[tsumiyas]

leni ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ she / her, eighteen ! miya atsumu enthusiast ݁ 𓈒

unopened chats (3)

@ atsumu: read thru the rules b’fore ya start interacting

@ iwa: check out the mlist if you got some time to spare

@ shoyo: drop by the inbox for casual chats or requests!

© tsumiyas 2024. plagiarism, translation and distribution of my works out- and inside of tumblr is not permitted.

[kitorin]

you knew your daughter had a slight preference for you, but seeing her wail uncontrollably while your husband varka pleaded for her to stop, was not a sight you expected after an exhausting shift.

all varka did was hand you her, with no words and a face full of hurt.

"daddy? what's this?"

his daughter tugged at his beard, fascinated by the coarse hair. her tiny little fingers played with it, the sight drove varka insane as he held her closer.

"that's daddy's beard." he pinched a tuft of it. "it's somethin' boys get when they become men."

she squinted, and varka had to fight the urge to whip out his phone for a photo. "but uncle lohen doesn't have one. isn't he a man?"

varka snorted, noting to tease lohen about it next time they see each other. "ah well. some people get rid of it." he replied, knowing very well lohen never had facial hair in the first place.

"can you get rid of yours?" she asked with wide eyes.

"yeah. i can." come to think of it, it's been a while since he's shaved. nowadays, all he does is a little trim here and there. "do you want me to?"

she nodded, curiosity sparkling in her eyes, and who was varka to decline his baby girl's request?

after leaving her in her crib for a while, he emerged from the bathroom, covering his face. "ready?"

she nodded, kicking around and grinning. he removed his hands. "surprise!"

in all his years, varka had never heard a child scream that loud.

"and now she won't stop crying."

you rocked your daughter side to side, as she finally calmed down with fervent panting. "pfft. that's so cute."

"it's not!" varka insisted, his voice accidentally booming. his fingers ghosted over his chin, frantic and remorseful. "i made her cry."

you shrugged. "kids cry all the time. 't's not like you hurt her." you peered closer, patting her back. "c'mon baby, it's just daddy."

she turned around and glanced at varka, face shrivelling into tears again. she broke into another wail. "daddy—i want daddy."

(though her distress was very real, you couldn't help but choke on laughter, turning away as to not make her, and varka, feel worse.)

an accusatory finger pointed at your husband, followed by incoherent sobbing. now varka looked like he'd burst into tears as well.

"i'm sorry." he apologised, getting on his knees in front of you, hands pushed together in front of his chest. "i'll never shave again, never—i promise you, okay? it's still daddy..."

it somehow fueled more crying, and she buried her face into your chest. you trembled with amusement, biting your lip to avoid cackling. "aww, poor baby. wanna go take a nap?"

as you tucked her back in, you watched varka sulk in a corner, more heartbroken than ever. last time you saw him this sad was when chihiro's parents turned to pigs in spirited away.

"you'll be fine. she's probably just shocked." your attempt at serious comfort was betrayed by your giggling, amused at the whole predicament. you wished you were there to witness it.

varka stared at his hands. "i'm a monster. she's never cried that hard before. 'm a failure of a father."

"you're dramatic." you sighed. "it'll grow back. you used to complain about it growing too fast."

he pouted, uncharacteristic of a full grown adult. "why did i do that...?"

you dragged him away, giving your daughter some space, as he frantically googled how to grow a beard back.

a/n. i have no idea how to do baby talk but oh well...

© kitorin : do not repost, plagiarize, change, or translate

[tsumiyas]

‧ ₊ ˚ the laundry thief — m. atsumu

synopsis: Your Neighbors Socks go missing one by one. The prime suspect? Your hell spawn of a furr ball.

Miya Atsumu is in a Rush. Granted, as he had continuously pressed the Snoozebutton of his alarmclock, basking in the false allure of his cotton sheets in hopes of sleeping in.

His feigned ignorance and poor time management have come to bite him in his bum, stumbling out of bed in a hurry to collect the scattered contents of his gymbag he had oh so carelessly discarded in search of his earbuds last night.

His toothbrush dangles out of his mouth in the wierdest angle known to mankind as he prances onto his balcony like a complete madman.

His day couldn't have started off worse, the Setter figures, in frantic search for the pair of socks he had hung up to dry the previous eve.

He schouldn't have jinxed it in the morning he had stepped out of bed with the wrong foot. His socks are missing.

The furry menace nextdoor has beat him to collecting his laundry yet again.

When the blonde Setter first caught wind of the rumored laundry thief that's been plaguing the third floor of his apartment complex in downtown Osaka, he snickered in disbelief.

His lips quivered in an attempt to clamp them shut in order to refrain from bursting into a pig like wheeze as Miss Matsuda frantically rambles about her missing nightgown. Or when, not a week later, Mister Fujiwara grumbled to him about the absence of his favorite pair of trousers.

The prime suspect? The new resident of Apartment 308, his Nextdoor Neighbor: You.

However, the way they describe his new neighbor as a hairy little menace doesn’t seem to align with his vision of you in the slightest.

Because in all honesty you’re sweet, a Country Bumpkin turned College student in the bustling metropolis of Osaka.

There’s no way you’d taint your recently gained good reputation by climbing over the balconies of your neighborhood in order to steal laundry.

And, as far as he can remember from the numerous times he’s seen you entering and leaving your apartment, you’re not hairy.

He can’t help but chortle at the absurdity.

When his first pair of socks, the black nike ones he reserves for official matches, dissapears into thin air over night one saturday morning, he blames it on the morning fatigue.

By the time his next match comes around he thinks he might've lost it - both the the socks and his sanity-, a thought he can't seem to bear as his summer earth orbs rake the clothing rack on his balcony for any signs of the socks -the ones he claims to be his lucky charm- for the nth time that week.

Atsumu is four and a half pairs of socks and two shirts shorter when he decides to humor the old lady down the hallway by knocking at your door.

He still deems the whole "laundry thief" ordeal as a mere myth, a trifling fiction to excuse Miss Matsudas poor memory and Mister Fujiwaras temper.

The hallway is quiet. Too quiet, if you asked him. The only sounds that accompany his shuffling steps are the soft slap of his bare feet against the tiled floor and the faint jingle of the house key looped around his finger. He’s still half in disbelief he’s actually doing this: Knocking on his neighbor’s door. Over socks.

“Man,” he mutters under his breath, brushing the messy blond strands out of his face, “this better not be as stupid as it feels.”

Atsumu clears his throat once. Twice. Then raises his hand to knock.

And that’s when he hears it- 

A small, muffled mew, followed by the scratch of tiny claws against the door.

His brows shoot up.

“…No way.”

Another meow, louder this time. Then silence. Then the sound of feet - presumably yours-, approaching from the other side.

The door opens a fraction, and he catches a glimpse of you: hair tousled from sleep, wearing a too-large T-shirt that could double as a dress, blinking up at him like he’s just interrupted something sacred.

“Oh. Miya-san,” you mumble, rubbing your eye. “Morning.”

“Uh.. yeah. Mornin’.”

He tries not to look awkward standing there in his hastily thrown-on hoodie and shorts. He fails miserably.

There’s a pause, the kind that stretches too long for comfort.

Then something brushes against his ankle.

A small, brown blur shoots out from behind your legs - a cat, the so-called hairy menace - dragging a black piece of fabric in its mouth like a hunter returning from war.

Atsumu stares, and so do you. 

The cat drops the fabric right between you.

And there they are.

His socks.

The lucky ones.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, mortified. “Mochi- no! Bad boy!”

You scoop up the cat, apologizing a mile a minute, but he’s too busy processing the fact that his entire building’s urban legend just strutted into the hallway on four legs.

“I… uh,” he manages, lips twitching into a smirk. “Guess the culprit ain’t that much of a rumor after all.”

You bite your lip, cheeks heating. “I was going to return them I swear! I didn’t know he hoards things. I found a whole pile under my bed just three weeks ago. Seems like he keeps doing so regardless of what I do.”

He can’t help it. He laughs. Loud, bright, and boyish.

You blink, startled.

“Ya were gonna, huh?” he grins, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, guess I caught ya red-handed anyway.”

You groan, hiding your face behind your free hand. “This is so embarrassing…”

“Don’t be,” he says easily, leaning against the doorframe now like he owns the place. “’S kinda cute, actually.”

The words hang between you for a heartbeat too long before he clears his throat again.

“So… you, uh, got a collection of my stuff somewhere then? Should I come get it?”

And that’s how he ended up in your living room for the first time, surrounded by a mountain of laundry that most definitely did not belong to you.

Atsumu stares at the empty railing, mouth hanging open in disbelief, the toothbrush still dangling from his lips like an afterthought. For a long second, all he can do is squint at the vacant clothesline as if the socks might magically reappear out of thin air.

They don’t. Of course they don’t.

“Yer kiddin’ me…” he mutters around a mouthful of mint foam.

With quick strides he makes his way to the bathroom, spits the toothpaste into the sink, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and groans. He’s running late, his gym bag is still half-unpacked, and his lucky socks have once again been abducted by that brown menace next door.

This is fine. Totally fine.

He tells himself that as he hastily throws on his bathrobe, because apparently, today’s the kind of day you go to confront your neighbor about stolen laundry looking like you just escaped a hotel spa.

Somewhere between yanking the knot in his robe tighter and grabbing the house key, he decides this was the last straw.

He storms through his living room, muttering something about feral beasts and cursed apartments, and slides the front door open.

Before he can talk himself out of it, he’s already at your door, hair tousled, bathrobe half-tied, knocking like a possessed man.

He knocks once. Twice.

When you open, you’re already there, basket in hand, filled with the oddest assortment of things he’s been missing all month. Socks. A wristband. Even one of his jerseys, folded neatly on top.

And sitting proudly inside the basket, like a monarch amongst his spoils, is Mochi.

The brown cat meows once, tail flicking.

You smile sheepishly. “He… wanted to say sorry.”

Atsumu sighs, but the corners of his mouth tug upward. “Yeah? Tell him I accept his apology. But next time, maybe he can steal somethin’ useful, like my opponent’s playbook.”

You laugh, soft and genuine, the kind that makes the early hour feel less ungodly.

He scratches the back of his neck again, then looks at you, really looks at you.

“Hey,” he starts, voice lower now, hesitant. “Since we’re already neighbors… and technically partners in crime thanks to this little thief,” his chin tips toward the cat, “maybe we could, I dunno.. grab coffee sometime?”

You blink. “Coffee?”

“Yeah. Or tea. Or somethin’. My treat.”

He shrugs, trying for casual but failing miserably, a pink flush creeping up the back of his neck. “Just figured… ya could tell me more about Mochi’s laundry heists in person.”

You bite your lip, fighting a smile. “You’re asking me out, aren’t you?”

“Depends,” he says, grin widening. “You sayin’ yes?”

Your answer comes with a small laugh and a nod. “Yeah. I’m saying yes.”

Mochi meows again, as if this had been his plan all along, tail swishing smugly against the basket’s rim.

And as Atsumu watches you laugh, sunlight spilling through the hallway window, painting your face in warm gold, he thinks, maybe being robbed half his closet wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened after all.

note: after an one-year delay I have finally found the time to finish this project. Thank you for your patience, as well as reading my first work on this blog<3 feedback and reposts are greatly appreciated.

© tsumiyas 2025. plagiarism, translation and distribution of my works out- and inside of tumblr is not permitted.

[salsakiyoomi]

atsumu miya is a menace.

and the heartthrob of campus.

and the heartthrob you were never interested in — even after every one of your friends were begging for a chance with him.

you hated him — hate is a strong word, maybe. but you were never interested in him.

you didn;t find anything to be interested in after all.

he was cocky and arrogant and way too full of himself, but he had the looks, so that counts for every girl dying to be with him.

but the one thing about miya atsumu, is that he didn’t do love, or long term.

he was too focused on volleyball and his career, best anyone could ever have with him is the morning after.

every girl chased after him, chased after a chance to get tangled up in his sheets and feel his skin against theirs.

every girl, except for you.

and that pissed atsumu off.

why didn’t you swoon at him like every other girl did? He knew he was handsome and gosh you were so pretty too, he’d want to have you and — 

no no, you’re the one that’s supposed to chase after him, why aren’t you chasing after him?

and yet, atsumu approaches you with two drinks in hand at a college party.

“hey,” he says in what he thinks is a smooth tune, offering you the drink in his hand.

you frown at him and atsumu is taken aback — he’s never had someone stare it him with so much disgust on their face, did he smell bad or something?

“hi,” you say back, clearly unamused, you don’t take the drink from his hand either, “can i help you with something?”

atsumu’s ego is crushed.

“you seem lonely,” he says, again in what he thinks is a smooth manner, and yet again he’s met with your weirded out/disgusted expression.

“i am not, thank you for your concern though,” you say, turning away from him just as a dance song starts to play — people cheer and grab their partners for a dance.

“hey!” atsumu calls out, “don’t you wanna dance?”

you mentally grimace — why was he so persistent?

you turn around with a strained smile on your face, “no, i’m good, thank you.”

you quickly rush out of his line of sight and atsumu is stunned.

miya atsumu did not chase, but for you? oh, he’s determined for it.

[1anonyymous1]

[kissagii]

alias change!!!

julian -> leander/leo

feel free to rb :)

[sleepyhoons]

🧾 MOOT GAME — END OF THE MONTH RECEIPTIFY !

click on the link to view your receipt of songs that were played in the month of june! ^^

TAGGING : @flwrstqr @jwsdoll @copyhanni @dioll

@antoncyng @boyfhees @okwons @okwonyo @isoobie

@onlyjjong @allurecile @jakesangel + more ><! (sorry for the unwanted tag)

[flwrstqr]

thank you for the tag liz!!! tbh this doesnt describe my music style ToT, i listen to more range of artists but it seems like here i only listen to kpop . . .

TAGGiNG: @junislqve, @jlheon, @onlyjjong, @luvlyhee (sorry for the tag !!)

[yuonse]

thank you dani & lili for the tag ><

tags @hyeinism @jlheon @bywonie + anyone else!! (sorry for tags)

[kissjaeyun]

thank you for the tag juni & dani & lizzy :3

tags : @mygnolia @chaewonshoney @saursoob @uolarie + whoever >ε< (sorry 4 tag)

[mygnolia]

i unfortunately have music taste that is everywhere so…

tagging @dimplewonie @haerni @enwonz !!!

[haerni]

thank u for the tag ren >< ! lets just say wishlist by txt is getting me into a fever

tag : @bywons @gojoroui @itulipy @tsumiyas + anyone who wants to join !

[tsumiyas]

thanks for the tag love💕

no pressure tag @httpshujii @kissagii @rewh0re @moonswolfie

[1anonyymous1]

*tans for 5 minutes* *checks for tan lines*

[1anonyymous1]

yeah ur cute but can u handle my overthinking?

[tsumiyas]

kissu kissu ♡ this lil’ bambi is dropping off some kisses !!

mwah mwah <3 smooching you all over your pretty face

[hanrinz]

ᰔ. — your boyfriend, rin itoshi worries too much about you. a party can never stop him anyway. f reader.

“c’mere, sit down.”

your boyfriend, rin said as he tugged your hands gently as he led you to a bench. grabbing you by your shoulders to let you sit. dropping on his knees, dirtying his expensive pants that he had recently bought yesterday.

reo had invited the both of you to his party, something about a celebration of sorts for their recent victory.

though your boyfriend didn’t want to attend, with it being a pain for interrupting his time with you—his words not yours—a little convincing on your part did the job anyway.

the party was great and all, well you had expected it anyways. reo does have the knack for these kind of things, knowing he’s been doing this for as long as he can remember.

as the night goes on, you meet familiar faces, namely your boyfriend's teammates, who seemed to be overjoyed. you really had a great time, and you're pretty much sure rin did too.

(even if he was pretty much stuck by your side and if he was ever apart from you, his hands always seem to find it’s way to any expanse of your skin.) but soon enough the party just drained the life out of you. your dress sticking uncomfortably on your skin, the music just blasting in your ears, a headache pounding in your head.

and you really, really tried to stay for a little more—just out of courtesy, but rin noticed.

he always does.

finally, he thinks to himself.

a reason to bail out, he’s sure these losers can understand if the two of you leave early, he just can’t wait to come home and just have the night together all to yourselves.

and so he did, he gently dragged you towards the dooor out of reo’s house, taking your purse and phone as he whispered lowly in your ears.

“we’re leaving.”

“already? but what about reo?”

“he wouldn’t mind,” he interjects as he walks slowly beside you, your hand still laced with his. trudging as you try to navigate your way despite the alcohol taking its effect into your vision. as you open the door, the cold air of the night greets you, and it was rather nice.

you can finally breathe.

the still quietness of the city had quelled the storm in you, the dark lonely city offers its comfort to you. and you really like times like this, just this moment of the two of you alone with each other. hand in hand, aimlessly walking in the dead of the night. you turn to the man beside you, a small tired smile creeping up its way in your face.

now that you think of it, you don’t mind escaping everything if you could always have a moment like this with him.

“thank you for accompanying me tonight.” thank you for agreeing to you to come even though he doesn’t want to—is what translates to rin’s dictionary that was made for you.

rin looks at you briefly and looks away just as fast before responding.

“you don’t need to thank me, it’s nothing.”

noticing the tip of his ears all flare up as the color of a rose, you suppress the laugh in your chest as he plays it off as something as ‘nothing’. your boyfriend is totally like a cat who hates showing affection, sometimes you just want to kiss him.

you would’ve run or just go wild in the street just from the millions butterflies that flutter in your stomach if not for the incessant pain in your feet—your heels are killing you. it has been two hours since it’s been bothering you, trying to ignore it the whole time you were in the party.

not being able to keep up with his long strides despite his slow pace.

it’s definitely because of his long legs.

rin noticed once again, as always. which led you to this present moment of him kneeling down for you. his hands working on unclasping the straps of your heels, taking it in his hands as he stood back into his height.

he stares for a moment, tilting his head a little, that kind of reminds you like a cat.

suddenly, putting your phone in his pockets, taking off his jacket and tying it around your waist. taking you by surprise, but you let him do it anyways. turning around, his back facing you as he kneels once again.

this was a rather unusual gesture from your boyfriend, is he offering you a piggyback ride? you wonder what has gotten into him.

might as well savour this opportunity, don’t you think?

you got on his back, his hands coming around your thighs and his jacket acting as protection on your lower body. rin was warm, always been so cuddly and huggable. you lean into him, with a small smile hanging on your face.

“thank you, rin.”

he scoffs at that, “i told you, its nothing,” yet the heat that reaches the tip of his ears never gone away.

“i know,” you whispered. “but still, i had fun today and i really wanted to go out with you. you didn’t have to do all of this for me.”

you were met with silence, but you dont take any offense in it. because it’s just him—its just rin itoshi, it’s just the man you know of for years and have come to love.

“...we can always go out if you’d like,” he pauses. “and i did it, because i want to. don’t you ever forget that, idiot.”

you laughed at him once more.

“okay.” you promised, with a wide grin forming on your face, that rin can imagine even if he can’t see you from his back and it feels good.

everything was good when he’s with you.

◞♡ likes & reblogs are highly appreciated! i miss rin like crazy guys this draft is like from march last year lmfao

[kissagii]

it's finals season, and nishinoya desperately needs a savior

cw: gender neutral reader, 2k words, reader is a bit of a nerd and noya is smitten, both are a little dense, i didn't proofread this nearly enough.

Nishinoya Yuu cannot fail high school. At least, not if he wants to go to the Tokyo training camp and meet the funny guys from Nekoma again. As it stands, the only obstacles between Noya and going to camp are the steadily approaching final exams - exams that he hasn’t spent nearly enough time studying for.

That’s how he found himself here: not-so-casually asking (read: begging) for help studying.

“But I can’t fail these exams!” He half-yells, smacking his hands dramatically onto your desk, “I’m too cool to fail! And I want to go to camp!”

You sigh, not thrilled to have the libero drawing so much attention to you, especially in the middle of the school day. But his pleas are pitiful - and bound to get annoying if left unanswered for too long - so your only real option is to offer whatever assistance he needs.

“Sure, I’ve got time, what do you need?” You offer, hoping desperately that you sound relatively nonchalant. You had grown fond of him as first-year classmates, and now being in separate classes made any opportunity to spend time with him one worth taking. Even if it ended in studying with Nishinoya Yuu, a man not exactly known for being studious. Loudness aside, he's a good guy: caring (at times overbearingly so), observant (but never when he needs to be), and unendingly passionate about his interests (and very little else). And undeniably attractive, though you’d never tell him that. It would go straight to his head.

His face lights up as soon as the offer is made. “You’re amazing! An angel sent from the heavens to help me go to camp!”

“Yeah, yeah, alright, now what subjects are giving you the most trouble?” You say, heart fluttering at the subtle words of appreciation. 

“Math. And physics, but that’s basically just math but more evil. Oh, and English. And history. And writing.” His expression shifts from joy to a pout with each subject, brows knitting together as he realizes just how inept (and uncool, he’s probably thinking) he is.

“Noya, you just listed every subject, that’s way too much,” You laugh, “But I’ll see what I can do. Give me a day to prepare?”

“Just try not to miss me too much!” Noya says as he jumps excitedly, waving to you as he walks backward out of the room. He waves the entire way until he walks back-first into the doorframe, letting out a squawk of surprise and continuing proudly like nothing ever happened.

This boy is going to be the death of you.

Exactly 24 hours after his first visit, Noya bounds into your classroom and over to your desk again. Despite expecting his visit this time, you’re caught off guard by his punctuality and higher-than-usual energy. 

“It is I, Nishinoya Yuu, Guardian Deity of Karasuno!” He announces, dropping into a neighboring desk.

“Yeah, I know that, Noya.”

“Hmph, but it’s more fun to do that,” He huffs, poking at the papers you have lined up on your desk, “What’s all this? For me?”

You stack up all the papers, creating a thick packet, and hand them to him. He loses interest the moment he realizes that the ridiculous-looking stack is indeed for him, mortified by the concept of having to do all of that. He pays minimal attention as you explain everything he’s supposed to do - something about the order of the subjects versus the tests, the problem difficulties, and suggested pacing - instead choosing to focus on something far more interesting. 

The way certain subjects make your eyes light up more than others. The way you tilt your body to face him as you talk. The way your lips move with each word. How much he wishes he could grab your face and kiss you.

And, ultimately, that which brings his attention back - the reward system. Your method of motivating him to put effort into his practice.

“The rewards are indicated with symbols, the key is at the back, and you don’t have to take any reward you don’t want. I’ll be here to check your work and help you with the harder ones, does that sound good? Oh, and no getting answers from your teammates. You’ll only get prizes for your own work.” 

“All this? really? These rewards better be good,” He sticks out his bottom lip, thumbing the papers, itching to flip straight to the back and see what he might have a chance at acquiring. 

You laugh, shooing him out of the chair he sits in, “Yeah, yeah, I’m sure you’ll like one or two of them. Now go get working, deal with your prizes when you have an actual chance at earning them.”

“Hey! At least let me try to get motivated!” He whines, making a point to struggle to carry the twenty-or-so pages in his hands, “I might never forgive you for this!”

Though he acts offended, the moment he’s out of your sight his posture straightens and he hurries to his classroom. Only there does he set down the papers and fumble to the back, finding the Prize Key at the very end.

♤ - 1 sticker (assorted themes)

Who do you think he is? A first grader? Though he has to admit, the concept is cute.

♧ - Snack coupon

Now this, this is good - he could use them to barter with the team… if he could convince himself to not hoard them.

♢ - 10 minutes letting you show off at practice

Finally, you’ll come through on your promise of visiting him at practice!!

☆ - Bento Box

So you had been paying attention to how he always ogled your food during lunch hour. Oh, Tanaka is gonna be so jealous.

♡ - Kiss

He rereads the single word again. And again. He blows away nonexistent eraser shards; wipes the paper with his sleeve; traces his finger over the word. And still, there it is, inked directly onto the paper, completely intentional. Kiss.

Frantically he flipped through the packet, searching for the problem sets marked with a heart. Just what would he have to do to earn the sweetness of your lips against his? He’d do just about anything, really, he’d craved your affection since midway through first year.

Nishinoya Yuu would do anything to kiss you just once - even a physics problem so brutal even the most genius of his classmates might shy away from it.

“Ok, fess up, which one of you gave Noya answers to his study work?!” You shout, storming into Karasuno’s volleyball gym as the team begins their practice. The underclassmen’s confused stares hardly dent your frustration with the team and whichever of them was insolent enough to go directly against your request.

Ennoshita winces, smiling bashfully. “Well… I didn’t help him, exactly. He just told me to check his work and it was right, I didn’t give away any answers.”

Noya smiles proudly from across the gymnasium, “See! I’m perfectly capable of doing physics on my own!”

“Suga? Daichi? Is this true?” You ask, turning to the reliable third-years on the team, who you’re sure were there to witness Noya’s breakthrough.

“Mhm,” Suga nods, “And he went skipping to first period like a little girl.”

“I do not skip!” Noya insists.

The first years giggle amongst themselves, clearly amused by the dispute. Though, in their shoes, you probably would’ve laughed too.

“No, you were skipping,” Daichi adds bluntly. Noya’s jaw drops, insulted.

“I do not- Oh, fine, whatever, maybe I skipped a little. But see, I didn’t get answers from anyone, I solved the problem by myself! So therefore I deserve my reward!”

So maybe he did solve the problem on his own. So maybe he did spend all night working on that one near-impossible problem just to get the reward. So maybe he does want to kiss you.

“Alright, alright, I accept it, you solved the problem yourself. Good job. Call me when you’re done with practice, you’ll get your reward then.” You say resignedly, turning to leave the club room.

“No, don’t make me wait so long! I gave you the problem at lunch, you’re so mean to me!” Noya calls after you.

As you leave, a redheaded first-year (Hintata, if you correctly remembered Noya's ramblings about his teammates) whispers to you: “I think he’s in love with you.”

Thank the heavens that your back was turned, because your flustered expression would’ve made your crush on the libero painfully obvious to all in the room. 

But oh how you hoped that first year was right.

Only minutes after the end of practice, Noya found you behind the gymnasium. Still sweaty and haphazardly changed, he jogged to you excitedly. 

“I’m here now! Now don’t tell me I sat on the sidelines through morning practice for nothing, Daichi was ready to kill me,” He said, breathing slightly heavier than usual but still energetic.

“Have you just been pretending to be stupid this whole time?” You ask, “I spent days making that problem for a different study group, days, doing everything I could to make it impossible. I gave it to you as a joke, more than anything, I didn’t think you’d actually solve it.” 

Noya inhales sharply, looking down to the ground. “So, the part about… the kiss… was that a joke too?” He begins stepping back, feeling a fool for getting his hopes up so high. Frustrated and confused, he begins running his mouth like he always does, muttering about being a fool, being hopeless, the evilness of your schemes, and having wasted his energy and time in search of something he would never get.

“Noya, shut up,” You say, but he pays you no mind. “Yuu!” 

The one lesson he needs to learn is how to quiet down, and you know he won’t learn it on his own. You grab him by the cheeks and pull his lips to yours, cutting him off mid-sentence, kissing him right there behind the gymnasium as night descends upon the city. When you part he remains speechless, cocoa-brown eyes darting between your eyes and lips.

“It was a joke because I didn’t think you’d want it,” You murmur, letting a hand slide into his sweaty but somehow still soft hair. “If I had known this was what you wanted I would’ve let you kiss me as many times as you wanted.” 

Noya leans into your hand, as if making sure that you’re actually there, actually touching him. Gently you bring your foreheads to touch, a silent reminder that you are indeed real. “You're more than just a friend to me, Yuu, and in every moment that you’re silent I’ll remind you.”

“Ehehe, guess I’ll just never speak again,” He laughs cheekily, stealing another kiss, quick and playful. 

You pull back, but don’t move your hand away. What an idiot, snapping from speechless to silly in such a quick moment, and absolutely desperate for affection to boot. And yet this dramatic idiot had you absolutely smitten and wanting to kiss him over and over until evening turned to night turned to morning.

“You didn’t earn that one, Yuu! I guess I’ll have to cut your showoff time rewards by half,” You tease, poking the tip of his nose with your finger. It’s a ridiculous facade on your part - he’d never have to earn a kiss from you, just ask and you’d gladly give it to him. But the way his face twisted yet again, horrified by your mock threat, was too cute to pass up.

“Half?!” He scoffs, “I guess I’ll have to be extra flashy for my sunshine!” 

“Sunshine? Since when am I your sunshine?”

“I dunno, since now? Come on, it’s cute!”

Sunshine it is, then. Though if either of the two of you is the sunshine, you’re sure it must be him, because his giddy grin is easily the most beautiful thing you’ve seen in your life.

:)

[tsumiyas]

my childhood.

[pokkomi]

Alias Change

miyo -> sen

[1anonyymous1]

i love people who get excited about stars

[idontlikedicktionaries]

REBLOG IF ITS OKAY TO TALK TO YOU.

Please.

[tsumiyas]

yeri ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ she / her, sixteen ! miya atsumu enthusiast ݁ 𓈒

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