throughout your relationship, there were times where atsumu had questioned your love for him.
your expressions seemed almost… ‘smaller’ than his. your words lacked the sweet sayings that his sentences would often have.
the way you’d glare at him whenever he did something annoying (did you not find it funny? he only meant well..),
the amount of times you’d tell him to get off of you whenever he would be drenched with sweat after practices (when all he wanted to do was hug you after a long day),
or the fact that you get too hot when cuddling and eventually let go of him (is it so much of a hassle to stay in his hold?)
but the more that atsumu stuck around, the more that he had noticed the details.
the quiet chuckle and relieved smile that you’d silently give after staring at him—indicating that whatever ridiculous thing he did was the first thing to leave a positive impression on your tiresome day.
the way that, even with the amount of times you’ve complained about him being ‘dirty’, you were always the first one to throw yourself onto his sweaty figure after every game, hugging him regardless of if he had won or not.
the light kiss that you’d plant on his forehead whenever you left his hold, purposely not putting too much pressure so as to not wake him—and how you’d slightly panic when he’d grumble to himself even just a little bit.
and if anyone were to tell him that there would be so much more realizations about you and your ways of showing love, he would’ve felt like less of an idiot in the long run.
so much things became clearer to him.
the way his baby picture was the main picture in your wallet.
the way your onigiri started to ‘coincidentally’ taste exactly how osamu’s did—just how atsumu liked it.
the way his favourite toothpaste suddenly became your toothpaste after he once commented how he didn’t like the taste of your old one.
the way how, when once passing by a room in your house, the sound effects of the video game he had excitedly introduced to you was suddenly being heard, despite the fact that you both had to stop playing the other day because of how bad you were.
and how you were oddly decent at it the next day when you told him you wanted to “try playing a second time”.
honestly? this wasn’t even the whole of it. not even close.
if there was ever something atsumu regretted within the course of your relationship, it was the fact that he was once in the belief that it was solely him ‘putting the effort’.
there was never a need to be question your love.
not at all, not ever.
and atsumu made it an everyday vow to never make you doubt, either.
— “i love you.”
“eh?”
“what? i love you.”
“that was random.”
“cant i profess my love?”
“we’re quite literally in an insurance office…?”
“so?”
“…”
“i love you too.”
made this in honour of the fl’s who’s display of love is never talked abt by the fandom bc the ml overshadows them 🙏🏽
guys are u tired of me making atsumu imagines yes or no (don’t say yes pleas)
I WANNA WRITE FOR A DIFFERENT CHARACTER SOON💔.. after exams guys trust.
“no use crying over spilled milk.” —except, there probably is.
a. miya x reader
atsumu knows he’s messed up.
he thinks he may need to leave all that he’s accomplished in his lifetime — all because of a simple, but dire mistake.
“this can’t be happenin..” the blonde murmurs, looking at the monstrosity infront of him.
spilled vegetable smoothie. on three dozens of cooling cookies. that you’ve excitedly made. for your friends and family. as gifts.
atsumu was definitely crying over this ‘spilled milk’.
brushing off the fear of getting divorced on Christmas Eve, atsumu decides to think of how he can remove any remaining evidence.
he thinks that perhaps he can just bake the cookies again, —but argh, he silently curses osamu for taking the culinary skills.
the blonde scrambles around, scurrying to every part of the kitchen to at least try and scrape some of the green-kelpy smoothie bits on your cookies.
the opening of the front door was the only thing that could make him drop whatever he was doing.
“atsumu!~ do you think you can help me with the groceries? i ended up going a little overboard, so i bought some hot coco and chocolate fondue as something to go with the cookies! and—“ you ramble on, however atsumu could only feel the lump forming in his throat, the sweat on his forehead, and the drying of his lips.
he’d rather experience losing a volleyball match right now.
but unfortunately, the sweating of his palms wasn’t going to help him cover his crime scene— with you finally walking up to him with the questionable tone and all.
on some lame attempt to delay your discovery by even a fraction of a second, atsumu lays a cloth on top of your pastries.
“hey, something that matt—……er…?”
you pause in between your words, familiar with atsumu’s current expression. your husband is wearing the exact face he made the last time he realized he’d accidentally mistaken your diy project as trash and threw it out. (valentines almost ended off with him sleeping on the couch.)
his face could only mean one thing, then.
however, distracting you from the overly guilty look on his face was the unusual placement of the rag that you had bought not long ago.
you look at the cookies.
he looks at you.
you look at him.
he looks at the cookies.
you lift the rag.
green, protein-y, vegetable smoothie mix laid on top of your thick, chocolate chipped cookies.
“miya.”
despite the fact that you both now share the same last name— atsumu knows you talk of his last name.
he fears that you may end up going back to your own after this night passes.
“baby please, i— i didn’t…” he rambles, but knows that no excuse can save him from his actions. he pinches the bridge of his nose. “…im…i’m sorry, hon. i’ve got no excuse. i was bein’ careless, and yer’ cookies are all damped because of my stupidity. i’m sorry. what can i do? hm?”
his build envelopes yours, and suddenly you find a man nearing his 30s senselessly murmuring sweet nothings to your ear, hoping that perhaps a single saying can be of the slightest comfort to your disappointment.
the room quiets down, the sound of the ventilation being the only source bearing noise.
the silence only makes atsumu antsy, who begins to lose hope of your anger easing down any time soon.
and so, he decides to call it a night.
“i’ll take the couch tonight, hm? how’s that? i know that it’s nothin’ much…”
a grin.
“…but if it’ll help you in even the slightest way, i’m more than willing to do it—”
a stifle of laughter.
atsumu paused, thinking that the (familiar) sound he’d just heard was some sort of hallucination that his mind had made up on the spot.
“a-anyway, i’ll see what i can do soon, and—“
finally releasing any ounce of self control you had, bursts of laughter start leaving your mouth.
“oh— oh, oh my gosh, i…” your unexplained cackling begins to alter the solemn look on your husbands face into one of confusion.
“you just looked so pathetic— it was cute! i’m sorry, i’m sorry..” you manage to hide in a short, your husbands eyes following every movement you had.
why were you laughing? was he getting divorced?! is this some sick way to break it to him? no…no??! you’ve both been through so much together, you couldn’t possibly—… but then again… he’s probably put you through so much! argh! is this what osamu meant when he said—
atsumu’s disorganized internal thoughts then get interrupted by your pecks, something that’s been able to melt him since your last year of highschool.
“i’m not mad, no.. no,” you smile, a little giggle sneaking out. “i just couldn’t help but see how you’d react if i looked mad! i’m sorry baby, forgive me?” you coo, your head lifting up to meet his eyes as you sway his tall figure.
“but… i.. yer not mad? i completely trashed the cookies, babe. look!—
“i may or may not have accidentally mixed the salt up for sugar.” you say, a playful smile greeting your lips. “haven’t told you about the cookies i just bought from the store.”
as if all his worries had come to an end, atsumu’s shoulders slump down, a sigh coming out of him.
“ya couldn’t just tell me all that in the beginnin’?”
“and miss seeing you all so guilty and pouty? what am i, insane?”
“be happy i love ya’.”
“need i remind you of last valentines, then?”
“why don’t we get set up? ya look beautiful in that dress, by the way. has anyone told you that yet?”
“okay, you can stop that now, miya.”
“yer’ a miya, too, ya know.” he grins.
you roll your eyes, however a smile creeps it’s way in, betraying your ‘dismay’ towards the man.
“you’re right. i suppose i am.”
this was from the request of an oomf !
can we just pretend this was posted before Christmas thank u very muchiez
i fear that the pathetic husband atsumu will never become a trope i’ll get tired of
Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays everyone !
ps. if you start seeing that i lowkey started to get confused as to how to write that lil accent he has, no u didn’t.
doing trends with miya atsumu was most definitely not for the weak.
“babe, yer’ totally rainin’ on my parade here. i ain’t that bad, ya know!” the blonde huffs, eyebrows furrowed as he watched you walk over to your phone, wearing a face that indicates that this wasn’t the first time you had (frustratingly) gone to pause the red button on your screen.
atsumu didn’t think he did so horrible . it’s just some little dance trend, how bad could he have messed it up?
however, the sour look on your face completely betrays whatever justification atsumu is— or, was, trying to go for.
“this is our 5th try, ‘tsumu!” you huff, your arms going over to your hips. atsumu merely returns the energy, brushing his hair back.
“‘m a volleyball player, not some frilly nutcracker ballerina!” he sulks, almost offended at your genuine annoyance towards his uncoordinated dance moves.
seriously—how does he manage to serve balls going hundreds of miles per second, but can barely figure out the timing on some simple dance ?! (it’s literally just head, shoulders, knees, and toes!! and some little spin!)
to at least preserve the cordiality of your relationship, you decide to calm down— once again showing him the video that you’ve both been using as inspiration for the past six minutes, (you’ve probably given it a hundred more views at this point) for the sake of your rhythmically impaired boyfriend.
after another round of explaining things, the timer finally sees the light of day.
apparently, going on 2x speed was all that atsumu needed.
— some time not long after….
“hey, babe?”
“yeah?”
“why didnt we kiss in the beginning’ of that trend? look, this couples doin it.”
“well everyone does it differently, i gue-“
“redo.”
“eh?”
“i want a redo.”
“but—“
and this time, you can’t help but wonder if his “mistakes” really were mistakes.
kinda sad that i didn’t concoct some beautiful 30k wc fic over my 3 month absence ( ; ω ; ) i havent wrote all this time so this bummy short drabble will have to suffice for the meantime :(
who else still loves miya atsumu (not Me I hate (love) that Stupid stupid stupid Boy)
if you don’t kneow the hskt trend and you’re single and don’t have a pringle Dont bother searchinf it up👎👎 not a 100% single ppl friendly Trend.
for my peace of mind i want to live in the belief that miya atsumu has AT LEASTTTT got to be a candidate in the “pretending to be nonchalant but horrendously failing at it” trope.
like can you just imagine ..
a just freshly out of the change room miya atsumu, —who, by the way, has his brothers clothes on. (he wants to make a cool impression, and unfortunately, it’s his brother who always has the better outfit choices between the both of them. though he’d rather die than admit it.) anywho, he’s outside of the gym on standby to see if you had already walked past the building at your usual time. (he knows because he’s timed it.)
and when he realizes you already did, and that he had missed to take advantage of that one time slot in your routine, he’s BUMMED. he’s bummed out like a bum in bum central. but it happens as much as it doesn’t, so he still can’t figure out why he’s so dejected whenever the outcome turns out to be the former. (maybe cause he’s just so in love with you like that ?? duh)
but anyway, cmon now. you really didn’t even stop by to see if you could catch a glimpse of him setting ?? serving ?? heck, even spiking ?!?! because he couldn’t care less whether or not you knew which position he played, or what move he often did on court—…okay, well, maybe he cared just a bit. but screw all that. he can just tell you all about it when he’s finally able to call you his ! because what’s most important right now, is you seeing him during the times when he looks his “absolute coolest”.
but goodness gracious you should see the complete 360 his expression does when he sees you laughing along with your friends near the vending machine, indicating you hadn’t fully left just yet. he’s basically grown dog ears, and they’re raised HIGHH. osamu just wants to throw up, especially even more so as he sees heart eyes practically being etched onto his twin brothers dna, and he could only hope it wouldn’t apply to him as well.
with this profound opportunity, atsumu suggests that maybe they should buy something from the vending machine using their remaining coins. (“their” as in osamu’s. atsumu has .99 to spare, but he thinks he’ll save it for another day. perhaps to buy you those 50 cent candies at the nearby 7/11?).
“i’m thirsty. are ya not? c’mon. let’s use ‘em remainin’ cents.” though, anyone can see that it wasn’t a suggestion. it was a demand. (atsumu has never loved the “i was born 5 minutes before you.” card so hard in his entire life.)
osamu can’t help but feel the obvious desperation radiating off of his brothers anticipating expression, so he feels bad and says yes. atsumu internally thanks his brother, thinking that maybe telling him that ‘he should’ve ate him in the womb’ a couple of days ago was a bit mean.
but now that he’s infront of you, what should he do? the boy can physically feel his critical thinking skills melting away.
and so, with little time to actually prepare, he settles on nodding his head towards yours as a greeting (? if it can even be called a greeting), avoiding eye contact as he poorly executes his cowardly advances. he internally wallows in doing so, because that was NOT what he wanted to do. gosh….why couldn’t he be as smooth as he was on court ?!?! what he wanted to do was,—
“hey,” [add in a lazy but still oozing with confidence expression. whatever looks nonchalant and cool!] “want this? i was gonna buy one for myself,” [handing off his coins with one hand while his other one goes off to casually brush his blond hair to the side,] “but eh. dun’ really want it. take it, if ya’ want.” [finishing off with a low-key but proud sniff as he shoves his hands onto his pockets.]
but no. that was not what had happened. at all.
instead, he’s now completely focused over to the vending machine, his eyes directly staring onto the drink he had caught glimpse of you already drinking. (how could he not? it was the whole reason his plan backfired.)
well. at least he was able to give out a (puny) nod at you.
before he could even do anything else to salvage this already weak pursuit of his, atsumu hears you and your friends’ conversation exit out of his earshot. assuming that you were now further away from him, his knees seem to find themselves giving in.
one may think it was due to the exercises coach had given for todays practice.
but miya atsumu is a star volleyball player who yields the magic of ‘athleticism’. so surely, the runs up the mountain during todays agenda should hardly be the reason of any damage caused on the blonds already well maintained physique.
and surely,
heated cheeks, rapid beating of the heart, growing sense of frustration, and a yearning for some sort of impactful interaction with you..
wouldn’t qualify as side effects of hard practice, right?
“stop leanin’ on the vending machine like that, ya’ idiot.” osamu snidely comments, and his ‘face-mushed-to-the-vending-machine’ twin brother can only groan in response.
——
the walk back home is surprisingly quiet, until a low grumble decides to finally greet the silence.
“i was supposed to talk to her.”
“maybe that lame nod told her all that ya’ needed to say.”
“it ain’t my fault she already had a drink in her hand!”
“yeah, yeah. sure. ya’ still looked lame, though. i almost felt bad.”
“shut up! ya’ don’t know what it’s like to be a man in love!”
“…..….”
a silence.
a silence from atsumu who’s now just truly realized how doomed he was.
a silence from osamu who wonders if the person behind them had heard atsumu’s rather flamboyant confession.
“love, huh? didn’t know you were that deep into her.”
“ARRRRRRVHHHHGGGGGGGGGH! SHUT YER’ TRAP, SAMU’!! I DIDN’T SAY ANYTHIN’ !!!”
and of course,
a silence from you, who couldn’t help but just take the longer way back home, all because it meant getting to walk a few steps behind him. (even if he had always failed to notice you doing so, every. single. time.)
i was thinking of ryu sunjae from lovely runner while making this … i hope most ppl will see the vision 💔💔 I JUST LOVE LOSER MEN WHO JUST LOVE THEIR PARTNERS SO VERY MUCH !!!!
atsumu who just gets so annoyed at that stupid plushie on your bed.
at first, he denies it. he denies it because the whole matter is just so above and beyond him.
to be genuinely pissed at some stuffed animal? please. he’s THE MSBY Black Jackals’ Setter. a PRO volleyball player. and most importantly, a GROWN man. being jealous over some sewn up cotton? goodness.
but the nights you had abandoned and turned your back towards him just to unconsciously reach for that plushie and cuddle with it instead began to frequent more than atsumu could tolerate.
hes definitely death threatening that stuffed beast (his own choice of words) the morning after.
is this what those scientists in shows felt like when their own experiments went against them? because seeing that white teddy bear he had prided himself in buying as a gift for your anniversary come and replace him during the hours of your slumber wasn’t really the nicest feelings ever.
so, if you find a rather jolly and humming atsumu sipping his coffee at 8:30 am in the morning, just know that he’s feeling really accomplished and expecting your figure to be the only thing he’s holding from the moment you close your eyes, and up for when you open them once again.
“mornin’, baby. whats up with the upset brows?
oh, but don’t look at how the attic just so happened to have its entrance slightly ajar. unfortunately, doing a clean job wasn’t really in atsumu’s blood that day.
____
“atsumu, have you seen the bear you got me for our anniversary? i’m worried… i cant seem to find it. it’s just.. gone?”
“eh? that big thing? how would it even get lost in the first place?”
“i know.. it’s so weird..”
“maybe yer’ just not looking hard enough, sweet.”
“but how—?……also, why’s the attic open?”
“ya look beautiful, by the way.”
“wh—?”
“just woke up too. so gorgeous. wouldn’t expect less from ya. c’mon, let’s go on a walk.”
“but atsumu, the att—
“i think the tulips you planted finally bloomed. let’s check, hm?”
“i just planted them three days ago—?? hey! atsumu! ats—!!”
well. taking an unexpected walk around the neighbourhood on an empty stomach definitely didn’t make things any better that morning.
——
though, if it alleviates anything within you, perhaps do take note at the horror on atsumu’s face upon the sight of your child dusting off that same white teddy bear she had “found while treasure hunting in the attic!” six years later.
as you make a snide comment (totally not directed at your awfully tense husband), and lead your daughter to washing the now roughed up plush, atsumu couldn’t help but feel as if that bear had been plotting against him, making sure to come back with even more malice for their inevitable reunion. (what a poetic mind, atsumu.)
and so, with no you to hold and to feel, and with no daughter to keep close by,
the bed surely felt colder that night.
stupid bear.
———————————————————————————
i’m afraid the atsumu hyperfixation is never gonna end
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