay) sunshine...that's the only way i can describe this connection. i get it. no one else may, but i get it...
yang jungwon : evening glow - doing this based on vibes again...but it's okay. also...just, he's such a good leader and is so loved. and the members care for him so... (╥﹏╥)
nishimura riki : bad - i think it fits so well. "you're the only one who makes me laugh/ so how can my day be bad?/ it's a day for you." it's so riki. the way he makes others laugh and his personality...yes.
pls tell me if these make sense (´･ᴗ･ ` ) i'm considering writing on here...so we'll see how this goes!!
₊˚⊹｡ i left my keys on your bedroom floor | miya atsumu
wc: 2.4k
summary: atsumu is the clumsiest guy you've ever met; nothing ever goes to plan, especially when it comes to love.
contains: f!reader, use of ‘misus’, mostly fluff with a bit of misunderstanding, reader wears heels, some swears, atsumu thinks he’s going to have a heart attack but it’s just him being him, atsumu is an idiot in love
a/n: not related to the plot, but take a chance with me and fearless remind me of atsumu’s feels in this one (and paper rings will forever be an atsumu song for me)
part of how to be your lover boy (a valentine's collab by augustinewrites & seiwas)
Atsumu thinks this is the dumbest fuck-up he could have ever fucked up.
Wood isn’t supposed to feel this cold, but his leg is freezing rested against it.
Is this what it means to be weak in the knees?
Out of all places, of all times, Miya Atsumu finds himself knelt down on one knee by your bedside, legs feeling like jello at his attempt to look under your bed for his apartment keys.
This wouldn’t be a problem at all, really; he kneels down all the time—for lunges during training (the bane of his existence if you ask him), for helping his Ma plant those herbs he’s sure she does for Osamu (he hates how the soil sticks to his skin), and for buckling the straps on your heels even, when you need him to (he doesn’t like it, only because he prefers you much more comfortable in softer shoes, unchafed ankles and all).
So, kneeling isn’t really that big of a deal for Atsumu—
—but you’re there, standing by the bathroom door, staring at him with overwhelming surprise, evidently anticipating something serious enough to bring tears to your eyes.
This is wrong. It isn’t at all what you’re thinking—he was just looking for his keys.
“‘Tsum…” you choke out, mouth partially covered by your shaky hand.
Fuck, if this isn’t the worst way he could possibly do this.
He’s sure his eyes are wide, brows furrowed by a mixture of worry and regret.
“Wait,” he holds two hands up, slowly coming to a stand, “S’not what ya think.”
This is seriously the dumbest way he could fuck this up.
The expression on your face drops, warmth rushing to your cheeks. If Atsumu could describe how you look, he’d call it worse than heartbreak—the horror in your eyes flashing embarrassment and the creases between your brows screaming rejection; what once were lifted cheeks have now sunk, turning into an undeniable frown.
There are tears threatening to spill from your lash line, for a different reason now, he thinks, and it’s all his fault—it makes his heart break that he’s the sole culprit.
And the sick thing is, despite all this, he still finds you the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, backlit by a halo of fluorescent white that he’s tempted to drop everything he originally planned just to do it right now.
“O-oh,” you mumble, “sorry, I just thought–” you close your eyes, taking a deep breath, “nevermind, that was stupid of me, Tsum.”
When you open your eyes, a single tear falls, and he tries not to comment on how you wipe it quickly, feigning a smile as you walk past him, mumbling something about making breakfast and preparing his lunch for when he heads out.
And, well, he feels shitty, that’s for sure. One, for making you cry, and two, for even making you think, just for a second, that he doesn’t want to marry you.
It wasn’t stupid of you to assume he was proposing at all. He’s hinted at it enough in the past few years, calling you ‘the misus’ enough times when mentioning why he’s heading home early from post-game dinners and parties. His Ma keeps a photo of you and him in his childhood home, and Osamu’s given you a family discount at Onigiri Miya now, too (which is only 1% higher than the friends one, but it’s the fact that he considers you as family that makes it feel much larger).
He likes coming home to you, likes that you don’t force him to do anything. That if he chooses to stay out, it’s all fine by you—he’s just stopped looking for that kind of life anymore; it’s a lot more fun getting to cuddle up on the couch with you.
His legs still tingle, and he crouches down again with a big sigh. The silver key is there, glistening from the light directed from his phone, and he reaches to grab it, fishing for the metal that, if he’s being quite honest, hasn’t fully served its purpose in the past three years anyway.
Four years together, and Atsumu has lived with you for most of them. The only reason you still have separate places by name is because of the apartment he owns in Osaka, meant for training season and game days.
Other than that, home has always been your place.
And lately, he’s been thinking of moving somewhere where home can now officially be both of yours—it’s the whole reason he was looking for his keys in the first place, with property managers and realtors coming in to assess the space.
The new place—he’s hoping for it to be somewhere in the middle of both you and him, maybe a bit bigger, who knows? He was planning to ask you about it after the proposal—the one he’s planned and has been trying so hard to keep a secret from you.
It’s a miracle he’s managed to keep it this hush so far. He’s got the ring, the venue, the speech, and has even asked Osamu to take the video (even though he knows he’ll never let him live down every jitter and stutter he’s bound to make). And the date, the oh-so-important Valentine’s day that you’ll both remember forever.
The living room is awfully quiet when he steps into it, no sign of you and your usual humming to whatever song’s been stuck in your head. He walks to the kitchen counter, eyeing a plate of eggs with a bit of fried rice; you packed his lunch, just like you always have—fatty tuna with some rice and vegetables on the side.
Atsumu thinks he could cry, his upper lip already trembling as he stares at the piece of paper in front of him.
Written in your delicate handwriting is a short note: ‘grabbing some grocery, be back later.’ signed with nothing—no ‘love you’, no ‘see you later’, no x’s and o’s. Just nothing. It sucks even more because the grocery is your place, your one escape when he’s upset you enough that you can’t even look at him.
Yet, you still made him breakfast, and you still packed his lunch—that’s the only thing giving him hope that he hasn’t fully fucked this up.
.
“Samu, I think am g’na die.”
The scenery beside him whizzes past quickly, creating a blur of blue, green, and white. His head leans against the window, and he adjusts an earbud, increasing the volume to hear the call better.
Osamu sighs on the other end, the sound of clinking pans and crinkling plastic muffled in the background.
“Y’said that t’Ma the last time, what’s it now?”
Atsumu groans, the memory still fresh in his mind; when he called his Ma a little over three years ago, he was a stuttering mess, breath unsteady and voice shaky at 1:00 a.m. The pounding in his chest would not stop, he thought for sure he was going to have a heart attack.
His Ma diagnosed him all right, called it a serious case of ‘in love with you’—because, when he recounted everything he could have done to cause any potential uptick of his heart rate, all he could talk about was you. How you held his hand and laughed at his jokes, called him handsome even when he was sweaty and gross; how you nursed him to health even though he was probably stinky and dehydrated from an insane diarrhea episode.
All these years later, and he’s even more in love with you.
“I fucked it up, ‘Samu. The plan ‘n everythin’? Poof.” he gestures with his hands, even though he knows audio call doesn’t allow him to be seen. “Dunnow if there’ll even be ‘nyone t’propose to.”
Then, he tells Osamu everything—the search for his keys, kneeling on the floor, the mistaken proposal but how he would have done it there, how he wanted to but didn’t because he actually managed to plan something and didn’t want to throw it away.
But then he said it all wrong, then you cried, and he really did mess it up; he wasn’t even able to say goodbye. He’s miss-called you thrice and you’ve only replied with ‘can’t talk right now.’ (which he knows is suggested text because you always say ‘later, baby.’ or something else more time-efficient).
“Ya dumbass,” Osamu sighs again, words still sharp but tone a bit more rounded, “just give it time, ‘n stop catastrophizin’. Y’ve put y’self in stupider situations ‘n hav always made it somehow.”
Atsumu feels like crying, again, but Osamu’s always right. He lets out a tear or two, maybe a sob for another five minutes, and when he recovers into small sniffles, Osamu tells him to get some sleep to clear his head—he’s holding the line in Onigiri Miya during peak time.
.
His Osaka apartment feels even emptier than usual even though it shouldn’t be all that different. Meetings with realtors and property managers finished an hour ago and all they need is the go signal from him before they put the property up for lease.
He was supposed to stay here until the end of the week, to meet with PR for sponsorship deals and brand campaigns throughout the year. But, the only (non-suggested) text he received from you today was an indication that you were home and heading in early for bed (which, he knows is a lie, because a new episode of your favorite show is airing tonight and there’s no way you’re missing it after last week’s cliffhanger).
And he can’t, just can’t, leave you thinking that he doesn’t want to marry you.
So he decides, fuck it, and packs it up—books a last minute train ticket back to you and hopes to god that he gets the words right this time.
.
He’s never been this nervous in his life.
The olympics is a close runner-up, but nothing compares to this, standing outside your door with his finger hovering over the doorbell. It’s funny, because he has your keys, knows your passcode too—but it feels wrong entering your space without the assurance that you still want him to.
What makes him ring the bell is the sickening twist in his stomach that warns him: this fuck-up could make him lose you.
So he presses it once, then twice for good measure, and before he can do it thrice, you’re opening the door, in sweatpants and a hoodie (his hoodie) as you rub the puffiness out of your eyes.
You’re beautiful like this, too, he thinks—dressed in his clothes, staring at him with those eyes, standing in front of him and looking like the rest of his life.
“Please don’t break up wit’ me.”
The words stumble out of him freely, with barely any time for him to process it. Atsumu feels each pounding in his chest and knows now, just as his Ma said, that it’s all the love he has yet to let out.
“I–” he begins, hesitating. He’s still wearing the same joggers and bomber jacket from this morning.
His hands clench into fists and he pushes them in his pockets, unsure what to do with them; the bottom of his lip trembles and it’s starting to make sense why people tell him and Osamu apart by ‘the one who always cries’.
“T-this mornin’,” he looks up to find you leaning against your door, listening, “Was lookin’ ‘round cos I left mah keys on y’r bedroom floor.”
You nod, tilting your head to urge him on.
“And I was kneelin’,” he breathes out, “and y’thought it was somethin’ else, but I said it wasn’t. And I shouldn’t ‘av ‘cos it came out all wrong and it wasn’t what I planned. Then ya cried but still made me breakfast ‘n lunch and it was good, just like everythin’ ya make is. But ya went to the grocery, and baby,” he chokes up, tears falling, “‘m sorry. S’not what I meant. Please don’t break up wit’ me.”
Atsumu is a bumbling, stumbling, stuttering mess as he cries in front of you, his incoherent rambling a jumble of all his mixed-up feelings. He’s sure he looks like dumb as hell right now, a fully grown man in tears at your door—but your brows furrow in concern, jaw tightening as the pout on your lips deepen. Then, you take a step closer, arms stretched out to pull him into your shoulder for a hug.
This is why Atsumu loves you—
This is why Atsumu has never been more sure of the future he wants.
—because, even when he’s fucked things up and has made an absolute mess of himself, you’re always there, picking him right back up.
“T’sokay Tsum,” you hush, rubbing circles on his back, “there’s no need to explain.”
He sniffles, tucking his face against your neck. It’s impossible to miss the sadness underlying your comfort.
You’re wrong—it’s not okay, and he absolutely has to explain.
After he’s calmed down and the tears have subsided, he pulls away, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand and apologizing for all the snot he left on your hoodie.
You look confused and a little bit surprised as he takes a step back away from you, his hand immediately reaching inside the pocket of his joggers.
“Y’know I can’t keep anythin’ from ya, right, baby?” he flashes you a small smile, a little nervous.
You nod, because it’s true. Not a single birthday or celebration has ever surprised you because Atsumu’s always ruined it; he just can’t keep a secret from you. Either that, or things just never go accordingly.
“Well, I kept this one real good. Planned it ‘n all. Had everythin’ set.”
The velvet box in his pocket is smooth to the touch, his fingers turning it over. It feels tangible and real now, a moment’s away from his life being changed, forever.
He feels like crying again.
“Was g’na do it on Valentine’s, ‘cos I had it all rehearsed ‘n shit.”
Realization dawns on your face, eyes wide and your chest caught on hold—as if you’re expecting the wrong assumption again.
But when Atsumu gets down on one knee, reaching from his pocket to present to you a ring hidden in red velvet, his fingers tremble when he says, “Know s’not Valentine’s, but can I be your forever Valentine?”
You blink once, then the tears fall—the smile on your face is a little bit wobbly but an awful lot in love. You kneel on the floor with him, your hand reaching out to cup his cheek, pulling him in for a kiss.
The both of you are a tear-y mess on the floor, but when you part, he leans his forehead against yours, ring held up between his fingers as he asks just to be extra sure, “So… s’not a goodbye kiss is it?”
You smack him on the chest before slipping in your finger.
“S’a yes kiss, Tsum.”
thank you notes: @augustinewrites for suffering through this atsumu train with me & @soumies + @mysugu for helping me with tsumu characterisation and for listening to me ramble abt this fic!!
comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡
Favorite color: emerald green / deep red/purple like sangria or what the heck is called
Last movie: Brides At War, 2009 (although I scolled on my phone while the movie was played... )
Currently watching: at least three different K-dramas
Sweet/ spicy/ savoury: It depends on the mood, I sometimes craveing for spicy foods until I have to actually eat/digest... I regret my dicisions ASAP but I'm not that girl who back out so I eat it anyway
Relationship status: I'm still all by myself, searching for my S.O. But honestly my ADHD brain somethimes enough entertainment for myself not to mention to bother someone with it....
So... yeah... 👉👈
Current obsession: Oh... I have at least one hyperfixations per day (khm... per hour). Reading Kinktober writing on tumblr counts as obsession?!
Last thing googled: The movie called Burlesque (2010)
✨️Last song - my marching band show from Super Regionals
✨️Favorite color - sage , lilac
✨️Last movie - Dungeons and Dragons : Honor Among Theives(very good def reccomend)
✨️Currently watching - Downton Abbey
✨️Sweet/spicy/savory - sweet or savory , never spicy
✨️Relationship status - single :(
✨️Current obsession - I have no idea, actually
✨️Last thing Googled - ISSMA Semi-State Results 2023 (my heart broke, my marching band didn't make it to State next week and I kid you not I cried for like 3 hours.)
thanks @weeping-in-the-willows and @everycornerofthishouseishaunted <3
last song? - begin again by taylor
favorite color? - pink
last movie/tv show - no hard feelings
currently watching? - the office
sweet/spicy/savoury? - all <3
relationship status? - taken 💜 (refer to @octoberconstellation’s pinned post)
current obsession? anything and everything
last thing I googled? - all the young dudes fic
tagging (no pressure) / anyone who sees this @kurtcobainsgreencardigan @octoberconstellation @firebrand-witch @weeping-in-the-willows @august-taylors-version @animallover4000 @typingwithmyhandstied
currently watching: shameless and Anne of green gables (but I haven’t actually watched an ep of either in a while bc I’ve been bus) and the Percy Jackson series
sweet/spicy/savoury: SOUR. (Ik it’s not an option but sourness all the way) but also savoury
relationship status: unsurprisingly single
current obsession: marauders (specifically Starchaser)
